Chapter One

Chapter One

Dean

I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes. Running on a couple hours of sleep is actually the norm for me—going through medical school and now working in the ER at Carolina Memorial—but these last few days have been incredibly exhausting. Going back home for my grandfather's funeral, having to deal with my unruly brother and nutcase of a sister… I'll take a crazy emergency room on a full-moon Saturday night any day over having to put up with those two again.

Unfortunately, funerals bring out the worst in people and I'm thankful the airline was able to move up my flight. Who cares that I needed to be up at three a.m. to get here. If I had to stay in Chester, Mississippi for one more day, I'd probably snap.

The plane hasn't even taken off, yet I can already smell the warm, salty air back home in Love Beach, South Carolina. I don't even mind that the temperatures are way warmer than they should be for June and that the humidity is at an all-time high.

Living along the South Carolina coast, two blocks from the infamous Myrtle Beach Boardwalk, certainly has its perks. Like fresh seafood, gorgeous golf courses, and beaches that stretch for miles and miles. Speaking of beaches, I catch a whiff of something that smells…like coconut? Wait. And Bengay?

"Excuse me. These are our seats."

I open my eyes to see a very attractive young woman, late twenties but definitely no more than thirty, with shoulder length chestnut brown hair and a sixty-ish year-old gray headed man standing in the aisle next to my seat. With her hand clenched around his, my first thought is that she's…you know, with him. He's hanging on pretty tight, and well, you just never know these days. What's that saying? Age…it's just a number.

I inwardly laugh at the thought. Really, Dean? Why does everything have to always be about relationships. Just because you can't find someone suitable to go out with, doesn't mean other people can't find happiness.

I should know better than to think I'd have the entire row to myself. It's no big deal—the flight is hardly two hours—but I really wanted some peace and quiet. Some time to forget all about this last week in Chester.

"Oh, my bad." I lower my hand down to the seatbelt and lift the metal buckle. Rather than have them crawl over me, I stand up so there's enough room for them to comfortably take their seats.

The young woman slips a worn, over-sized leather satchel from her shoulder and looks up for a spot to stow it in one of the overhead bins. I almost feel bad that I didn't bother to check my own slightly-bulging, filled-to-max-capacity carry-on, since the space is mostly full. She leans into me—yep, the coconut fragrance definitely belongs to her—so the older fellow can pass behind her and take the window seat. "I'll help you with your seatbelt as soon as I can find a place to put my bag," she tells him, her voice slightly elevated.

The man grumbles something under his breath, but she pays him no mind.

"If I turn my suitcase up on its side and this other one, you might be able to squeeze your bag in right here." Reaching up, I rearrange the two pieces of luggage, creating the right amount of room. "Want me to put it up there for you?" It's the least I can do, right?

"Oh, would you?" Her smile reveals a brilliantly white set of perfect teeth and I can't help wondering if she, or someone else—the old guy—paid for them to be that way.

The term ‘sugar daddy' comes to mind and I immediately lower my head to hide the heat I'm sure is evident on my face. I should be ashamed for thinking such nonsense. I blame it on being tired but I think it also has something to do with the fact I've been single for how long now? Six, seven months? And it's been even longer since I've had that! I work a lot of extra hours, okay?

I take the buttery-soft bag from her hand, noting the rich, genuine quality of the leather—similar to the one I treated myself to before I began my rotations at the hospital—and slide it into the opening. I wait for her to find the seatbelt strap before returning to my seat.

Could be that it's just me, but the plane feels warmer than it did a few minutes ago.

"Are you headed to Myrtle Beach, too?" she asks when the plane's door is shut and we begin to taxi to the runway.

So much for that peace and quiet, huh?

"I am. I've been gone all week, so I'm ready to get back home." I save her the details—trust me, no one wants to hear what I've had to put up with these last few days.

"Same. We've been in Nevada all week so Mr. Hillman could visit with his brother. We were supposed to make it in late yesterday, but we ran into some bad weather which extended our layover in Denver. Now, we're hoping to make it back in time for his eye appointment. He's had it scheduled for six months and would rather not have to change it if we don't have to." She looks down at her smart watch, the screen lighting up with the current time, and wrinkles her forehead. "If we can collect our luggage without any issues, we might just make it."

"Well, I hope it works out for you." I have to admit it's a relief hearing her refer to him as Mister So-and-So and not as her husband. Not that it's any of my business, but she's way too pretty to be with someone who's that much older than her.

The cabin lights turn off and I shift in my seat for a more comfortable position for take-off. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as she folds her hands together then lowers them to her lap.

"Are your ears popping?" The older fellow bumps his knee against her leg, causing both of us to jump.

