The Sandbar saga : Age Gap Romance

by Debra Kayn

  "Yes, Barbara?" He fisted his hand, needing to get off the phone in case Katie called.

  "I have to cancel my one o'clock appointment with you. My daughter's school called, and she's sick. I'm on my way to pick her up now and take her to the doctor."

  "Yes, yes, that's fine," he said.

  "I'll see you next week."

  "Yes." He disconnected.

  The silence of the house amplified the emptiness inside of him. He walked out of the sliding door and sat in the nearest patio chair. Unable to imagine how he would go on each day without Katie, the desolation overwhelmed him.

  He was certified to handle every situation, every heartbreak, every trauma in a person's life. Knowing exactly how he should recover and go on living life had shit to do with how he felt at the moment.

  Nothing prepared him for the pain.

  He closed his eyes and clutched his chest. A hurt so deep burrowed inside of him, he wasn't sure he'd survive.

  Part Three

  Dr. Conner and Katie

  Chapter 29

  FIVE YEARS LATER—

  Katie handed the last paper to Paige. She had a lot to be excited about, and all she felt was panic.

  "I'll present the offer to Mr. and Mrs. Frank's realtor in an hour, and then..." Paige looked at her phone. "They'll have until three o'clock tomorrow to either accept or counteroffer."

  "Thank you so much for handling this for me, Paige." She looked around the small office. "When I read the new company name on the sign outside, I wasn't sure anyone would still be here that I knew. I was thrilled to know you were here and would negotiate the deal."

  She'd almost chickened out when she noticed the Beachcomber Real Estate sign had been replaced with one that read Seashore Realty.

  "Cara and Donna are still here, too. Only the owner changed." Paige leaned back in her chair and shook her head. "It sure is good to see you. You look great. I can't believe it's been five years since you left."

  "Ah, that's kind of you." She sat straighter, hoping the pudge in her belly wasn't as noticeable as she imagined. "I look back to working here, and I'll always be grateful for the friendships I developed."

  Five years had brought many changes to Astoria and to her. She trailed her hand down the back of her head. The short hairstyle was her most recent transformation.

  "Are you still licensed in Oregon to sell real estate?" asked Paige.

  She nodded. "I've been a broker for the last two years."

  "Congratulations. You moved right up the ladder." Paige twirled the ink pen in her hand. "Are you looking for somewhere to hang your license?"

  "Eventually, yes. Once I'm settled."

  "You should talk to Donna. Between you and me, she's been mentioning going to part-time. Her grandchildren moved to California last summer, and she goes down there almost every two weeks." Paige lifted her brows. "You have the advantage of working for her in the past, so your foot is already in the door."

  "I'll do that." She stood, needing to get back to the house on the Columbia River she'd rented for the month. "Thanks again, Paige. I couldn't have done this without you."

  Paige blew air out between her lips. "You made it easy. And I'll be in contact with you as soon as I receive the phone call."

  "Great. I can't wait to hear from you." She walked out of the office, inhaling the salt air.

  She slid into the leather seat of her car and backed out of the parking lot. Halfway to the rental, she spotted a fast-food drive-thru and turned in. Eating out was a treat, not a celebration. She couldn't get her hopes up yet.

  The owners of the house she put an offer in on could reject her price, or something could come up in the title search. Until she had the keys in her hand, nothing in Astoria was permanent.

  She made her order, paid at the window, and drove forward picking up the meal. Feeling good, she concentrated on driving through traffic. She took the New Youngs Bay Bridge and headed toward Florence Avenue.

  Once she parked in the driveway, she rushed to get inside the single-story cottage. The adrenaline high from making an offer on the house was waning fast.

  The door opened as she reached the step, and Darla waved her in. "How did it go?"

  "Good. I think." She smiled at Pete's sister.

  While she hadn't known Darla at Langly Elementary because she was four years younger than Katie, she'd called Pete needing help, and he'd volunteered his sister. Thankfully, Darla was perfect for the job and was eager to start, needing to save money for community college.

