Chapter Four
By the time they reached the ivy-draped brick building marked Hollow's Edge Family Clinic, Rebecca's pulse had steadied, though her chest still felt tight.
"Inside," Star said firmly. "Greyson will take care of you. Don't you worry."
Rebecca nodded faintly, stepping through the glass door into the cool hush of the clinic. A receptionist looked up from her desk and smiled.
"Good morning," she said. "Do you have an appointment?"
Rebecca opened her mouth, faltered. "I no. I wasn't feeling well and"
"She needs to be seen," Star cut in gently, resting a hand at Rebecca's back. "Lightheaded. Came on sudden."
The receptionist's smile softened, professional concern edging out formality. "All right. We can fit you in." She slid a clipboard across the counter. "Name?"
"Rebecca Earl," Rebecca said, the syllables sticking a little.
The receptionist's pen paused, eyes flicking up. "E-A-R-L?"
"Yes."
"Address and a contact number here, please." She tapped the top sheet. "Any allergies?"
"No," Rebecca managed. "None."
"Good. If you'll sign and date the consent line, I'll let Dr. Edgeworth know you're here."
"Welcome to Hollow's Edge," the woman said, voice lower now, almost conspiratorial. "First visits can feel like a lot." You're in good hands."
"Thank you," Rebecca said, surprised at the rush of relief those simple words gave her.
Star squeezed her shoulder and guided her to a row of chairs. On the wall, the clinic clock ticked with steady, unbothered rhythm. Behind the counter, the receptionist picked up the phone, murmured, "Dr. Edgeworth? I've got a walk-in Ms. Earl," then glanced up again and met Rebecca's eyes like she was silently promising, We'll take care of you.
Rebecca sat in one of the clinic's waiting chairs, the clipboard balanced on her knees. The pen felt too heavy in her hand as she filled in her name.
Rebecca Earl.
She hesitated. Should she write Weatherman instead? The name pulsed in her mind, louder since Star had spoken it.
No. Earl is the name on my license, on my degree. Earl is safe. Earl doesn't raise questions.
She signed quickly, as though afraid the receptionist might read her thoughts.
The clock on the wall ticked with steady rhythm, each second a little too loud. Her pulse followed it, unsteady.
I shouldn't even be here. It's just nerves. Too much coffee, too little sleep. That's all.
The receptionist slid a clipboard across the counter, her neat handwriting scrawled on a sticky note at the top. "Have you ever been to Hollow's Edge before?" she asked, her tone polite but laced with curiosity.
Rebecca shook her head. "No. First time."
The woman's eyes narrowed slightly, studying her face with quiet intensity. "That's odd. You look familiar. Like I've seen you here before."
Rebecca's throat tightened. She managed a small, shaky smile. "People keep saying that. I suppose it's because I look like my grandmother. I never met her, but I've been told I have her face."
The receptionist leaned forward, offering a small, professional smile. "Name's Clara Boyd, by the way. If you need anything while you're here, you ask me. I don't forget faces."
Rebecca blinked. "Boyd?"
Clara's expression softened, though it felt more like a mask than warmth. "Taylor's my brother. He looks after the house you're renting."
Rebecca's breath caught. "So you already knew"
"Just that you'd moved in," Clara said quickly, sliding the forms back toward Rebecca. "Taylor mentioned a new tenant."
Star gave a pointed little laugh, light but cutting. "Funny how things circle back, isn't it?"
Clara Boyd's voice carried down the hall, cool and professional. "Dr. Edgeworth will see you now."
Rebecca rose, smoothing her blouse with nervous hands. Star gave her a reassuring squeeze on the arm before settling back into a chair in the waiting area. "Go on, sugar. He's kind. You'll see."
Rebecca followed the polished hallway to a door marked Office. She hesitated for a heartbeat, then knocked.
"Come in," a voice called warm, rich, touched with a Carolina drawl that carried both authority and comfort.
