Deja Vu She Always Waited for Letters, From Childhood Through Her Whole Life—Addresses Changed, Trees Grew Shorter, People More Distant, Hopes More Quiet. He Trusted No One and Expected Nothing—A Sturdy, Ordinary Man With a Job and a Dog, Traveling Alone or With His Four-Legged Friend. She Was a Charming Woman With Big, Sad Eyes—“What Couldn’t You Leave Home Without?” “My Smile!” she’d say, her dimpled cheeks proving it. Nicknamed ‘Pirate in a Skirt,’ her closest childhood friendships were with boys, but privately she dreamed of being a mum with lots of kids, a kind husband, and a big cozy home with a beautiful garden. He Couldn’t Imagine Life Without Sports—Old Trophies and Medals Napping in a Box in the Garage, Saved More Out of Respect for His Proud Parents Than His Own Glory. He Loved Pushing Himself to the Edge, Tasting Exhaustion and That Next Surge of Strength. She Lost Her Parents at Seven, Grew Up in Children’s Homes With Her Younger Brother Sent Elsewhere—A Life of Battles, Sorrows, and Joys That Was Now Behind Her. Now They Lived Across the Street From Each Other in a Quiet English Neighborhood of Low Houses, Warm Streets, Bright Gardens, Farmer’s Markets. Family Was Her Only Real Friend—Her Brother. On a Troubling Winter’s Day Her Shift Ended, She Delivered Freshly Baked Pies to Colleagues—Received a Fatherly Hug From Her Mentor, Vasily, Who Cautioned Her to Rest. Holiday Shifts—Almost Always Together—Three-Person Ambulance Crew, Her Male Colleagues Didn’t Like Her, She Was Too Well-Groomed; She Insisted a Cheerful, Sharp-Looking Doctor Could Make All the Difference. He Raced Home With His White Dog and a Box of Trophies—Parents Had Invited Him for New Year’s, a Rare Gift, His Father, an Ex-Colonel, Proud but Worried for His Wife. Days Before the Holiday, a Midnight Call Came—His Mother Collapsed. Parents Were Always Together, Growing Old as Those Young, Secretly-in-Love Couples Do. She Was Exhausted but Still Delivered Her Pies Around the City—That Day, Even Snuck in a Nap at Work. Ten Miles to Her Parents’ House—Snowstorm Started, She Recalled How Her Dog Resisted Getting in the Car, the Rattle of the Box, Endless Roads… “Hold On, Mum, Dad, I’m Coming…” She Pulled Over in the Blizzard—Only a Few Miles Left—Just One More Pie, to the Cottage Where Her Favorite Patient Lived, a Spirited Older Woman With a Kind Husband and a Sparkle in Their Eyes. Suddenly, a Dark Shape in the Road—A Dog? Wild or Runaway? She Swerved—Crash. “Jack, Buddy… Why Does It Hurt So Much? Mum, Dad, I’m So Close…” Darkness. Vasily Was Unreachable—Gone to the Grandkids. Ambulance Couldn’t Get Through the Drift. A Nearby Car Careened Off the Road—She Saw the Crash. She Managed to Rescue a Man and Two Dogs, Hauled Them to Hospital, Her Brother Met Her Halfway. She Returned Later to Deliver the Pie—Brought Along a Box From the Crashed Car. “Could Be Valuable to Him. They’re Alive. I’ll Return It.” The Patient’s Husband Opened the Door, Looking Lost—His Wife Was Hospitalized, He Was Waiting for Their Son, Couldn’t Get Through… She Offered a Lift, Silence in the Car as the Snowstorm Ceased. He Noticed the Box, Asked About It; She Explained the Accident, the White and Black Dogs. He Grew Quiet—His Son Had a White Dog, His Wife Dreamt Lately of a Black One… When the Man Awoke in Hospital, First Thing He Thought About Was “Those Incredible, Sad Eyes.” His Father Was At His Side. The Family Celebrated New Year in Late January—Mum Recovered, Dad Was Overjoyed, Jack the Dog Walked With a Limp. Work Called Him Back, Boys to Coach, Competitions Ahead. But All He Could Think Of Was Her… Before He Left, His Father Pointed Out Trophies on the Attic Shelf—He Smiled, Remembering His Own Story. Meanwhile, She Hurried Home—Dina, the Dog Rescued From the Crash, Waited for Her, Black With a Heart-Shaped White Patch. Checking Her Letterbox, She Almost Didn’t Notice the White Envelope Inside. Inside, a Note: “I’ll Come Tonight. Thank You, Darling! Love Is a Compass That Always Finds the Way.”

