Seaside Reunion

by Irene Hannon

  “No.” Lindsey tightened her grip, wishing she could see into his eyes. But the moon was behind him, shadowing his face. “I think we have possibilities, too. I just didn’t see how we’d get around the obstacles. I figured I’d have to move to Chicago if we wanted to make this work. And I had reconciled myself to doing that. It never occurred to me you’d…” Her voice trailed off as the magnitude of what he’d done began to fully register. “Nate, you have a life in Chicago. And a great career with the Tribune. I never expected you to give that up.”

  “I have no life in Chicago. I live in a studio apartment—when I’m in town. It’s a place to stay, nothing more. I have no ties to the city. And I still have a career with the Tribune. Plus a new one, teaching at the college level.”

  “But Starfish Bay is a tiny town. In the middle of nowhere. Can you really be happy here?”

  There was no hesitation in his response. “I already am. I’ve loved this place since I was eleven. And I’m falling in love with the best friend I ever had, who happens to live here. That makes it perfect.” He shifted, and even before he continued, a sudden tension in his posture put Lindsey on alert. “But there’s something else I have to tell you.”

  The bubble of happiness growing inside her froze at his somber tone, and she braced herself. “What?”

  “I mentioned that I’d gotten almost everything I wanted. But there was one concession I wasn’t able to negotiate, hard as I tried. The Tribune is willing to try this new arrangement for a year, until management has a feel for how my column is going to be received long-term. If all goes well, combat assignments will be off the table. But for now, they’ve reserved the right to send me overseas to do additional combat coverage. In fact, they want me to leave later this month for a two-week assignment in Iraq.”

  The bottom fell out of Lindsey’s stomach.

  Nate would be back in the line of fire.

  “Can you live with that situation for a year?” He tightened his grip on her hand.

  Could she? Could she let herself fall in love with the man beside her, give him her heart, and risk having things end in tragedy as they had with Mark? While she’d reconciled herself to the notion of moving to Chicago, to making the kind of compromise her father had rightfully suggested was part of love, she’d hoped Nate would reciprocate by pulling back from combat coverage.

  Instead, he’d taken the initiative on moving, leaving combat coverage on the table instead. In a mere handful of days he’d be leaving for a war zone.

  And maybe end up coming home in a body bag.

  A sudden chill rippled through her, and she shivered as she looked over the sea. Fog was rolling in, fast and thick, obscuring the light from the moon, hiding the twinkle of the stars, covering the landscape in a formless gray shroud. Darkening the night.

  Beside her, Nate clicked on the flashlight, stood and drew her to her feet. “We better leave before this gets dangerous. I don’t want us taking a header off the side of the cliff.”

  Without waiting for a response, he hustled her toward the road. She didn’t argue. After spending most of her life on the coast, she knew how treacherous fog could be. It could disorient in a heartbeat.

  Kind of the same effect Nate’s announcement had had on her.

  They didn’t talk as they hurried toward the road, steps ahead of the swirling fog. Even then, Nate rushed her into the car and set off for her house, intent on delivering her safely and getting back to the Orchid before driving became too hazardous.

  When he stopped in front of the house she shared with her father, he started to get out to walk her to the door. But she restrained him with a hand on his arm as tentacles of fog wrapped themselves around his Acura.

  “Don’t take the time. You’ll need every minute to get back to the Orchid before we’re socked in. Would you call me after you get there, so I know you’re safe?”

  “Yeah.” She started to slip out of the car, but he grabbed her hand. “You never answered my question about whether you can live with my situation for a year. And maybe that’s an answer in itself. If it is, I want you to know I’m willing to quit the Tribune.”

  She was shaking her head before he finished. “It wouldn’t be fair for you to make all the sacrifices.”

  “I don’t consider anything I do for us a sacrifice.”

  Her throat tightened. “But what if you do all that, make all these radical changes in your life, and things don’t work out?”

