The ancient oak creaked as Evelyn Foster stretched to hang the “Welcome to Willow Creek” banner across Main Street. A gust of wind caught the fabric, nearly yanking it from her grasp. She steadied herself on the rickety ladder, silently cursing her mother’s insistence on this garish display.
“Need a hand?” A deep voice startled her, and she glanced down to see an unfamiliar face peering up with concern.
“Oh! I’m fine, thanks,” Evelyn replied, flustered. She tucked a stray strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, acutely aware of how disheveled she must look. “Just putting up this silly banner.”
The stranger chuckled, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Silly? I’d say it’s downright hospitable. Though I hope it’s not just for me.”
Evelyn’s brow furrowed in confusion before realization dawned. “You must be Dr. Hawthorne! I’m so sorry, I should have recognized you.” She hurriedly climbed down the ladder, wiping her palms on her jeans before extending a hand. “I’m Evelyn Foster, the town librarian.”
“Jack Hawthorne,” he replied, his handshake firm and warm. “And please, just Jack. ‘Doctor’ makes me feel old.”
Up close, Evelyn could see the fatigue etched around his eyes, a stark contrast to his easy smile. She wondered what stories those lines could tell.
“Well, Jack,” she said, gesturing to the banner, “I’m afraid this is indeed for you. My mother, the self-appointed welcoming committee, insisted.”
Jack laughed, a rich sound that seemed to brighten the overcast day. “I’m flattered. Though I hope the whole town isn’t expecting some sort of medical messiah.”
Evelyn smiled, relaxing a bit. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry. Willow Creek’s expectations are usually limited to good fishing and better gossip.” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, I should probably get you to the clinic before the rumor mill starts churning out wild theories about your whereabouts.”
As they walked down Main Street, Evelyn pointed out the town’s modest landmarks – the general store, the diner, the old courthouse that now served as a community center. Jack listened attentively, asking questions that revealed a genuine interest in his new home.
“And here we are,” Evelyn announced as they approached a small, white-painted building with a freshly hung “Willow Creek Medical Clinic” sign. “It’s not much, but Dr. Simmons kept it in good shape before he retired.”
Jack’s expression grew serious as he surveyed the clinic. “It’s perfect,” he said softly. “A fresh start.”
Something in his tone made Evelyn pause. She studied his face, noting the shadow that had fallen across his features. “Jack,” she began hesitantly, “I know it’s not my place, but… if you ever need someone to talk to, or just show you where to find the best coffee in town, I’m here.”
He turned to her, surprise and gratitude mingling in his gaze. “Thank you, Evelyn. I might just take you up on that.”
As Jack unlocked the clinic door, Evelyn felt a flutter of anticipation in her chest. Willow Creek had always been predictable, its rhythms as steady as the creek that gave the town its name. But with Jack’s arrival, she sensed the current was shifting, carrying them all towards uncharted waters.
The library’s ancient radiator clanked and hissed, struggling against the autumn chill that had descended on Willow Creek. Evelyn rubbed her arms, grateful for the warmth of her oversized sweater. She was shelving the latest shipment of books when the door chimed, admitting a gust of wind and her mother’s unmistakable perfume.
“Evelyn, darling!” Margaret Foster’s voice carried through the stacks. “Where are you hiding?”
Evelyn sighed, steeling herself. “Back here, Mom,” she called, emerging from behind a row of mystery novels.
Margaret swept forward, resplendent in a paisley dress and an improbable number of jangling bracelets. She air-kissed Evelyn’s cheeks before holding her at arm’s length for inspection.
“Oh, honey,” she tsked, “you look exhausted. Are you getting enough sleep? And really, would it kill you to put on a little makeup?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Evelyn replied, mustering a smile. “Just busy with the fall reading program. What brings you by?”
Margaret’s eyes gleamed with barely contained excitement. “Well, as head of the Willow Creek Historical Society, I thought you’d like to know we’re planning a welcome dinner for Dr. Hawthorne this Saturday.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “The Historical Society? Shouldn’t that be more the Chamber of Commerce’s territory?”
