Tales From Sea Glass Inn

by Karis Walsh

  Pam continued their joking, likely unaware of any underlying tension in Tam, who was reconsidering her return to Cannon Beach yet again. “I asked for a ride because I’ve been watching you sail back and forth for the past two years, in this damned cute boat with the blasted blue and white sail. It looked like fun. From the shore. My mistake.”

  “You’ll have to give her one of the watercolors you’ve painted, Pam,” Mel said. Now that Tam had aimed the sloop back toward the south and they were moving faster, the chop didn’t have as much effect on stomachs. Mel eased herself into a more upright sitting position, let go of the death grip she’d had around her knees, and dropped her feet to the deck. “She’s made a few with your boat in them, Tam. The bright colors contrast beautifully with the clouds and dark rocks.”

  Tam smiled and murmured something about wanting to see them, but she was startled by the idea of Pam seeing her often enough to paint her. Tam had been avoiding this place, but she realized now that her sailing trips often brought her to this area. She must have been drawn here more than she thought. The subconscious homecoming trips disconcerted her. She’d felt in control, coming here for this job as a choice and as a way to find closure and say good-bye to the past. Had she been controlled, instead, by a stubborn need to really come home? Stubborn and foolish. The past was past, and all she had to do was let it go. She turned her attention away from her troubling memories and focused instead on getting them safely back to her boat’s harbor.

  *

  Tam walked down the bright, shiny hallway of Seaside Hospital’s new oncology ward. The unit had been in existence for decades, staffed by only two doctors and several nurses, but it had recently grown because of a sizable bequest from a wealthy local woman. She’d been forced to travel away from her beloved ocean to receive treatment in Portland, and she’d willed her entire estate to make sure others didn’t have to do the same thing.

  Tam had read stories about the woman’s legacy in the Newport newspaper, little realizing at the time that she’d be one of the first wave of relatives coming to visit patients in the new wing. At the moment, she wasn’t even sure she’d make it to his room, let alone go inside and actually visit him. She’d turned back a couple of times, almost making it to her car again. On her third attempt, she’d gotten as far as the nurses’ station, but instead of getting her father’s room number, she’d asked where the gift shop was located, and ended up standing in the tiny store, staring at get-well gifts she wasn’t going to buy. She bought a pack of gum just to be purchasing something and to excuse her lack of willpower, and then she finally made it to her father’s door.

  She took a deep breath and pushed through the half-open doorway. He was lying on the bed with his eyes closed, but his gaunt hands were picking restlessly at the spotless white sheet. His color wasn’t good, even though in his letter he’d told her they’d managed to ease the symptoms of jaundice by unblocking his bile duct through surgery. Minor surgery, compared to the liver transplant he’d need if he was going to survive this cancer.

  Tam stepped back too quickly, ready to flee the room, and she bumped into a cart near the empty second bed. He opened his eyes at the sound and stared at her for several long moments. She saw the moment when recognition flared in his dark green eyes, mirror images of her own.

  “Tamsyn. You came. I knew you would.”

  The first words she’d heard him speak since he’d left her and her mother over thirty years ago. Tam had been four the last time she saw him. She wondered at first how he could possibly recognize her, but she would have picked him out of a crowd with no problem.

  “How did you know? I wasn’t even sure until today.” Not true. She had changed jobs because of this, to be close to where he was. Why? She wasn’t about to sit vigil at his bedside, holding his hand and speaking soothing words of comfort and hope. She didn’t want to be here.

  “I can’t stay,” she said. He just watched her while she struggled against the unseen force that had brought her to this hospital. Finally, she won a small battle and turned around, ready to leave, when a doctor came through the door and smiled at her.

  What a smile. Tam stood transfixed, confused by the beauty and light this woman brought into a room full of sickness and pain and memories too ingrained to erase or forgive. She was average height and average weight, but there wasn’t anything remotely average about her. Her red hair was chin length and some scattered freckles highlighted her cheekbones. Gray flecks made her blue eyes seem like crystals.

  Mostly, though, Tam was held in place by her smile. Genuine and freely given. Her entire face was transformed into something open and positive by it. Tam would put her life in this woman’s hands without a second thought.

  “You must be Mr. Kalburg’s daughter. Tamsyn, isn’t it? What a beautiful name. I’m Dr. Sherman, but call me Maggie, please.”

  “Tam,” she said, shaking the proffered hand and not wanting to let go. She’d been feeling shaky, angry, and disoriented since receiving her dad’s letter, but Maggie’s touch calmed her. She cleared her throat and attempted a complete sentence. “Most people call me Tam.”

  “Tam. I like it. Shall we sit and talk about your dad’s condition?”

  Tam liked the way her name sounded coming out of Maggie’s mouth and she almost let the word dad slide by without noticing it. She hadn’t called him that ever. He had been Daddy, and then he’d been gone.

  She sat on the edge of a vinyl recliner and clenched her hands on her lap. She wasn’t sure where to look, torn between a fascination with the man who shared her blood—similar to the lurid way people seemed to want to stare at car accidents—and the desire to watch Maggie talk. Maggie was ahead in drawing her gaze, especially when she started to talk about his prognosis.

