This time, she wouldn’t tell her mom. But, if anything happened that was more serious, she’d have no choice but to tell her everything.
The following evening,Owen settled into the familiar surroundings of Pastor John’s living room, the site of their regular PTSD support group meetings. A few months after he arrived in Sapphire Bay, he joined the group. Owen hadn’t been to many meetings, but he enjoyed them. He felt safe sharing what was happening in his life and listening as everyone spoke about their challenges without the fear of being judged.
Tonight’s meeting was a lot smaller than usual. Apart from John, only Andrea, Connor, Steve, Jarrod, and Levi had arrived. Owen smiled when he looked at the dining table. What they’d lost in numbers, they’d gained in food.
Eating a meal together made these meetings better than any he’d attended in Detroit. They still talked about their lives and worked through different ways of reducing their triggers, but it was the friendships they’d formed over dinner that made the biggest difference. Food had brought them together and made it easier to celebrate still being alive.
As they delved into a discussion about coping mechanisms and the small victories they’d each achieved, the door opened, and Harper walked into the room.
“Hi, everyone,” she said hesitantly. “Sorry I’m late. I saw Shelley a couple of hours ago and she told me about tonight’s meeting. It took a little while to find someone to look after Granddad.”
Owen immediately felt a surge of protectiveness. It wasn’t easy stepping into this kind of meeting on your own, especially when you had someone else to look after. “It’s great you could make it,” he told her. “There’s a spare seat beside mine if you’d like to join us.”
She sent him a grateful smile. Before she joined them, she held up a dish as if it were a peace offering to the group. “Shelley said everyone brings a plate of food. I brought apple pie for dessert.”
Connor, the expert in all things sweet, sent her an appreciative smile. “I’m glad you brought something for dessert. It’s my favorite part of a meal.”
Andrea grinned. “And my café will be forever grateful for your sweet tooth, Connor. Welcome to the meeting, Harper.”
“Thanks. It’s good to be here.” She left her pie on the dining room table and took a seat beside Owen. He could sense her unease, the internal battle of whether she belonged here, but he was glad she’d come.
As the meeting progressed, each person took their turn to speak. Harper’s voice trembled as she told them about her experiences working at the hospital during the Covid-19 pandemic. She spoke of the long, harrowing shifts, the sense of helplessness, and the profound impact it had on her, leading to her PTSD diagnosis.
“I have trouble sleeping, and the thought of going back to nursing...” Harper’s voice trailed off.
Owen understood her fear. Despite working at the medical clinic, the idea of returning to her previous role must fill her with dread.
The group listened intently, their expressions a mix of empathy and support. Pastor John, after a moment of reflective silence, offered some inspirational words. “It’s okay to feel uncertain about the future,” he said. “What you’re feeling is valid, and we’re here to support you through this journey.” He then handed Harper a journal. “Writing down your thoughts each night can help clear your mind. It’s a small step but, sometimes, it’s the small steps that lead to the biggest changes.”
As the meeting wrapped up and they gathered for dinner, Owen checked in with Harper. “It’s good to see you here,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”
Harper looked at him, a mixture of gratitude and something else—perhaps relief—in her eyes. “Overwhelmed, but in a good way. It feels right to be here, to hear everyone’s stories. It makes me feel less alone.”
Owen nodded. “That’s how I felt when I started coming here. PTSD changes your life, but it’s easier to manage when you don’t have to cope on your own.”
Steve handed Harper an empty dinner plate. “And it’s easier when you’re eating great food. Try the chicken tacos. They’re incredible.”
After pointing out each dish Harper should try, Steve tried her apple pie. “Yum. This is just as delicious as the pie Andrea bakes at The Starlight Café.”
That caused an even bigger discussion when Andrea heard what Steve had said. After Harper promised to send her the recipe, the easy banter continued over dinner. The laughter and shared stories that filled the room made Owen thankful Harper had come to the meeting.
Pastor John had once said it’s not the absence of fear or pain that defines people, but how they face it. Owen had learned the hard way that it was okay to feel overwhelmed and lost. It was part of being human and not something to hide.
He just hoped Harper felt comfortable surrounded by people who were going through the same thing as she was. For better or worse, they were all dealing with PTSD as best they could. This group had helped him discover a brighter future for himself. It’d be fantastic if Harper could find the same thing.
Chapter7
Harper waved goodbye to Andrea and Steve as everyone left Pastor John’s home. Taking a deep breath, she filled her lungs with the sweet scent of the summer flowers and felt grateful for being here tonight.
If it weren’t for Owen encouraging her to come, and Pastor John’s wife telling her about tonight’s meeting, she would’ve missed hearing everyone’s stories and the hope these meetings gave them.
Owen stood beside her, a man with a kind heart and an even bigger capacity to live his life to the fullest. He’d made the group laugh, lightened the mood when their stories became grim and unimaginable. He’d made her feel welcome and safe. And ready to face the nightmare that had brought her home.
As she took the padlock off her bicycle, Owen lifted his backpack onto his shoulder. “Would you like to have coffee with me? The café around the corner is still open.”
Harper bit her bottom lip. “Coffee sounds tempting, but I really should get back. Granddad’s neighbor was wonderful offering to look after him. I don’t want to keep her waiting.”
“I get it. Would you like me to walk home with you?” Owen offered.