“Oh, pish posh,” Margaret waved dismissively. “We’re all one big family here. Besides, it’s high time we introduced some new blood to our little gatherings. Speaking of which,” she leaned in conspiratorially, “I hear the good doctor is single.”
“Mom,” Evelyn groaned, “please don’t start.”
“Start what?” Margaret’s innocence was unconvincing. “I’m merely stating a fact. A handsome, successful doctor moving to our little town? It’s like something out of a romance novel.”
Evelyn busied herself straightening a stack of newspapers. “Life isn’t a romance novel, Mom. And I’m sure Dr. Hawthorne has more on his mind than finding a small-town wife.”
Margaret clucked her tongue. “Nonsense. Everyone wants love, dear. Even bookworms like you.” She patted Evelyn’s cheek. “Just promise me you’ll come to the dinner. And wear that lovely green dress I got you for Christmas. It brings out your eyes.”
Before Evelyn could protest, the library door opened again. Jack stepped in, shaking leaves from his coat.
“Speak of the devil,” Margaret whispered, then raised her voice. “Dr. Hawthorne! What a pleasant surprise.”
Jack looked up, a fleeting expression of alarm crossing his face before he smiled politely. “Mrs. Foster, always a pleasure. And Evelyn, just the person I was hoping to see.”
Margaret beamed, shooting Evelyn a significant look. “Well, I’ll leave you two to chat. Evelyn, remember what I said about Saturday!” With a final jingle of bracelets, she swept out of the library.
Evelyn slumped against the circulation desk. “I am so sorry about that,” she said. “My mother can be a bit… overwhelming.”
Jack chuckled. “No need to apologize. She reminds me of my Aunt Beatrice – a force of nature in floral prints.”
“That’s an apt description,” Evelyn smiled. “So, what can I help you with? Medical texts? Local history?”
“Actually,” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish, “I was wondering if you could recommend a good book. It’s been ages since I’ve read anything that wasn’t a medical journal, and I thought… well, this seemed like the place to start.”
Evelyn’s face lit up. “Oh, absolutely! What kind of books do you enjoy? Mystery? Historical fiction? Contemporary literature?”
As she led Jack through the stacks, pulling out volumes and describing plots, Evelyn felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the sputtering radiator. There was something endearing about this accomplished doctor eagerly listening to her passionate ramblings about books.
They settled into a quiet corner, surrounded by teetering piles of potential reads. Jack leafed through a dog-eared copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” his brow furrowed in concentration.
“You know,” he said softly, “I haven’t done this since med school. Just… lost myself in a story.”
Evelyn leaned forward, sensing the weight behind his words. “What happened?” she asked gently.
Jack was quiet for a long moment, his fingers tracing the book’s worn spine. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost confessional. “I made a mistake. A bad one.”
Evelyn’s heart clenched. She remained silent, giving him space to continue.
“It was my second year of residency,” Jack went on, his gaze fixed on the book in his hands. “I was exhausted, working 36-hour shifts. There was this patient – a little girl, maybe seven or eight. She came in with flu-like symptoms, nothing too alarming. I ordered some routine tests, prescribed rest and fluids.”
He paused, swallowing hard. “Two days later, she was back. Sepsis. I’d missed the early signs of a severe infection. By the time we realized… it was too late.”
Evelyn reached out, covering his hand with her own. “Jack, I’m so sorry.”
He looked up, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Her name was Lily. I see her face every time I close my eyes. After that, I couldn’t… I couldn’t trust myself anymore. I left the hospital, took locum positions. Never stayed anywhere long enough to form connections. Until now.”
“Why Willow Creek?” Evelyn asked softly.
Jack gave a rueful smile. “Honestly? It was as far from my old life as I could get. Small town, simple medicine. I thought… maybe here, I could start to forgive myself.”
