Page 34 of A Hidden Hope

He closed the lid of the brownies and left her to finish stacking gauze pads in the supply closet, and she was equally glad he’d left as she was disappointed.

After all, they were just pals. Just chums. Chummy Charlie.

At noon on Saturday, after Dok finished with patients and was ready to close the office, she told Annie she wanted to give her a ride home. “I want to see for myself how motion affects you.”

Annie blanched.

“How about if I promise to not go over the speed limit?”

Annie winced. “How about even slower?”

“We need to go a little faster than a buggy, Annie. Conditioning could be the answer.”

Clearly, Annie didn’t share her optimism, but Dok had a theory that Annie was suffering from panic attacks, probably brought on from her childhood bus trip. If so, she was confident that slow and steady conditioning was the best way to overcome run-of-the-mill motion sickness.

A few minutes later, in the car, Dok glanced over at Annie, who was buckled in the passenger seat, looking a bit pale but determined. “All right, Annie, today we’re going to start the process to get a handle on this.”

Annie nodded nervously.

Dok’s eyes flicked to Annie’s hands—trembling.

If this was a panic attack, the anticipation was the worst part.

The symptoms might feel all too real, but they could be managed.

She felt a glimmer of hope. “Concentrate on something else, Annie. Anything that makes you happy. Like, how good it’s going to feel when you pass that EMT exam. ”

Annie gave her a weak smile.

Dok started off slowly. For the first few minutes, as she eased down the lane and stopped at a sign, Annie seemed to be holding it together.

Left at the stop sign, right at the old gray barn—so far, so good.

But as soon as Dok turned onto a road that stretched out in front of them, she picked up speed and saw the color drain right out of Annie’s face.

With every sideways glance, Dok noticed something new—sweat beading on her forehead, her hands shaking even more.

The change was as swift as the road opening up before them.

That brief acceleration had triggered Annie’s discomfort.

Dok slowed the car way, way down. “Annie, you okay?”

Annie moaned softly, clutching her stomach. “It’s really bad.”

“Let’s try some breathing exercises. Deep breaths, in and out.” She took a loud breath in and blew it out. “In, out.”

“Please, Dok, I’ve tried breathing.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Don’t close your eyes, Annie. Focus on a spot on the horizon.”

“Dok, please, I’ve tried that too. I can’t ... I can’t do this,” Annie pleaded, her voice trembling. “Stop the car. Please!”

Dok swerved to the side of the road and slammed to a stop. Annie barely waited for the car to halt before she bolted out, rushing to the grass, her head dropping between her knees as she retched everything in her stomach.

Dok quickly followed, coming around to where Annie was hunched over, gulping in deep breaths of fresh air.

She placed a steadying hand on Annie’s shoulder, offering feeble silent support.

It took a very long time before Annie’s breathing calmed, the blood finally returning to her face, bringing a hint of color with it. An unsettlingly long time.

At last, Annie managed to sit up. Dok handed her some tissues, and she wiped the sweat from her brow, then covered her face with her hands. “How can I ever be an EMT,” she whispered, her voice filled with frustration, “when I can’t even stay upright in a moving car?”

Dok put an arm around her shoulders. “I know it seems hopeless right now, but we’ll keep looking for a solution. Don’t give up yet. I’ll do more research on this and see if there are other treatments we can try.”

Annie managed a weak smile. “I’ll just get my scooter from your car and head home.”

Dok helped get the scooter out of the back of the car and watched Annie head down the road. The sight made her sad. Annie’s chin was tucked and she scootered slowly, as if defeated.

After this brief car ride, Dok’s optimism was fading. Over the years, she’d seen a few cases of severe motion sickness and they were always linked to an inner ear imbalance. Tough to treat, often persistent.

Her heart sank. This was no ordinary run-of-the-mill motion sickness.

It was kind of Dok to say “we” when, in reality, Annie was the one who had just been throwing up on the side of the road.

As she scootered along toward home, keeping her pace slow—mostly because she still felt queasy—she tried to stave off a creeping sense of despair.

She was convinced God had called her to be an EMT.

That belief had carried her this far, and she had to trust he wouldn’t let her down now. Not when she was so close.

As she passed the Jacob Zook farm, she thought of Clara.

If she weren’t still feeling so woozy, she might’ve popped in to check on her.

Hopefully, Dok had remembered to call and see if Clara’s mastitis had cleared up.

Annie had seen the Post-it note Dok left on her desk to remind herself, but that didn’t always mean she got to it.

It would’ve been best if Dok had asked Annie to make the call—at least then it would’ve gotten done.

Annie handled most of the patient reminder calls.

A lot of patients skipped their rechecks, trying to dodge a second doctor’s fee.