  "When will you know if you get the house?" Darla pointed to the bedroom.

  She headed into the other room and answered over her shoulder, "Tomorrow afternoon."

  Stepping into the bedroom, she relaxed at the sight of her daughter playing in the corner with the bag of toys they'd brought with them on their trip. "Callie, I'm home."

  Her daughter dropped her doll and scrambled to her feet. Braced for the running hug, she held the sack of food out to her side, laughing.

  "Did you get me a toy meal?" Callie hopped up and down in front of her.

  "Of course." She straightened. "Go wash your hands and meet me at the table."

  "Okay." Her daughter rushed from the room, stopped, and came back. "Are you staying for dinner, Darla?"

  "I can't, sweetie. Another time, okay?" Darla smiled, and when Callie was out of the room said, "She is such a doll."

  "She was good for you?"

  "Perfect. She brought out my inner girl, and I spent the afternoon playing dolls and drinking out of teacups." Darla walked with her into the living room, grabbing her bag off the couch. "I'll let you guys eat and see you later."

  "Wait." She put the fast-food bag down. "Let me get you some money for watching Callie."

  "Nope." Darla opened the front door. "Pete's already paid me."

  She sighed, still surprised that Pete and his new wife had helped her when she'd called, needing a rental, needing storage, needing a babysitter. Her old friend had matured, settled, and proved himself a caring friend after not speaking with her for all these years. "He didn't have to do that."

  "Bring that up with him. You know how he is...stubborn." Darla waved and shut the door.

  Distracted by Callie coming back, freshly washed, holding up her hands for inspection, she pointed to the bag. "Dig in, but remember not to make a mess, and you must eat before you play with the toy."

  "We can't make a mess cause this isn't our house." Callie climbed up on the chair, sitting on her knees.

  "Right-o." She went into the kitchen and washed her hands, then joined her daughter at the table.

  She couldn't help staring at how beautiful Callie looked, even with braids that were half undone and ketchup from her cheeseburger on her cheek. At fours year old and three months, Callie had one more year before she would start kindergarten. She wished she could slow time.

  "Aren't you eating, mommy?" Callie bit the end of a French fry off.

  Too nervous to eat, she stole one of Callie's fries and popped it in her mouth. "Better be careful." She wiggled her fingers, distracting her daughter from her loss of appetite. "I'll take more."

  Callie grabbed the little sack containing the fries. "These are for big kids, not mommies."

  "Oh, is that right?" She tilted her head. "I know something that is for kids and mommies."

  Callie stopped mid-chew. "What?"

  "A shopping trip. I thought tomorrow we'd go into town and try and find a pretty dress for you. You've grown out of most of your fancy clothes. We'll find one that makes you look like a princess."

  "Like Elsa?" Callie bounced in the chair. "Please?"

  "You bet." She eyed Callie's food, guessing a few more bites would be all her daughter would eat. "While you finish your meal, I'll go fill up the bathtub. After that, maybe you want to watch the movie on my phone."

  "Yes." Callie waved her hands. "Hurry."

  She laughed, leaving the table. Out of sight of her daughter, she dropped the smile from
her face and inhaled deeply. Afraid of hoping all her plans would work out, she tried to hold it all together for Callie.

  She hadn't told anyone why she'd come back to Astoria and why she wanted to raise her daughter here. Not that she had many people in her life. While living in Newport, she'd gone from work to home to showing houses. The only person she relied on was Mrs. Davonport, who had lived next door in the duplex and watched Callie since she was three months old. Afraid the older woman would judge her decisions; she'd told her that she already had a job lined up and wanted to move back to where she grew up.

  Turning on the water, she adjusted the temperature and flipped the stopper. Luckily, Callie was an early to bed, early to rise child. After a bath, a movie, and probably a short book, her daughter would go to bed and sleep all night.

  Then, it would be her turn to take a bath and try to relax.