  “How much have you told Tam about your condition, Markus?”

  “Not much.” Even his voice sounded hoarse and worn-out, as if every part of him was slowly dying. “I asked her to come. I wanted her here but didn’t want to ask…We haven’t spoken in a long time.”

  Maggie nodded with a sympathetic expression. “I’ll fill her in on the details then, shall I?”

  “Please.”

  Tam hadn’t ever sat in a room like this one with other family members, having lost touch with all of them long ago, but she’d been in enough hospitals to recognize the respectful way Maggie treated her patient. She didn’t talk down to him or act as if he wasn’t even in the room and address all her comments and questions to Tam, the healthy one. She seemed ready to be his voice and advocate, without taking control away from him.

  “Tam, your father has hepatocellular carcinoma. Primary liver cancer. By the time he began showing symptoms, the cancer was in an advanced stage. He needs a transplant to survive, and even though he’s already on a waiting list for a donor, he might not survive long enough to be selected. If you’re willing to be tested, we can ascertain if—”

  “Whoa, whoa.” Tam waved her hands frantically and Maggie stopped talking. “I came just to…to…I don’t even know why I’m here, but I sure as hell know it wasn’t to give him any part of me. How can you take my liver, anyway? What am I supposed to do after that?”

  Maggie took a deep breath, and Tam found herself doing the same in spite of herself. She relaxed a fraction, but she was ready to bolt for the door if anyone came near her with a scalpel.

  “A living donor can give part of a healthy liver. That portion is transplanted to the recipient, and both partial livers will grow to an adequate size fairly quickly. A donor”—she held her hand up to stop Tam’s protest—“not you, necessarily, would be in the hospital for a week or so. Off work for a couple months. We don’t even know if you’d be a suitable match, but if you are, you’d be his best hope for survival. Markus and I have discussed this, and I think you should know he only has two months, maybe three, to live if he doesn’t get a transplant.”

  Tam stared at the blood pressure monitor on the wall behind Maggie. She was glad they didn’t have it
attached to her, because she’d probably blow it up and put a hole in the fancy new oncology ward. Give her father a piece of her liver? What the hell were he and Maggie thinking? She put a hand on her stomach as if to keep her organs from jumping ship.

  “I don’t…I’ve got to go,” she said. She was off the chair and halfway down the hall when she heard Maggie calling her name. She wanted to keep running, but she turned to face her. She had to put an end to this organ quest once and for all.

  “Don’t even try to talk me into this,” she hissed, keeping her voice low but determined in the busy hallway. “I barely know that man. He has no right to ask me for anything. You can think I’m a bad person if you want, but I’m not ready to just forgive and sacrifice part of myself because he finally sent me a letter after all these years.”

  “I would never judge you, Tam. The decision is yours to make, and no one else’s.” Maggie fidgeted with a heart-shaped locket, twisting the chain around her slender finger. Tam stared at Maggie’s hands, and then shook her head, not understanding the pull Maggie had over her. How was she able to distract Tam at a time like this?

  “Markus told me you two are estranged, and even though I don’t know the details, I can tell you I’ve seen other families in a similar situation,” Maggie continued. “Even a simple meeting with your dad right now would be stressful and overwhelming, let alone having his disease and prognosis added to the mix. Every situation is different, of course, but I’ve witnessed reunions like this before. I know it’s not easy for you. Or for him.”

  “And I suppose all of those people cried and hugged each other and jumped right on a gurney bound for the operating room?”

  “No. Some did, some didn’t.”

  Tam looked away, wishing she’d wake up from this dream. “And the ones who said no. Did they feel guilty after?”

  “I have a suggestion, Tam,” Maggie said without answering her directly. “We don’t even know if you’re a good match, and there are several tests we’d need to perform. The first ones are relatively noninvasive, just a blood test, a health assessment, and a CT scan. We can start with those and give you time to process this information before you make a decision. If the results look good, we can reevaluate and determine whether you want to go forward from there. You can say no at any time, and we’ll stop.”

  “I already said no.”

  “Promise me you’ll consider it,” Maggie said. “Yes, you’ll be potentially saving a man’s life, your father’s life, but think about yourself, too. I know you believe you’re doing that right now by saying no, but imagine how you’ll feel in the future. You can always go through the surgery, then walk away and never see each other again. If you refuse to do it now, there’s no changing your mind six months down the road.”

  Tam gave a sort of nod, like she was an inanimate bobblehead, and turned toward the exit. This time, Maggie didn’t try to stop her, but Tam felt her gaze burning through her back as she walked away.

  Once outside, Tam bent over and put her hands on her knees. She probably looked as bad as Mel and Pam had yesterday. She had a feeling Maggie was trying to protect her from something, some guilt or remorse she’d seen in other family members who had refused to help. But the thought of going through with the surgery seemed just as impossible to handle.

  Tam stood up again and walked to her car. She got inside and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. Did she really have a choice? She acted as if she did, but presented in Maggie’s soothing voice, her choice was clear. Go through the preliminary tests. She didn’t even have to speak with her father to do it. Hopefully, she’d be a bad match and wouldn’t have to face the ultimate decision.

