The doorbell chimed as she entered, and the cozy warmth of the café wrapped around her. Her gaze drifted across the room, looking for the couple who’d come so far to say thank you.
Sitting at a corner table was a woman with short gray hair. As soon as their gazes connected, Margaret smiled and waved her over. Harper had never met Henry’s wife in person. But they’d spoken on daily Zoom calls and talked over the phone when setbacks were so severe no one thought Henry would survive.
In those times, Harper had held her iPad close to Henry when his wife whispered the words she thought would be their last goodbye. Afterward, she’d console Margaret, giving her what encouragement she could without promising a miracle. Then she’d moved to the next patient, helping another family who were going through the same thing.
She’d bottled up her grief, told herself she needed to be strong for her patients, for the families who clung to hope. By the time she left the hospital, she was numb from burying her feelings. Cold to the aftereffects of a tragedy that had taken so many good people.
As she maneuvered between the tables, Harper smiled at Henry. The man she remembered in the hospital looked completely different from the person standing beside Margaret. His brown eyes were bright and filled with warmth. His sunken cheeks had filled out and, for the first time, his smile was pain-free.
Henry stepped around his chair and opened his arms. “Here’s my favorite nurse!”
With tears in his eyes, they embraced.
As Henry’s arms tightened around her shoulders, Harper felt a surge of relief. The anxiety that had gripped her started to dissolve. It was replaced by the warmth of human connection, of shared history with a man who’d made such a remarkable and strong recovery.
When Henry stepped away, he wiped his eyes. “You’re one of the people who saved my life. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the words to thank you.”
Harper rubbed his arm. “Seeing you is all the thanks I need.”
She hugged Margaret, their embrace bridging the years since they’d last had contact. On their frequent phone calls, they’d spoken like old friends. Margaret had shared family secrets, told Harper funny stories about the man who was slowly losing his fragile grip on life. They’d formed a relationship unlike anything Harper had experienced and probably never would again.
“It’s so good to see you both,” Harper managed, her voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her.
“It’s good to see you, too,” Margaret said through her tears. “You’re even more beautiful in real life.”
Harper smiled. “I’m surprised you recognize me. I was covered head to toe in PPE for most of our Zoom meetings.”
“But not all of them,” Margaret reminded her. “You looked so tired.”
“We worked long hours,” Harper said softly. She didn’t need to mention how many staff had been infected with the virus. Even with the extra precautions they’d taken, they’d lost too many friends and colleagues.
As they settled into their seats, Margaret’s eyes were full of gratitude. “I’m so pleased we found you. We wanted to thank you. The nights you stayed by Henry’s side, the care you gave him, we owe you so much.”
Harper touched Margaret’s arm. “I was doing my job. I’m just pleased everything turned out better than anyone expected.”
Henry sent his wife a grateful smile. “So are we.”
After they’d ordered lunch, Margaret told Harper about their lives after Henry left the hospital—his slow recuperation, the emotional toll it had taken, and how they’d found strength in each other. Harper listened, her heart full, as she saw the love and resilience of a couple who’d nearly lost each other.
“We tried to find you,” Henry told her. “But no one would tell us where you’d gone. If it weren’t for the nurse we spoke to a few weeks ago, we’d still be looking. How have you been?”
Harper hesitated before telling them what had happened to her. Even after the conversations she’d had with Margaret, she was reluctant to tell them everything. “I was working at the hospital until the end of last year. My grandfather had a stroke, so I moved back here to take care of him. I’m not nursing at the moment. I work part time at a medical clinic as a receptionist.”
Margaret’s brow furrowed slightly in surprise. “You’re such an amazing nurse. We thought you’d still be working in New York City.”
A waitress brought out their meals, and Harper used the time to think about what she’d say next. “Leaving nursing was a hard decision,” she explained, her hands wrapped around the comforting warmth of her coffee mug. “After everything that happened during the pandemic, I needed a change—a place to breathe and find my footing again. Sapphire Bay has given me that. And caring for my grandfather is rewarding in a different way.”
Henry reached across the table, placing a hand on top of Harper’s. “I’m glad you’ve found your own way to continue helping others. That’s what matters,” he said, his voice filled with understanding.
Harper’s eyes met Henry’s, and she saw a man who’d faced death and come back to embrace life. “I wasn’t sure meeting you was a good idea,” she admitted. “I’d locked away what had happened and didn’t want to face how I felt. But seeing you here with Margaret reminds me of why I became a nurse.”
Henry’s fingers tightened around hers. “You used to hold my hand. It gave me hope, even when I couldn’t speak or tell you I knew you were there. I’ll never forget the kindness you shared with me.”
Margaret’s eyes were brimming with tears. “We’ve read about healthcare workers struggling after the pandemic, the burnout, and the need for a change. You gave so much of yourself to Henry. It takes courage to step back and care for yourself.”
Harper didn’t have as much courage as they thought. Until she came to Sapphire Bay, she’d struggled to get out of bed in the mornings. Struggled to piece together a life that had changed in a million different ways.
Andrea, the owner of The Starlight Café, arrived at their table with three plates of pie. “A little birdy told me you adore pecan pie, Harper. Consider this a gift for you and your two friends.”