Evelyn squeezed his hand. “You will,” she said with quiet conviction. “What happened was tragic, but it doesn’t define you. The fact that it still affects you so deeply shows what a caring doctor you are.”
Jack’s gaze held hers, a mix of gratitude and something deeper, unnameable. “Thank you, Evelyn. I don’t know why, but talking to you… it helps.”
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the library’s hushed atmosphere enveloping them like a cocoon. Finally, Evelyn cleared her throat. “So, um, about those books…”
Jack laughed, the tension broken. “Right. How about we start with ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’? I have a feeling I could learn a thing or two from Atticus Finch.”
As Evelyn checked out his books, she felt a shift in the air between them. Jack had shared a piece of himself, raw and vulnerable. And in doing so, he’d awakened something in her – a desire to know him better, to be a part of his healing journey.
When he left, clutching his stack of literary escapes, Evelyn found herself watching the door long after it had closed behind him. The quiet of the library seemed to whisper of new beginnings and unexpected connections.
She shook herself, turning back to her neglected cart of books. But as she resumed shelving, Evelyn couldn’t quite shake the feeling that her own story was about to take an unexpected turn.
The Willow Creek Community Center buzzed with activity as volunteers bustled about, transforming the modest space into something resembling a banquet hall. Evelyn stood on a chair, hanging strings of twinkling lights while her mother directed operations from below.
“A little to the left, dear,” Margaret called. “We want it to look festive, not like we’re advertising a yard sale.”
Evelyn bit back a retort, adjusting the lights for what felt like the hundredth time. She was already regretting her decision to help with the preparations for Dr. Hawthorne’s welcome dinner. But after his confession in the library, she felt a strange sense of protectiveness towards Jack. If she could make his introduction to Willow Creek’s social circle a little smoother, it seemed the least she could do.
“There,” Margaret declared, finally satisfied. “Now, why don’t you go get changed? Guests will be arriving soon, and you can’t greet them looking like you’ve been wrestling with Christmas decorations.”
Evelyn climbed down, surveying the room. She had to admit, it looked charming. White tablecloths adorned with centerpieces of autumn leaves and candles, the soft glow of the lights lending a warm ambiance. It was a far cry from the usual potlucks and bingo nights the space typically hosted.
“Mom,” Evelyn began hesitantly, “you didn’t go overboard, did you? I mean, Jack’s probably not expecting anything too elaborate.”
Margaret waved off her concerns. “Nonsense. Dr. Hawthorne is an important addition to our community. He deserves a proper welcome.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Besides, I hear he comes from quite a well-to-do family in Boston. We want to show him Willow Creek can be just as sophisticated.”
Evelyn sighed. “I’m pretty sure that’s not why he came here, Mom.”
But Margaret was already bustling off to adjust a flower arrangement, leaving Evelyn to wonder, not for the first time, if she and her mother were even speaking the same language.
An hour later, Evelyn stood near the entrance, tugging self-consciously at the green dress her mother had insisted she wear. She had to admit, the color did bring out her eyes, but she felt overdressed compared to her usual jeans and sweaters.
The door opened, admitting a gust of cool air and Jack Hawthorne. He looked dashing in a navy blazer, his hair slightly tousled from the wind. Their eyes met, and Evelyn felt a flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with nerves.
“Evelyn,” Jack smiled, making his way towards her. “You look lovely.”
She blushed, cursing her fair complexion. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself, Doctor.”
He grimaced playfully. “I thought we agreed on Jack?”
“Sorry,” Evelyn laughed. “Old habits. How are you holding up? I know these small-town gatherings can be a bit… intense.”
Jack’s expression softened. “Honestly? It’s nice. Overwhelming, sure, but there’s something comforting about it. Like being wrapped in a warm blanket.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Wait until my mother introduces you to her famous peach cobbler. Then we’ll see if you still feel that way.”
As if summoned, Margaret appeared at Jack’s elbow. “Dr. Hawthorne! We’re so delighted you could join us. Come, let me introduce you to some of Willow Creek’s finest citizens.”
