Summer on Lovers' Island (12 page)

“Okay, you hooligans,” he joked, getting up from the table. “I still have to work tomorrow. Time to head home.”

“Wow, you're going to be a fun date tomorrow. Home by nine! Grampie needs his beauty sleep!”

Jess was on a roll tonight. It was good to see her come out of her shell more and more, a definite by-product of her happiness with Rick after her previous ordeal. “What can I say?” Josh replied, patting his hair and sucking in his cheeks. “I'm not just another pretty face.”

Everyone was laughing when he walked away, and when he glanced at the Dairy Shack Summer met his gaze and gave a little wave.

He really didn't feel like heading home, though. The air was fresh and the waves were calling, so he drove down to Fiddler's Beach, parked the truck, and decided to take a walk on the sand. This time of night there were only a few stragglers left, sitting around little bonfires on the beach, steaming clams and having a few drinks. A dog from one of the houses above the stretch of sand came galloping over and Josh paused to pat him, grinning at the tongue lolling out and the excited wiggle of the dog's butt as he wagged his tail.

“Hey, buster,” Josh crooned, giving the dog a good rub over his back. “Aren't you a friendly one?”

“Roofus! Come on, boy!” A teenage boy came charging down to the sand. “Sorry. He was supposed to be in the backyard.”

“It's fine. He's real friendly.”

“Too friendly.” The teen pulled a face. “The next-door neighbor said if he came near her labradoodle again she'd call Animal Control.”

Josh laughed. Clearly this dog was a mutt and not a purebred. He winked at the kid. “Trust me, dog, you want to stay away from the classy broads.”

The kid laughed. “Tell me about it. C'mon, Roofus.” He grabbed the dog's collar. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem. Nice dog.”

They took off up the beach to the cottage above and Josh took off his sandals, letting his toes soak into the sand still warm from the afternoon's heat. Next to being out on the ocean in his boat, this was his favorite thing. He wasn't sure he could take not living by the ocean again. There was something about the air, the sound of it, that soothed him like nothing else. It took away the stresses of his day, leached away the memories of his tours overseas and what he'd seen there.

He swallowed tightly. He didn't regret coming home. But some things couldn't be fixed or forgotten with a home-cooked meal and familiar settings.

The beach tapered to a thin line of sand, edged by tall grass and then trees. The first star appeared, and then another, and the sliver of a moon began to rise into the indigo sky. The ocean darkened to a secretive black, the rhythmic waves lulling him to a calmer place. Before he realized it, he was almost all the way up to Fiddler's Rock, where the shoreline curved like half of a figure eight and the little knob of land sat squarely in the center of the tiny cove.

And then he realized he wasn't alone.

A runner made their way through the sand, coming in his direction, but he didn't think they'd seen him yet, as their pace was strong and sure. Looking closer, he could tell by the build that it was a woman, in loose shorts and a T-shirt, strong legs and arms churning through the sand. She picked up her pace for about fifty yards, and Josh stopped, simply admiring the strength and form. It didn't occur to him to identify the runner until she suddenly stopped, put her hands on her hips, turned her face to the sky. He saw the dark ponytail silhouetted in the moonlight and he knew.

Lizzie. And just like that, his stomach did that weird weightless drop thing. A feeling that had been distinctly missing when he'd asked Summer out earlier this evening.

Shit.

 

C
HAPTER
8

Lizzie fought for breath. The run was supposed to help, and it did, for a while. The feel of the sand beneath her toes, the tang of the sea air, the openness of the sky.

Anything to wash away the feeling of helplessness and self-blame.

But in the end it was futile. She pushed her muscles to the breaking point, sprinting back along the beach to the cottage, running until they quivered and threatened to give out. Her calves burned with the added exertion of running in the sand and her breath came in harsh pants and still the hole of nothingness was open, right in the middle of her chest.

