Chapter 33

Chance

The late afternoon sun throws long shadows across the linoleum as I push open the heavy door to King Albert Elementary on Tuesday afternoon.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Chance," purrs the school secretary. "Here for Lucy?"

"Guilty as charged," I admit with a smile, noting the twinkle in her eye. "Is it okay to go up? She's not expecting me."

"What a nice surprise. Go ahead," she says, waving me through with a playful wink. "But don't think I'll let you off so easily next time."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," I assure her, stepping past the main office and into the corridor lined with student artwork and educational posters.

I'm midway down the hall when, as if on cue, Artem barrels out of Lucy's classroom, his sneakers squeaking against the floor as he comes to a skidding halt in front of me .

"Dr. Chance!" His eyes light up like fireworks, and his surprise is almost comical.

I crouch down to Artem's level. "How is your sister feeling?" I ask. Artem and his mother and sister were in the ED the day after I had dinner with Lucy, and he recognized me. His sister had a nasty ear infection.

"Much better!" he declares. "I told everyone I saw you at the hospital and we did cool experiments."

"Our secret is out," I tell him with a wink.

"My sister's taking her medicine and feeling better," Artem adds. "Then we all had to eat these terrible vegetables. Mama says it's to keep us from getting sick too."

"Preventative measures." I nod. "That's smart. Your mom is taking good care of you."

Artem beams. "She says we're like superheroes now 'cause we're protected against germs."

"Absolutely," I agree.

Suddenly, we are not alone; a gaggle of curious faces spills into the hallway, surrounding us with a buzz of excited chatter.

"Is it true you can make volcanoes?" asks a little girl with pigtails.

"Can you really catch stars?" asks another, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Maybe not stars." I laugh. "But I can definitely show you how to make a volcano." My promise is met with cheers and claps, and for a moment, I feel like a superhero, not just a doctor who works in the emergency department.

"Did you bring apples again?" someone else asks.

"Not today," I respond, ruffling a few heads affectionately. "But maybe next time, okay?"

"Okay!" they chorus.

"I'm making the solar system," Artem says proudly.

"Sounds like you're on track to discover a new galaxy," I tease, standing up as more children join the throng. It feels good to be here, good to be a part of this. Then I see Lucy at the classroom door, and everything else fades into the background. We've only traded texts since dinner because I'm covering some night shifts this week, but I've missed her.

"I heard Artem and his sister paid you a visit in the ED," Lucy says. "I'm so glad everyone is okay."

"Yes, me too," I agree. "The ED is not where I want to see my friends." I smile down at the children. "I probably should have waited for the bell to ring, but I was discovered sooner than I thought. I heard you might need a ride."

Her eyes widen. "I could use one today. But give me just a few more minutes." She turns to the kids in the hallway. "Come on, everyone. We need to clean up before we can leave."

"Dr. Chance!"

I turn to see Kateryna, her face pinched in distress as she holds out her knee for inspection.

"Hey, what happened here?" I ask, shifting my attention to the tearful girl.

"I fell down," she explains, her voice quivering. "It hurts."

"Let's take a look." Carefully, I examine the skinned knee, noting the angry red abrasions but nothing that looks serious. "This is a brave knee. It tells a story of adventure and courage."

"Really?"

"Yes," I assure her. "Now, your job is to keep it clean. Can you do that for me?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Good. In a few weeks, you won't even remember you fell. It'll heal up nicely," I promise.

"Thank you," she whispers before scampering off.

I rise to my feet, and the kids shuffle back into the room, their energy subdued by the impending chores. I lean against the wall, watching the parade. Lucy catches my eye, a playful smirk on her face. "You're quite the Pied Piper. I'm pretty sure they'd follow you anywhere."

"Only if I come bearing gifts," I quip .

Before long, the ring of the school bell signals freedom. The students burst from the classroom, though a few linger, including Fatima, who approaches me.

"Dr. Chance!" She wraps her arms around me in a hug. "Thank you for the apples the other day. They were super yummy!"