  “I’m willing to take that chance.” He held her gaze for a moment longer, then released it as he checked out the diminishing visibility. “Sleep on it, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll call you in a few minutes.”

  With a nod, she closed the door and slipped into the house, watching as his taillights were swallowed up by the fog.

  Praying for the courage to put her trust in him—and the Lord—and take a second chance on happily ever after.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He should have taken time for dinner.

  As Nate pulled into the Orchid parking lot and set the brake on his car, he rubbed at the knot in his stomach. He’d grabbed a bagel in the airport this morning, eaten nothing but a tiny bag of peanuts on the West Coast flight, and pulled off the highway for a fast-food burger en route to his meeting in Arcata. Once that was finished, he’d sacrificed dinner to head straight back to Starfish Bay, determined to make it in time for at least part of the meeting.

  No wonder his stomach was protesting.

  Or maybe the twisting in his gut had more to do with Lindsey’s lack of enthusiasm for his news than lack of food.

  Punching her number in his phone as he slid out of the car, he watched the fog obscure even the light beside his room, less than ten feet away.

  She answered on the first ring. “Are you there?”

  “Yes. And not a minute too soon. Visibility is almost zero.” He grabbed his overnight bag from the trunk, set the locks and felt his way along the car toward his door.

  “Nate, I’m still trying to take in everything you told me tonight. It was a little overwhelming. I’m sorry if—”

  “Lindsey.” He fitted the key in the lock and pushed the door open, eying the bed. He needed to lay flat, give the kinks in his stomach a chance to work themselves out. Besides, if she was going to back out of this relationship, he didn’t want to hear the bad news tonight. “Let’s put off any discussion until tomorrow, okay? I’d rather talk in person. Plus, I’m beat. I’ve been on the go since five this morning.”

  “Okay.” Her tone was subdued, and he could imagine her catching her lower lip between her teeth. “But can I at least say thank you? Not only for everything you did, but for caring enough to do it?”

  “Sure.” He tossed his bag onto a chair and stretched out on the bed. Better. “But I’m not sure your gratitude is deserved. Remember how you once told me your motive for pushing me beyond my comfort zone as a kid was selfish? Mine is, too. If things go the way I hope they do, I get you. I figure I’m the real winner in this deal.”

  A soft chuckle came over the line. “I like an honest person.”

  “Vice versa. So let’s plan on having an open, honest discussion first thing tomorrow morning. Assuming the fog’s lifted, how about meeting for breakfast at the Orchid? About seven?”

  “I’ll be there. Good night, Nate.”

  “Good night.”

  The line went dead. Nate tapped the end button on his cell, set it beside him and linked his fingers behind his head. He needed food and he needed sleep. But the former was unappealing, and the latter would probably be elusive.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Lindsey shoved her tangled hair out of her face, slid the mug of milk into the microwave and peered at her watch in the dim kitchen. Two-thirty in the morning. And she’d clocked no more than thirty minutes of fitful sleep. Max.

  Maybe the hot chocolate would help. Warm milk was supposed to induce sleep. And it was better than the Ambien she’d almost become addicted to after
Mark died. No way was she going down that road again.

  But if she got involved with Nate, she’d worry every time he left on an assignment. Sleepless nights could once more become the norm. Fatigue could set in. Desperation could lead her back to the pills.

  Yet another reason to back away from this relationship.

  The microwave emitted a beep, and she quickly jabbed at the off button. No reason to wake her dad just because she couldn’t sleep.

  As she stirred powdered chocolate into the mug, the distant wail of a siren broke the stillness. An accident in the fog, no doubt. The roads were treacherous in daylight; at night and obscured by mist, they could be downright deadly. Over the years, a number of people had lost their lives on the stretch of 101 south of town by driving too fast and missing a curve, or by sliding on wet pavement. But most residents knew better than to tackle these roads on a dark, foggy night. Especially at this hour. Must be someone unfamiliar with the area.

