Rocky Point Promise

by Barbara McMahon

  By the time they’d put up all the posters, Tate’s head was starting to pound again.

  “I need to head for home,” he said as they walked back to her apartment.

  “Is your head bothering you?” she asked, immediately solicitous.

  “A bit. With little sleep last night, I’m beat. I’ll pop back a couple of those pain pills the doc ordered and I’ll sleep through the night.”

  “Come back to my place and I’ll fix you something for dinner. Then drive you home. A good night’s sleep would be the best thing for you,” she suggested.

  Tate agreed. Not that he was hungry, but he wasn’t in any hurry to end their afternoon together. Faith was easy to be around. She didn’t flirt. Didn’t try to make a big deal of anything. Didn’t seem to expect much. And she was obviously getting attached to her new houseguests. He hoped she’d be all right when the owners claimed the dogs. Maybe she would get one of the puppies out of the situation.

  When they entered her apartment, she gestured toward the living room. “Go sit down while I take Mama Dog out for a walk. As soon as we get back, I’ll fix us something.”

  “If it’s too much trouble, we could go out somewhere.” Not that he wanted to brave Marcie’s restaurant. While it was the best place in town, it’d be crowded and noisy on a Saturday night. People would want to check on how he was doing. He didn’t think his head could take it. But he didn’t want to put Faith out.

  “Not a problem at all. I have to eat, too, you know. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”

  He sat on the sofa in front of a small television. Closing his eyes he tried to relax, but the throbbing in his head was growing stronger. Rising, he went to the kitchen and found where she kept glasses. He took two of the pills he’d put in his pocket before leaving home, watching the puppies as he drank the water. They were so tiny. Hard to believe they’d grow to the size of their mother. Yet he’d been a baby once, and look how tall he was.

  Returning to the living room, he glanced around. Sparse on furnishings. Comfortable. Two paintings hung on the wall—both landscapes. One had a cottage in the distance. No photographs. She said she’d been raised in foster care. He leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes, trying to imagine growing up without his mother or father, his grandparents, Aunt Betty, Aunt Susan, Uncle George and all the cousins. He couldn’t do it. They’d always been there for him. Poor Faith, having no family. She should marry and have a bunch of kids to fill the need for family. Then she’d have birthdays to celebrate, holidays for family gatherings. And grandkids to bring her joy in her old age.

  The dreams he and Mandy had once had.

  Chapter Three

  Faith came in a few moments later. The dog ran over to him, sniffed, then took off for the kitchen.

  “She’s such a good dog. Just does what she needs to do and comes right back. I can’t imagine why we haven’t heard anything from the owners,” Faith said.

  “Maybe they’re away today and don’t yet know she’s missing.” He started to get up, but she shook her head.

  “Stay there. I’ll do better in the kitchen without you underfoot.” Her smile was teasing, but she could tell from Tate’s relieved expression that he was fine with sitting a bit longer. He’d clearly done too much today. That whack on the head must have been worse than they’d thought.

  Faith quickly scanned her refrigerator and cupboards, looking for something substantial for dinner. Her choices were pathetic. She had some bacon and eggs, but that didn’t seem very substantial for a man of Tate’s size. She had cheese and bread. Maybe grilled cheese sandwiches and soup. She had an assortment of hearty soups—her choice when preparing a dinner for one. She’d have to make do.

  She fed the dog, petted each of the puppies, then washed her hands and began to prepare the simple meal. When it was ready, she called Tate. He was asleep. She debated letting him rest, but decided that a meal and then rest in his own bed would be best.

  “Tate, come eat,” she said softly.

  “Mandy?” he murmured, still sleeping.

  “No, it’s Faith. Come eat dinner.”

  He opened his eyes and looked at her with what Faith was sure was disappointment. He’d been dreaming of his wife. She wished she could have been there for him. She knew how it was to wake up and have to remember reality all over again.

  He shook his head slightly, winced and rose. “Didn’t mean to conk out on you.”

  “You must be wiped out. We’ll eat and then I’ll drive you home. I have to say it’s not much,” she admitted ruefully, as she led the way to the small table. “I don’t usually cook for anyone else and I don’t make a lot when it’s just me.”

  “I know about that. I get a lot of my meals out, or at my folks’s. When I’m home, a sandwich is about all I eat.”

  “This isn’t much more,” she said, feeling apologetic.

  “It looks great. And anything I don’t have to make is doubly appreciated. Want me to bless the food?”

  She nodded, intrigued that he’d offered. The prayer was short, but heartfelt.

  After they’d begun the meal, she studied him for a moment. “So you’re not a cook?”

  “Barbecue—that’s my limit. I need food to fuel up…I’m not a gourmet.”

  “Me, either. But I used to enjoy it.”

  “Used to?”

  She nodded. How much to share? She didn’t want people watching her all the time, as her friends in Portland did. She wasn’t fragile. She wasn’t going to break. Or die any time soon. At least she hoped not.

  “I, uh, was engaged a couple of years ago. I loved cooking for the two of us. I’d try new recipes, putting the ones we both liked in a special binder.” She still had the binder. Would she ever want to make those meals again? Could she eat any of them without remembering Allen and the promise broken?

