The Ocean City Boardwalk Series, Books 1-3

by Donna Fasano

  After returning to Ocean City, it had taken over a year for her to get over her horrible experiences with her ex to the point that she’d felt safe dating again. She wouldn’t have even then, except for the urging, nagging really, of Heather and Sara. When she’d lifted her head out of those dark gray clouds, Brad had been standing there like a beam of bright sunlight. Warm. Fun. Tantalizing. Cathy remembered Brad as being a master at the game of romance, so she’d been determined to keep their relationship playful and flirty. She’d been absolutely certain that’s the way he’d want it; besides, with what she’d experienced with her ex, light and fun had been all she’d wanted, all she could handle.

  The pristine white sheet covering Brad rippled in the dim light, snapping her out of her melancholic reflections. He’d moved.

  His eyes remained closed and he was utterly still. But she was certain he’d shifted his foot a little. She pressed her fingers to her lips, torn between racing for the nurse and calling out to him so he would wake up. The need to learn that he hasn’t suffered any permanent damage because of her foolishness nearly overwhelmed her, but rushing the process would be wrong.

  The hinges on the door protested with a soft squeak. Cathy turned and forced a smile on her mouth when she saw Mr. and Mrs. Henderson. She hadn’t seen them for nearly a year when they’d come to Ocean City for a short visit last summer.

  “Hi, Cathy,” Brad’s father whispered. He set the newspaper he’d been carrying on a nearby table. “Thank you so much for staying with him.”

  Brad’s mom enveloped her in a tight hug. “We flew into Philly, and as soon as we learned we couldn’t get a puddle jumper to Ocean City until tomorrow, we decided to rent a car and drive. That got us here quicker. The nurse just gave us an update, hon.” She leaned back, her hands still on Cathy’s upper arms. “You look exhausted. We really appreciate your being here, Cathy.”

  Without even taking the time to greet them properly, she blurted out, “He moved. I need to go tell the nurse.”

  “Oh, thank heavens,” Mrs. Henderson breathed. “Maybe he’s about to wake up?”

  “I don’t know,” Cathy admitted. “I really think I should go get the nurse.”

  Before she could move, a nurse who looked to be all of fourteen bustled into the room, a frown furrowing her brow. “Do you realize it’s three o’clock in the morning? You need to keep it down in here. Patients are sleeping. Why are there three of you in here? Rules are rules. Two visitors. Period. One of you has to—”

  “He moved,” Cathy told her, and as soon as she spoke the words, Brad slid his hand from his side to his chest.

  As if their gazes were powerful magnets and his body was made of iron, all four of them swiveled their heads toward the bed.

  “I’m going to go call the doctor.” The nurse pointed at Cathy. “You, come with me.”

  Following the nurse to the station just a few yards up the hallway, Cathy pleaded her case. “Listen, I’ve been here all day waiting for him to wake up. Don’t make me leave just yet. I’ll be quiet. I’ll stand in one corner of the room. No one will know I’m there. I need to know that he’s okay.”

  Completely ignoring Cathy, the nurse picked up the phone and spent all of fifteen seconds talking to someone on the other end of the line. As soon as she hung up, she directed her gaze at Cathy.

  “I know you’re worried,” she said. “I wish I could accommodate you. I really do. But I already received a verbal warning this week for being lax on the visitation rules. The doctor is on his way, the floor nurse—my boss—will be by any moment. You cannot be in that room while those other people are in there. Go to the waiting area at the end of the hall. Please.” She pulled a chart from its slot, set it on the desktop, and then she began jotting some notes on the forms.

  Rather than doing as she’d been told, Cathy hovered around the nurses’ station and slowly moseyed over to the door of Brad’s room. She didn’t cross the threshold and figured that was close enough to be called following orders.

  The sound of his voice caused her body to flush with relief.

  “Mom? Dad? What are you doing here? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

  Bewilderment gave his words a blurry, rounded-edge sound.

  “Everything’s okay,” his mother assured him.

  “Where’s Cathy?”

  “Here,” she called from the doorway. “I’m right here.”

  His blue eyes found hers just as the doctor brushed past her.

