Whispers of Luck

Swan Harbor General 
February 13 
12:15 a.m. 

Orthopedic surgeon Justin Simpson left the operating room behind and started toward the waiting room. While meeting with a patient’s family wasn’t his favorite part of being a physician, it was a necessary one. Especially when the patient was someone he’d known his entire life. 

He found the Shield’s in the waiting room, their expectant looks causing a little ache in the center of his chest. 

“Justin!” Billy’s mother jumped up and rushed toward him. “What’s going on? It’s been hours.” 

“Is it good news?” Billy’s father asked before he’d answered the first question. 

Justin took off his head covering and brushed his hand through his dark hair. His gaze bounced off Billy’s girlfriend before returning to the parents. 

“Billy is still in the O.R.,” Justin explained. “Doctors Patterson and Moretti are still working on him. As you know, when he fell, he broke his lower right leg. With that repaired, he’ll be in a cast for a while, and then will need physical therapy.” 

“Can you tell us anything about his other injuries?” 

“One of the O.R. nurses should be out in the next few minutes to update you. I’ll check on him later.” 

“Thank you, Justin,” Billy’s parents murmured, except his update had done nothing to remove any of their worry. “I’m sure Billy appreciates having the best work on him.” 

Justin gave a small nod, then left the room to shower. He tossed his head covering and gown in the dirty linen bin, and climbed into the stall. 

The hot water beat down on his tight neck and shoulders from one of the longest surgeries of his life. Not timewise, but lifewise. 

His patient, Billy Shields, had been a high school friend. Not someone he saw on a daily basis, but someone he’d seen around school from preschool through their senior year. Their last names lined up in a such a way, they were always seated beside each other. 

Since high school graduation, their lives had gone in separate directions, but in Swan Harbor, you never completely forgot anyone. It was why, when Billy was brought into the Emergency Room, and he’d been called for consultation, he’d tried to push the surgery toward Deacon. 

“It’s Billy,” he told the ER doctor. “He’s my friend.” 

“I’m sorry, Justin,” Felix replied. “You’re the only one who can perform this surgery.” 

“Deacon?”

“I’m sorry.” 

He’d performed the surgery, but for the first time in his career, he’d needed to fight memories that threatened. Ones that wanted to pull him back years and had him questioning his ability a time or two. 

With the surgery over, he could breathe a sigh of relief. His job had been relatively easy when compared to the other two surgeries. A brain that kept swelling and an internal bleed they couldn’t find. 

Justin climbed from the shower, and made his way back to his office. While waiting for word Billy was on his way to recovery, he’d complete reports. If he was lucky, he’d be able to go home in a few hours. 

When he reached his office, he pulled out several patient’s charts from earlier in the day. He’d just started on the final note when his phone chirped an incoming message. 

One glance had him running out the door and taking the stairs two at a time. He rushed onto the third floor and ran into Doctor Spencer Abbott, the anesthesiologist he worked with often. 

“You don’t want to go in there,” Spence warned him. “It’s best you stay out here and remember Billy when he was alive.” 

“Why?” 

Spence pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because there’s nothing you can do. Besides, you don’t want your last memory of Billy to be right after death.” 

Justin sagged against the wall. He could hear the gentle hum of Doctors Patterson and Moretti speaking to the family. Could hear the sobs from Billy’s parents and girlfriend. 

“What happened?” 

“He made it to recovery,” Spence explained. “But his blood pressure bottomed out. They tried to revive him but it was too late.” 

“Do they know what happened?” 

“Suspected heart attack,” Spence reported. “But that’s in the hands of the medical examiner now.” 

Again, Justin glanced down the hallway, where he could still hear the Shields’ questioning the doctors. A part of him felt obligated to speak with Billy’s parents. However, the other side said it wasn’t the right time. That might come later. 

“I think I’ll talk to his parents some other time. It doesn’t feel right to do it now.” 

Spencer agreed and started toward the locker room while Justin returned to his office. He turned on some music and open the next report. When his phone chirped with another message, he ignored it. Right then, he didn’t want to deal with anyone … especially her. 

                                                                                                ***

Swan Harbor City Limits 
February 13 
1:45 a.m. 

Doctor Shay O’Reilly turned off I-295 onto the Cove Highway, leading to her new hometown. It had been a long journey from Miami, Florida to Swan Harbor, Maine, and she was tired. So tired, she’d almost stopped in Boston for the night. Except that feeling pushing her toward the little town had come out in full force. It refused to let her rest. 

