The Promise

by Robyn Carr

  And never mind all that—it was his integrity that Peyton appreciated. She was very grateful for that. She believed they were going to be very good friends.

  She had been eavesdropping in the clinic and figured out that Scott was camping on the beach with the kids tonight. The July night was warm and clear with a cool breeze off the water. Scott’s sitter had been back in town for a few days, so in the morning she would take the kids and Scott could go to work. She had heard him explaining it to Devon. “I’d better get this camping trip over with. Will won’t shut up about it.”

  Peyton packed up a thermos and cups in a beach tote, parked at the marina and walked across the beach to the site where a small, yellow tent was pitched. The tent was glowing from a dim light inside. There was still a bit of a fire, and as far as she could tell, there were no other people on the beach. He was close to the hill just below Devon’s house, and there was a light on outside Devon’s lower floor.

  As she drew closer she could just make out Scott sitting right outside the tent’s zippered opening. He was cross-legged on a towel beside the fire. “Ahoy,” she said quietly, drawing near.

  “I thought that was you,” he said. “What are you doing out here so late?”

  “It’s only nine-thirty. Are they already asleep?”

  “Out cold. I ran them around the beach for a while, took them for a bathroom stop at Devon’s and bedded them down.” He reached over to the small cooler next to him. On top was something wrapped in foil. “S’more?”

  She knelt in the sand on the other side of his fire. “I believe I will. Was that dinner?”

  “First, hot dogs, then s’mores. My stomach is roiling,” he said.

  “Did you put an open can of beans on the coals? Because that’s real camping.”

  “That’s all I’d need, right?”

  “What’s lighting that tent?”

  “Battery operated night-light. The last thing I need is some clown in a dune buggy mowing us down in the night. That’s why we’re out here on a Thursday night instead of the weekend. Less competition.”

  “I brought you some hot chocolate,” she said, passing him the beach bag.

  “I don’t suppose it has a little brandy in it?”

  “I’m afraid not. Are you going to need a little something to get to sleep?”

  “I think I’ll be napping with one eye open. The other thing I’m not in favor of is a kid wandering into the water.”

  “Did Devon leave the light on for you?”

  He nodded and poured himself a cup of hot chocolate. “Half the fun of camping is peeing behind a rock or bush, but if we have any larger issues, her door is unlocked.” He sipped the hot drink. “This is great, Peyton. Really nice of you.” He reached back, pulled a log off a pile and tossed it on the embers.

  “You’re a very good sport,” she told him. “This is the sort of thing they’ll always remember.”

  “Me, too,” he said. “What kinds of things from your childhood stand out?”

  She chuckled a little. “Come on, I grew up on a farm—it’s a playground twenty-four hours a day. While my folks didn’t get to all the school events, just about every class party for every kid was held on the farm. My dad buried potatoes and ears of corn with hot coals, there was barbecue and homemade ice cream. And there was nookie in the loft.”

  “Is that so?” he asked with a laugh.

  “During sheep shearing a lot of extended family came to stay—lots of cousins. Lots of food. All the women cooked nonstop while the men sheared. Shearing was closely followed by some butchering. It was like a holiday.”

  “Did your father have a lot of sheep?”

  “While I was growing up there were fruit trees, vegetables, mostly potatoes, and a nice flock of sheep. My oldest brother, George, took over the sheep and grew the herd. Now it’s an even bigger circus. Kids tend to smuggle lambs into the house, treat them like puppies or kittens—it’s a rancher’s undoing. There’s other livestock, but mostly for personal use and consumption, not for commercial farming. We have chickens, a few cows and horses, three llamas—rude, spitting llamas. Dogs and cats. Every once in a while a stray animal shows up. There was a Clydesdale without a home when I was very young. He lived with us for years. We butchered the occasional calf. We grow some chickens for dinner and the eggs are plentiful. It was a menagerie, but my dad is serious about the pears and potatoes, and George is the king of sheep. In fact, if you don’t have anything major going on this weekend, I’d like to go to the farm for a couple of nights.”

  “You’re not on call or anything,” he said.

  “If you need me I’ll put it off a week,” she offered.

  “Nah, go ahead. Gabby is back, and Devon is going to be around if there’s an emergency.”

  “I’ll bring you some great stew and bread.”

  “I would love that. So, you’re feeling better about things? Or is part of getting better going home to the farm?”

  She laughed softly. “Sometimes it is, but my sister Adele will be at the farm for a week or so. Her husband will be with her for a couple of days, but as I mentioned, he has a restaurant in San Francisco—he’s afraid to leave it for a minute. But Adele is in her eighth month, and she’s due during the harvest which means Mama won’t be able to go to her then. I’ll stand in for Mama. That’s why it’s so important for me to be there.”

  “So you’re doing better,” he said.

  “Do I seem better?” she asked.

  “You seem a long way from your condition when I found you...you know.”

  “Crying like a fool?”

  “I wouldn’t have put it that way,” he said. “You were understandably upset.”