Her head told her the home was the right decision. Her mother needed round-the-clock care that Lizzie simply couldn't provide. But her heart ached with the knowledge that she was completely alone. Her father was dead and her mother was a polite stranger most of the time and Lizzie had no brothers or sisters to share those early memories with. She fought to catch her breath, but her quadriceps gave out and she sank into the sand, pulled her knees to her chest, and let out the grief that had been threatening to overwhelm her for weeks.

She wanted her family back. She wanted everything the way it used to be, with the three of them together for holidays and talking about old times and plans for the future. She wanted to talk to her father about the mistakes she'd made and wanted to taste her mother's apple pie and feel the warmth of her smile again.

She needed that. Someone, something, to keep her grounded. She'd pretended for a while, lost herself in her work, but it wasn't the same. So she sat on the sand, still warm from the heat of the sun, and let the tears come. Hot, heartbreaking tears that she'd held inside for months.

The touch of a hand on her shoulder made her jump, and she lifted her head, scrambling to wipe her face. “Shhh,” she heard, and a quick glance told her it was Josh behind her, his face creased with concern.

“God, I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot,” she began, moving to get up. But his hand remained firm on her shoulder.

“Hush,” he murmured, the sound so soft it was almost part of the waves. He sat down on the sand, a little behind her, and pulled on her shoulder until she gave in and leaned back against him. He felt so good and she ignored the voice that said she was making a huge mistake. She needed to feel connected to someone rather than floating alone on an endless sea. His arm came around her and he tucked her head beneath his chin. “If you need to cry, cry,” he commanded. “Just let it out. You'll feel better.”

Her eyes stung again, not just at the emotions she hadn't yet released but because of his kindness. “You're my boss,” she said, giving her head a little shake. “I can't cry all over you.”

“I'm not your boss tonight,” he said quietly yet definitively. “I know that sort of crying, Lizzie. I've been there, and holding it in isn't doing you any favors.”

She hiccupped. “I was okay until I … I went to see my mother.”

That was all she needed to say for the waterworks to start again, and to her surprise Josh said nothing. Just looped his arms around her and gave her a safe place to fall. She was just weak enough to take advantage of it—this once.

His chin rested on top of her head and his hand rubbed along her arm, a rhythmic, soothing motion. After several minutes she was spent, emotionally and physically. What the run hadn't accomplished the crying had. She didn't even have the energy to pull away from his embrace like she knew she should. She was tired, so very tired. And he felt just a little like a port in a storm.

“Better?” he whispered.

She nodded. “A little embarrassed. I didn't expect an audience.”

“I had to get away for a while. Looks like we both turned to the beach. I like the wind and the sound of the waves.”

“Me, too.” She nodded against his T-shirt. “I should get back.…” Losing it was one thing. Willingly staying in his embrace was another. He was so strong, so solid. And as much as he said right now he wasn't her boss, it wasn't something they could turn on and off. It was
his
practice. She worked for him. There was no getting around it.

“Sit still, and chill,” he said. “And tell me what set you off. You said you went to see your mom?”

She nodded. “She's just outside Springfield, in a home there.”

“She can't be that old, if you're only thirty.”

“My mom is only in her sixties.”

“I see.” And the seriousness in his tone told her that he did, indeed, understand.

And then she let out a deep sigh. A sigh of relief from having purged the emotion, a sigh of resignation that there was nothing she could do. And perhaps that was what bothered her the most. There was absolutely nothing she could do to fix the situation. What good was being a doctor if she couldn't help the ones she loved?

“How advanced is it?” Josh asked quietly.

“It's been getting worse since my dad died. He really struggled with putting her into care, but he was almost seventy. It was getting harder and harder for him to look after her alone. Particularly when she would forget who he was and be afraid.”

