“Let’s get the barbecue going. I’m famished.”
“Me, too.” Morgan followed him out to the back patio, and the familiar act of barbecuing calmed Neill down. It had been such a stressful day—yet a good day in so many ways.
* * *
THREE DAYS LATER, Neill and Sherri were finishing up a surgical clinic where people came to have dressings or incisions checked by the surgeon. Their last patient of the day was Charlie Crawford. His bruises had begun to fade. His ribs were still sore, and his arm would need physiotherapy and possibly occupational therapy, both of which Neill had ordered.
“Well, that’s about it for today. I think you’re making great progress,” he said in an attempt to lighten the sorrowful look on Charlie’s face. He liked the man. Charlie’s wry sense of humor had provided some funny moments during those summer months when they’d both worked in Crawford’s Hardware store.
“That’s good to hear. I want to thank you and Sherri again for being there. I could have died.”
“We’re glad we were there for you, too, Charlie. It looks like you’ll make a full recovery, and that’s all that matters. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Charlie didn’t answer.
He noted that Charlie’s hands shook a little and he seemed somewhat agitated. Was he beginning to suffer from withdrawal? “Charlie, are you feeling okay?”
“Sure, Neill, I’m fine.” Charlie sat up straight and drew air deep into his lungs.
“You’re sure?” Neill pressed.
Charlie looked down at his work boots and then stared at his hand where it rested on his jean-clad thigh. “Is Sherri here today?”
“Yes, she is. Did you want to see her?”
“I would, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll get her.”
Neill went out to the desk, placing Charlie’s chart on the raised counter in front of Gayle as he waited for Sherri and Gayle to finish their conversation.
Sherri’s eyes met his and the old warmth generated by seeing her washed through him. “Charlie wants to see you,” he said. “He’s in Exam Six.”
Sherri put the chart she’d been holding down on the counter. “Thanks.”
She walked past him down the hall, and he couldn’t help watching her—the way her body moved, the sway of her hips. Heat rose through him. He’d been busy the past two days, and the dinner they’d had seemed like such a long time ago. He intended to invite her to his house tonight. He’d already talked to her about getting together that evening for dinner. He’d initially wanted to invite Morgan along, but she and Tara had a test for the next day, and they were going over to their friend Kirsten’s house to study together. Morgan was going to go to his mom’s place for dinner, and he’d agreed to pick her up there after he took Sherri home.
He needed to tell Sherri about his conversation with Morgan, but he hadn’t found the right time, and she seemed to be avoiding the subject. But he’d see what she had to say tonight when they had an evening alone together.
He was looking forward to being with her, to having her focus solely on him. It was selfish, perhaps, but he’d missed her over the years and he was desperate to rekindle what they’d once had. He was convinced that they had so much to look forward to, once they sorted through their problems. And they still had a major one—she had to trust that he would put her first—that he would never walk away from her again.
Proving that he had changed would take time, but he would manage it because seeing her again, being around her, had driven home the fact that there was no one else in the world who could make him happy the way Sherri could. It was a realization that was both exhilarating and frightening at the same time.
His life held such hope now, such opportunity, which was strange because when he’d first come home, he’d wondered if he would feel stymied being in a small town. But he didn’t, because he had realized how appreciated he was by the people he looked after, many of whom he had a personal connection with.
He was finally beginning to understand why his uncle Nicolas, a brilliant surgeon, had become a family practitioner in a place where no one would ever realize just how great an impact he might have had on the field of surgery had he opted to remain in a large medical center affiliated with a great medical school.
* * *
IN EXAM ROOM SIX, Charlie’s sobs filled the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry. It’s just that it’s been so hard these past few days. I want a drink so bad, but if I have one I’ll break my promise to my wife. I promised not to drink, and I meant it, really.”
He scrubbed his face with his hands, and Sherri noted the lines on his forehead, the sallowness of his skin, the way his fingers trembled. “Charlie, you have to get professional help. You can’t go on like this any longer.”
His head down, his dark hair curling around his face the way Sam’s had, reminded her of the nights Sam had come home vowing never to have another drink. He’d never been able to keep the promise. “Sam didn’t get help. But if he was here now, he’d want you to listen to me. To get the professional help you need.”
Charlie’s dark eyes met hers. “You think I’ll end up like Sam?”
“You won’t. Not if you decide to get help.”
“But I don’t want to go to the local AA group. I’ve tried to keep my drinking a secret. After the accident, Dad came to see me and wanted to know what he could do to help. He’s trying to keep it from Mom since her heart isn’t good. Dad told me she doesn’t know how bad my drinking is, and I’m afraid Mom will find out.” He stared at Sherri, his eyes watery. “I’m afraid of everything these days, and I hate the feeling.”
“Would you go to Bangor or Portland to the AA meetings there?”
“I could try.” He resumed looking at his feet, his hand resting tentatively on the exam table. “My whole life changed when Sam died. He was there for me, no matter what. I miss him.”
