Page 21 of Mountain Freedom
There was something special in having a friend who had known me in my old life. Nowadays, pretty much everyone knew me as Jackson Ford, and even the ones who knew my past hadn’t really known me as a kid. They might know my father and sympathize with me because of it, but it was only an interesting piece of my story to them. It wasn’t my identity.
Allison was the strongest link to the good parts of my childhood, and there was something special about getting that link back.
As long as I could remember, my life had been divided into two parts: life before I was adopted and life after. Thebeforepart of my life felt so far away that, in some ways, it felt like it had all happened to somebody else. Seeing Allison again reminded me that it hadn’t. That those parts of my life were really mine, too.
Which was good and bad at the same time.
She had brought the good memories back, but between reconnecting with her and the recent sightings of Russell, the dark parts of my past were feeling uncomfortably close. The worst part of it was how quickly Russell could erase the years between us, turning me from a confident member of law enforcement to a scared kid with a broken heart. Part of me wondered if getting close to Allison was a mistake. If maybe I should put as much distance between the past and my future as I could.
But when she walked in—looking slightly hesitant as she glanced around, until she saw me and her face lit up—I realized she had a completely different effect on me than Russell did. Instead of making me feel like a weak little kid without resources, I felt stronger when she was around. More confident. Ready to face anything.
And I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said breathily as she slid across from me into the booth . “My last patient of the day went long.”
“Complicated case?” I asked, signaling the server for another menu.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes and no. Not really complicated, medically speaking. But I had another patient come in on too many prescriptions. She’s mixing narcotics with benzos and sedatives, and frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t already killed her.I told her I couldn’t continue the prescriptions as written, but that I could help her safely taper down. She didn’t take it well, though she did eventually agree to try something different. I think it helped that her husband was there and he took what I was saying seriously.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that. A lot of people loved Doc Rogers for the wrong reasons.”
She hesitated, then spoke again. “I’m thinking of starting a medication-assisted treatment program, where I can prescribe safer alternatives and help with the withdrawal process. It’s something I haven’t done personally, but I know there’s been some success with other clinics. There certainly seems to be a need for it here. There’s also some grant money available for the program, which would help the clinic get out of the hole.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said, giving her an encouraging smile. “That would do a lot of good.”
“Right?” she asked, agreeing with me even though it was clear she was still looking for affirmation. “I think it would be a really good thing for the community, to help the ones who are reliant on painkillers by still giving them relief but in a way that doesn’t get them high. Plus, the program would require drug testing in order to get the prescription. So it’s built-in accountability and motivation to stay off everything else.”
I nodded, though I felt the need to damper her excitement. “It’s a good idea and definitely worth a shot. But it could be a hard sell. Rosemary Mountain has grown a lot since you last lived here, but it’s still your typical small town in most ways. And you know the issue with small towns in Tennessee.”
“Yep. But things can change.”
I fought to keep the look of doubt off my face. “I hope you’re right. It always feels like we’re fighting a losing battle there, and sometimes I wonder if it’s a battle even worth fighting.”
Her eyes softened, not with judgment but with empathy. “I imagine it does feel that way working in law enforcement. It’s the same on the medical side. But sometimes you reach people. It’s those times, the ones where you get someone to turn their life around and actually show up to live it, that make all the stress worth it in the end. It’s a gift to them and their families. If you save even one, it’s worth it. Right?”
I looked at her and saw the little girl she had been for just a moment. That same serious look in her eyes, that fragile bravery. I had always thought of her as a princess—the warrior kind who would fight dragons if necessary to protect her people. The woman sitting across from me right now seemed exactly the same.
“You’re right,” I said, knowing she was thinking of her father. Unlike mine, hers had never gotten involved in drugs. That I knew of anyway. But he had his own addictions and she had lived her own kind of nightmare because of it.
She took a little breath and smiled like she had needed my affirmation. It was a funny thing. I knew—because people were talking already—that everyone saw her as this ultra confident know-it-all who had come back to town thinking she was better than everyone else.
I saw the truth.
The server—ateenage girl with stringy hair, a face full of acne, and an attitude suggesting she’d rather be literally anywhere than here—arrived, interrupting my thoughts. She slapped two plastic cups down on the table hard enough to make me wince.
“Soda machine’s over there. Self-serve. If you want beer, I’ll have to get Shelly to bring it to you.”
“I’m good with soda,” Allison said, gently sliding her cup out from the teenager’s hand, which was clamped down on the top of it.
“Same,” I said.
“Great,” the teenager said without a single trace of emotion. “What kind of pizza do you want?”
“She might need a few minutes to look—” I started, but Allison shook her head.
“I looked at the online menu over my lunch break,” she said. “I want to try their Happy Hippie pizza. Want to split a large half and half? If not, I’ll order a small.”
“We can split,” I said, grinning. “But make my half pepperoni.” I handed the menu to the teenager, who turned and walked away without a word.