Josh shifted his weight and moved his right leg so that she was sitting more in the lee of his legs, still leaning on his chest. It felt so good, so right. His hand brushed her arm, and his unique scent of man and clean laundry and fresh air imprinted on her memory. “Josh, I'm pretty vulnerable right now, so if this is, well, you know…” She was too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

“It's not. I'm just here if you want to talk, Lizzie. I know how grief feels. I know how guilt feels. I know what a hurting person looks like. “

“That's all this is?”

His breath was warm on her hair, strangely intimate even though he hadn't made any advances whatsoever.

“That's all this is. So why don't you tell me about your mom. Did something happen today that was especially difficult?”

Somewhere up the beach a group of vacationers started setting off fireworks. The cheers and laughs filtered through the air and mingled with the
lap lap
of the little breakers on the sand. Lizzie took a big breath, let it out slowly, imagined the tension leaving her body through her feet, letting go of the stress and pain.

“I took us a picnic to have in the garden. She was actually pretty good when I got there, but during lunch she kept asking if my dad would be joining us. Sometimes she remembers he's gone, but other times she expects him to walk through the door. And I feel terrible because she's the one with the disease, not me, and yet I'm the one who gets upset and … and … afraid.”

His arms tightened around her. Another rocket burst in the air, a huge bang followed by a cascade of pink and blue sparks.

“It's silly, but the worst part of the day was when I took out dessert. I'd bought her favorite, coconut cream pie, from the bakery right here in town. And it wasn't just a guess. It really was her favorite, for years. It was a running joke in our family. And she looked at me like she was angry that I even insinuated she liked coconut when she hates it. It's a damned pie, so why should I be so upset? But it made me so sad and angry. Nothing I say or do makes a damned bit of difference. I got her some ice cream in the kitchen and took her back to her room and all of a sudden she's back to making sense and when I asked her if I could get her anything she asked for my father back.”

“Oh, Lizzie. I'm so sorry.”

“Me, too. She's slipping away more each time, and with my dad gone … dammit, Josh, she's the one who's sick, not me. So why do I feel so horrible?”

He kissed her hair. “Because you feel helpless. Because you're a doctor and helping people … fixing people … is what you do. And this time you can't.”

She closed her eyes. He understood. Someone understood. And the really odd part of it was that Josh was really a stranger when it came down to it. They'd only worked together a few weeks. How was it he could see things so clearly?

“I miss them,” she whispered. “How do you get past the grief, Josh? Does it ever go away?”

He sighed. “It gets better.” Josh was quiet for a moment, and she got the sense he was wondering what to say next. She gave him time to decide, keeping her eyes closed and listening to the waves.

“When my dad died, it was really terrible. It was such a shock, you see.”

“What happened?”

“I forgot you don't know, you're not from here. He was a fisherman. He went out like he always did, and never came back.”

Lizzie turned in Josh's arms, looked up into his face. “Do you mean they never found him?”

He shook his head, his blue eyes darker in the dimness of the starlit sky. “Not him, not his boat.”

“God, Josh. That's horrific. How awful for all of you, and your mom … it's got to be a special sort of hell, dealing with a death without a body.”

A flash of pain transformed his face for a moment, and then she watched as he shuttered it away. But not fast enough.

“And then for you to lose your wife…”

He nodded. “That was different, though. At least … well, we got to bring Erin home and give her a proper burial. We know what happened. The not knowing … that's the book that never gets closed, you know?”

Lizzie touched his arm with her fingertips. “We had a burial for my dad, but that doesn't mean it was easy or I've managed to let go. How do I do that, Josh? How do I move on as if it doesn't matter? Please, tell me what to do to let me see my mother as a medical patient and not my mom, because it's killing me and I don't know what to do about it.”

“You get through it,” he said calmly. “One day at a time. That's all any of us do, Lizzie. And you look for joy. Moments of it at first, and eventually there's more than you expected.”

She turned, half in his arms and half out, meeting his gaze evenly. “Is that how it is for you, Josh? A life of joy?”

He shrugged. “I'm still in the moments part, but the moments are getting longer and more frequent.” He smiled, a little sheepishly.