so fresh and new. Those two nights I was in the hospital, I could only think about coming home. Sleeping in this bed that Jack and I shared for all those years. I want to die in this house. Even if I’m too old to walk to the mailbox and have to hire people to look after me, I don’t want to go anywhere.”
How would it be to feel a connection to one place, to have lived within these same walls nearly all one’s life, with the same view and the same trees and the same people?
Once, Jess would have thought that was a cloying, mundane existence.
She was beginning to wonder if she had been completely wrong.
“Your focus right now needs to be on resting and healing, especially after you get your new pacemaker. Before you know it, you’ll be running down the path to Sunshine Cove with Sophie and the dogs.”
Eleanor huffed out a laugh. “Who knows? Now that I’m going to have all this new energy, maybe I’ll take up surfing.”
Jess had to smile. “You should. I would love to see that.”
Except she wouldn’t be here to see it. She might be in San Jose or Boise or Omaha. But she wouldn’t be here.
They visited for a few more moments, until Jess could tell that Eleanor was tiring. She rose. “Thank you for everything. I promise, I’ll stay in touch.”
“We both know I’m the one who should be thanking you.” Eleanor sniffled. “I will miss you, darling. You’ve brought so much sunshine and joy back to my house.”
“It has been my pleasure.”
She hugged her, inhaling the scent of lavender and vanilla that Eleanor favored. She would never be able to smell that particular combination of scents without thinking of this woman who had been so very kind to her.
“Have you said your goodbyes to Sophie and Nate yet?” Eleanor asked when she pulled away.
Jess tried to ignore the hard kick to her chest. “No. I knocked on their door earlier but no one answered.”
“They slept here last night to watch over me but Sophie had a special end-of-year awards assembly this morning at school. I told them I would be fine by myself for an hour. They should be back shortly. You could wait.”
It would probably be easier not to see them before she left, though she knew that was the coward’s way out.
“I don’t think I can wait. It’s time for me to go.”
“Oh. They’ll be so sorry to miss you. You’ve touched all of our lives, darling.”
“I won’t ever forget my time here with you,” she said quietly.
“You know you’re welcome back anytime.”
“Thank you.”
“I have something for you. It’s in the bottom drawer of my chest. Would you mind grabbing it?”
Curious, she opened the drawer and pulled out the knitted throw Eleanor had been working on at various times during her stay here. It was made of soft, chunky yarn in colors that perfectly matched the interior of the Airstream.
“Oh. I can’t take this.”
“Yes, you can. I insist. I wanted to give it to you for your birthday but I didn’t quite finish it in time. I came home after your party last week and completed it.”
“It’s beautiful.” She ran a hand over the textured knit, already imagining a storm beating against the aluminum of the trailer while she was safe and warm with a mug of cocoa and this blanket.
“Thank you.”
“It’s a small thing but I hope when you use it, you can remember there are people here in Cape Sanctuary who love you.”
Jess hugged Eleanor one more time, trying hard not to cry. Leaving a client had never been so hard. She had been running Transitions for years and this was the first time she felt so shredded at finishing a job.
This place and these people would live on in her heart.
After she said her final goodbye, assuring Eleanor she would check in with her after the pacemaker surgery later that week, she walked through the house one last time.
She wanted to be like Eleanor someday. Strong, generous, kind. She admired her dignity, her compassion, her sharp, orderly mind.
This job and these people had made lasting imprints on her heart, whether she liked it or not.
She walked outside, to where her pickup was already hitched up to the Airstream. She was almost tempted to walk down to the cove one more time but knew she was only delaying the inevitable. Better to go now, while she could.
She was checking the hitch one last time