“Some people,” Dr.White continued, choosing each word deliberately, “possess an acute sensitivity to things that seem to exist beyond ordinary perception.Particularly to emotional residue, for lack of a better term.Violence, grief, rage—these leave impressions that most people never notice.”
“But some do,” Jenna said, barely audible.
“Yes.”Dr.White’s eyes held hers, unwavering.“Some do.And in my experience, dismissing these perceptions as merely symptomatic can do more harm than good.”
Jenna felt exposed, as if the woman across from her could see straight through to the visitations she’d experienced, the dead who spoke to her in dreams.Her reputation for intuition was well-known in Trentville, but few knew its true source.Yet something in Dr.White’s careful phrasing suggested she understood more than she was saying.
“You’re not prescribing antipsychotics,” Jenna noted, neither a question nor an accusation.
“No.”Dr.White shook her head.“I’ve provided a mild sedative for anxiety, which she can take as needed.But I believe antipsychotic medication would be counterproductive at this stage.It might suppress not only the things she calls communications but also the emerging memories she needs to process.”
She leaned forward slightly.“What your sister needs now is stability, safety, and understanding.A quiet environment where she can continue to recover without pressure.”
“She’ll have that with me,” Jenna assured her.
Dr.White’s expression softened.“Sheriff, with all due respect, your profession places you at the center of Trentville’s most difficult moments.And Trentville has been experiencing more than its share of them lately.You live with that darkness daily, and you’ve developed the strength to bear it.”She paused.“Piper isn’t there yet.The things she perceives—the communications—they overwhelm her.And your home...well, your everyday life might be too saturated with the kind of energies your work attracts.”
Jenna frowned.“You think she shouldn’t stay with me?”
“I think,” Dr.White said gently, “that your mother’s home might be better suited for Piper’s immediate recovery.It’s the place where she grew up, familiar territory.And Margaret is there consistently, while your job often takes you away at unpredictable hours.”
A knot of worry formed in Jenna’s stomach.“Mom’s been sober for less than a year.After years of heavy drinking.I’m not sure she’s equipped for this.”
“I’ve had several conversations with your mother this week,” Dr.White replied.“Her commitment to sobriety appears genuine.And frankly, having Piper to focus on might strengthen her resolve.They both need healing, Sheriff Graves.They might help each other find it.”
Jenna felt conflicted.Dr.White wasn’t wrong—Mom had been transformed by Piper’s return, her eyes clearer than Jenna had seen in years, her movements more purposeful.But the risk...
“It wouldn’t need to be only the two of them,” Dr.White added, seeming to read Jenna’s concern.“You’d visit daily, I assume.But ideally, someone else would check in regularly as well.Someone who understands the situation’s...unusual aspects.”
Jenna thought immediately of Frank Doyle, his weathered face and steady presence.“Frank could do that.The former sheriff,” she explained.“He’s been like family since Dad died.He’s aware of Piper’s condition.”
Dr.White’s expression brightened.“Frank Doyle?Of course.I’ve known Frank since I was a girl.His grandmother and my grandmother were close friends.”A smile touched her lips.“He would be perfect.The Doyles have always understood things that others don’t.”
There was something in her tone that made Jenna look up sharply.“What do you mean?”
“Just that Frank comes from a family with certain kinds of ...insights.”Dr.White closed the folder, clearly considering the matter settled.“I’ll call Piper in now, if you’re ready.The discharge papers just need your signature as her emergency contact.”
Before Jenna could press further, Dr.White pressed a button on her desk phone.“Nurse Jenkins?Please bring Piper Graves to my office.Her sister is here to take her home.”
Home.The word still felt strange, applied to Piper.For twenty years, “finding Piper” had been Jenna’s mission, the driving force behind so many of her choices.Now that mission was complete, leaving a vacuum she didn’t know how to fill.
The door opened minutes later, and Piper stepped into the office.She wore clothes borrowed from Jenna—jeans and a simple blue sweater that was loose on her too-thin frame.Her hair, the same chestnut shade as Jenna’s but longer, was pulled back in a ponytail.The physical resemblance between them was unmistakable, yet there was a fragility to Piper that Jenna had never possessed, a tentative quality to her movements.
“Ready to go?”Piper asked, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth.
"More than ready," Jenna replied, standing."Mom's waiting at her place.She's been cooking all morning, apparently you're getting the full homecoming feast."
Piper’s smile widened.“I remember her pot roast.Is it still good?”
“Better than ever,” Jenna assured her, surprised by the normalcy of the exchange.These moments of ordinariness had been increasing, brief windows when the twenty-year gap seemed to vanish, and they were simply sisters again.
Dr.White gave Jenna a clipboard with forms to sign, which she did quickly.Then the doctor turned to Piper.
“Remember what we discussed,” she said, her tone kind but firm.“Take the medication if the anxiety becomes overwhelming.Call me anytime.And try to trust the process—memories will return in their own time.”
Piper nodded, her expression solemn.“Thank you.For believing me.”
“Of course.”Dr.White’s gaze flicked briefly to Jenna.“And your sister understands more than you might think.You’re in good hands.”