  Lindsey wandered over to a window that gave her a view down the street, toward 101, and raised the shade. The fog had lifted somewhat, increasing visibility. But the weather was still dicey. Navigating the roads would be a gamble.

  A gamble some driver had lost, she suspected.

  To her surprise, the emergency vehicle didn’t stop at the curvy section of highway south of town, however. Instead, the siren continued to grow louder. Flashing lights appeared in the distance. An ambulance emerged from the fog, traveling as fast as the weather allowed.

  So much for her theory.

  As it zipped past the intersection, siren blaring, she almost missed the ring of the kitchen phone. But when it did register, she dashed across the room and grabbed it, leaving a trail of hot chocolate splotches behind her on the pristine floor. Who in the world would be calling at this hour?

  “Hello?” Her greeting came out in a rush of breath.

  “Lindsey, I’m sorry to wake you, but I didn’t know who else to call.”

  Lillian.

  Lindsey’s heart tripped at the panic in the older woman’s voice. Lillian never lost her cool. The ambulance must be for Genevieve.

  “It’s okay, Lillian. What’s wrong?”

  “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but he doesn’t have any family I know of, and you two are so close…” Her words trailed off as someone else spoke in the background. Genevieve. She said something about the ambulance arriving.

  Lindsey did the math. Genevieve wasn’t sick. Plus Nate didn’t have a family. That added up to big trouble.

  Now it was her turn to panic.

  “What’s wrong with Nate?” Even as she spoke, she shoved her mug onto the counter and tore toward her room.

  “We don’t know.” More noise in the background, followed by male voices. “But the EMTs are here now, thank the Lord.”

  “What happened?” She set the phone on speaker and threw it on her bed, then grabbed for her jeans and shoved her feet into the legs.

  “Genevieve heard a suspicious noise in the parking lot about half an hour ago. We investigated and found Nate slumped next to his car. He said he didn’t feel well and needed to get to an emergency room. But he wasn’t in any condition to drive. His face was gray and he was shaking. So we called 911.”

  Pulling a T-shirt over her head, Lindsey dropped to the edge of the bed and felt around with her toes for her shoes, trying not to hyperventilate. “Where are they taking him?”

  A muffled exchange took place. “St. Joseph’s. In Eureka.”

  “I’ll follow the ambulance there. Would you let the EMTs know? Nate, too.”

  “Yes. Drive safe, Lindsey. The roads are bad. And call us when you have any news, okay?”

  “I will. Thanks for letting me know.” She pushed the end button, then fumbled the shoelace, her shaky fingers refusing to cooperate. Three tries later, she managed to tighten the loops of the bow.

  Standing, she picked up her phone, then strode down the hall and tossed the cell in her purse. Keys in hand, she grabbed a jacket off a peg by the back door. Should she wake her father or leave a note?

  Without wasting time debating the issue, she pulled a pen and piece of paper out of the drawer next to the telephone and jotted him a brief message. No sense both of them losing a night’s sleep.

  Sixty seconds later, as she backed out of the driveway, the ambulance whizzed past her street on 101.

  Gripping the wheel, she pressed on the accelerator, barely paused at the intersection, then turned left on the highway. The ambulance had already disappeared around a curve. She increased her speed.

  And as she followed the winding road that was as familiar to her as the rugged terrain of The Point, she didn’t waste the long drive.

  She used it to pray.

  Acute appendicitis, requiring immediate surgery.

  Lindsey gripped the arms of her chair in the ER waiting room as a nurse passed on the diagnosis. Thankfully, Nate had been coherent enough to authorize the emergency staff to share information with her.

  “Did it rupture?”

  “We’re not sure yet.”

  “If it did, what are the risks?”

  “A perforated appendix can result in peritonitis—basically, an infection in the abdominal cavity. That would be treated with intravenous antibiotics and require a longer hospital stay. There’s a small risk of more serious complications like sepsis, where the blood carries infection to other parts of the body, but that’s not something you should worry about at this point.”

