Running Towards Fate

Amelia’s POV: I drove into the small town with no clear plans except to start over and be safe.  As I stepped out of the vehicle, I kept thinking that “this was just the place”, where most people kept to themselves and “surely, no one would think to look for me here”.   As I looked around the town square with the old working courthouse in the middle with the quaint coffee shop, bookstore, bakery, family diner, and other small shops surrounding it.  It was just as I had remembered it so many years ago when I would visit my grandparents. The hospital was just three blocks away further away from the square to accommodate for the ambulances and helicopter. I would need to go there tomorrow to pick up my new ID badge and parking sticker.  “Not that parking should be a problem here”, I thought to myself and “how busy could it really be?”   I’d left my old life behind me including the insanely busy emergency department where I spent most of my time building my skills and career.  But here was different and I was very much looking forward to the change of pace.  No one from my family or friends knew where I went except one.  In fact, the one person who knew was my mother as it had been her idea to come here in the first place.  It was safer for me that way.  If only I could stop looking over my shoulder every second of every day.   What had started as a few simple hang up calls evolved into notes left on my windshield and gifts delivered at work.  I had notified both the police and security but no one was able to stop the continued deliveries or find out who was sending them.  It was when the notes and gifts began showing up at my home that the fear really set in.  The longer it went on, the more aggressive and angry the notes became.  I didn’t understand what I had done to catch or keep his attention but according to the police, it was only a matter of time before he physically confronted me.  I’d taken care of patients that had been in similar situations with horrible outcomes including disfigurement and sometimes, death.  When a stalker doesn’t get what they want, no one could truly predict how they would react so I did the only thing I could do.   I ran.    I decided to stop at the grocery store for necessities before heading to my grandparents old home. I didn’t expect there to be much of anything at the home.  My mother had the utilities set up in her name so there would be no way to trace them. She had also had the home cleaned prior to my arrival since no one had lived there since my grandmother passed away three years ago.  I had brought very little with me when I ran from my apartment so I needed quite a few things. The grocery store had expanded from my childhood memories and was more than big enough to have everything I needed. There weren’t many other shoppers in the store midday and no one to recognize me.  Not that many probably would.  I hadn't been here in more than a dozen years.  My mom and I hadn't even returned when the last of my father's family, my grandmother, passed away.  I paid for my things and packed them in the jeep to continue the drive to my new home.   The drive to the outskirts of town and a little up the mountain took less time than anticipated. As I turned onto the dirt road that lead to my grandparents home, childhood images flashed through my mind.  The “home” is actually a cabin that my mother assured me has been updated since my last visit.  It was quite a large cabin with 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, and a large wrap around porch.  My grandparents were pretty self-sufficient here and spent most of their time outside. During my summer visits, they taught their only granddaughter how to cook, fish, hunt, and garden.  Some of these skills I hadn’t used in a long time and hoped it would come back easily.  In fact, there were a lot of things I didn’t remember from my childhood but perhaps with time spent here, the memories would return.  The few times I'd tried to remember before always ended up with a headache and nothing but fuzzy, out-of-focus flashes.  The exterior of the cabin looked pretty much the same excluding the empty pots that use to hold an assortment of flowers, vegetables, and herbs when my grandmother was alive.  I parked the jeep and stepped out into the fresh mountain air.  It felt good.  I felt free.  But I still looked around to make sure I was alone and it appeared no one was watching me.  I grabbed the groceries from the back, climbed the front steps, and unlocked the front door.  Stepping over the threshold, it was clear the home had been remodeled but the pictures on the walls were the same.  Pictures of my grandparents, my parents before my father's death, and myself lined the walls. Just as mom had promised, the house was spotlessly clean as I made my way through the living room to the kitchen. There were some noticeable upgrades including a mounted flat screen TV over the fireplace and new appliances in the kitchen.  I placed the groceries on the counter and continued to empty out the jeep with the few belongings I had brought with me.   The master bedroom was light and airy with an old rocking chair in the corner.  I made my way back to the kitchen to unpack the groceries and began deciding what to make for dinner.  It feels good to be here and I'm finally beginning to relax.