  And if she was suitable? Given her luck, she probably was. Maybe she’d say no. Or maybe she’d do what Maggie had said. Go through with the surgery and walk away from him without looking back.

  Like father, like daughter.

  *

  Maggie sat on a folding chair and watched the skydiving video with a growing feeling of dread. She had no doubt about what happened if anything went wrong. Splat. Why did she need to be told the different possibilities when the final outcome of all of them was her plummeting to earth?

  She signed a release waiver with a shaking hand and sat on the bench waiting for her name to be called while she reviewed the instructions from the short film. She was supposed to have a lesson with her tandem jump instructor, but she went through the process in her mind over and over again. Arms bent and held out from her side at ninety degree angles. Knees bent between the instructor’s legs. Head up. Don’t panic. She added that one on her own.

  What the hell was she doing here, anyway? Just because her last girlfriend had gone off to sail around the world or down the Pacific coast or wherever, why had Maggie needed to reevaluate her own life? She’d said no when Gem had asked her to come along, even though she could easily have managed at least a sabbatical for a short trip if she wasn’t ready to commit to a full year of adventure. She didn’t miss the girlfriend all that much, and they’d never have been able to stand each other in such close quarters for months at a time, but she’d felt like something was missing in her life once Gem was gone. Something about Maggie herself seemed off once she’d realized how fear ruled her world and dictated her choices.

  She jumped out of her seat when her name was called and rubbed sweaty palms on her jeans as she walked to the side of the room and through the door. The back room was hectic, with people everywhere and brightly colored parachutes laid out on the floor. The guy who had called her introduced himself as Mike and pulled a blue jumpsuit off a rack crammed full of them.

  “Put this on,” he said. “And this helmet.”

  “Seriously?” Maggie had to laugh at the soft leather hat he thrust in her hand. It wouldn’t offer adequate protection if she fell off a bike, let alone out of the fucking sky. “What is this for? To keep my brain from splattering all over the landing zone if we crash?”

  He looked at her with raised eyebrows and she sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears and pulling on the helmet. Not everyone appreciated the morbid humor common among the doctors and nurses in her ward. For them, it was a survival mechanism. She stepped into the jumpsuit and zipped it closed. It was at least three sizes too big for her frame and fell to the ground in folds. Mike motioned for her to follow, and she hiked up the legs of her suit and hurried after him as he walked with quick, long strides to a Jeep waiting outside.

  Maggie squeezed in between a man and a woman in the backseat. They wore equally ill-fitting suits and had the freaked-out expression she was certain was on her own face, so she guessed they were also first-timers. She’d seen the poster advertising an afternoon of introductory skydiving lessons and had expected an atmosphere of camaraderie and laughter, not the silence of people being transported to their doom. When was Mike going to give her that lesson, anyway?

  He and the other instructors chatted in the front seat, and Maggie stared out the window as they drove the short distance from the skydiving base to the runway. Soon she’d be parachuting back to that base, where her sister Jocelyn would be to greet her with a hug and a bottle of champagne. She was ready to skip right to the drinking portion of the afternoon.

  Still, she had made a vow to be more daring. She had been living with too much care and caution, barely getting out of her television and frozen meal rut long enough to go to lunch with Joss or to book club. She faced life and death every day at her job, and she wouldn’t trade what she did for anything, but she’d felt something slip out of her grasp when she’d been immobilized by the thought of leaving with Gem.

  So here she was, on some idiotic, quixotic quest. Did she really want to jump out of an airplane that wasn’t on fire or experiencing some other emergency? Or was it merely the most stereotypical daredevil feat she could consider doing?

  The Jeep hit a bump in the road, and Maggie gasped audibly. She felt her face flush with embarrassment, but her two seatmates didn’t seem to notice anything
. They were probably too busy watching their own lives flash through their own minds and couldn’t be bothered with hers.

  Maggie gave up pondering the steps that had gotten her here and thought instead about the proud and angry woman she had met two days ago. Tam. Striking, with her blond hair and green eyes that were as impenetrable as an old-growth forest. Hurting like a child, but strong and fiercely independent. Maggie had been dealing with Markus long enough to see the similarities between the two. Somewhat in looks, and a whole lot in bearing. Markus had stooped low enough to ask Tam to come to the hospital but wouldn’t go further and ask her to be a potential donor. Tam would probably be the exact same way if their roles were reversed. Well, would Tam have even written to Markus at all? Probably not.

  The Jeep stopped, interrupting Maggie’s thoughts of Tam. She was a good distraction, even able to push the images of ripped parachutes and broken ripcords from Maggie’s mind and replace them with ones of Tam’s full lips curved in a frown or her beautifully muscled forearms when she wrapped them protectively around herself.

  Maybe Maggie should get her mind back on the dangers of skydiving. Her attraction to Tam wasn’t exactly taboo—Tam wasn’t her patient and never would be. The transplant, were it to occur, would happen at a large hospital in Portland or Seattle. But Tam didn’t seem like the average girl next door. Maggie had a feeling that dating her would be as hazardous to her heart as jumping out of this plane could be to her body.