“Harper, it’s me, Ellie. How are you?”
“I’m doing okay,” Harper told her friend. It wasn’t like Ellie to call her at this time of the day. The last time they’d spoken, Ellie was doing afternoon shifts at Bellevue Hospital. “Has something happened?”
Ellie spoke quickly. “I know you said you don’t want to come back to New York, but we desperately need you. The ICU is overwhelmed and we’re short-staffed. Stephanie and Giovanna retired three weeks ago, and the recruitment agency can’t find anyone to replace them. To make matters worse, Peggy’s pregnant and will only be here for another month. Can you come? Even if it’s only for a short time, it’d help.”
The urgency in Ellie’s voice sent a jolt through Harper. She stopped walking, feeling Owen’s concerned gaze upon her. “It’s a difficult time. My granddad’s had another stroke, and I have a job I can’t leave.”
Ellie’s sigh carried through the phone. “You’re an incredible nurse. It would almost be like you never left. A woman from the recruitment agency said the hospital’s paying relocation costs and subsidizing three months’ rent just to find some staff.”
Harper’s gaze met Owen’s. “I’m really sorry, Ellie, but I need to stay here for Granddad.”
“I understand,” Ellie told her. “But, if you change your mind, let me know. Everyone’s working twelve-hour shifts, five days a week, just to keep the ICU open.”
For anyone, that was a huge workload. But when patients depended on you to keep them alive, it was even worse. “That’s terrible. How are you coping?”
“It isn’t easy,” Ellie told her. “I don’t know how much longer I can do it, but there’s no one else to help.”
Harper heard a high-pitched beep in the background.
“I have to go,” Ellie said. “I’ll call you on the weekend. Take care.”
After Harper put the phone away, a silence fell between her and Owen.
He reached out, taking her hand. “Is everything okay?”
Harper frowned. “They need more nurses at the hospital I worked at in New York City. It sounds as though it’s almost as bad as it was during the pandemic.”
Owen squeezed her hand.
“There’s a part of me that feels like I should be there, helping,” she told him. “But I can’t go back. Granddad needs me, and I’m helping with the support group for caregivers,anddoing the trauma course. I can’t just leave it all behind.”
“If it makes any difference,” Owen said. “I’m glad you’re staying.”
She looked at his strong jaw, his eyes that were always full of warmth and kindness. “You’re the other reason I don’t want to leave. You’ve become a part of my life in a way I never expected. After everything that’s happened, you’re a reminder that good things can come out of hard times.”
Owen pulled her close. “I care about you, too. Just remember that even though we’re a small town, you’re making a difference. You’re making people’s lives better.”
Her eyes filled with unshed tears. Owen was right, but the staff in the Intensive Care Unit were special. What had happened during the pandemic had shaped their lives in ways she was only beginning to understand. Turning her back on them now, when they needed her the most, was one of the hardest things she’d had to do.
On Saturday night,Owen turned off the furnace, its warm hum giving way to a heavy silence that filled his studio. He pulled off his gloves and wiped his forehead, a day’s worth of work leaving him with a satisfying kind of fatigue.
The studio still held the vibrancy of the day’s visitors. The number of people who’d come to his first opening day surprised him. But his parents had expected a large crowd. They’d been impressed with all the advertising he’d organized. From the local school newsletter, to interviews on the radio station, and Facebook advertising—everyone in this part of Montana seemed to know about his studio.
The people visiting his website had tripled overnight and his email box was full of requests for more information. If this continued, he might have to ask his mom if she wanted a part-time job.
Lifting a tray of paperweights out of the storage area, he carefully carried them across to the specialty shelving Steve had made.
The bell above the door tinkled, announcing his friend’s arrival. “I was just about to turn the sign to ‘Closed’,” Owen told Steve with a smile. “I see you’ve brought your little buddy with you.”
Rex stared up at him with his jet-black, button eyes.
Steve laughed. “As soon as I leave my house, Rex cries. Not that it’s too much of a drama. Patrick’s happy for me to take him to work. I just have to walk him a couple of times and keep him in a playpen for the rest of the day.”
Owen knelt beside Rex and patted his fluffy fur. “You’re one spoiled dog.”
Steve grinned. “He deserves it. Last night, I had my best night’s sleep ever. And it’s all because of Rex.”
Owen looked down at the pint-sized wonder dog. “What made the difference?”
