Table of Contents
NO COMING BACK
Acknowledgements
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
45.
46.
47.
48.
49.
NO COMING BACK
JESSIE SALISBURY
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
NO COMING BACK
Copyright©2017
JESSIE SALISBURY
Cover Design by Leah Kaye Suttle
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN: 978-1-68291-352-9
www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
To all my great-grandkids:
Joseph, Nevaeh, Alora, Deacon, Celina, and Izabella
Acknowledgements
As always, special thanks to The Talespinners, the writers’ group that looks for all of those misplaced commas and inappropriate words, and my first readers who provide helpful suggestions.
1.
Laura Boutelle was discovering that coming back home after almost six years wasn’t as bad as she had feared it would be. There had been no question that she would come home to care for her father and younger brother after her mother’s death. Leaving a large Boston hospital’s orthopedic ward for general nursing in a much-smaller facility had actually turned out to be a relief from stress and a chance to know her fellow workers better.
Moving back into her old room had been rather nice. All her things were still here: her class picture from the eighth-grade trip to Washington, D.C., the green teddy bear she had taken to college, the picture of her and her cousin Sue on a carnival merry-go-round, and the only blue ribbon she had ever won at a grade school field day. On the floor was a sturdy hand woven basket holding half a dozen fist-sized rocks. Each was inscribed with a date and the beach where she had found it: Wells, Maine, Salisbury, Mass., the Jersey Shore, and the wonderful trip to the Outer Banks when she was eight.
And it’s a good time to start over, cut all the old ties, get a new perspective in a new place, even if it’s the old one with a new perspective. She had ended her relationship with Aaron, realizing that he was not what she wanted or needed, that he was not furthering her goals but using her to advance his own. She had not accepted his ring, but the parting, although amicable, had left a deep sadness, a feeling of what-might-have-been. Coming to her father’s aid had provided a perfect excuse to leave.
And she was again with her favorite cousin Sue Randall, and had all her present woes to think about. Sue’s dramatics had always made Laura’s own problems seem petty.
Laura enjoyed Susan’s theatrics, considering herself the quiet, professional one. Susan was a very popular hair stylist, her effervescent personality charmed clients, invited their confidences, and let her be the proverbial therapist.
Susan was a few months younger than Laura and they had always considered each other the sister she did not have. They had kept in touch, shared their joys and sorrows, hopes and plans, the current boyfriend’s failings, the latest book and movie. Sue’s problems were always dramatic and heart-rending, and Laura had been more quietly involved with Aaron. But now?
“Do you remember Kendall Weston?” Sue asked during one of their regular coffee and danish brunches on Laura’s day off.
“The name sort of rings a bell, but no. Who is he?”
Susan sighed dramatically. “Just the hunkiest man you ever saw. He’s vice-president of Weston Construction Company, the biggest outfit in the area. I saw him a few times at ballgames last year, but not to talk to, so of course he doesn’t know who I am. And he doesn’t play. Pete says he has no interest in sports.” She added, “And I can’t find any reason to get Pete to introduce me. Isn’t that what older brothers are for?”
Laura tried not to laugh. Susan was always serious about her usually fleeting relationships. “I remember the company, but nothing about it.”
“They build roads and shopping centers, and all kinds of things.”
“I can see dollar signs in your eyes. This Kendall isn’t married?” She could fully understand Susan’s brother Peter totally ignoring her infatuations.
“No, he isn’t married. Pete says he doesn’t even have a girlfriend. He doesn’t think about anything but his job. He did go out a few times with one of my girlfriend’s sisters but their interests were too different.”
“Sorry, I just don’t remember him. I guess he didn’t impress me very much.”
“He’s probably changed since school. But you must remember Richard Summers. You can’t have forgotten him.”
Laura considered a moment. “He was in a class ahead of me.” She and Sue had attended a small high school where people tended to know everyone in the adjoining classes. “Kind of quiet. Played baseball, didn’t he? Some semi-pro team? Isn’t he a gym teacher somewhere?”
Susan sighed. “He was until the accident.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, last winter. He was out driving in the freezing rain for some reason and ran into a light pole. He can’t walk any more. Pete’s so broken up over it he doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“How horrible.” Laura tried to recall the young man she had known slightly: a slender but muscular, quite good-looking ball player with light brown hair, her cousin Peter’s best friend. He was the team’s catcher when Pete was pitching. “He can’t walk at all?”