  Easy for her to say.

  “How long will he be in surgery?”

  “Depends on what they find. Plan on an hour or two.”

  “Can I see him first?”

  “He’s already being prepped.” The woman rose. “Let me direct you to the surgical waiting room. The doctor will look for you there when he’s finished.” She handed over a plastic bag. “The patient said we could give you his clothes and personal items.”

  Lindsey pushed herself to her feet, hoping her unsteady legs would support her. She took the bag, hugging it to her chest as the woman issued the directions.

  Eight minutes later, she found herself in the deserted, chair-lined room. Choosing the nearest seat, she sank into it, still clutching Nate’s things.

  Was it only nine hours ago that she’d sat in the town hall as the fate of The Point was decided? Eight hours since Nate had dropped his bombshell about the dramatic changes he’d made in his life to accommodate her? Seven and a half hours since she’d let him drive away instead of throwing her arms around his neck and telling him she, too, believed they were meant to be together and was willing to take their relationship to the next level, no matter the risk?

  Now he was headed for surgery.

  Lindsey settled the bag on her lap, propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her head into her hands. She had to get a grip. An appendectomy wasn’t a heart attack. And this kind of surgery wasn’t usually life-threatening. He’d be okay.

  Unless his appendix had ruptured and he got peritonitis. Or sepsis.

  If he did, he could die.

  Not on a battlefield, but right here in her backyard.

  As that reality slammed into her, as she faced the stark truth, her stomach clenched. People didn’t die just on battlefields. A dangerous profession might increase the chance of death, but a safe profession didn’t insulate a person from mortality. Bottom line, loving was a risk.

  And if she wanted to protect herself from that risk, she’d have to write off romance. Period. Send Nate packing. Refuse to fall in love with him.

  Except it was too late for that. She was already falling.

  Hard.

  Why else would she be shaking as badly as she’d been in the ER three years ago while she’d lain in the treatment room, waiting for word on Mark?

  Why else would her stomach be twisting in fear that a doctor would walk through the door here, just as one had in Sacramento, and confirm what she’d already known in her heart—that the man who was the center of h
er world had died?

  Why else would she be asking God to spare Nate so they could make those new memories he’d talked of last night at The Point?

  The faint scent of Nate’s distinctive aftershave wafted her way from the bag in her lap, and she eased the top open, glancing down as she took a long whiff. The worn jeans were familiar, as was the beige cotton shirt, rolled to the elbows. His wallet and watch sat on top of the pile, along with a handful of change. She squinted, shifting the bag around to better catch the light from the dim lamp on the other side of the room. Was that a rock?

  Curious, she withdrew the small, translucent stone with the intricate white banding. An agate.

  A faint memory niggled at the back of her mind, of a child’s damp palm with this stone resting in the middle. Surf crashed in the background. A little boy’s voice echoed in the recesses of her mind.

  “I’ll keep this forever.”

  And he had.

  A literal touchstone to his past.

  Throat tightening, Lindsey closed her fingers over the stone, leaned back and tipped her head against the wall.

  That’s when the empty place in the small of her back registered.

  She’d forgotten her Beretta.

  Panic surging, she shot back up. In the two and a half years since she’d become certified to carry, she’d never left home without it. The gun made her feel safe. Protected. Able to defend herself.

  Yet she’d never needed it. And the odds were high she never would.

  Another truth smacked her in the face. While the gun might keep her fear of physical assault at bay, it couldn’t do a thing to alleviate the emotional fear that gripped her now.

  Nor could it offer protection from the dangers of acute appendicitis.

  A sob caught in her throat and she slumped back against the wall. Not long ago, she’d accused Nate of living in the past. He’d countered by declaring she was doing the same thing. That old fears were holding her back.

  She’d denied it. But he’d been right.

  Instead of leaving her fear and trauma in the past, she’d been letting them shape her present—and deny her the future Nate believed God had planned for them.