“I do, too. He was a good person, and he loved you.”
Charlie’s shoulders shook. He gripped the table. “My wife wants a divorce, and I don’t want that. I love her. We went to school together, and having Cassie and Cindy made me the happiest I can ever remember being. If Freda divorces me, I—”
He got up, went to the window and stared out. “I’m a mess, and I don’t... I can’t seem to fix it.”
Sherri wished there was something she could say, some magic solution she could offer. Watching Charlie brought back all the memories of listening to Sam, to his pleas for understanding and support. All of which she’d offered, only to come home from a shift at the hospital to find him in the family room too drunk to make it upstairs to their bed.
“Charlie, I don’t know what else to say to you other than please get help before it’s too late. I don’t want to lose you like I did Sam.”
He looked at her with the same pleading glance Sam had offered so many times during the last year of their marriage. “I’ll sign up for AA outside of town, but I may need more than that to get better.” He glanced at his trembling hands.
“I’ll look around and see what I can find. Would you go to see a psychologist?”
“Anything to save my marriage,” he said, and Sherri knew he meant it.
* * *
NEILL COULDN’T STOP his gaze from searching the corridor, waiting for Sherri to return.
“Sherri’s a beautiful person, isn’t she?” Gayle said, looking up from her computer.
“What?” Neill glanced down at her.
“I saw you watching her. It’s clear to everyone how much you care about each other.”
“I do care,” he said, forcing his attention back to the chart he was holding.
“Sherri told me about your relationship in high school. I’m so happy that you’ve decided to try again. What you have is special.” She peeked up a
t him from under her voluminous hair. “You really love each other.”
He couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. He liked this woman. “We’ll get it right this time around.”
“She really wants it to work out,” Gayle said.
The phone rang and Gayle answered it. Neill wished he could go down to the exam room to see what Charlie and Sherri were talking about. He had no right to know, but he wanted to all the same. He tucked the chart under his arm and started for the doctor’s dictation space along the corridor leading to Exam Six. He could always dictate while he waited for Sherri; better that than standing at the desk like a lovesick teenager. He was nearly at the dictation room when Sherri appeared. “How did it go?” he asked her.
Neill knew by the look she gave him that she was upset, and he opened his arms to her. She walked into them, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, his heart swelling in his chest as he gently put his arms around her.
“Neill, Charlie wants to stop drinking, but he’s afraid he can’t do it.”
“But there are organizations out there whose sole purpose is to help. All he has to do is take the first step.”
She pulled away from him, her fingers reaching for the tiny heart necklace at her throat. “It’s not that simple, Neill. Charlie and Sam grew up in the same house and faced the same issues.”
He didn’t want to argue with her because he wanted to talk to her about tonight and his plans for their dinner. But her expression made it clear that she was too worked up about Charlie to focus on anything else. “Sherri, you can’t get involved in this. Charlie is a grown man with a wife and family. He has to work out his own issues.”
“Well, he’s doing a lousy job so far.”
“And you think you can change that?”
“I don’t know. He’s Sam’s brother, and I feel responsible in a way.”
Neill believed that addiction could only be treated if and when the afflicted person wanted to change, but he loved Sherri, and he intended to see that she was happy. “Okay, why don’t we sit down in the dictation room and see what we can do.”
They went in, and he closed the door. The scent of her skin, the anxiety evident on her face, made him want to hold her close. He settled for taking her hand. “Tell me why you feel Charlie’s case is different, why he needs more support.”
Sherri sighed. “Because Sam and Charlie grew up in a very strict household where the boys were always expected to work harder than anyone else, to obey their parents no matter what. They were never allowed to have friends over or to go out, except on Saturday night, and then only until midnight. They endured a lot of teasing and felt singled out by their peers as being weird, and as a result neither boy was popular growing up.”
“But they had everything—cars, snowmobiles, fancy clothes. I remember they went on a lot of trips.”
“Sure they did, but only after they did as they were told. Alcohol was completely prohibited. Sam told me about the one time he’d come home drunk and what a horrible scene it was. He never did it again. He made up for it by drinking like a fish once he got to Bangor.”
“But that’s in the past, and there are people who can help Charlie, professionals with experience. Why do you feel so responsible?”
Sherri didn’t answer for a moment. “I owe Sam’s brother. I told you if Sam hadn’t been there for me, I don’t know what I would have done. And Sam loved Charlie very much. When Sam started to drink, his big concern was that Charlie not find out. Most of all, I feel guilty that I didn’t do enough for Sam when I realized that he was drinking more than just socially. At first, I pretended that he was only doing it because he was worried about me, or about his job, or about the baby. After Patrick died, I knew that his drinking was getting out of control, and still I did nothing.”
“What could you have done?”