Laura tried to find a reason for Sue’s interest in all of this. “So you have the hots for Richard Summers?”
“Me? Heavens no. He’s much too studious for me and too wrapped up in baseball.” She stopped, then looked down at her coffee cup. “Besides, I’ve known him forever and he always treated me like Pete’s little sister.”
Laura laughed. “But that’s what you are, Sue. And what does your Kendall Weston have to do with Rich Summers?”
Susan expelled a long, quavering breath. “Not mine, unfortunately. Rich’s stepbrother. Couple of years older.”
Laura considered that and took a bite of her pastry. Did she really want to get involved in Susan’s affairs, unrequited or otherwise? But this sounded intriguing. Maybe because I worked in orthopedics so long. “And is Pete ready to play baseball? It must be time for the season to start.”
Spring was certainly in the air and the various minor leagues played only in the summer. Pete spent the rest of the year doing carpentry.
“Oh, yeah, pretty soon. He’s been playing handball somewhere all winter to keep in shape, but he doesn’t know what they’ll do without Rich. He’s the best catcher they ever had, Pete says.”
“Pete’s a little biased. Is Rich’s injury something that playing ball might help, you know, like therapy?”
Sue shook her head. “Pete tried that. He says Rich is so depressed he can’t even mention baseball.”
Laura sipped at her coffee and decided she needed a refill and to continue this interesting conversation a little. “That does happen. It just takes time.”
Sue didn’t comment.
“So where is Rich now? At home?”
“No. He’s still in rehab, but almost ready to leave. Pete stopped to see him a couple of days ago.”
“Then I suppose he’ll be having therapy for a while.”
“I guess so.”
Laura could see her cousin had little interest in Richard Summers. Her heart, for the moment at least, was focused on another, apparently unattainable, object. “So how do you plan to meet this Ken Weston if Rich isn’t playing ball?”
Sue looked as if she were going to cry, which Laura found normal. Sue was always emotional, over everything. “I don’t know. I just have to.”
Laura laughed softly. “I’d say keep your eye on the ball, but this time it might not be appropriate. But, you never know what might turn up.”
“Yeah. Fat chance I have.”
But Richard Summer’s accident and aftermath was intriguing, from a professional point of view. I’ll have to ask around at work. Somebody must know what happened. She patted Sue’s hand. “Don’t ever give up, Sue.” She somehow had a feeling that all of this would be important to her, and not too far in the future.
“I can’t do anything else.” Sue smiled a little at Laura. “Maybe it’s just spring in the air. Love, you know.”
“I know. Have some more coffee.”
2.
Early in the morning on the 17th of April, Richard Summers twisted in agony, caught in the depths of a recurring nightmare. His father’s hand gripped his, placing them firmly on the bat, moving his arms backward into position. Then his father was in front of him, smiling, holding the ball, waiting for him to get ready to swing. Then, horribly, Phil Summers’s lean frame broadened, and his narrow face grew round and Rich was looking into the face of Jim Weston.
He stepped back from the makeshift home plate as Jim came toward him, threatening, menacing. He retreated step by step as his stepfather came closer, reaching for him. Rich stumbled, fell, threw his arm over his face, and screamed.
He opened his eyes. He was drenched in cold sweat and he hoped he had not cried out. He realized, comfortingly, that he was still in his hospital bed and that it was still night. The room was dark and the faint light from the corridor outlined his roommate’s huddled form. Tex wasn’t moving, so Rich assumed he had made no sound.
Rich relaxed against his pillow, breathing deeply. He eased his left leg into another less painful position, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to claim him again. The grinning face in the dream came back, and he knew that it was no use. He wouldn’t sleep again. Damn him, he thought. Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!
But there was no profit in that. Today I can go home, leave this place. But home to what? He didn’t want to think about that either.
Surprisingly, he was getting sleepy again and closed his eyes. Another vision rose to haunt him: A tall white house with a pillared front porch. There were maples in the yard, rose bushes, a big lilac at the end of the wide porch. The door was open and he could see the bottom of a wide curving staircase, the pine-paneled walls, but not quite far enough to see the fieldstone fireplace.
