Chapter 1
Bree
“It’s even prettier in person,” I murmur to myself as I survey the grounds.
This place looks like something out of a fairy tale. At least, the gardens of Wildflower Retirement Community do. I thought the hospital I was working at had a beautiful courtyard, but it has nothing on this place. Everything is immaculate, as if the grass itself is carefully trimmed blade by blade.
The sun shines brightly through the trees. The breeze rustles the long grass, and wildflowers in beautiful, blooming colors dot the sidewalk leading up to the retirement community. It’s an amazing place to work, and I’m so excited to join the care team.
When I first started as a nurse, I quickly realized my favorite patients were seniors. After I went back to school to get my degree as a nurse practitioner, I chose to study geriatric medicine with the hopes that I would get to work in a place just like this.
There’s something so cool about getting to hang out with seniors. They’ve watched the world change from decade to decade, and they’re still here. Still proof that no matter what happens, you can survive anything.
I get out of my car, excited about my first day. It’s a little more effort because of the boot that I’m getting used to. It’s on my left foot, which means driving is challenging.
Still, I wasn’t too worried because the roads of Courage County are sparsely traveled. It’s not like the small town is a bustling metropolis. I saw ten other cars on the road though I did have to brake for two different tractors. I thought one was some type of riding lawnmower that had been modified with racing stripes.
It seems I’m pretty far out in the country, and I can’t help but find that exciting. After all this time spent in cities where no one knew my name or cared much about me other than if I showed up for work, I’m looking forward to joining the tight-knit community here.
I don’t just want neighbors. I want to get to know people. I want to be here for them throughout all the seasons of their lives. I want deep friendships and a warm community around me.
The first step toward living that life is starting this new job.
I juggle coffee and donuts as I head up the walk toward the front of the building. But the boot makes navigating everything more difficult. It clunks with each step, and I grit my teeth against a wave of pain.
The orthopedic doctor said that he would re-evaluate it in a few weeks, but he’s pretty sure that nothing is broken. The words “pretty sure” were oddly not that reassuring.
A bumblebee flits into my path, dive-bombing a group of purple flowers by the sidewalk. The beautiful sight of this fat insect collecting pollen completely distracts me.
I lose my careful rhythm in my boot. One minute I’m staring at the bee. The next, the concrete is rushing to meet me.
I throw out my hands with a yelp, my coffee and donut going down onto the ground. I smash into them with a sickening thud.
My hands are scraped and bloody. They sting from tiny abrasions. I swear under my breath as another wave of pain shoots through my leg.
I can’t believe I fell on my first day at work. I mean, I should believe it. I’ve always been a bit clumsy. That’s why I’m in the boot in the first place. I lost a battle with a basket of laundry when I was on my way downstairs at my new apartment here in Courage County.
I manage to scramble into a sitting position just as the door for the retirement community swings open.
A young woman about my age rushes out. She’s dressed in a vintage red dress with white hearts on it. Her hair is in a messy bun with a few flyaway tendrils. She has beautiful shiny patent heels on. She looks like she just stepped out of a 1950s catalog directed at housewives.
Here she is looking so put together, and I’m in a boot on the sidewalk feeling sorry for myself as I mourn the remnants of my smushed donut and lost coffee.
“Oh no,” she exclaims as she rushes toward me. “Are you okay? I was passing through the lobby and saw what happened.”
“I smashed my donut,” I explain, trying to pull the sticky gooey mess from my scrubs. This is not how I envisioned my first day going. I always keep an extra pair of scrubs with me, but I hadn’t imagined using them so early in the day.
“Are you hurt?” the other woman asks. She gestures behind herself toward the building. “I’m Lauren, the receptionist. You must be the new nurse practitioner.”
I hold up my hand to show her my scraped up palm. “I’m Bree, and I’m fine other than some scrapes and my bruised pride.”
“Well, let me help you get in,” she says. “I’ll help you inside, and we can get you settled with a latte from the new espresso machine. How does that sound?” She smiles at me, and I instantly decide that I like her. There’s something warm and kind about Lauren.
She helps me up the steps, allowing me to lean my weight on her until my gait is steady again. As we approach the door, she raps sharply on the glass.
A security guard with a name tag that reads Ryan approaches. He holds open the door briefly, barely sparing a glance before he returns to his desk to continue reading his thriller.
“He’s not the friendliest,” Lauren whispers. She stage-whispers the words a little too loud, but he ignores her if he does hear them.
