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you.”
    Sabrina promised to be there as soon as possible, only to have the nurse tell her that sometime in the afternoon would be just fine. It wasn’t that they didn’t have the situation under control. So why did they need to wake her during that time frame reserved for alarm and emergency, triggering a panic that stuck with her for the rest of the morning? She knew better than to ask. She already had, once, only to be lectured that they were following her instructions, honoring her request that she be notified each time it was required to use restraints and sedate him.
    “We aren’t required to contact you,” the charge nurse reminded Sabrina at the end of that lecture. It was strictly a “courtesy call.”
    Sabrina sat up on the edge of the bed, waiting for the tightness in her chest to ease. Each time she expected the worst or at least something similar to that phone call two years ago. The one that started all this. She rubbed her hands over her face. Was it only two years ago? The tightness in her chest gave way to an ache, not much better but familiar. She still missed her mom.
    She reached for her running shoes exactly where she had left them next to the nightstand, ready for her so she wouldn’t have to fumble around in the faint blur of morning. Despite the phone call Sabrina always woke up before sunrise. Her daily routine had been her saving grace, giving order to the sudden chaos that had taken over her structured, predictable life. She slept in her sports bra and jogging shorts instead of pajamas, so she couldn’t talk herself out of her morning run. It was a habit she had developed when she moved to Florida. In those first weeks it took all her effort to push out from under the covers. She kept telling herself she needed to be strong for her dad. She couldn’t afford to lose him, too.
    She began making the bed as soon as she was out of it, pulling the corners taut. Before she finished she found herself sitting on the edge. She hated that they had to restrain him again. The first time she visited him with the leather straps binding his arms to the bed rails like some criminal she demanded they let him go home with her, never even considering that she wouldn’t be able to take care of him and work at the same time. The charge nurse—the same one who reminded her it was a courtesy for them to even call—quickly squelched Sabrina’s heroic gesture, explaining that since her father signed the commitment papers himself only he and Dr. Fullerton could release him. And of course, Dr. Fullerton would not.
    She snatched the folded gray T-shirt waiting on the corner chair and wrestled into it. Her mind raced through her work schedule, already adjusting and reorganizing her day to accommodate the unexpected road trip. She would ask her boss if she could leave early. It was Friday. Shouldn’t be a problem. With any luck she could be driving back home just as it started to get dark. It was silly and she felt as though she were ten whenever she admitted it—because the rumors and stories certainly sounded like old superstitions told over a campfire—but she hated the idea of being stuck in Chattahoochee after dark.
    In the kitchen she heard the first timer click on and within a minute the room began to fill with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Seconds later the refrigerator’s ice machine clattered into its dispenser the requisite amount of ice needed for her breakfast smoothie.
    While she waited for the coffee, Sabrina retrieved the rolled-up newspaper from her doorstep and set right the flowerpot the carrier continuously aimed for. A glance at the local headlines made her long for the Chicago Tribune. Who’d ever guess she’d miss tales of murder and embezzlement in exchange for county-festival schedules and new city zoning rules. It was almost a year since her move and Tallahassee, Florida, still didn’t feel like home. She couldn’t imagine that it ever would. But it wasn’t Florida’s