One Tiny Lie A Novel

completing the last one. Be there at two p.m.
    I don’t even question him anymore. The man’s brilliant. I simply respond with:
Okay.

    “Hi, Livie.” Gale’s beaming smile greets me at the front desk. When Kacey told Dr. Stayner that I was back in Miami, he contacted the hospital to let them know, in vague terms, what was happening. When I made the final decision that I would not be continuing on with the volunteer program, he sat with me while I called to let them know. They’ve been incredible with it all.
    “The boys will be so happy to see you.”
    “How are they?”
    She winks. “Go see for yourself.”
    Walking through the halls doesn’t make me as sick as it did before, I notice. I know it’s not because I have somehow gotten used to it. It’s because I’ve let go of the idea that this has to be my future.
    The twins run to me with energy I haven’t seen in a while, clutching my legs and making me giggle.
    “Come here!” Each of them grabs hold of a hand. They pull me over to the table. If they were upset that I left so abruptly two weeks ago, they aren’t showing it.
    “Nurse Gale said you were gone, doing some . . . I don’t get what she said. Something about a . . . soul ? You lost it? And you needed to go find it?” Eric ends that with a quizzical frown.
    Soul searching. I chuckle. “Yes. I was.”
    “Here.” Derek pushes forward a stack of papers with drawings on them. “She told us to help you think of all the things you could be when you grow up.”
    “I told her you wanted to be a doctor,” Eric interjects with an eye roll. “But she thought it’d be good to give you backup ideas.”
    Looking at each of them in turn, at their eager little faces, I begin flipping through each sheet, evaluating all of my options.
    And I’m laughing harder than I’ve laughed in a long time.

    I step out of the cab in front of a large white Victorian house in Newark at exactly two p.m. By the sign out front, it appears to be a nursing home of sorts. A fairly nice one at that, I note as I enter through the front door and into a modest but charming foyer with dark mahogany floors, pastel striped wallpaper, and a floral arrangement sitting on a side table. Across from me is an unattended front desk with a notice directing visitors to a registration book. I sigh as I glance around, looking for a clue as to what I’m supposed to do next. Dr. Stayner gave me no further instruction than to go to this address. Normally he’s quite explicit with his demands.
    I pull my phone out of my pocket, about to text him for guidance, when a young blond woman in baby blue nurse scrubs strolls by.
    With a smile in greeting, she says, “You must be Livie.”
    I nod.
    “He’s waiting for you in room 305. Stairs are around the corner, to your left. Third floor and follow the signs.”
    “Thanks.” So Dr. Stayner is here. Why am I not surprised? I open my mouth to ask the nurse what she knows about room 305, but she’s gone before I can utter a word.
    I follow her directions, taking the staircase to the third floor, the lingering scent of industrial-grade cleaner trailing the entire way. I can’t help but notice the eerie quiet as I climb. It only amplifies the creaking steps. Aside from an occasional cough, I hear nothing. I see nothing. It’s as if the place is empty. My gut tells me it’s far from it.
    Following the room numbers on the doors, I watch the progression until I reach my destination. The door is propped open. Okay, Dr. Stayner. What do you have for me now? With a deep inhale, I step hesitantly around the corner, expecting to find my graying psychiatrist.
    A short, narrow hallway leads into a room that I can’t see fully from the doorway. All I can see is the corner ahead and a dark-haired, tanned, beautiful man hunched over in a chair—his elbows on his knees, his hands folded and pressed to his mouth as if he’s waiting with trepidation.
    My breath hitches.
    Ashton is on his feet immediately. His lips part as he stares at me, as if he wants to speak but doesn’t know where to begin. “Livie,” he finally manages, and then clears his throat. He’s never called me Livie before. Never. I don’t know how that makes me feel.
    I’m too shocked to respond. I hadn’t expected to see him today. I hadn’t prepared myself.
    I watch with wide eyes as Ashton takes five quick strides over and seizes my hand, his worried brown eyes locked on mine, a slight tremble in his grip. “Please