Jack threw Evelyn an amused glance as Margaret steered him away. She watched as he was passed from one group to another, shaking hands and making small talk with an ease that belied his earlier confessions of insecurity.
The evening progressed in a whirl of introductions, toasts, and indeed, Margaret’s infamous peach cobbler. Evelyn found herself constantly aware of Jack’s presence in the room, even when engaged in conversations with other guests. She couldn’t help but notice how his laugh seemed to light up whatever group he was with, or how his brow would furrow slightly when listening intently to someone’s story.
As the night wore on, Evelyn slipped out onto the community center’s small balcony, grateful for a moment of quiet. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and fallen leaves. She leaned against the railing, gazing out at the twinkling lights of Willow Creek.
“Escaping the madness?” Jack’s voice came from behind her.
Evelyn turned, smiling. “Just needed a breather. How about you? Had enough small-town charm for one night?”
Jack joined her at the railing, their shoulders almost touching. “Are you kidding? I haven’t had this much fun in years. Though I’m pretty sure I’ve been introduced to every eligible woman within a fifty-mile radius.”
Evelyn laughed. “Welcome to Willow Creek. Where matchmaking is the unofficial town sport.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, the muffled sounds of the party drifting through the closed door behind them. Evelyn snuck a glance at Jack’s profile, admiring the strong line of his jaw, the way the moonlight silvered his hair.
“Thank you,” Jack said suddenly, turning to face her.
Evelyn blinked, confused. “For what?”
“For this,” he gestured towards the party. “For making me feel welcome. For… listening, the other day in the library. I haven’t opened up to anyone like that in a long time.”
Evelyn felt a warmth spreading through her chest. “You don’t have to thank me, Jack. I’m glad I could help, even a little.”
He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. “You’ve done more than you know, Evelyn. Coming here, I was… I was running away. From my past, from myself. But talking to you, being around you… it makes me want to stop running.”
Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. She was acutely aware of how close they were standing, of the intensity in Jack’s gaze. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her.
The balcony door burst open, shattering the moment. “There you two are!” Margaret’s voice rang out. “We’re about to cut the welcome cake. Can’t do that without our guest of honor, can we?”
Jack stepped back, clearing his throat. “Of course not. We wouldn’t want to disappoint your mother, would we?” he said to Evelyn, a rueful smile playing at his lips.
As they followed Margaret back inside, Evelyn’s mind whirled. What had just happened? What had almost happened? And why did she feel simultaneously thrilled and terrified by the possibilities?
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Evelyn went through the motions of socializing, but her thoughts kept drifting back to that moment on the balcony. She caught Jack’s eye across the room several times, each glance charged with unspoken words.
As the last guests trickled out, Evelyn found herself helping Jack carry leftover food to his car.
“You really don’t have to do this,” he protested. “I’m sure I can manage a few casserole dishes on my own.”
Evelyn smiled. “Consider it part of the Willow Creek welcome package. We feed you until you can’t move, then make sure you have enough leftovers to last a month.”
They reached his car, an older model sedan that had seen better days. As Jack arranged the dishes in the trunk, Evelyn leaned against the passenger door, suddenly reluctant for the evening to end.
“So,” she said, aiming for casual, “did Willow Creek live up to your expectations tonight?”
Jack closed the trunk and turned to her, his expression serious. “It exceeded them. But then again, so have you.”
Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat. “Jack, I—”
He held up a hand, gently cutting her off. “Evelyn, I like you. A lot. And I think… I think you might feel the same way. But I need you to understand something.” He took a deep breath. “I’m still dealing with a lot. My past, my fears… I’m not sure I’m ready for anything more than friendship right now.”
Evelyn felt a pang of disappointment, quickly followed by understanding. “I get it, Jack. Really, I do. And friendship is… friendship is good.”
He smiled, relief evident in his features. “Thank you for understanding. I just… I don’t want to rush into anything and mess it up. You’re too important for that.”
Evelyn nodded, forcing a bright smile. “Of course. We’ve got all the time in the world, right? Willow Creek isn’t exactly known for its fast-paced lifestyle.”