  “Since you’re not married, I’m guessing the engagement ended?” he asked. His eyes met hers and Faith saw the savvy intelligence. Though it wasn’t much of a stretch to guess that outcome.

  “He broke it off.”

  “Sorry. Am I sorry?”

  “What do you mean?” She looked at him.

  “Are you better off without him? Granted, we’ve known each other a really short time, but it seems to me he was a fool to break it off.”

  Faith flushed with pleasure at his compliment. “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say. Actually, now that I think about it, I’m probably better off. He turned out to be someone who wouldn’t be there in good times and bad if we had gotten married. Better to know that before, don’t you think?” Over and over she’d told herself that, but in her heart, she still ached that Allen had left at the first sign of trouble. Granted, cancer was a huge thing, but it still hurt.

  He shrugged. “I’d say so.”

  She nodded and continued eating. She knew he wanted to know the entire story, but she wasn’t sure she was ready just yet to tell anyone. Truth was, she might never be ready. Still, she had forgiven Allen. She should explain so Tate would know the full circumstances.

  “I had cancer and he panicked and left,” she blurted out. Then wished instantly she could snatch back the words. Would it change the way he viewed her? His wife had died of cancer. She didn’t want him looking at her and wondering all the time if she was going to end up like his wife.

  “Whoa,” Tate said, looking at her. He put down the soup spoon. “He just left—when you got sick?”

  She nodded. “Promise you won’t tell anyone. Dr. Mallory knows, but I don’t want anyone else here to know. I got so much sympathy and concern from friends in Portland, I was overwhelmed. Soon everyone saw me as the one who had cancer. As if that was my new identity. Even after all the treatment, when I was cancer-free, they’d be so solicitous.” She swallowed hard
. “I came here to make a fresh start. I’m two years out and moving on toward five years. Here my identity is new nurse, not cancer patient.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Tate stared at her.

  She wished she knew what he was thinking. Would he resent that she’d had cancer and survived when his beloved wife had died?

  “You should sympathize with my ex. You know how hard that illness is for loved ones from your wife’s death,” she said. She didn’t want to excuse Allen’s betrayal, but, taking a step back, she could see how scary it had been for him.

  Tate shrugged. “I couldn’t go through something like that again. Watching her slowly go downhill, the valiant way she struggled to stay positive even toward the end when we both knew it was only a matter of weeks, then days. To see her go from healthy to so thin and frail was horrible. Frustrating when all that treatment had no effect.” He released a ragged breath. “I hated it! But there was no place else I could be—or wanted to be—but at her side. I loved her.”

  Faith wished Allen had had that loyalty gene, no matter how hard things got. And as it turned out, she was in remission and maybe even cured. If he had had faith—but that had not been the case.

  “Yet you came right away when your father suffered a stroke. It’s fortunate he recovered, but what if he hadn’t?” she asked. She suspected Tate had depths even he didn’t realize.

  “Then I would have been doubly needed—for him and for my mother. I’m their only son. Of course I’d be there for them.”

  “See, you’re head and shoulders above Allen. He only wanted things to go along with no major problems. What if we’d gotten married and then I’d been diagnosed? That would have been worse—if he left then. Or grew to hate me because he was tied to me in marriage.”

  “Maybe he was plain scared,” Tate said gruffly.

  “So was I. Anyway, that’s my sad story. Don’t you tell anyone.”

  “I won’t.” He was quiet for a few minutes as he continued eating the light dinner.

  “There’s a happy ending, you know,” she said.

  “That’s right,” he replied. “You’re cancer-free.”

  “Well, yes, that. But one of the nurses there brought me a Bible and told me about Jesus’s love for me. I’m still learning all I can about the Lord, but I received salvation in the darkest time of my life. It was as if there was a light shining through the darkness and I clung to that.”

  He nodded. “God is always there. Helping when it suits His plan, comforting when help doesn’t come the way we want it.”

  He meant his wife. “Did your faith waver when your wife died?” she asked. She wanted to stay strong in the Lord forever. But did earthly happenings change that?

  He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then met her eyes. “I was mad, but I don’t think my faith wavered. I know the Lord has everything in control. I may not know His plan, but I trust Him.”

  Faith didn’t know whether to regret the confidence or feel relieved. She was glad to hear Tate say his faith remained strong. She wanted hers to be strong forever.

  “That’s how I feel sometimes. I don’t know where I’m going, but I think God has a plan for me,” she said. “I’m trying to stay alert so I’ll see it.”

  “I’m sure of it,” Tate said.

  Faith resumed eating. She would always cherish his first comment about Allen’s desertion being his loss. But she knew she’d be watching for any signs that Tate felt sorry for her. Or was watching to see if she was really cured or would have a relapse. That’s why she’d left Portland. She didn’t want to encounter the same situation here. What she wanted to find was the life God had planned for her.

  “What kind of cancer?” he asked a minute later.

  “Ovarian. I was lucky. So often that goes undetected until too late. I had the full battery of chemotherapy. I’m still getting over that. But I’m fine.” Fine but unable to have children. Fine but wary about falling in love again. How did any of us know before adversity whether our loved ones would stand by us or not?