Déjà vu

Ive always waited for letters. Ever since I was a little girl for as long as I can remember. The addresses would change. The trees seemed to grow smaller, the people farther away, and the waiting became quieter.

He never put his trust in anyone, nor did he expect anything. Outwardly, he was an ordinary, solidly built Englishman. Work was his constant, and back homethere was just his dog. He would travel alone or, at times, with his four-legged companion.

Im the sort of girl people call charming, but my eyes always carry a shadow of sadness. Someone once asked me, Whats the one thing you could never leave the house without?

A smile, I replied. And the dimples in my cheeks always proved it true.

Growing up, I always got on better with boys. In the estate, they called me the Pirate in a Skirt. Yet, when I was by myself, I played a little game. Id imagine I was a mum with a house full of children, a kind husband, and a big, cosy home with a lovely wild garden.

He couldnt imagine himself without sport. In the garage, his trophies, medals, and certificates lay in a box. He wasnt sure why he kept them; perhaps out of respect for his parents, whod always been proud of him. Hed been meaning to take them to show his family. He never competed for the gloryhe simply loved the game, the exhaustion, sweating it out until every muscle ached, just to be met by another rush of energya new breath.

My parents died when I was seven. My little brother and I were sent to different childrens homes. We grew up with our own battles, heartaches and rare joys. That lifes long behind us now. Today, we live across the street from each other, in a close-knit neighbourhood with Victorian terraces, sun-warmed lanes, cheerful gardens, and buzzing farmers markets. My brothers family are my only, best friends.

It was one of those anxious days My shift had just ended and I was crossing the car park. Old George caught up with me, gave me a fatherly hug, thanking me for the home-baked sausage rolls.

Get some sleep at home, alright?

Ill manage, I said, waving him off and giving him a peck on the cheek before hurrying to my car.

Oh, you, the ambulance driver sighed as I walked away.

On holidays, people rarely wanted to work, even the doctors, so we often ended up together on shift. Two other men were on our crew. My male colleagues didnt warm to me much. I liked being well-presented and keeping my spirits upif the doctors positive and put-together, everything seems a little better.

He was rushing as fast as the car would allow. The trophies rattled in their box in the boot, and his white dog whimpered anxiously in the back seat. Dad had asked him home for New Year’s. That very day, the box had gone in the car. He was excited not to be working over the holidays for once, even though he missed the boys at the club and loved coaching. Still, the rare visits with his parents weighed on him… Just before New Year’s, in the early hours, the phone rang.

Mums not well. Dads voice trembled. Hed always been strong, an ex-Coloneland yet unable to hide his worry. His parents had been childhood sweethearts, even in their sixties theyd look at each other as if the world belonged only to them. That sparkthey must know some secret.

I was weary, but smiling. Every New Year’s Eve, Id bake armfuls of pies and distribute them around town after my shift. Managed a couple of hours sleep in the staff room, else George would never have let me near a steering wheel.

Ten miles to my parents house. And just like that, a blizzard swept in. I remembered how my dog hesitated before getting in, the racket from the boot, endless road tripsalways on the motorway Hold on, Mum, Dad Theres no one but you

My dog licked the back of my head, as though he knew exactly what I was thinking.