Rebecca stepped inside.-
The office was lined with shelves of leather-bound medical texts and framed diplomas faded with time. Behind a broad oak desk sat a man in his late seventies, his posture upright, his presence commanding. His silver hair gleamed under the soft light, and his sharp gray eyes softer than Nathaniel's, but no less piercing lifted to meet hers.
"You must be Ms. Earl," he said, rising slowly but steadily to his feet.
"Ms. Earl," he said, his voice rich with a Southern drawl. "Come, sit."
Rebecca lowered herself into the chair opposite his desk, suddenly aware of how dry her throat felt.
"I hear you had a spell of dizziness this morning," Greyson said gently. "Why don't you tell me about it?"
Rebecca clasped her hands together. "It came on all at once. Lightheaded, almost faint. It passed, but it… rattled me.
Greyson nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful but not alarmed. "Have you been eating? Sleeping properly?"
She gave a shaky laugh. "Not really. New house, new town… I haven't exactly felt settled yet."
"Of course," Greyson said, his tone patient. "A sudden change of place, stress, exhaustion it is can take a toll. The body always speaks when the mind carries too much." He reached for a pen, jotting notes with precise strokes. "I'll run a few basics before you leave today. But from what I can see, you're steady now. No real cause for alarm."
Relief washed through her, though it didn't loosen the knot in her chest. "Thank you, Dr. Edgeworth. I was afraid I might've made a scene."
Greyson chuckled softly. "Oh, Hollow's Edge has seen stranger things than a faint spell. Trust me."
Greyson had a sweet grandfatherly personality about him.
Greyson said, his tone reassuring. "Let's check the basics."
He rose with surprising steadiness for his age and reached for a black bag on the counter Greyson gestured for Rebecca to roll up her sleeve.
The blood pressure cuff hissed as it tightened around her arm. Greyson watched the gauge, listening through his stethoscope. "One twenty-two over eighty-four," he murmured. "A touch high, but nothing alarming."
Greyson slipped the stethoscope from his neck and set it neatly on the desk. "One more question before we take your blood," he said, his tone gentle but precise. "Did you eat this morning?"
Rebecca blinked, realizing she hadn't. "No. Just coffee. I… didn't have much of an appetite."
Greyson nodded making some notes in the chart.
"Well that would explain some of the dizziness maybe even the sleep deprivation. We will check some labs regardless just to be on the safe side."
Greyson swabbed the crook of her arm with practiced care, his voice calm as the needle slipped in. "You'll feel just a little pinch."
Rebecca nodded, trying to focus on her breathing. The silence of the clinic pressed close, broken only by the ticking of a clock on the wall and the faint shuffle of Clara at the front desk.
Her eyes flicked around the room, then back to Greyson. "I notice it's just you here. And Clara."
Greyson smiled faintly, settling back into his chair. "That's right. Once upon a time we had more staff. But Hollow's Edge doesn't change much, and fewer hands are needed these days."
Rebecca hesitated, then said softly, "I should tell you—I have my nurse practitioner license. I wasn't planning to sit idle while I'm here."
Greyson's brows lifted, surprise flickering across his face before giving way to approval. "A nurse practitioner?"
Greyson nodded slowly, as though filing the detail away with quiet intention. "Hollow's Edge has a way of making use of people's talents, Ms. Earl. Perhaps your coming here was just what the town needed."
From the desk outside, Clara's voice called softly, "Doctor, your 1130 is ready."
"We'll speak again. And not just as doctor and patient. I suspect we may have a place for you here in the clinic.
The autumn air outside the clinic felt sharper, cleaner, but it did little to ease the tightness in Rebecca's chest. She walked back through the square, aware of the way conversations dipped as she passed, the way eyes lingered too long before turning politely away.
By the time she reached the house, the sun was low, streaking the sky in copper and violet. The key turned in the lock with the same heavy click as before, but the air inside felt different closer somehow, as if the rooms had been holding their breath all day.