Nodding, she replies, "Yes, Mr. Hillman. We're still climbing in altitude. It shouldn't be much longer before the plane levels out."

"I wish it would hurry up. My poor ears," he mumbles, rubbing the side of his left jaw.

"Remember to swallow. That usually helps," she adds before shaking her head.

It's obvious he's having a hard time hearing, since his voice keeps getting louder and louder. "Did you say you swallow?"

"No, sir. You're supposed to swallow. It's one of the reasons I chew gum," she says and slides a piece of pink bubblegum between her teeth to show him. "I'd offer you a piece but the pack is in my bag and we're not allowed to get out of our seats yet."

These two are totally cracking me up and it's taking everything I have not to laugh.

As if he wasn't already confused enough, he proceeds to embarrass her further by saying, "That's okay. You can swallow any time you want."

The young woman lowers her head, bringing the tips of her fingers to her forehead. Snickers can be heard from passengers sitting all around us. Seems Mister whatever-she-called-him-earlier is quite the entertainer.

"He has a hard time hearing," she looks over at me and smiles.

"I thought that might be the case. Makes for an interesting travel companion, huh?"

"If you only knew. By the way, I'm Elizabeth but my friends call me Liz."

"I'm Dean." I catch myself from saying Dr. Bolden, since that's what I'm always saying to patients as soon as I walk into their rooms at the hospital.

Once the seatbelt sign turns off, the flight attendants begin making their way down the aisle offering beverages and light snacks. I settle for a cup of coffee while Elizabeth surprisingly orders a Bloody Mary. Geez, it's kind of early to be drinking alcohol—for me, anyways—so I'm going to assume that flying makes her a little anxious.

Mr. Hillman finally nods off to sleep and we both share a laugh, listening to his heavy, nasally—almost snoring—breathing. "He's not all that bad," she feels the need to point out then proceeds to explain how she came to be his caregiver. "Dropping out of nursing school was the last thing I wanted to do, but I just couldn't do it anymore. It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make, but I know in my heart it was for the best."

Being in the medical field, I know firsthand the stress and demand that comes along with it, so her needing to take some time off is completely understandable. With one semester left to complete the program though, seems she could've found a way to finish.

"A friend of mine suggested I take over the lease for the little studio apartment where she was staying and that's how I came to know Mr. Hillman. I know it's not a normal job, but I kind of like it."

"Is there such a thing as a normal job these days?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I know caregivers don't get the credit they deserve, but Mr. Hillman has certainly grown on me these last few months. He's like a member of the family, even though we're not related."

"I'm glad it all worked out for you. For him, too."

"Can you believe he'll be seventy-eight next month?"

"There's no way!" I lean forward in my seat and look over at him again. "Wow. I hope I look as good as he does when I get to be that age."

"No kidding. We go on walks most every evening, but now that it's getting warmer, we may have to see about changing it to the morning time. Or head down to the YMCA."

"That's a good idea. They have an excellent senior program that I'm sure he would enjoy. And if her likes the water, Carolina Memorial sponsors several—"

Out of the blue, the plane begins to shake as we've hit a bit of turbulence. I'm sure the pilot made an announcement and we were just too busy talking to hear it.

Elizabeth suddenly reaches for my arm. "I'm sorry," she says, releasing it almost as quickly as she'd grabbed hold of it. "I get a little nervous when this happens."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm not fond of it either." I look around at the other passengers, noting how quiet everyone has suddenly become. Liz downs the last swallow of her drink then closes her eyes.

As we approach the Carolina coastline, the turbulence finally goes away. I'm sad that our conversation ended so abruptly, just as I was getting ready to tell her a little bit about me, but that's just the way it goes sometimes.

"It's been nice chatting, Dean," Liz says once we've landed and we're waiting for the all-clear so they can open the plane's door.

"Same, here. Seems we just took off."

Passengers begin to stand up, stretching their arms and legs as much as they can, considering we've not been given permission to exit the plane yet.

"You said you work at Carolina Memorial?" Liz looks over her shoulder and asks.

"I'm in the ER."

"Cool."

Cool? Not the response I was expecting—can I get your phone number would've been better—but whatever. It's not like she and I will see each other again. If I haven't ran into her before now, I doubt I would in the future either.

I retrieve her bag from overhead and lower it into the seat I was just sitting in. "Good luck with that eye appointment today. I hope Mr. Hillman gets a good report."

"Oh, thanks."

I allow the two of them to exit ahead of me, then patiently follow them into the airport. As Liz and Mr. Hillman step into the elevator to head to baggage claim, I throw my hand up and wave.

Home sweet home…finally. It feels good to be back in Love Beach.