Page 12 of The Maine Event

“Hi, Dan, yes, you introduced yourself earlier in my room. I’m Rachel.”

“I’m really sorry–”

“It’s ok. Really.” I offer Dan my hand. He smiles and shakes it.

That’s when the sound of sirens fills the air, growing louder with each passing second. Dan and I exchange a glance, relief and anticipation mingling in the space between us.

“Looks like the cavalry’s here,” he says, rising to his feet.

I nod, my heart racing as the paramedics burst through the doors, a flurry of activity and purpose. They take over, their movements practiced and precise, and I step back, letting them do their job.

Dan approaches me as the paramedics wheel the elderly woman out on a gurney and the remaining patrons all settle back down at the tables, now that the show’s over.

“Thanks for your help tonight. You were incredible.”

I brush off the compliment, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Oh, it was nothing. I’m just glad she’s going to be okay.”

He shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It wasn’t nothing. You stayed calm under pressure. That’s pretty cool.”

I feel a blush creeping up my neck, and I glance away.

He huffs a quiet laugh, and Chloe manages a small, wobbly smile. “You were really brave,” she says, her voice soft.

“You too, kiddo. You did great.”

Dan squeezes her shoulder and gives me a nod. “Well… we should probably get going. I need to get her home and settled. But… I hope to see you around?”

I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “Just remember to knock.”

He lingers for a second longer, like he wants to say something else, but then he just nods again and steers Chloe toward thedoor. I watch them go, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me—relief that the elderly lady is in good hands, and something softer, something I don’t quite know how to define when it comes to Dan.

I turn back to my table, my unfinished chowder now stone cold and completely unappetizing. I sink onto the seat, letting the adrenaline ebb away, and glance at the mess of napkins and half-eaten food. I push the bowl away, resting my chin in my hands, but the scene keeps replaying in my mind—the old woman, so pale and fragile, crumpling to the floor.

The waitress reappears with a small smile, breaking me out of my daze. “Hey,” she says gently. “How are you holding up?”

I force a smile, though I’m sure it’s more of a grimace. “Fine. Just… worried about her, I guess.”

She nods, wiping down the table, her movements slower than usual. “You did good, you know. Helping out like that.”

I glance at her, then back at my chowder. “Thanks. Although I think Dan did most of the heavy lifting. I just… followed his lead.”

“Still counts,” she says, giving me a reassuring nod. “You two made a good team.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod and reach for my purse, fishing out some cash to cover the meal. But when I set it down on the table, she waves it off.

“Don’t worry about it. This one’s on us. Least we can do after what you did for Marjorie. She’s a regular here, known her for years. Tough old bird, but her heart’s been giving her trouble lately.”

I push the money toward her anyway, but she just shakes her head firmly. “Keep it. We couldn’t possibly accept.”

With a resigned nod, I slide the cash back into my purse and gather my things. As I head for the door, I glance back at thenow-empty spot on the floor where Marjorie had collapsed. It’s like it never happened. Just a normal evening at Julie’s Diner.

Outside, the night air is crisp and cool. I start down the quiet street, heading back toward the motel. My footsteps sound too loud, like they’re interrupting the calm of the night.

I should go to bed. I’m exhausted—mentally and physically—but there’s a nagging knot in my stomach that won’t let go. I can’t just walk away and forget about Marjorie, not when I don’t even know if she’s alright. What if she’s alone in the hospital, scared and confused?

I pause on the sidewalk. I’m not going to be able to sleep until I know. I dig through my bag until I find my phone and look up the nearest hospital with an emergency room. There’s one about fifteen minutes away.

Without giving myself time to overthink it, I pull out the keys to my rental and head back to where it’s parked. The beast of a vehicle is still obnoxiously red, still absurdly large, but at this moment, I don’t care. I just need to make sure Marjorie’s okay.

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