Jack laughed, the tension broken. “True enough. Though with your mother around, I’m not sure ‘slow-paced’ is in the town’s vocabulary.”
They said their goodnights, Jack driving off with a final wave. Evelyn watched his taillights disappear around the corner, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest. Disappointment, yes, but also hope. Jack hadn’t rejected her outright. He’d asked for time, for friendship. And in a small town like Willow Creek, time was something they had in abundance.
As she walked home under the starlit sky, Evelyn allowed herself to imagine possibilities. Of quiet evenings in the library, recommending books. Of autumn walks along the creek, leaves crunching underfoot. Of slowly, carefully, building something real and lasting.
For the first time in years, Evelyn felt the stirring of true excitement for what the future might hold. Willow Creek had always been her home, but now it felt like the setting for a story she couldn’t wait to see unfold.
Weeks passed, and autumn deepened its hold on Willow Creek. The maples lining Main Street blazed with color, their fallen leaves skittering across sidewalks and gathering in russet drifts against picket fences. Evelyn found herself settling into a new routine, one that increasingly involved Jack Hawthorne.
They met for coffee most mornings at Rosie’s Diner, discussing books over steaming mugs and plates of syrup-drenched waffles. Jack would regale her with tales of his more colorful patients – always careful to maintain confidentiality, of course – while Evelyn shared the latest town gossip she’d overheard in the library.
On weekends, they took long walks along the creek, kicking through piles of leaves like children and pointing out the changing foliage. Jack seemed to revel in these quiet moments, his shoulders relaxing as they meandered along the water’s edge.
“I never appreciated autumn like this in the city,” he remarked one crisp Saturday afternoon. They had paused on an old wooden bridge, leaning against the railing to watch leaves spiral down into the burbling creek below.
Evelyn glanced at him, admiring the way the golden light caught in his hair. “No? I would have thought Boston had some pretty spectacular fall colors.”
Jack shook his head, a wry smile playing at his lips. “Oh, it did. But I was always too busy to notice. Racing from the hospital to my apartment, barely looking up from patient charts or medical journals.” He took a deep breath, gesturing to the scenery around them. “This… this is different. It’s like the whole world has slowed down, just so we can appreciate its beauty.”
Evelyn felt a warmth bloom in her chest at his words. “That’s what I’ve always loved about Willow Creek,” she said softly. “It forces you to slow down, to really see things.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, Evelyn thought she saw something flicker in Jack’s gaze – a longing, quickly masked. But before she could dwell on it, he cleared his throat and pushed off from the railing.
“Come on,” he said, offering his arm with an exaggerated bow. “I believe I was promised the best apple cider in three counties.”
Evelyn laughed, linking her arm through his. “You were indeed, good sir. To the farmer’s market we go!”
As they strolled towards town, Evelyn couldn’t help but marvel at how comfortable their friendship had become. True to his word, Jack hadn’t pushed for anything more, and she had respected his need for time and space. But there were moments – a lingering touch, a look held a beat too long – that made her wonder if perhaps they were both just waiting for the right moment to take that next step.
The farmer’s market was in full swing when they arrived, the town square transformed into a riot of color and activity. Stalls overflowed with pumpkins and gourds, late-season tomatoes nestled next to bushels of apples, and the air was perfumed with the scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke.
“Oh, look!” Evelyn tugged Jack towards a booth festooned with dried flowers and herbs. “Mrs. Abernathy’s famous lavender sachets. My mom swears by these for keeping the moths out of her winter sweaters.”
Jack eyed the delicate pouches skeptically. “And here I’ve been relying on modern medicine all this time. Clearly, I need to expand my repertoire.”
Evelyn elbowed him playfully. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, city boy. Some of these old remedies have been around for generations for a reason.”
As Jack good-naturedly allowed himself to be educated on the finer points of herbal sachets, Evelyn caught sight of a familiar figure weaving through the crowd. Sam Whitaker, Jack’s old friend from medical school, was examining a display of homemade jams with the air of a connoisseur.