She slowed as she neared the Zook driveway, feeling a pinch of guilt about Clara—who seemed to ask so little of anyone—and debated whether she should stop in. But then she heard the ear-piercing wails of Clara’s babies—loud enough to reach her down on the road—and quickly decided against it.

Nope, she just couldn’t handle those babies today. In fact, she could barely manage keeping the scooter in a straight line as she wobbled her way down the road.

Evie wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, smudging away tears as she bent down to try and reach a hand into a nest to collect eggs for Fern. An ornery hen kept eyeing her, feathers fluffed like she was gearing up for a fight.

Fern appeared in the small doorway of the henhouse. “You took so long to get eggs that I worried you’d been cornered.” Her sharp eyes taking in everything—the lone egg in Evie’s basket, the suspicious hen, and the telltale wet streaks on Evie’s face. Fern didn’t miss a thing. “What’s happened?”

Evie quickly ducked her head, brushing away another tear. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just that hen over there. She keeps pecking at me and it hurts.” She lifted a hand to show some small bloody marks left by that horrible hen. She sniffed back her tears, but that just let more out.

Fern’s gaze didn’t waver. Without a word, she walked over to the hen, who squawked in protest as she scooped her up, holding her close to her chest. “This one will end up in the chicken pot tonight,” she said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Evie’s eyes widened in alarm. “I didn’t mean you had to kill her!”

Fern looked down at the hen, stroking her feathers with a tenderness that didn’t quite match her words. “She’s not laying anymore. It’s time for her.” Then she turned to Evie, fixing her with a steady gaze. “Es is en Zeit fer alles.”

There’s a time for everything.

Evie swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words settle over her.

Just an hour ago, she had asked God to give her some idea of what she should do.

It was new to her, this asking, but she was really trying not to be half a Christian.

She hadn’t expected such a speedy response. There’s a time for everything.

It was probably what she needed to hear. Darcy had already delivered her same old advice in a slightly different package: “It’s easier to accept Charlie and Wren now,” she’d said during a quick phone call today, “before it has a chance to hurt.”

But it already hurt.

Thirty minutes later, Evie stepped down the farmhouse’s porch steps, clutching a single letter.

As she crossed the grass to head toward the mailbox, she spotted Charlie in the pasture, patting one of the horses.

She faltered, her steps slowing to a stop.

Charlie turned and saw her, then did a double take.

He walked toward her, but when he reached her, there was a long silence, as if both of them expected the other to speak up first.

He broke the silence. “I was just heading out for a run.” He noticed the letter in her hand. “Want me to put that in the mailbox for you?”

“Sure, thanks.” As she handed it to him, her fingers brushed against his as he took it, and she felt a tiny tingle. How was that possible? Her heart kept ignoring her head.

As he took the envelope, he glanced at the address. “Who do you know in Alaska?”

“Only one person. Another traveling nurse.” Evie hesitated to say more, then decided it was fortuitous. “But that’ll change soon.” She wanted him to feel a sting.

Weirdly, it worked.

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”

“That’s my application for my next traveling nurse assignment,” she said, watching his reaction closely.

He lifted the envelope a few inches in the air. “Alaska?”

“Yes.”

“An application?”

“Yes. They’re old school in this part of Alaska. Everything has to be in paper. Sounds like their Wi-Fi can be unreliable.”

“You’re leaving?” Charlie sounded a little stunned, as if trying to make sense of her words.

“Assuming they offer me a traveling nurse contract. I think they will.” Darcy said they were desperate for nurses.

“You’re just ... done here?”

“Yep,” she said. Really, really done with pining after him. In her head, anyway. Her heart hadn’t caught up yet. Even being this close to him was causing her heart to start pounding.

“But why?”

“For one thing, my contract will be up soon,” she said, trying to sound casual despite the mix of emotions swirling inside her.

He regarded her with inquiring eyes, his head slightly tilted. “So you want to go to Alaska ... for the winter?”

Evie hesitated. Wintering in Alaska hadn’t really occurred to her. “That’s the plan,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “It’ll be an adventure.” That’s what Darcy kept advising her—pursue adventure! Like it was a thing to be captured.

Charlie started to say something, but then he noticed the mail truck coming down the road.

“Let me take care of this for you,” he said, and jogged down the driveway with the letter in hand.

She saw him chatting with the mailman, so she turned and made her way back to the farmhouse, feeling a little deflated.

He could’ve tried a little harder to stop her.

She let out a sigh. It only confirmed to her that it was the right decision to go.

Es is en Zeit fer alles. There’s a time for everything.

Time for her to leave Stoney Ridge and Charlie behind. Clueless Charlie.