  “When I was a girl, I had the usual number of disappointments and broken hearts. I liked to go up into the hayloft for hours to work things out in my head, to map out my emotional journey. My papa always said my biggest problem was that I wanted everything perfect and didn’t allow that other people might have plans that weren’t exactly like mine. I might need a little time in the loft. When I started dating Ted I thought we were perfect for each other. We had a shared vocation, he had kids and I’m great with kids. I might not have been looking at the right things....”

  “Like loving him?” Scott asked.

  She swirled her hot chocolate and laughed. “Someone like me might think it’s love when all it really is is appearances. But I’m a lot better, thanks. On one hand, that bad news gave me just the kick in the ass I needed to really move on. To stop hoping he’d come to his senses and see that I was the perfect woman for him. I wanted to be done with that whole situation, but I admit, it was hard letting go. It is no longer hard. What’s hard is that I now doubt my instincts about men. About people. I’ve always been able to read people—I could smell a phony, a liar. I knew when I was being played. I also knew when I’d found someone real, someone wonderful. Now I wonder if my radar is all screwed up.”

  “Just practice it for a while, Peyton,” he said. “Turn your radar on and test it here and there. I bet you’ll find that even though you slipped off the rails once, it was just once. I see you with people every day. You’re good. You’re genuine. You know how to talk to them. You know what to ask and what to say, and they’re drawn to you. I think you’re going to be okay.”

  “I hope so, Scott. I grieve the time I gave Ted and his kids. I put my life and my desires on hold to try to meet their needs. I—”

  Scott was looking beyond her, and she turned to see what he was looking at. There were lights on the bay, fairly close to the big rocks that rose out of the water.

  “Boats?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Teenagers. Probably Landon, Eve, Ashley and Frank. They wear headgear like miner’s hats with lights on them, kneel or lay on their bellies on their boards and peer down into the water. They see amazing things down there in the dark of night. Huge fish. Dolphins. Frank claims to have seen a shark—hardly unheard of, but not too common in this inlet. Ashley t
old me it’s better than snorkeling, it’s like boarding on the top of an aquarium. But they don’t dare go very far out. The occasional boat comes motoring in, headed to the marina.”

  “I would love to do that,” she said, a little breathless with wonder. She’d never heard of this.

  “I’m sure you can get that group to take you out.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll go with you. I have yet to try it.”

  “Let’s do that,” she said, a little excitedly. “Do you paddleboard?”

  He shook his head. “There’s never been time.”

  “Well, you have a PA now, let’s make time!” Then she turned to watch the lights on the water. In the quiet they could hear the occasional talking or laughing. There wasn’t much of a moon, but it lit a path along the water. It was so peaceful, watching the lights glide along the water accompanied by a teenager’s laugh. Peyton had turned toward the water, watching, and eventually her eyes adjusted away from the firelight, and she could vaguely make out the shapes on the paddleboards—two standing, one kneeling, one sitting. Then there was a splash—one standing, one kneeling, one sitting. And there was laughter, louder than before. She shivered at the thought of being in the water.

  A jacket suddenly fell around her. She glanced over her shoulder to see Scott sitting just behind her. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  He squeezed her arms. He took her cup of hot chocolate out of her hands and put it aside. Then he pulled her back so she was sitting in the V of his legs, held in his arms. She turned and looked up into his eyes, which had grown darker.

  “Peyton, I’m not married and you’re not a lesbian. Think of the possibilities.”

  A laugh burst out of her. “That is the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard!”

  “I guess I’m not good at that sort of thing,” he said, but he held on to her.

  Peyton thought he was adorable. And he was the genuine one. He didn’t have lines because he’d never needed them. He made her laugh and want to kiss him. She gave his cheek a little stroke with her fingertips. “Being slick isn’t the best thing, Scott. Or so I’ve come to learn.” She sat up again and found her cup. “Can I have a little more?”

  * * *

  If Peyton was tired, it was her own fault. She had stayed up talking on the beach with Scott till nearly one in the morning. Neither of them could seem to shut it off, this getting to know each other with the assistance of a little cocoa and a few more s’mores. There was something about the exchange of information in the quiet, in the dark, over the red-gold flames of a campfire, that was just irresistible. They talked about school, childhood experiences, friends, college, travels, everything. She knew he had proposed to his wife while they were stuck in a traffic jam on the Golden Gate bridge when he was only twenty. Serena had been visiting him at Stanford over spring break, and he’d begged her to finish her term at Washington State and then transfer to be with him while he finished pre-med. They were married before medical school, and Serena had worked to support them. He’d said that for all the talk about how much work marriage was supposed to be, Scott found that life was infinitely easier with a partner.

  That was something Peyton had always believed must be true, or at least should be true. Even with eight kids, it seemed to have been the ideal for her parents.

  When he’d finally convinced her it was time to get some sleep, he’d watched her walk across the beach to the lone vehicle parked in the marina lot. When she’d gotten to work the next morning, he was already there. After a busy morning Scott had asked, “Are you still planning to drive up to the farm today?”

  “After work,” she’d said.

  “You’ve got a couple of appointments after two today,” he’d said. “I’ll cover them. You get yourself some strong coffee and head out of here early, get the driving done before you start to fall asleep.”

  “Don’t worry, I love to drive.”