  "Mommy," shouted Callie, running into the bathroom. "I'm done."

  "Good girl." She helped her daughter strip off her clothes.

  Callie leaned to the side and eyed the tub. "Can you let the water go to the bottom of the circle thing?"

  She worked on loosening Callie's braids. There wasn't a night that her daughter hadn't asked for a full bath since she started speaking in complete sentences. The deeper, the better, in Callie's opinion.

  Her daughter loved to swim. From six months on, she'd taken her to the swimming pool at the duplex, getting her used to water. At two years old, she was taking swimming lessons. At three and a half years old, she could swim across the deep end of the pool and float on her back.

  When she was pregnant, she'd promised herself that her child would know how to swim, and she or he would be happy and loved.

  "If you let me wash your hair without crying, I'll let the water keep filling." She fluffed Callie's hair as her daughter nodded. "Go ahead and climb in."

  She grabbed a washcloth and towel, then sat on the toilet, ready to oversee the bath.

  When the water reached the right level, she turned off the faucet. She tossed the washcloth in the tub.

  "Let's see if you can scrub the dirt away tonight." She put the bottle of liquid soap on the edge of the tub. "Only a little squirt."

  As she watched Ms. Independent wash every spot of her body, except her face, contentment pushed back her worry about if she was doing the right thing. Being a single mother was the hardest job in the world, and the most rewarding. She loved having a daughter.

  But her daughter needed more.

  She needed a father.

  Chapter 30

  The door of the cottage shut with his last patient leaving. Race stood from his chair and walked to the cabinet in the back of the room and unlocked the drawer. He'd seen five patients today instead of four and needed something fortifying to forget what he'd heard.

  Grabbing a bottle of bourbon, he poured the snifter full in hopes of ending the turmoil each patient left on his doorstep. Unbuttoning his shirt halfway down, he called his answering service and told them he'd be closed until Thursday. If there was an emergency, they were to contact Dr. Tennat at the hospital.

  He pocketed his phone, shut the lights off, and locked up the cottage. Like most nights, he took his drink and sat by the pool until he grew sleepy enough to lay in bed. It was questionable whether he slept or not. Most mornings, he got out of bed feeling like it'd been five years since he had a decent night's rest.

  He groaned as he sat in the patio chair. Kicking off his shoes, he used his foot to hold down the toe of his sock and pulled his foot free, repeating the action on the other sock. He stretched out in the chair, rotated his shoulders, and took a drink.

  The back of his throat warmed, sending a trail to his chest, loosening his muscles. Glad he'd cut down to only seeing patients three times a week, he found he needed the extra downtime to regroup and be clearheaded for his patients.

  Their diagnoses were some of the toughest he'd seen in his career. He'd grown selective over the years, preferring to stretch his mind and work harder on more selective treatments. It kept him busy on his off-hours, always researching and digging into their past. It helped him stay focused.

  Too much downtime tended to beat away at him and gave him too much to think about regarding his own life.

  He took another drink when a cloud blocked out the sunlight. Looking in the sky, he could see dark storm clouds rolling overhead, going Northeast. His chest tightened. Wherever Katie was, he hoped she was far away with sunshine on her shoulders.

  She deserved calmness and predictability, no storms to cast her into her past. No sandbars to tempt her and no bridges to remind her of how her childhood innocence was swept away in the swift tide of tragedy.

  He lifted his glass, drinking deeper. Memories came swiftly, as they had every day since she left him without a word. There wasn't a time when she was far from his thoughts.

  Every patient reminded him of her. Every breakfast. Every blonde. Every laughter. Every day.

  It was his penance to pay for what he'd done.

  He'd gone over what he could've, should've, would've done differently, and in the end, Katie had made the decision for him.

  He couldn't be angry at her for doing exactly what he wanted her to do. What he couldn't do himself.

  All the years of counseling, he'd made her stronger. She'd held on to him longer and harder than anyone he'd ever treated, and he wanted the best for her.

