Laurel Cove

by Sarah Turtle

  She left on a backpacking trip across the United States with nothing but a tent and a bag of necessities to survive the summer until college started in the fall. She kept a detailed account of her adventures in a journal, which ironically became the first of her published stories. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Willa questioned how her career would have been different had she not ventured out when she did, but regardless of what she had become, she still saw it as a cowardly way to escape. The possibility of having to come back to Laurel Cove someday constantly loomed above her head as her father aged, but she did not quite expect it to happen this soon.

  Willa despised the fact that she had come here to settle her father’s estate and yet her own past demons coming back to haunt her overshadowed the grieving. Her dad deserved to have this time from her without distraction and she would try her best to see to it that he did.

  Preparing the house to be sold was one of the major projects she intended to complete while she was here and that meant cleaning everything out of it. While still standing at the bathroom vanity, she noticed his toothbrush sticking out of a mug with a sailboat on it. She pulled it out and held it over the small wastebasket beside the toilet. Her hand shook and instead of dropping it, she wrapped her fingers so tightly around the slender handle that her nails dug into the palm of her hand. A wave of disappointment washed over her when she recognized the level of anxiety she was experiencing over letting go of something so simple. Objects of value that would be a lasting tribute to his life filled the house, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to dispose of a meaningless piece of trash. “Damn it,” Willa cursed out loud as she stabbed the toothbrush back into the mug, rushed out of the room, and climbed back into her bed.

  Two hours of consistent tossing and turning later, a frustrated Willa sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the red digital numbers of the alarm clock on her nightstand. She currently utilized a cell phone as her alarm, as most people did, but she found it amusing that her father must have had to change the batteries in this old thing so many times over the years to keep it running. She also pictured him coming in during daylight saving time to set it ahead or turn it back to maintain the correct time on it. He was playing the role of a father even if she wasn’t around to need it.

  Even with the lack of sleep from the previous night, it was evident her mind would not allow her to get some tonight either, so Willa picked up her laptop bag and made her way into the living room. She dragged the coffee table closer to the couch and sunk into the leather cushions, where she could comfortably spend the rest of the night getting lost in the world of her fictional characters.

  Chapter Four

  Willa woke up with her face plastered against the leather couch. She figured that, at some point during the night, she must have pulled down the knitted afghan that could always be found folded across the top of the couch, and covered herself with it. The afghan predated her lifetime, and she now wished she had asked her father if a family member had made it. She guessed that many questions would come up for her over the course of the next week and she was disappointed she hadn’t cared to ask about things like that when she was young and living there. It seemed almost useless to hold onto something without a history to it and she hoped Aunt Beth would be able to help her sort through some of the important items.

  Willa clicked on her laptop screen, which came out of sleep mode and informed her that she last saved her manuscript less than three hours ago. She sighed loudly at the realization that she only got an extended nap and not a full night of rest. The reflection staring back at her in the mirror moments later solidified that fact by showing off the dark lines under her eyes. She decided no amount of makeup could fix her sleep deprived face, so there was no point in trying to.

  With so much to do around the house, she thought the best place to start would be her father’s file cabinet, where the items could speak for themselves. She was fortunate that he only retained the most recent copies of bills and necessary paperwork, such as the title and deed to the house, boat, and vehicle. She wrote out checks to mail, covering his credit cards and utilities, leaving just a local one to stop by in person to pay off. Willa thought it would be best to go in person to the physician’s office to pay the bill from her father’s last physical, and to dispose of all the prescription medications in his bathroom cabinet properly.

  On her way out the door, Willa considered taking her dad’s truck, which she had not yet dared open the garage to see. It would be easier for her to fit in with all the locals instead of navigating the country roads in her sports car. Her hand wavered over the set of keys dangling from the hook next to the door, but then the thought arose that it was too soon to dredge up all the memories that would resurface from all the good times they had shared in the old truck. She grimaced at the idea of staying longer than she had planned because of her need to avoid emotional encounters.

  She crossed the parking lot of the Cove Clinic and started up the steps to the front entrance, when a door closing on the side of the building caught her attention. She placed a hand on the side paneling and peered around the corner. Willa held her breath as she recognized the back view of the woman with short dark hair as she rolled down the wooden ramp that wound progressively downward to the ground. She was fast and almost reckless, yet skilled in her maneuvering around the corners. An exhilarating rush washed over Willa just by watching her, until it hit her that she was the cause of Brynn being confined to the wheelchair she was sitting in.

  Willa turned away so that Brynn wouldn’t catch her watching, and pushed her back against the railing for support. She sucked in air in frantic gasps as a wave of anxiety flowed through her. Just as she thought she was regaining her composure, images of Brynn being pulled from the pool would flash in her mind and it felt as though someone was choking her. She swiped at the exposed skin at her throat, realizing there wasn’t anything constricting on it, except for her own perception of tightness closing in on her.