“I could have talked it out with him, made him see what he was doing to himself and to us. But a part of me didn’t want to talk about our relationship because I had come to realize that with the baby gone, I didn’t have any real feelings for Sam beyond friendship. I had thought that I loved him but I couldn’t have or my feelings wouldn’t have changed so easily. And worst of all, Sam became even more loving after the baby died, and I started to feel smothered by his affection. I was afraid he wanted to have a child with me, and I couldn’t face the idea. And I couldn’t ask for a divorce, because I couldn’t hurt him. I was sure Sam knew how I felt, which made me feel even worse.” She stared down at her hands. “To this day, I believe that had I been more caring, or had I seen the signs earlier, Sam would still be alive. When they found his body, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d been more responsive, or if he’d married someone who truly loved him, then he wouldn’t have died.”
Neill gave in to his need to take her in his arms. “Sherri, you did what you could for Sam, and there’s no point in dwelling on the past. It won’t help Sam or you.”
She shoved him away, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “No, you don’t understand and you never will. I wanted to love Sam. Forever. I wanted to be his wife, and to make him happy. But because of you, I never really committed myself to the marriage. I was always holding out, waiting for you. And I hate myself for that!”
He reached for her. “Sherri—”
“Please don’t.”
“Okay. How about this? I’ll take you home and make dinner. You need to eat.”
“What about Charlie?”
“We can’t do anything for him today. I’ll set up a follow-up appointment for him, and I’ll talk to him about his issues around alcohol. If he’s receptive, I promise you I’ll get him in with the best psychologist in Boston, where he’ll get the help and support he needs to deal with his problem away from here. The psychologist I have in mind has treated substance abusers for most of the years she’s been practicing, and if anyone can help Charlie and his wife, Dr. Sharp can. How does that sound?”
“Thank you,” Sherri murmured, wiping the tears off her cheeks.
“You’re welcome.” He wanted to take her home with him, feed her and tuck her into their bed, the way he would if they were married. But they weren’t, and he had to live with that for the moment. “It’s time for us to finish up here. I have big plans for you this evening.”
She stood up, smoothing her hair from her face. “I’m so hungry.”
The need to make love to her made his arms shake. He craved her touch, the feel of her hands on him, the urgency of her smile. Instead, he put his hand on the curve of her back and led her out of the room. “I’m going to set a record here on how fast I can complete this dictation. Then I’ll pick up all the ingredients to make you a dinner you’ll never forget.”
“Thank you for everything, and especially for helping Charlie. With your help, he’ll recover. I know he will.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ONCE HE FINISHED his dictation, Neill made a quick stop at the grocery store and picked up fresh pasta, salad makings and frozen low-fat yogurt for dessert. He intended to be there for Sherri that evening by simply offering his love and support.
He’d done so much damage to so many people by his careless, thoughtless behavior all those years ago. If only he’d acted differently, been there for Sherri back then. They would’ve gotten married, moved back to Eden Harbor, set up a family practice together as they’d planned and maybe even been friends with Sam and whoever he’d married.
Instead, Sherri and Sam had had their lives changed forever because of his behavior. It was frightening to think how easily a person’s life could be altered by the simplest and sometimes most careless decision, the kind of decision that ended up having huge repercussions.
When he arrived at her condo, her car was already there. Carrying his two paper bags of groceries, he went up the steps to her front door. “That was fast,” she said, taking
one of the bags from him and setting it on the counter in the kitchen.
He followed her, placing his bag on the counter before pulling her into his arms and kissing her.
She responded instantly to his touch, her arms going around his neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” she whispered against his lips.
“Me, too.” He kissed the corners of her mouth, trailing his lips along her chin, molding her body against his. “I have a confession to make.”
“And that would be?”
“I wanted to make love to you in the dictation room so bad.”
“You did?” She leaned back in his arms and gazed up into his face.
“Yes. Actually, it was the second time I wanted to make love in the dictation room.”
“Really?”
He nodded, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “The other time was the day we had our first clinic together, the day after Morgan was brought in to Emergency.”
She touched his face, her fingers stroking his neck down into the V of his sports shirt. “That day is forever burned into my mind.” She kissed his throat. “Making love in the dictation room. Isn’t that just a little perverse?”
He moved his body against hers. “You do strange things to me.”
She groaned in pleasure. “If only I didn’t need to eat.”
“You’re talking about food? Now?”
She sighed and looked up into his eyes. “I’m afraid I am.”
“I did promise dinner, didn’t I?” he said, harboring an irrational hope that somehow she was kidding about needing food. He knew better, and he wanted her to be healthy and happy and everything else good in life.
“You did, but if it will make you feel any better, I’ll get showered and changed and help you. I’m really good at setting the table.”
He put an arm around her shoulder and walked her down the hall to her room. Kissing her, he whispered, “I’ll be waiting.”
He busied himself with finding where she kept her pots and pans, filling a pot with water for cooking the pasta and assembling a salad. All the while, he listened for the sound of her coming down the hall, his body heating as he imagined the water sluicing over her wet skin, the sweet scent of her shampoo as she lathered her hair, her neck stretched back as the water cascaded over her body. He considered joining her, but he remembered his promise to himself that he would go slow and make what she needed his top priority.
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