  He nodded, shifting his gaze to the almost-empty soup bowl.

  “More soup?” she asked a minute later, hoping the light meal has satisfied him. She was full. There was nothing for dessert, so the sooner she got him home, the sooner he could get some rest.

  “No, thanks. That was a nice meal, Faith,” he said.

  She laughed, “What’s nice is your saying that. I don’t have a lot of food. Let me put the bowls and plates in the sink and I’ll take you home.”

  Faith dropped Tate at his house and hurried back without waiting for him to get to his front door. He’d asked her in, but she’d refused. She didn’t want a lengthy conversation about her health. She was who she was and not the illness that had once haunted her.

  The dog barked when she entered and she hurried into the kitchen. For a while she sat on the floor by the dog and talked to her. It was nice to have a companion, even one who just wagged her tail as Faith talked. Once again she hoped the owners would consider letting her have one of the puppies when they were old enough to be adopted. She’d love to have the mama dog, but knew her owner had to be missing her.

  Faith took the dog on one last walk for the night and then cleaned up the kitchen. She thought about the sheriff as she put away the dishes, filled the dog’s water dish and put down more newspapers for the puppies. She liked being around him. He made her feel more alive than she had in a long time. She liked watching him talk, looking for that dimple when he smiled.

  “He’s nice. And he didn’t freak or become oversolicitous when I told him,” she murmured to the dog. She wagged her tail.

  “I’ll ask around at church tomorrow to see if anyone knows who’s missing their sweet dog. Maybe we’ll find your family and you can get back home. I’ll miss you.” She petted the dog and stared into her brown eyes. “I’m glad I found you. What were you thinking, having those puppies in the rain?”

  Once in bed, Faith propped herself up to read from the Bible. Saying another prayer of thanksgiving for the woman who had introduced her to the Lord, she let her Bible fall open where it would. She loved the verses from Philippians and reread them for comfort. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable… As she drifted to sleep sometime later, she thought again about the afternoon with the sheriff and how he exemplified the verses she’d just read. Noble and admirable fit Tate Johnson to a T.

  The next morning Tate awoke early. The headache was down to a dull pounding. Maybe half the pain meds would do. He’d take today off, and see how he felt in the morning. Calling in to the station, he was reassured to learn that things were quiet. He’d take advantage of the time off to attend the services at Trinity. Maybe he’d see Faith Stewart there.

  The day was balmy and breezy. The sun shone in a cloudless sky. Tate drove and parked in the big lot. The neighbors and friends he greeted as he entered were men and women he’d known his entire life. He’d missed that in Boston. He and Mandy had found a church near them, but they were still the newcomers when she became ill. That church had been large and a bit impersonal. Or maybe just in comparison with Trinity.

  He nodded to the Kincaids as they met near the double entry doors. Both brothers escorted the women they were going to marry. Joe’s daughter, Jenny, stood between him and Gillian.

  “Does your head hurt?” she asked, eyeing the bandage.

  “Not so much today. Thanks again for helping me out,” he said to Joe.

  Joe nodded. “Hey, just glad you’re okay. Not up to work yet, right?”

  “I wanted one more day. The headache’s almost gone.”

  As the group walked up the aisle to the spots where they normally sat, Tate casually scanned the church. Nodding and
waving to friends, he didn’t see Faith. Either she hadn’t yet arrived or she wasn’t attending services.

  His parents normally sat near the front. He slid into the familiar pew and greeted those already seated. His folks were still away. He knew if his mother had been home, she would have fussed over his injury. The people next to him asked how he was doing. The couple seated behind him nudged his shoulder to get his attention, also wanting an update. It was nice to feel the genuine concern, but the repetition of telling the tale could get old fast.

  He had an inkling of understanding of what Faith must have gone through with her friends. He’d thought about her last night. There was a slight reserve about her that intrigued him. He was honored that she’d chosen to tell him about her illness, and her failed engagement. He’d respect her privacy. If she hadn’t told him, he would never have guessed. Still, now he knew why she was so thin. He remembered that Mandy’d had no appetite while she was taking chemo. But Faith wasn’t going to gain back the weight if she didn’t eat more than soup and sandwiches!

  Tate couldn’t believe the man who had said he loved her would leave her in the lurch like that. All alone, no family and no fiancé to rally around her. Faith had had it hard. Yet she had made light of her sad story. He hoped the people in Rocky Point proved to be better friends if adversity ever came her way.

  At the end of the service, he walked out, nodding to friends, speaking to several as everyone moved to the front lawn of the white clapboard church. He spotted the Kincaids and headed their way when several of the teenagers swarmed around him.

  “Hey, Sheriff, are you okay?” one of the boys asked as they all stared at the bandage.

  “I heard you saved some kid from drowning,” another said. “Cool.”

  “Do you need any help at home?” little Betsy Morgan asked. Her mother was the chair of the ladies’ aid team, and he suspected she was going to take after her mother in offering help wherever it was needed in the community.

  “I’m going to be 100 percent in another day or two, and yeah, I pulled a child from the water. Make sure you learn how to swim.”