  “I’d love it, too, if I were driving your car,” he’d said with a laugh.

  “It was my consolation prize to myself. A parting gift, if you will.”

  And Scott, who now knew as much about her as she could comfortably share, had laughed and said, “I think I’d like to break up with Ted.”

  “It came from me, a shallow and materialistic way to soothe my injured pride,” she’d corrected.

  “Ah. That makes sense. Is it working?”

  She’d grinned. “It helped at first,” she had replied, though the thing that was helping the most was her growing affection for her new boss. Was that a red flag she saw flapping in the breeze?

  He’d told her to get going and to drive safely.

  As she approached the Lacoumette farm, her spirits were rising. When she saw Adele sitting on the porch, waiting for her, her smile radiated. She jumped out of the car and raced up the porch steps to wrap her arms around her sister.

  “You feel good,” Peyton said. “I think the baby kicked.”

  “She won’t stop kicking for five minutes,” Adele said with a laugh. “I got us some tea. Don’t go inside yet. Mama is in the last stages of dinner. It’s crazy in the kitchen. I want to know how you’re doing.”

  Peyton was happy to sit on the porch awhile. “Who’s coming to dinner tonight?”

  “Not too many,” Adele said. “George, Lori and the kids, Matt’s here but he won’t stick around long after dinner, but tomorrow night—look out. There will be a bunch of Lacoumettes. How are you? Since you heard from Amy about Ted?”

  “Better than when I called you. You haven’t told Mama about Ted and his nurse, have you?”

  “Are you kidding me? And have her go to San Francisco and run through the Basque boarding houses in search of a proper husband for you? How catastrophic would that be?” Peyton knew that back in the old days, Basque men trolled the boarding houses where young single immigrant girls often worked. Some men traveled all the way back to their old village to pick out a bride. Arranged marriages and the use of matchmakers was not unheard of, even today. “Mama is upset about you and Ted, however,” Adele went on. “She’s happy it didn’t work out but angry at the way he treated you, the way his bratty kids treated you. She’s worried about you.”

  “She shouldn’t worry,” Peyton said. “I’m pretty tough. Plus, I think I’m in a good place right now.”

  “Geographically or emotionally?”

  “Both, really. Thunder Point seems to be a good little town, and the clinic is very small and surprisingly efficient. There are only three of us and one treatment room and two small exam rooms. I share an office with the doctor. I’ve been in bigger RVs, but it’s working and the people in Thunder Point use it all the time. I think they’re so happy to have a doctor in town.”

  “What’s he like? The doctor?”

  “Adele, he’s McDreamy. Very dedicated, and spread very thin. He keeps an ER schedule at a local hospital at least two days a week and sits on call most weekends—he says that’s what’s keeping the lights on. But he’s pretty confident he’s within months of the clinic supporting itself. I’m thinking of trying some grant writing before I leave—that clinic should qualify for assistance. He serves a lot of Medicare patients and folks on state-funded programs. He also volunteers as team doctor for the local high school, which can’t afford certified trainers or medics. This guy, Scott? He wants to make a difference.”

  Adele was making a face. “Didn’t Ted want to make a difference?”

  Peyton nodded. “Indeed he did,” she admitted. “Ted wanted power—the power over life and death. It brought him great satisfaction. He also wanted to make lots of money. It was his due. A person who routinely works hard and saves lives should make a good living, yes? Ted is brilliant, treats his patients very well and thoroughly enjoys his place in the world. He’s also arrogant, selfish, inconsiderate and, as I’ve learned, unfaithful. All that being said, if I had a serious heart condition, I’d get an appointment with Ted. Despite his shortcomings there is one thing I know he won’t do—he won’t fail as a cardiologist
. I know, because I’ve worked with him, for him. He’s meticulous. He’s driven. He wants to make a difference...for himself. I’ll observe the Thunder Point clinic for a while longer, but I think Scott wants to make a difference for the town, for the patients, for his kids. I could be wrong, but that’s what I think.”

  Adele smiled. “You like him.”

  “God help me,” she admitted.

  “You like him a lot.”

  Peyton sighed and took a sip of her tea. “You’ll like him, too. He has a generous spirit. A strong moral compass. If the babysitter called him and said his kids were impossible, he wouldn’t ignore it or make excuses. He wants them to grow up strong and good.”

  “Would you date him?”

  “I think it’s a very bad idea to date a single father, especially a doctor I’m working for. The last time I did that came at such a price! There’s too much at stake. There’s only one small problem. I’m starting to get a crush on him. He’s so wonderful.... But, no, I’m not going to date him.” She sighed. “I hope.”

  Adele smiled. “And I was never going to date a Basque man, especially one with a restaurant. Famous last words.”

  “Why did you date him?” Peyton asked.

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t help it. I was putting together his ads so we spent some time working together, and I couldn’t resist him. He asked me if he married me, would I do his ad copy for free and I said, no, absolutely not. Mama said, ‘That one you should marry.’ I said that would never happen. And it didn’t...for three more months.”

  “Mama is afraid for people who don’t get married,” Peyton said. “She can only see the world one way—in pairs. I’m a huge disappointment to her.”