Evelyn waved, catching his attention. Sam’s face lit up as he made his way over to them.
“Well, if it isn’t the town’s most eligible bachelor and his lovely librarian,” Sam grinned, clapping Jack on the shoulder. “Fancy meeting you two here.”
Jack rolled his eyes, but Evelyn could see the fondness in his expression. “Sam. I didn’t know you were in town.”
“Just got in this morning,” Sam replied. “Thought I’d surprise you, maybe convince you to play hooky for a day or two. But I see you’re already otherwise engaged.” He winked at Evelyn, who felt her cheeks warm.
“We were just exploring the market,” she explained hastily. “I was telling Jack about some of our local specialties.”
Sam’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’m sure you were. And I’m equally sure Jack was hanging on your every word.”
Jack cleared his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable. “How about we grab some of that cider? I’m suddenly feeling very thirsty.”
As they made their way to the cider stand, Evelyn couldn’t help but notice the change in Jack’s demeanor. He seemed tenser, more guarded, in Sam’s presence. She wondered what history lay between the two men, beyond their shared medical school days.
They found a quiet corner to enjoy their cider, the warm, spiced liquid a perfect antidote to the autumn chill. Sam regaled them with stories of his latest surgical triumphs in Boston, his animated gestures a stark contrast to Jack’s more reserved responses.
“You should see the new cardiac wing they’ve built at Mass General,” Sam enthused. “State of the art everything. Makes our old residency days look like we were practicing in the Dark Ages.”
Jack nodded politely, but Evelyn could see a shadow pass across his face. She remembered his confession about the young patient he’d lost and realized how difficult it must be to hear about the world he’d left behind.
“That sounds fascinating,” Evelyn interjected, hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground. “But I bet you don’t have anything like Mrs. Abernathy’s lavender sachets in your fancy Boston hospitals.”
Sam laughed. “You’ve got me there. Though I’m not sure how effective lavender would be against superbugs.”
“You’d be surprised,” Jack said quietly. “Sometimes the old ways have more merit than we give them credit for.”
An awkward silence fell over the group. Evelyn sensed there was more being said in the looks exchanged between Jack and Sam than in their actual words.
Finally, Sam drained the last of his cider and stood. “Well, I should let you two get back to your market adventures. Jack, dinner tonight? I’m only in town for a couple of days.”
Jack nodded, his expression unreadable. “Sure. The diner at seven?”
“Perfect. Evelyn, lovely to see you as always.” Sam tipped an imaginary hat and sauntered off into the crowd.
Evelyn turned to Jack, concern etching her features. “Are you okay? You seemed… tense.”
Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. It’s just… Sam and I have a complicated history. He represents a part of my life I’m not sure I’m ready to face yet.”
Evelyn reached out, squeezing his hand gently. “You don’t have to explain. But if you want to talk about it later, I’m here.”
He smiled, gratitude shining in his eyes. “I know. And I appreciate that more than you know.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the market, the earlier tension gradually dissipating. By the time Jack walked Evelyn home, laden with bags of apples and a pumpkin she swore was perfect for carving, the easy camaraderie between them had been restored.
At her front porch, Jack hesitated. “Evelyn, about Sam…”
She held up a hand, stopping him. “You don’t owe me any explanations, Jack. We’re friends, remember? Friends trust each other.”
He nodded, relief evident in the set of his shoulders. “Thank you. For understanding, for today… for everything.”
As Evelyn watched him walk away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. Sam’s arrival had stirred up ghosts from Jack’s past, reminding her that there was still so much she didn’t know about the man she was growing to care for deeply.
But as she unlocked her door, the scent of apples and autumn clinging to her clothes, Evelyn felt a surge of determination. Whatever demons Jack was wrestling with, whatever doubts still plagued him, she would be there. Patient, understanding, and ready to help him face his past when he was ready.