She’d never been a fanciful person until she’d interviewed for the position at Swan Harbor General. Once they offered her the job, and she’d accepted, she’d struggled to understand the persistent nudge she felt to go. It reminded her of a cat who constantly pushed their head against you. But she didn’t have a cat, which made it even stranger. Whatever it was, hadn’t let up. Would it now that she’d arrived? 

Her GPS took her around town, past the hospital where she would start work in two days. Then along the base of the mountains to a home she’d purchased sight unseen. 

Her aunt, Giennie Flanagan, Swan Harbor’s realtor, had chosen the house, and let the movers in when her furniture arrived. That all she had to do was carry in her personal items took away the stress of moving. It allowed her to make a few stops on her way north and not have to worry about the tedious stuff. 

Had she made the right decision? For the past three years, she’d worked at the Miami Children’s Hospital. While she’d hated seeing the little one’s broken bodies, she’d appreciated how quickly they healed. Enjoyed basking in their smiles when stopping by to see them. It was comfortable, but working with pediatrics had never been her dream. 

Since that night long ago, she’d wanted to be a surgeon. It had taken years of school, internships, and rotations in residency until she’d found her passion. She was an oral and maxillofacial surgeon and loved it. 

Now that she had the opportunity to do just that, she was both terrified and excited. At long last, her dreams were becoming a reality. 

Cove Highway turned back east, and she could see the covered bridge not far ahead. Just as her aunt had promised, her turn came up quickly, and she almost missed it. 

Thankfully, the dark entrance into the neighborhood gave way to well-lit streets. The quaint lamps lining the road cast golden shadows on the homes. 

Her house was at the end of a block. With a neighbor on one side, she had a lawn, multiple large trees, and a view of a scenic lake. 

Shay left her car in the driveway and let herself inside. She had a faint vision of wood and large windows, but rather than enjoying it right then, she wanted to unpack. 

Less than thirty minutes later, she’d unloaded the car. She left most of the boxes in the front room and wearily trudged upstairs to the master bedroom. 

Thankfully, Giennie took the time to make the bed and set up her bathroom. She was tired and wanted to sleep, yet she couldn’t settle. It felt like she’d forgotten to do something and couldn’t rest until she remembered. 

Shay left her suitcase in the middle of the bed and went looking for food. She found one of Giennie’s famous goodie baskets and a note on the kitchen counter. 

Shay, 

I wasn’t sure what time you’d make it, but wanted you to have a few things for breakfast and lunch. Give me a call once you get settled. 

Giennie 

P.S. You’ll want to visit Calliope’s this weekend to buy warmer clothing. You’ll need it. 

The large basket had coffee, creamer, and muffins from Paula’s pastries snuggled next to cans of chicken, chili, and soup. A loaf of bread, a box of crackers, and a large bar of dark chocolate completed the food groups. In the fridge, she found milk, eggs, butter, sandwich meat, cheese and apples, assuring her she’d wouldn’t have to buy groceries for a few days. 

Shay grabbed an apple and started upstairs. When she did, an item in the center of the table caught her attention. 

From a distance it resembled a rolled newspaper. Once she was closer, a better description came to mind. It reminded her of an old scroll she’d seen in several movies. The ends were wooden with parchment paper wound around them, and then the two sides were rolled together. 

Another note from Giennie? 

Shay pushed the sides apart to see eight cryptic words written. 

                                                              You are fire. Will you follow the path? 

She’d been told more than one story about Swan Harbor and her idiosyncrasies. It was why the nudges pushing her toward the town hadn’t completely freaked her out. While she didn’t understand it, she let it be. Was that what the scroll was? Another one of the town’s unique traits? 

If it was, she wasn’t going to get any answers right then. It was too late … or too early in the morning. She’d ask her aunt tomorrow. If Giennie didn’t know, chances were she knew someone who would. 

                                                                                             ***

Swan Harbor, Maine 
February 13 
3:30 a.m. 

Justin glanced at the time. He should be home in bed, but he was almost too tired to make the trip. His house would be too silent, and he would be alone, leaving too many opportunities for memories to appear. At the hospital, it was just the opposite. 

He shut down his computer and reached for his duffle bag. When he did, his phone chirped, reminding him he had a message. One he’d read but didn’t want to hear. It was only the years of friendship that had him pushing replay. 

“It’s Sasha. I know you’ve told me we shouldn’t see each other anymore. That what you feel for me is friendship, and that I should find someone who loves me. But Justin, I just heard about Billy. I know he was your friend. He was my friend too. Can’t we comfort each other? Please?” 