Sorry, old lad. Yes, of course I meant you, too.

I eased off the accelerator. The snowstorm couldnt have come at a worse time. I had one pie left. Two, three miles of country road and then the turn into the village, where my favourite patient liveda formidable, not-quite-grandmotherly lady with a sparkle in her eyes and her ever-cheerful husband. The sort of people my own parents might have become, had they lived. They never complained, always planning their next little adventure.

Suddenlya dark flash shot out in front of my headlights, right against the white blur of falling snow.

Where did you come from, girl? A stray from the woods, or did someone lose you?… Such striking eyes. But why is your neck sticky? My jumpers soaked If only I could sleep, just sleep JackJack, mate Why does it hurt so much?… Mum, Dad, Im coming Im nearly there So dark

George wouldnt answer the phone. Hed gone to fetch his grandchildren. Theres no way the ambulance would get throughroads too snowed under.

Hang in there, matewait, theres a dog as well!

I was just about to leave when a grey car hurtled past. Someones desperate to get home, I thought. Moments later, the same car lay upside down in a ditch. A black dog lay nearbyalive, hopefully.

What time was it, even? Normally, I hated hot water, but only a scalding shower quelled my shivering. I sat on the tiled floor, eyes shut, just breathingif only I could have a nap

How did you drag him out, anyway? Hes a big chap! my brothers voice echoed in my head, muscle memory tightening every limb with remembered pain.

I drove the man and the two dogs to hospital in my car. Halfway there, my brother met me, helped with the rest. That same day, I went back to the village cottage to deliver that last pie. For some reason Id taken the box that had tumbled from the car boot.

Might be sentimental to that chap. Thank goodness everyones alright. Hell need it, once hes back on his feet.

The elderly gent opened the door, looking lost.

Has something happened? I asked before I could stop myself.

My wife is in hospital. I was just about to visit her. Cant get hold of our son, though

I said nothing, lowering my gaze.

And are you alright, my dear? He took my hand.

Let me drive you? I offered quietly.

We travelled in silence. The snow had calmed.

Noticed youve got a box on the back seat. Wheres that from? He broke the quiet at last, curiously.

There was an accidenta man tried to avoid a black dog that darted out, his car flipped, and the box fell from the boot

A grey car, white dog inside, and a black stray? he whispered.

I stopped the car and turned round to look at him. His hands clenched, and he stared down the road.

Hes alive. And your wifeshell recover, I promised, reaching for him, offering the only comfort I knew.

Listen, love May I call you that?

Of course. My eyes filled with tears.

My wife dreamt of a strange black dog, every night for days. Our sons got a white dog at home. God knows where the black one came from.

The first thing he thought, when he woke up: Beautiful eyes. So sad. Incredible. His father was dozing nearby, bedside chair pulled close.

Mum. The crash. He remembered it alland the girls eyes.

We celebrated New Years in the last week of January. Mum was on the mend. Dad looked ten years younger. Jack was limping still, but should recover soon. And he had coaching to get back toneeded to get the boys back into shape after Christmas, competitions looming. Hed stayed too long at his parents, really. About time to head back to the city. But that girl she kept returning to his mind.

He was at the gate when his father called down from the attic window.

Dad, need a hand?

His father smiled slyly. Glancing around, he spotted his trophies neatly lined up on a shelf.

Now, how did you manage that, Colonel? he grinned.

Figure it out! Im off to walk Jack before you go.

I was hurrying back homefaster than usual. Dina was waiting; I couldnt leave her behind at the vets when she came round. Otherwise, shed have ended up in a shelter. Dina wasnt all blacka white heart-shaped patch sat on her chest.

I made my way up to the flat. On autopilot, hand barely looking, I unlocked the post box. Was about to snap it closed when a flash of white caught my eyean envelope.

Inside, it read:

Ill see you tonight. Thank you, darling. Love is the compass that leads us home.