"Anytime, Fatima," I say, returning her embrace. "Glad you enjoyed them."

She releases me and heads out, her backpack bouncing with every step. I wave goodbye to Ivan and Bibi as they make a beeline for the door, their voices already rising in excitement about some adventure awaiting them on the playground.

"Stay out of trouble, you two!" I call. Their figures disappear into the throng of departing students, but after just a few moments, I'm left standing in the nearly deserted hallway, the echoes of laughter and chatter gradually fading away.

Finally, a stillness settles over the hallway, and Lucy and I are alone. I follow her back into her classroom

"I have to say, I'm impressed," she tells me. "You remembered all their names. That's no small feat."

Heat creeps into my cheeks. Thankfully, I've always been good with names. "Well, they're important to you, aren't they? That makes them important to me too."

Lucy's gaze drops for a moment, and she smiles shyly. She's so endearing when she blushes.

I shift the conversation, revealing the tidbit of news I picked up last night. "When I saw Janelle at Barney's on my dinner break yesterday, she mentioned she was going to follow you to the mechanic this morning and give you a lift to school."

Lucy nods. "It's just an oil change and some new front tires. Nothing major."

"Can I drive you home?" The question tumbles out, revealing the reason for my visit.

There's a pause, a brief hesitation in her demeanor, before she nods. "Can you drop me off at the mechanic's instead? I need to pick up my car."

"Of course."

She collects her belongings, and together, we step out into the empty corridors of King Albert Elementary. As we exit the building, I hold the door open for her, and we walk side by side into the afternoon.

We make small talk as we drive to the mechanic, and when we arrive, the coffee shop next door sends the scent of freshly ground coffee wafting over the sidewalk. "Are you interested in a quick coffee?" I ask, pretty sure of the answer based on the way Lucy's eyes scan the menu board.

"Sure," she responds. "But let's not linger too long. The mechanic closes in a couple of hours, and I need to make sure I get my car."

"I promise I won't leave you stranded."

The barista prepares our orders—espresso for me and cappuccino for Lucy—and we move to the quietest corner of the shop. I feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness. This is more than just coffee; it's a chance to reconnect, to move our relationship forward on the path where I know it belongs.

We sit, the subtle clink of ceramic on wood punctuating our settling in. I take a deep breath, the steam from my cup rising like the thoughts swirling in my head. "Lucy, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately," I tell her, holding her gaze. "In case I wasn't clear the other night at dinner, I don't want to be just friends. I want more."

"You were clear," she says with a smile. "I've just been processing everything you had to say." She takes a sip of her cappuccino, her eyes never leaving mine. "Chance," she says softly, setting her cup down. "You often say you can do better. You push yourself really hard. That approach must help you a lot at work, right? And it probably did in school too."

Her observation catches me off-guard, but it's not inaccurate. "It has," I admit. "But you know, sometimes it pays to be a bit of a rebel, to make the system work for you instead."

"Like with the safe-use clinics?" She leans forward, putting her chin in her hand .

"Exactly," I reply, feeling a surge of pride. "My team was not going to give up, so we worked the system to get it done."

"Always finding a way to do better, huh?" Her tone is teasing, but there's an undercurrent of something else, something I can't quite grasp.

"Always," I affirm, though I'm aware that better is sometimes a moving target, one that shifts with perspective.

"Where does your always-do-better mantra come from?"

"It's something my mother ingrained in me," I confess, smiling as I think of her unyielding optimism. "She's always believed there's room for improvement, no matter the situation."

"And do you apply that to your personal life as well?" Her question hangs between us, challenging yet vulnerable.

I consider a moment, sifting through past experiences and choices. "Yeah, I do," I reply, nodding slowly. "We're constantly evolving, right? In self-discovery mode. Striving to do better seems…natural."