Her voice cracked toward the end, making him feel worse than he had before listening. He knew how she felt. Hell, he felt the same way—only worse because he’d been there. 

Justin grabbed his overcoat and trudged through the snow to his car. He started the engine, then brushed the light covering off his windshield. 

Instead of taking the quickest route home, he drove through town. Main Street was essentially shut down. However, a few stores signs were lit up. The brightest was the one hanging above Sally’s Diner. For as long as he could remember, the sign had been a beacon, welcoming friends and strangers alike. For Justin, it was part of his family’s history. 

He took a right at the Town Square Park roundabout and drove past the road that led to Sasha’s home. 

Please.

The memory of that one word had him making a U-turn and turning onto her street. A low light came from within, telling him she was probably waiting for him. Once he’d pulled into her driveway, though, he couldn’t make himself open the car door. It had been more than two months since he’d ‘officially’ broken up with his on again/off again high school girlfriend. Was it fair to offer her comfort knowing she hoped it would lead to more? 

Since that question could be answered with a resounding no, Justin backed out of her driveway and resumed his trip. 

He crossed the covered bridge and took the next left. At one time, the land where his neighborhood was built belonged to the McFadden family. While the homes were roughly twenty years old, most of the surrounding area was even older. It was also on the opposite side of town from the hospital. Something many of his friends and family questioned. To him, there hadn’t been a choice. His house, part of the Covered Bridge’s Crossing neighborhood, had chosen him. 

When he turned into his driveway, his headlights bounced off the house next door. He wasn’t sure what he thought of having neighbors. They could be noisy and in his business. Something he certainly didn’t need. 

He pulled into his garage, turned off the car, and leaned back against the headrest. If he had his choice, he’d prefer to go back and redo the last twelve hours. While it might not change the outcome, he could have been better prepared. Would that have made a difference? Maybe? Maybe not. That didn’t make it any easier. 

Justin climbed from the car and trudged inside. He left his shoes next to the door, his duffle on the washing machine, and poured a stiff drink. 

The rum hit the back of his throat and landed like  fire in his gut. When the glass was empty, he poured another, and then another. Just enough to numb the memory of the past few hours. To take the edge off so his sleep would be dreamless. 

Is that even possible, Simpson? 

That wasn’t a question he could answer … yet, anyway. 

Justin filled the glass once again and took the stairs two at a time to his bedroom. He exchanged his scrubs for a pair of sleep pants, and with glass in hand, leaned his forearm on the window, staring into the dark night. 

Pieces of memories filtered through his mind, but he refused to focus on just one. When another appeared, it didn’t capture his attention. That was on the vision outside. 

There was something ethereal about the woman, almost as if he’d conjured her from his imagination. She had black hair, porcelain skin and wore a white shirt that billowed behind her. It was cotton, the material so thin, he could see her. Pert breasts with pebbled nipples that would fill his hand. A trim waist, flat stomach and below … 

When his body hardened, Justin ran his fingertips along his length, causing it to throb, begging for him to give in. If he did, he might forget temporarily, but it wouldn’t take away the pain. 

The vision bent to pick up something. Yet, he could see nothing in her hand. 

What was she doing? What was she seeing? Could she be sleepwalking? Should he check on her, if only to make sure she didn’t freeze to death? 

Face it, Simpson. You want to check on her for your needs, not hers. 

Justin blew out a breath. At one time, that statement might have been true. Lately, though, Spencer’s words were on replay. 

So next comes love? 

Why couldn’t he have the luck of his brother Lee? He’d come to town on a case, ran into the woman he’d not been able to forget, and less than a year later, they were engaged. To the wife-to-be package, there was her son Ethan, from a previous marriage, and most recently, a new son, Jamie Lee. Was he ready for that? 

From the corner of his eye, the woman moved, and again, it appeared as if she were following something only she could see. 

Justin left his glass on his dresser and ran downstairs. He was a man, and she was lovely. Right then, though, he was worried about her. The temperature was below freezing, she had on minimal clothing and was barefoot. Her health was all that concerned him. 

He grabbed a throw off the sofa and stalked to the backdoor. When he opened it, she was there, almost as if she were waiting for him. 

Her eyes flared, and her mouth formed a perfect O. 

“It’s you,” she whispered. “It’s you.” 

 

Whispers of Luck will be released 4/10/2025. Preorder your copy and learn more about the Mystical Waters Canyon in Swan Harbor.