After all, she mused as she set the pumpkin on her kitchen counter, the best stories were those where the characters had to overcome their fears to find happiness. And Evelyn Foster had always been a sucker for a good story.
The Willow Creek Diner buzzed with the usual Friday night crowd, a mix of families celebrating the end of the school week and couples embarking on casual dates. Evelyn sat in her favorite booth, absently stirring her coffee as she waited for Jack to arrive. They had plans to catch the classic movie night at the old Majestic Theater – “Casablanca” was playing, and Evelyn had been shocked to learn Jack had never seen it.
The bell above the door jingled, and Evelyn looked up expectantly. But instead of Jack’s familiar figure, she saw Sam Whitaker striding in, his designer coat a stark contrast to the diner’s worn vinyl seats.
Sam’s eyes lit up when he spotted her. “Evelyn! Mind if I join you while I wait for my takeout?”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, have a seat.”
Sam slid into the booth across from her, his easy charm filling the space. “So, where’s our illustrious Dr. Hawthorne this fine evening? Don’t tell me he’s working late again.”
Evelyn shook her head. “No, we’re actually meeting here before the movie. He should be along any minute.”
“Ah, a date night,” Sam winked. “Good for Jack. It’s about time he started living again.”
Something in Sam’s tone made Evelyn pause. “What do you mean by that?”
Sam leaned back, a shadow passing over his features. “Has Jack told you much about his time in Boston? About why he left?”
Evelyn shifted uncomfortably. “He… mentioned there was an incident. A patient he lost.”
Sam nodded slowly. “That’s putting it mildly. Jack was one of the most promising young doctors I’d ever seen. Brilliant diagnostician, steady hands in surgery. But after that little girl died…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
Evelyn felt a knot forming in her stomach. “It must have been terrible for him.”
“It was,” Sam agreed. “But what happened after was worse. He just… shut down. Stopped taking risks, second-guessed every decision. It got to the point where the hospital had to put him on leave.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering. “I tried to help him, to get him back on track. But Jack… he couldn’t forgive himself. Couldn’t see past that one mistake.”
Evelyn’s mind whirled, trying to reconcile this new information with the Jack she knew. “But he’s doing better now, isn’t he? He seems… happier here.”
Sam’s expression softened. “I think he is. And I suspect you have a lot to do with that, Evelyn.” He reached across the table, patting her hand. “Just… be patient with him, okay? Jack’s carrying a lot of baggage, even if he doesn’t always show it.”
Before Evelyn could respond, the diner’s door opened again, admitting a gust of cool air and Jack himself. He froze for a moment, taking in the scene before him – Sam and Evelyn, heads close together in conversation.
“Sorry I’m late,” Jack said, his voice carefully neutral as he approached the booth. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Sam stood, clapping Jack on the shoulder. “Not at all, old friend. Just keeping the lovely Evelyn company while I waited for my burger. Speaking of which…” He glanced towards the counter, where a paper bag was waiting. “That’s my cue. You two enjoy your evening.”
As Sam collected his food and left with a jaunty wave, an awkward silence fell over the booth. Jack slid in across from Evelyn, his expression guarded.
“So,” he said, fiddling with a napkin, “what were you and Sam talking about?”
Evelyn took a deep breath, deciding honesty was the best policy. “You, actually. He was telling me a bit about… about what happened in Boston.”
Jack’s face hardened. “I see. And I suppose he painted quite the tragic picture?”
“Jack,” Evelyn reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. “He was worried about you. We both are.”
He pulled his hand away, jaw clenching. “I don’t need anyone’s worry. What happened in Boston is in the past. I’m fine now.”
Evelyn felt a flicker of frustration. “Are you? Because sometimes it seems like you’re still running from something. And I thought… I thought maybe you were ready to stop running.”
Jack’s eyes met hers, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. For a moment, Evelyn thought he might open up, might finally let her in completely. But then the shutters came down, his expression closing off.
“We should get going,” he said, sliding out of the booth. “We don’t want to miss the movie.”
Evelyn’s heart