  “Hi, Mr. Henderson. It’s good to see you awake. I’m Doctor Jenkins. I’m on-call tonight. How are you doing?” The doctor addressed Brad as he approached the bed. “Do you have a headache? Can you tell me what year it is?”

  “Yeah,” Brad murmured. But instead of answering, he looked over at Cathy. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, emotion churning in her chest. There was so much she needed to say to him.

  He took in the bandage on her arm. “You don’t look okay.”

  “I’m fine.” Then she added, “I promise.” The last thing he should be doing was worrying about her.

  Doctor Jenkins clapped his palms together and rubbed them vigorously in an attempt to capture everyone’s attention. “I’m going to have to ask all of you fine folks to step out of the room for a bit. I need to do a thorough assessment, and then, Mr. Henderson, we’re going to be sending you downstairs for a follow up MRI.”

  Brad’s parents were ushered out of the room in a single file since Cathy refused to budge from the doorway.

  “Go home,” the doctor told her gently but firmly. “Get some sleep. Eat something. Come back in the morning.”

  For a split second, she considered darting around him but then she’d only be causing a scene. In the end, the doctor would have his way, and that was totally as it should be.

  Her gaze locked with Brad’s for a few brief seconds. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed. Her eyes watered, and before she could gauge his reaction, the doctor slowly closed the door in her face.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cathy woke up to the trill of the spare cell phone Heather had lent her. She rolled to a sitting position, heavy-lidded and groggy, and glanced at the clock. Seven A.M. She’d fallen into bed three and a half hours ago, and now felt as if evil gnomes had slipped into her room during the wee hours and stuffed her head with cotton balls. Her stitched up arm ached like an abscessed tooth.

  She picked up the phone and gave the screen a swipe.

  Sara: Good morning, Auntie Cathy and Auntie Heather!

  Heather: Oh, my goodness! Baby is here???

  Sara: Yes! Over 2 hours ago.

  Sara: Aaron Jackson.

  Sara: Might call him AJ. Not sure yet.

  Sara: Weighed in at 5 lbs 2 oz.

  Sara: Everyone seemed happy with his weight.

  Sara: Just under 4 wks early, the little bugger.

  Cathy: Squeeee! Congrats! How do you feel?

  Shrieking like an eight-year-old certainly wasn’t on Cathy’s to-do list at the moment, but Sara didn’t have to know that. If there was ever a screech-worthy moment, this was it, no matter how lead-headed she might be feeling. A new baby called for going above and beyond.

  Sara: Landon is sleeping about 5 yards away.

  Sara: He was SO GOOD.

  Sara: Labor hurt like a mother!

  Sara: Not sure I want to do that again.

  Sara: Ever.

  Sara: Felt like I was pooping out a football.

  Cathy: TMI! You seem a little keyed up.

  Sara: Keyed up? Give me a break. I just performed a miracle. : )

  Heather: I’ll be in to hold that bundle of joy right after breakfast.

  Heather: Tell us more.

  Cathy: Yeah, how beautiful is he?

  Sara: Prettier than an Ocean City sunrise.

  Sara: He’s breathing on his own.

  Sara: We’re going to try nursing in a bit. Doc is checking him over now.

  Cathy: Let me shower and check on things at the c
afé. Then I’ll pop over to see our little miracle.

  Heather: Cathy, want to ride over together?

  Cathy: Can’t. Need to catch up with Brad after.

  Heather: Right.

  Sara: Look you two. Landon told me about the accident.

  Sara: Why didn’t one of you tell me? >:(

  Cathy: My fault. You didn’t need more stress.

  Sara: That’s true. How is Brad?

  Cathy: He woke up around 3 AM. Doc promptly kicked me out.

  Cathy: His parents arrived. Drove down from Philadelphia airport.

  Heather: Your arm?

  Cathy: Okay. Need some ibuprofen. I’ll be fine.

  Sara: So you didn’t talk to Brad?

  Cathy: Not really. No time.

  Heather: You’ll talk to him today.

  Cathy: IF he’ll talk to me.

  Sara: Why wouldn’t he?