Home. Jim’s home, not mine. Not anymore. And I won’t go back there, no matter what he says. Rich willed the vision away to ease the pain in his chest, pain not caused by a shattered leg.
Richard was awaked by the nurse talking softly to his roommate. “Can’t you let a guy sleep?” Rich grumbled.
The nurse, Anna, turned toward him, smiling. “Good morning. This is your big day, the one you’ve been waiting for.”
He tried to smile at her. “You’ll be rid of me.”
She brought her little cart of equipment to his bedside. “One more round of all the vitals,” she said. “You’ve been here so long we were beginning to think you were part of the furniture.”
“So did I.” He moved to make it easier for her to reach his upper arm, thinking about leaving. Jim who would be coming for him, and Rich knew he wouldn’t leave with him. He wouldn’t go. Couldn’t go. Not now. Not ever. He closed his eyes wondering, do I have courage enough to tell him that?
Anna gathered her implements, wrote on his chart, and left. Rich kept his eyes closed.
“You’re lucky, Rich,” Tex said.
“Not really.” Rich looked sideways at his roommate, his tousled sandy red hair and merry eyes, the crutches and walker beside his bed. He wasn’t really from Texas. “You’ll walk again, can go back to your work. I’ll never walk properly.”
“You mean you might not play baseball, but that’s not what I meant. I mean all the pretty nurses falling all over you.”
Rich felt his face getting hot.
Tex laughed. “I like to see you blush.” He maneuvered himself to the edge of the bed, hampered by the cast on his leg.
Rich considered the brace he would be putting on his left knee and momentarily wished for Tex’s injuries instead of his own. Tex had told him about it when he had come. He was a city fireman, a professional fire fighter. The floor of the building he was in had collapsed and he had been unable to get out in time. His turnout gear had prevented burns and his crewmates had quickly pulled him to safety. His leg was badly broken, but it was fixable.
However, it had shaken him too much. “I’m not going back,” Tex had told him. “I’m an EMT and I’ll take some more courses and be a paramedic. I can still go to fires. Just not inside anymore.”
Tex said now, “I wish they’d hurry up breakfast, I’m starved.”
Tex was always starved. But now he sobered a little. “Honestly, Rich, after being here three months I’d think you’d be happy to get out.”
They heard the meal wagon. Tex looked away. “But I’ll miss you.”
A nurse supervisor stopped in the doorway. “Ready to go, Rich? The doctor will be here in a while to sign your release.”
“Almost.”
He thought she was going to say something more, but moved on. He knew the specialists were concerned about what they termed his depression, but they had decided against medication. It was norma
l, his therapist said, to feel as he did. All he needed was time.
An aide came in with a tray and Rich turned his attention to his coffee and toast.
Tex ate as if starving, but Rich found the food tasteless. He was waiting for Dr. Hoadley, hoping he’d come alone, but he knew absolutely, surely, that Jim would be with him. They were longtime friends, frequent poker buddies, and Rich knew the doctor had almost surely kept Jim fully advised as to his condition. If not Jim, then his mother. And Rich would need a ride home. He was not yet cleared to drive. Sometimes he wondered if he actually could drive again. He kept seeing that light pole as his car slid sideways on the ice.
“You aren’t hungry?” Tex asked.
“Not particularly.”
After a long moment, Tex said, “They’ll be here pretty soon. Hoadley likes to come early.”
Rich didn’t comment.
“It’s your stepfather that’s got you bummed out. Isn’t it?”
Rich shrugged.
“I know a lot more than you might think, Rich. I can put all the little pieces together, and I saw him the last time he was here, remember?”
“Yeah. So you know. Part of it.”
~ ~ ~
Dr. Hoadley was later than usual. Rich sat in his chair and carefully exercised his leg through the prescribed motions. Anna stuck her head in the door and said he could get dressed.
Tex got up. “You’re too crabby for company.” He paused in the doorway. “Take it easy, Rich. It isn’t all bad, you know. You’re still alive.”
“Thanks.”
Rich dressed slowly, carefully, favoring the left leg in spite of his intentions as he strapped the heavy elastic brace around his knee. He finally sat in his chair and stared out the window. It had been cloudy but now the sun shone brilliantly on the barely budding trees outside. It’s the middle of April. I’ve been here since just after New Year’s. Lord!
No Coming Back Page 1