  The glass door just inches away from Willa swung open and a woman dressed in scrubs stepped out. Willa tried to make her gasping breaths seem natural looking instead of the out of control mess that she knew was being projected to others. The woman didn’t fall for her act and instead placed a calming hand on her arm.

  “You should come inside and take a seat. The air conditioning will help you catch your breath a little easier.”

  Willa shook her head, not wanting to enter the waiting room area where everyone would surely gawk at her embarrassing episode. “No,” she let out in a strangled voice.

  The woman seemed to understand her reservations and did her best to reassure her. “It’s okay; there’s no one in the waiting area except for the receptionist.” She held the door open, urging her in.

  Willa reluctantly stepped into the little room and dropped down into the seat closest to the door. She wished that the woman hadn’t noticed her and she could have made it back to her car, but now that she was in, everything in her body had begun to resolve itself. She wondered if it was due in part to the pastel paint on the walls, the soothing bubbles in the aquarium, and the lighthouse sculpture on the side table. The entire room was designed to give off a positive psychological response.

  The woman in scrubs filled a paper cup with water and handed it to Willa, who nodded in appreciation and drank it down in a few gulps.

  “Are you here to see Dr. Martin?”

  “No, I just need to pay a bill,” Willa explained as she dug for the envelope in her purse.

  “I think that while you’re here, you should at least talk to Dr. Martin about what just happened out there. It was a pretty severe panic attack.”

  Willa stared back at the woman with a confused look. “I was a patient of Dr. Martin for most of my childhood, but I’m quite sure that he’s too old to be practicing still.”

  “You are correct. He retired a few years ago, but his daughter, Shannon Martin, took over his practice when he left.”

  “Would it be
possible for me to just see you, since you witnessed what happened to me, that way I don’t have to explain it to another person?”

  “I’m the wrong kind of doctor. I’m a physical therapist.”

  “So, you must be Brynn’s doctor?”

  The woman looked at Willa apprehensively. “I perform therapy work for any patient that needs my services at this clinic.”

  Willa understood that she couldn’t share that information with her. “Well, I guess that I’ll take your advice and see the doctor.”

  “I think it’s best that you do. Take care of that bill with Caroline at the desk and I’ll let Dr. Martin know that you are waiting.”

  After filling out health history forms for ten minutes, Willa finally found herself sitting with her legs dangling off the side of an exam table with crinkling paper under her thighs. She was unaware of the tight grip she had on the leather straps of her purse, or how she was winding them around her fingers until the circulation was being cut off.

  Shannon Martin sat on a rolling stool, entering the numbers from Willa’s vital stats into the computer. Her brown hair was pulled up on the back of her head and it reminded Willa of when she used to sit behind her in algebra class. While Shannon had been fortunate enough to have the help of her father in the math and science classes, Willa studied relentlessly and came out overall as the class valedictorian because of excelling in English, which Shannon struggled with.

  Shannon spun her seat around and scooted it in closer to Willa as she extended her hand out towards her. “It’s good to see you again, Willa.”

  Willa unraveled her fingers from the straps to shake her hand. “You as well, Shannon.”

  “It’s Dr. Martin while we’re in here,” Shannon corrected her. “In tight knit communities such as ours, I find that a clear distinction between social and professional settings is necessary.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Shannon noticed the lifeline to her purse that Willa had created with the tangled mess between her fingers. She rolled over to her desk and searched through one of her drawers. When she returned to Willa, she gently removed the purse from her hands. “Let’s set this aside for now and give you something a little less harsh on your fingers.” Shannon placed a heart shaped piece of soft foam in Willa’s palm.

  The stress relief heart had a cute cartoon face printed on it as well as the Cove Clinic phone number and the advertisement for a prescription heart medication that Willa recognized from one of her father’s pill bottles. She wondered how effective it was since it didn’t prevent his heart attack from taking his life. When she squeezed the heart, it gave a satisfyingly squishy sensation in her hand, which helped to release some of the tension she was holding on to. “Thanks. I needed this.”

  Shannon nodded and moved on to review the numbers she had just entered into the computer. “Your pressure and pulse are a little higher than normal, but under the circumstance of what just happened to you, it’s expected that they would be slightly elevated. Due to your family history, we should monitor them closely in the future.”

  “Will I have to be placed on medication for my heart someday, like my father was?”

  “The chances are slim as long as you eat healthy and exercise. Your father was relentless with his meat and potatoes diet, and while lobstering may be laborious, it doesn’t replace a workout.”

  Willa reached into her bag and pulled out the plastic baggie filled with tiny bottles. “By the looks of it, I don’t think he actually even took any of these pills.”

  Shannon took the bag and sifted through the contents of it with a concerned look on her face. “You’re right.” She tossed the bag up on the counter behind her.

  “If he had taken them, do you think he might still be alive now?”

  “I never like to play the what if scenario where people’s lives are concerned, but let this be a lesson to remember with your health and what changes you need to make now.”