  Cathy: Oh, I don’t know.

  Cathy: ‘Cause I’m the bitch who rolled his jet ski? Put him in the hospital?

  Heather: It was an accident.

  Cathy: Yes. Caused by my recklessness.

  She waited for one or the other of them to comment. Long seconds ticked by. Evidently, neither of them knew how to respond. Like bitter medicine, sometimes the truth was damned hard to swallow.

  Sara: Hon, it’ll be okay.

  Heather: Just keep saying you’re sorry.

  “Will I ever learn to think before I act?” Cathy whispered right out loud.

  Cathy: Getting in the shower.

  Cathy: Later!

  She tossed the phone on the mattress and headed toward the bathroom, tugging off her nightgown as she went.

  * * *

  A whole new shift of nurses had taken over the station since Cathy was last at the hospital. She smiled a hello as she passed by.

  Holding AJ in the crook of her arm had been an amazing experience. The newborn’s skin had felt as soft as velvet. He’d gazed up at her with dark, silent eyes, his tiny mouth pursed into a perfect bow. Cathy’s heart ached with love.

  She stopped at the threshold of Brad’s hospital room and steeled herself. She had no idea what he might have to say. She sighed deeply, and then she rapped on the open door.

  Brad sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in jeans and button down shirt.

  Cathy didn’t even try to hide her surprise. “You’re being discharged?”

  He nodded. “Seems that way. The MRI looked good. The pain meds took care of the headache. They couldn’t find a reason to keep me. I called Mom and Dad this morning and they brought me some clean clothes. We’ve been waiting for a while for the discharge papers, so they went to search out some coffee for us.”

  The urge to rush at him, wrap her arms around him, was fierce, but she resisted.

  “So you’re really okay?”

  Again, he nodded. “No heavy lifting for a while. And I’ll have another scan next month. I’m going to be just fine. I had no idea I had any kind of malformation in my brain. But the doc doesn’t think it’ll cause me any problems.”

  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t vanquish the guilt from her face.

  “I’m going to be fine,” he repeated.

  Cathy winced. “Your poor jet ski isn’t. It’s probably totaled.”

  “Jack is going to take care of getting it back to the dock for me today.” Then he pointed to her bandaged arm. “What’s that?”

  Absently, she fingered the gauze. “It’s nothing. A few stitches. I cut my arm on something in the water.”

  She went quiet, her brow pinching as she took her upper lip between her front teeth and glanced down at the floor. “Brad, I don’t know if I can ever find the words to express how sorry I am for what happened.”

  When he didn’t respond right away, she lifted her chin and found him studying her.

  He asked, “I laid here for hours, going over and over what happened. You really thought I was going to hit you?”

  “No.” The word came out sounding firm and emphatic. “Absolutely not. You had nothing, or, um… very little to do with that… flinch.”

  She swallowed hard. She knew this man cared about her. Why did she find it so difficult to talk about this?

  “I was angry,” she told him. “I was feeling, um, constrained. Oppressed.” She shook her head in frustration when neither of those words seemed exactly right.

  “You’re such a strong-willed woman,” he murmured. “I can’t imagine you ever allowing yourself to be oppressed.” His gaze narrowed. “What you yelled out was, ‘Don’t tell me what to do.’”

  Cathy nodded. “Yeah. That feeling of being controlled, well, it churned up some…” She inhaled. “I got lost in the past for a minute. And then when you raised your arm and I cowered like that… I didn’t even have time to think, Brad. I just acted. And then I was mortified by my own knee-jerk reaction, embarrassed because… Because it didn’t have anything to do with you. I—I didn’t feel threatened by you, is what I mean.”

  She knew she wasn’t doing a very good job of explaining so she just stopped talking. Quiet hovered over them for quite some time.

  “We’ve never talked much about your marriage.” Brad pushed the tray table away from the bed so it wasn’t between them, and he scooted to the edge of the mattress. “I know you went through some bad stuff with your ex. Just from some comments you’ve made. I’ve overheard you, Heather, and Sara refer to the guy using lots of—” his mouth twisted wryly “—colorful nicknames. But I never pressed you because I thought you would talk about it when you were ready. I knew you were pretty depressed when you came back to town, but I thought that was normal for someone going through a divorce. I also suspected that the relationship left you…” This time he pressed his lips into a fine line. “Financially burdened.”