Lucy's expression shifts, shadows of something like pain flitting across her features so briefly that I wonder if I imagined it. But it's there, in the slight downturn of her lips, the furrow in her brow. She takes a breath, and when she speaks, her voice is laced with a cautious edge. "You were once in love with Céline, weren't you?" she asks.

I sense we've wandered into territory less sure than before. "Yes," I confirm, my throat tightening around the word. A memory, not fully forgotten, flickers in my mind's eye.

"Did you ever look at her and think…you could do better?" The words tumble out, and they hit me with an unexpected force.

"Well, yes," I begin, thinking of my realizations about our relationship. "She didn't have the capacity to consider my needs. She only…" I trail off as I look up at Lucy's face. She's not hearing this the way I intend to say it.

Lucy reaches out, her fingers grazing mine. Her touch is gentle, but her words are heavy. "Chance, I think it's better if we're just friends."

I look into her eyes, finding a resolve there that tells me she's been mulling this decision for longer than the time it took to sip her cappuccino.

"I love spending time with you," she continues, and the warmth in her voice clashes with the coldness settling in my stomach. "But if you're always on a quest for something better…I'm not the someone you're looking for." She smiles sadly. "I'm not perfect, and I never will be. We can't be more than friends. I'm not sure I could survive if we became more, and then you wanted someone better."

The finality in her tone echoes around the quiet corner we occupy. My mind whirls, racing to find a way out of this. I want to argue, to tell her she's misunderstood, but she's already looking at the door.

She stands, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and I can only watch, paralyzed by the sudden turn of our conversation. She heads to the exit while I frantically search for something to say, some way to mend the rift that's just opened between us. Just when I thought we'd found a way forward.

"Lucy, wait—" The plea dies on my lips as she walks out the door without looking back.

I force myself to stand, moving to the window, where I can see her disappear into the mechanic's shop. I'm frozen, not sure what to do.

This is worse than what happened with Céline. So much worse. Lucy isn't just walking away; she's taking a piece of me with her, a piece I hadn't realized I'd given.

I stand there stunned, not sure what to do or where to go. After a few minutes, I watch her car emerge from the garage and pull into traffic, yet still I remain. The coffee shop fills and empties with different groups of customers, and I return to the table, rethinking our conversation. What it means. Whether it's true. When someone asks for the chair Lucy sat in, it finally breaks me from my thoughts, and I force myself back to my vehicle. I had expected a different outcome today.

I drive toward my home, stopping on the way to buy groceries for Ginny. I think she's been skimping on food to pay for heat, so I've been buying some extra things. When she does cook, she insists on feeding me, so it's the least I can do.

When I get home, I climb the stairs and knock on the door so I can put the grocery bags on the counter in her kitchen. Ginny's at the table, flipping through a magazine, but she looks up when I start unloading.

"More food?" she asks.

I shrug, avoiding her gaze. "I need to contribute if you're going to share all your meals." I smile, but there's a tremor in my hands as I open the cabinets to put things away.

"Something happen with Lucy?" Ginny asks after a moment.

I look over at her. She's sharp. She's always had a way of cutting straight to the heart of things.

"Yeah." I recount the coffee shop conversation, each word a weight that sinks me further into uncertainty.

Ginny listens quietly, and when I finish, she folds her arms, assessing me with a look that's part concern, part challenge.

"Chance, you're going to have to work for it," she says. "Getting past Céline was just the first step, it seems. But I've seen how you two are together. She's got real feelings for you."

I rub the back of my neck, tension knotting there. "I know, but she doesn't—"

"No buts," Ginny interrupts. "Don't give up. You need to fight for her."

I nod. "I don't know if that's what she wants. But I don't want to let her go."

"Then don't," Ginny says simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Show her what she means to you."

I nod again, resolve starting to build. Ginny's right. I don't have to be passive. Look where that got me with Céline. There's no reason to just accept what Lucy says, especially when she has this all wrong. My ambition is nothing in the face of something real. She's what makes me better, inspires me to push forward and want more for my life. That's not something I'll ever want to replace.