3. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Helene

F rozen yogurt is my go-to snack. I figure it's fat-free or sugar-free or free of whatever that thing is that makes you fat. So I eat it—often. I'll be able to burn the calories in my yoga class later. So I'm in my happy place right now. Still, the hairs on the back of my neck are up because I feel him. He's here somewhere. Perhaps not in the yogurt shop. Maybe outside.

"I need to tell you something, Mags."

"I was wondering if you were going to separate yourself from that ice cream to talk."

"Someone is stalking me," I say.

"Wait, what? What are you talking about?"

"It's been happening for a couple of months, but I wasn't one hundred percent sure."

"What makes you sure now?" Marguerite asks.

"A feeling. Like things have escalated. I get goosebumps all over my arms when I feel him, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up straight like I'm a porcupine."

"Do you want me to post an officer at home?"

"What? No. I'm starting to find his presence a comfort."

"Are you crazy? Is he stalking you online, too?"

"I don't know, but just in case, I always say where I'm going." I tuck my head, embarrassed.

"Helene! That's so dangerous. I can't believe you would do something so foolish. I'm going to do something about this."

"Please don't. I mean, what if he's the man of my dreams? The 'one', you know? You'll scare him away."

"This is not normal, Helene. And you're romanticizing this guy, building him up like he's some prince charming or something." She takes out her phone and starts writing something. "At what locations have you 'felt' him?"

I clear my face of all emotion and look at her. I'm not ratting my special guy out.

"Really? The silent treatment? I'm trying to help you here."

"I don't need your help. I shouldn't have said anything. Are you tagging along to yoga today?"

"No, I can't. I'll drop you off, and then I have to get together with a friend."

"A friend, huh? Is that what they are calling them these days? Or a fuck buddy?"

"Don't be nasty, or I'll tell the guys at the department about this stalker. They'll find him right quick and put him in jail."

I shut up immediately because that is the last thing I want to happen. I've already made a whole fantasy about this wonderful man who can't get enough of me, so he has to follow me everywhere. He's independently wealthy, so he's able to spend his time as he pleases. I've thought of a hundred ways we can 'bump' into each other and finally meet.

Should I act coy and insecure or be a tigress? What would he love more? What would get him from stalker to lover in the fewest possible steps? I sigh and realize Marguerite is looking at me impatiently.

"What?"

"Where did you go just now?" she asks.

"None of your business."

"I swear I've taught you better than this. Let's go, or I'm going to be late for my appointment."

We get in the car and drive in a tense silence. I know she wants me to be safe, but I like a little thrill in my life. My stalker gives me that in spades. I start imagining again how I will flirt with him. He's already interested in me, but I want him all hot and bothered. Life is too short for it to be boring.

Before I know it, we are in front of the yoga place. Mags seems to be stewing in her own juices, and I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole. I quickly kiss her on the cheek and grab my bag and mat from the back seat of the car. I wave goodbye to her when I cross in front of her car and go up the stairs whistling a little song.

I change quickly and position my mat on the first row. I know the teacher checks out everyone's poses, but I like to be close to the front so I don't miss anything. People start coming into the studio, and I look for the cute guy I've seen who's always at the back of the room. I've wanted to talk to him for forever, but he always leaves so fast, I can't catch him.

The teacher is tough on us today, and I just know I'll have a ton of aches and pains tomorrow. Yoga helps me stay fit, but, my goodness, it can hurt sometimes. I take a selfie with the teacher and post it on my social media with the caption 'This lady kicked my ass today,' hashtag yogarules. It helps both to tell my stalker my location and promote the teacher. Win-win.

I take a rideshare home and spend the whole ride scrolling through social media. Thankfully, the drive is short, and pretty soon, I'm at home. I know Marguerite is spending the night with someone, so I won't wait up for her. I remember our discussion tonight, and a shiver goes through me. I don't want a bunch of police officers sniffing around me, trying to catch my stalker. I'm kind of attached to him.

My phone beeps, and I see that I have a message from Tammy.

Tammy: The head nurse asked about you again.

I put down my phone, not knowing what to tell her. I have mixed feelings about nursing, and the past year has not helped clarify my thoughts. Of course, Tammy doesn't give a fig that I don't respond. She moves right in for the kill. She calls me.

"Hey."

"Why didn't you answer me?" She asks, sounding irritated.

"Because I don't know how to answer that."

"What about just coming in and talking to Rose for a bit."

"Tammy, I don't know that I want to go back. I'm doing well with my special kids right now."

"Then why did you renew your license?"

"How do you know about that?"

"I hear things. Listen, you don't have to work in the ER again. I'm sure if you talk to Rose, you'll have your choice of placement in the hospital. But it all starts with a conversation."

"I'm comfortable where I am."

"That's no way to live your life. You've got to get out of your comfort zone. Everyone knows that."

"You're not my therapist."

"Are you seeing one? It might help."

"Oh my God, you're worse than my sister." I sigh.

"We love you. We want what's best for you."

"I know."

"My break is over. I have to go. Call Rose."

The line goes dead, and I feel a need to throw my phone against a wall. Two years ago, something awful happened in the ER, and I was told I was negligent. The investigations and hearings all proved that I was not in fact negligent and all suits were dismissed. The hospital had my back and paid for my lawyers.

The scars, however, stay with me. Someone died. I'm not a doctor, but nurses handle a lot of the care of patients. I had never doubted myself before I was sued. Now, there's nothing in my head but doubt.

I took some time off after everything happened, but I couldn't stay at home without doing anything, so I used my other degree and found a job.

I teach in a school for special needs kids. It's complex and challenging work, just like nursing. No one gets hurt, though, and I like that a lot. The rumor Tammy heard is true, though. I did renew my nursing license. I mean, how could I not? But I'm terrified of going back to the hospital. What if something else happens? What if I hurt someone unintentionally? How could I live with myself?

My hand goes to my chest, and I feel my heart beating a mile a minute. I try to inhale, but I can only get a short breath, and it leaves me just as fast. Next to me is the couch, and I lie on top of it. I can't remember what the doctor said to do when this happened. What was it?

I hear a noise from the front of the house, but I can't concentrate.

"Hey, I forgot my…Helene!"

That's my sister's voice. Thank God. She sits on the edge of the couch and puts her tender hands on my face.

"Hey, you. I'm here. Look into my eyes."

My eyes seek hers, and I immediately start to calm down. This is my sister. She loves me. I'm safe.

"You're safe here. Do you need anything?"

Her voice is calm, making me feel as if everything will be all right. She's trying to help me slow my breathing by doing an exercise the doctor taught me. Thankfully, it's working. My heart no longer wants to leave my chest. When she sees I'm improving, my sister grabs my hand in hers.

It takes a while, but eventually, I'm stable. Marguerite looks worried, and I know I have to talk to her, but I'm stubborn and don't want to bring up the topic. I sit up as she brings me a cup of chamomile tea.

"Were you thinking about the incident? Is that what triggered it?"

I nod. "The head nurse at the hospital wants to talk to me."

"You don't think you're ready."

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready, Mags."

"You won't make as much money teaching."

"You think I care about the money? What if I hurt someone? I don't want to talk about this."

I take my tea and go to my bedroom, locking the door. No one knows what I went through in the aftermath of Mrs. Corey's death. The scars run deep, and I'm convinced the only way to survive is to leave my past behind.