Page 34 of In Too Deep
Emma’s face brightened a little.“So I can still go outside?”
“If you feel up to it tomorrow and take it slow, a gentle walk in the fresh air might actually help.Just listen to your body.Deal?”
“Deal.”Emma’s smile was watery but genuine.
“So no hike?”Tyler looked thrilled at his sister’s misfortune.“Can I have my tablet back tomorrow, then?”
“Well, that is something your mom has to decide.”Meg turned to him with mock sternness.“And you are going to be nice to your sister and not run ahead and make her try to keep up.”She tapped at the Jr.Ranger badge pinned to his shirt.“Rangers help each other on the trail.”
Tyler straightened, clearly taking the responsibility seriously.“I can do that.”
Meg handed Emma’s mom the after-visit summary.“Call if the fever spikes or if she’s not improving in a few days.”
After their mom bundled both kids out the door with instructions to rest and hydrate, Meg sat at the ancient desktop computer to update Emma’s chart.
But her fingers hovered over the keyboard without typing.
She thought of Emma’s worried face transforming into relief.Of Tyler’s earnest promise to be a good ranger.The way their mother had squeezed Meg’s hand and whispered, “Thank you,” on the way out.As if Meg had done something more than diagnose a common cold.
But she had done more, hadn’t she?
She’d given an anxious eight-year-old permission to rest without feeling like she was missing out.She’d turned a six-year-old’s potential chaos into an opportunity to be helpful.She’d made their day a little bit better.
You save people, Meggie.That’s what you do.That’s who you are.Her mother’s words echoed back.And for the first time since the call, Meg didn’t immediately push them away.
She did love this.Not just treating patients, but knowing them.Being part of their lives.
Emma and Tyler weren’t data points or case studies in a research journal.They were real kids with Jr.Ranger badges and sibling squabbles and a hike they were hoping to take tomorrow.Their mom wasn’t a research participant assigned a number—she was Sarah, who worked at the lodge’s gift shop and always brought homemade cookies to the ranger-station potlucks.
This was what she’d dreamed about in medical school.Working with people.Talking with patients.Connecting with communities.
Pennsylvania wouldn’t have this.Test tubes rather than individuals.Case numbers not names.Trial studies not relationships.
Penn State’s research lab would have data and controlled variables and published papers with her name in small print.It would be safe.Predictable.Manageable.Sterile.
In Pennsylvania, she wouldn’t know her patients’ names or watch kids grow up.Wouldn’t see the elderly couple from the campground holding hands on their daily walks.Wouldn’t be invited to ranger-station potlucks where everyone brought too much food and told stories that got more exaggerated with each telling.
She wouldn’t have Nimue dropping by with coffee and good conversation.Or Eden teasing her about her organizational systems.
Or Noah?—
She cut off that thought before it could fully form.
But her mother’s question wouldn’t let go.Are you running toward good things or just away from hard things?
Meg stared at the computer screen.Emma’s chart still waited to be updated.Her chest tightened again.But this time it wasn’t panic.
It was something closer to grief, to mourning something she hadn’t lost yet.
Because she was running.She knew it now, sitting in this small clinic that smelled like pine cleaner and antiseptic.In this place she’d somehow fallen in love with despite every reason not to.
She was running from the fear that she’d freeze again when someone needed her.Running from the memory of her father’s hand going limp in hers.Running from Lydia’s face in that cave.Running from the terrifying possibility that if she stayed, if she let herself care too much, she’d lose someone else she loved.
But most of all, running from Noah.
You save people, Meggie.
But what if she couldn’t?What if next time?—