  He reached up and raked his fingers through his hair. “But I never would have guessed that he’d been physically abusive. I had no idea.”

  The entire time he talked, her gaze very slowly slipped from his face to the floor. Then her chin lowered.

  “Talking about this isn’t easy,” she whispered.

  “I can imagine.”

  Thankfully, she didn’t hear sympathy in his tone. She wouldn’t have been able to stomach his pity.

  Just do it. Just get the words out, and then it will be over.

  “The abuse started very… subtly. I don’t even think Todd was aware of what he was doing.” Her voice went flat as she added, “He was always so apologetic. After, I mean. At first, anyway.”

  She shifted in the hard, plastic chair. “He was never happy with what I did. Always criticized my decisions. After a while, I began to question my reasoning, too. And he became smothering; although, he made it seem like he loved me so much he couldn’t be away from me. Before I realized it, I was contacting Grandmom less and less. I avoided calls from Heather and Sara, and I was seeing them almost never.

  “I learned from my therapist—yes, I spent some time in therapy after the divorce—that this kind of gradual increase is what usually happens. The mental and emotional abuse. The isolation. Somehow, Todd had me believing I couldn’t manage without him. I did try to assert myself, but I always ended up feeling belittled and, well, stupid.”

  Cathy glanced up at Brad, but the astonishment on his face forced her to look away.

  “The first time he put his hands on me,” she said, “he didn’t actually hurt me. We’d gotten into an argument. About money. We fought about money a lot. I worked almost seven days a week. I earned a fairly good salary. But there was never any money in the checking account. Anyway, when I demanded to know what he was doing with our finances, he grabbed me. Shook me.”

  She paused, remembering how her head had jerked, how she’d felt like a rag doll, how that flash of fear had jolted her just as sharply as the shake had.

  “It’s not something that happened every week.” She paused, licked her lips. “I can’t even say it happened every month. But… it happened. And it didn
’t take long until I became… a completely different person. I think about that woman I became, and I can’t even recognize her.”

  Cathy took a moment to close her eyes. Inhaling deeply, she pictured in her mind how she’d changed back then, how meek and compliant she’d become, and as her therapist had taught her, Cathy mentally hugged that woman, forgave her, told her she was safe, that everything was going to be all right.

  “One summer, Heather and Sara kept bugging me to come visit them,” she continued. “Todd refused to let me go. When I told him I wanted to see my friends, he backhanded me. Bruised my eye.” She sighed. “I couldn’t come to Ocean City with a black eye. I didn’t want to lie about how it happened, so I decided it was best to stay home. I didn’t want to worry them. I didn’t want them telling my grandmother what was going on.”

  Something about Brad’s exhalation drew her attention. He sat there in silence, his jaw clenched, his fingers laced so tightly that the backs of his hands had gone pale.

  “According to my therapist,” she told him, “I conjured up all the classic reasoning, all the compelling rationale for staying with my abuser. He needs me. I can’t cope without him. It’ll get better. It won’t happen again. I don’t want my friends and family to know, to worry. If they find out, they’ll only make things worse for me.” She heaved another sigh. “It was a vicious cycle. A wildly spinning merry-go-round. And it never entered my little pea brain to just get off the freakin’ ride.”

  “So what was it?”

  Cathy looked up, frowning at his question. “I’m sorry?”

  “What was it?” he repeated. “What caused you to leave?”

  “Grandmom got sick.” Her heart ached when she thought about that time in her life. “She didn’t call me right away; she didn’t call until she was so, so ill. She needed me come take care of her, but Todd would have none of it. He accused me of wanting to leave him.” She shook her head. “He said vile things to me. And then he stopped talking and started punching.”

  She stood up and went to the window. “I don’t really remember leaving Baltimore. I barely remember the drive to Ocean City. I showed up at home… at Grandmom’s house with just the clothes on my back.”