  But, through every step of her journey, no matter the reality of the relationship, no matter the professional distance that he'd sworn his integrity on, he'd crossed every line.

  He hadn't only fallen in love with her. He loved her with every fiber of his being.

  As a professional, he taught others that love is a feeling that is changeable and replaceable.

  It wasn't.

  He could no more stop loving Katie than he could stop breathing.

  A motion in the woods caught his attention. He lifted his drink, unconcerned that he was outside, barely holding on. His friable state a regular part of his life now. He preferred to stay alone with his memories.

  A deer walked out of the trees, hesitating at the edge of the grass, staring at him. Holding still, he showed no ill intent toward the animal.

  Dainty yet agile, the graceful deer lifted one leg and stepped forward, keeping a steady gaze on Race. After several minutes, the deer lowered her head and ate the green grass.

  He slowly reached into his pocket and took out his phone. Careful not to make any sudden movements, he took a picture of the deer.

  Then, he thumbed through several hundred other photos of the deer he'd taken over the last five years and had no way of sending it to Katie.

  But, he'd taken them as if holding hope that she somehow knew he continued to live for her, for their love, for what would never be.

  Chapter 31

  "Mommy?" Callie tugged at Katie's hand. "Open the door."

  Katie inhaled, needing a deep breath to go forward, and only wheezed through her tight chest. "Okay."

  She unlocked her newly bought home and swung the door open to her past. Her daughter ran inside, touching all the walls, peeking in hallways, rooms, and opening cabinets. She followed on weak legs; afraid she'd crumble at the swarm of familiarity.

  "Which one is my room?" yelled Callie, heading for the stairs.

  Pressing a hand to her stomach, she swallowed hard, remembering Betsy in the kitchen and the chicken dinners she could barely get down. The fights between her parents. The ugly night her whole world had changed. And, the appointments with Race.

  How one man stepped into her life, changing the direction, and showing her a new way to live with promises of finding contentment and love when all she could see were storms and heartbreak.

  "Mommy? Don't you hear me?"

  "I'm listening." She followed her daughter up the stairs. "You get to pick the room you want to sleep in."

  When she'd decided to come back to Astoria, she was surprised to find her childhood ho
me listed for sale. Without seeing the inside after thirteen years, she'd packed her and Callie's belongings, contacted Pete, and before she was ready, she'd put the wheels in motion for her return.

  "Look at the wall, Mommy." Callie disappeared in what used to be the guest room. "I want this one."

  She stepped inside the room and smiled. It was obviously used as a nursery by the previous owners. Winnie the Pooh decals on the wall with a neutral beige paint theme softened the atmosphere.

  Callie darted to her side and jumped up and down. "Can I stay here?"

  "Absolutely." Glad Callie had picked that room, rather than Katie's old bedroom. She wanted her daughter to have a fresh start and make her own memories, untouched by her mother's past. "Why don't you check out everything. There's a bathroom right through that door with a bathtub. I'll go find a room for me to sleep in, okay?"

  Callie skipped across the room toward one of the doors. Katie slipped out and walked down the hallway. The house was too big for just the two of them, but thanks to a successful year selling real estate, she could afford it.

  Peeking in her old room, she approved of the neutral colors and new hardwood floors. Most curious, she wanted to see the master bedroom, hoping it, too, had been remodeled.

  Her wishes came true. The previous owners repainted to off-white with a maroon accent wall. Studying the room, she liked it. The color was dramatic but calming.

  The hardwood floors matched the downstairs. The old carpet of her childhood a thing of the past. Not needing to see any more of the house, she exhaled in relief. Some of the tension eased from her body.

  Right now, she'd concentrate on her and Callie's rooms and the downstairs. Once she put her own stamp on the house, she'd figure out what to do with the extra bedrooms. A home gym would be a good idea, and she'd need an office downstairs.

  "Mommy!"

  She hurried to Callie's room. "What's wrong?"

  Her daughter stood by the window and pointed outside. "Look."