  “I have better eating habits than he did and I do a cardio workout daily at the gym when I’m in New York.”

  “Good, that’s what I like to hear. So, do you regularly suffer from panic attacks?”

  “No, never.”

  “Do you know what might have triggered the one you just had? Stress resulting from the death of a loved one is definitely a cause to bring one on, even if you’ve never experienced it before.”

  “While my father’s death has been an emotional roller coaster, I can’t blame my panic attack on that.” She squeezed the foam heart in her fist until portions of it protruded out from between her fingers. “This whole thing was brought on because I saw Brynn when she was leaving the building.” Willa didn’t need to explain anything else about the situation. She knew that Shannon was present the night of the incident and she was grateful that she wouldn’t have to relive the events of that moment out loud to someone all over again.

  Shannon took on a solemn expression as she thought. “Would you be willing to see a different doctor, one that has more professional experience in this field of study?”

  “You mean a psychologist instead of a physician?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve lost count of how many sessions with psychologists, psychiatrists, and counselors that I attended over the years in an attempt to resolve the guilt I have for what I’ve done, but I don’t feel comfortable seeing someone in this small town where I most likely also know the therapist.”

  “I can understand that. How about if I prescribe you something that will at least help you sleep at night?” Shannon motioned to Willa’s eyes. “It looks as though you’ve been having some problems with that lately, am I right?”

  “That would be helpful, thank you, Dr. Martin.”

  Shannon handed a piece of paper to Willa with the prescription written on it and helped her down off the exam table. “If you need to see me again while you are in Laurel Cove, don’t hesitate to schedule an appointment.”

  Just before stepping out into the hallway, Willa turned to Shannon. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

  “Of course.”

  “Is there any possible chance of Brynn walking again?”

  Shannon placed a soothing hand on Willa’s forearm. “You know I can’t break the confidentiality of any of my patients. That is a question you will just have to ask her yourself.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Have you spoken to her at all since that night?”

  Willa focused on the pattern in the tiles on the floor and shook her head. “No.”

  “I think you should try. She’s asked me about you in the past because she knew that we went to college in the same state. She thought that maybe we kept in touch.”

  Willa’s heart fluttered at the idea that Brynn asked about her, but she pushed that thought aside, not wanting to hope for something that might not exist. Brynn could have been asking out of spite, angry that Willa had the opportunity to fulfill her dreams of going off to school. She decided to deflect the subject back to Shannon. “I’m surprised that you ended up practicing here after going to Columbia University. I mean, you literally could have worked anywhere in the world.”

  “It wasn’t my intention to come back to Laurel Cove at first, but when my dad announced his retirement, I felt a sense of duty to take over the clinic that my grandfather originally started. I’m glad I did now, because there’s something charming about this little community and the people in it. Speaking of which, you will be at the reunion tomorrow night, right?”

  “I’ve already decided that it’s probably best if I don’t go.”

  “If you did, it would be the perfect opportunity to ask a certain someone the question that you asked me.”

  “That’s reason enough for me to stay away. You’ve already seen what happens to me just from seeing her from a distance.”

  “Or the direct encounter could provide the therapy that you’ve been needing all along.”

  “I don’t know about that theory, but maybe I’ll
see you there.”

  Chapter Five

  The prescribed medication to help Willa sleep worked a little too effectively. She woke up late in the afternoon, still in her clothes from the day before, glasses pressed to her face, and computer screen open and glowing on the coffee table. She sat up with a groggy feeling in her head and stomach growling.

  Willa decided that tonight she would actually eat something before taking one of the pills and only take half the dose to avoid waking up to another morning like this again. Now that she stopped to think about it, she couldn’t really remember having a full meal since the day before she left New York. Coffee, alcohol, and random snacks did not do the trick to replace her usual diet of nutritional food and she was famished just thinking about it. She scoured the refrigerator, cupboards, and pantry for something to eat, but soon realized that everything in the house required some resemblance of cooking skills in order to create a meal out of it. Her father had been an excellent home chef, but she had never acquired the skills from him because he insisted that it was his duty as a single parent to provide for her. College meal plans were included with her tuition scholarship, and restaurants and delivery options saturated New York, so the need never arose for her to have to cook.

  The only place in Laurel Cove to get a quality meal was The Anchor. If she started walking now, she would have time to eat a sandwich before the lobstermen ended their day, so she wouldn’t have to worry about crossing paths with Craig again. Another gorgeous day out meant that the deck would be packed with a Saturday crowd and the inside of the bar would be safe from possible interactions with people.

  Sure enough, when Willa stepped into The Anchor, the only other person inside was the same old man at the end of the bar. She pulled one of the menus off an empty table and took it with her to the counter, where she sat in the same seat as last time. Less than a minute later, Megan pushed through the door from the kitchen area and bounded over to the bar. “I had a feeling you’d show up today. Did you change your mind about tonight?” Megan asked with a giant grin on her face.