Authors: Hope Navarre
“Hi,” he said.
She nodded. Cautious. “Peter.”
Without another word, she kept moving. Blood zinging with adrenaline, he fought every urge to chase after her, and instead rolled the man in the wheelchair forward. “You take good care of your heart, Mr. Berman,” he said. “We men have to keep our tickers strong so our women don't break them.”
Not quite understanding his tease, Mrs. Berman scoffed. “Bill will be just fine. Checking out his palpitations was a good precaution. Better to be safe than sorry.”
Peter opened the car door for the man. That sentiment had always seemed to make sense until now. Cassie was being safe instead of sorry in dealing with him, and more than anything Peter needed her to take a risk on him. To the woman's confusion, Peter said, “Mrs. Berman, I couldn't disagree with you more.”
He found Cassie at the nurses' station. Rachel raised a brow in his direction as he approached, as if to say, time to go, buddy. He glanced at the clock. His shift was almost finished. He'd been so busy all morning that he'd lost track of time. Ready to start her shift, Cassie was reading over the day's charts to catch up.
He ignored Rachel. He hadn't seen Cassie since she had asked him to leave her room three days ago, and he was aching for a chance to bridge the gap they had dug between them.
“You look good, Cass. Feeling better?”
If she caught his reference to their argument, she didn't show it. “I haven't thrown up in two days. Figured I could come in.” She gave him nothing more than a quick glance and a small, nervous smile before turning her attention to Rachel.
“Guess I'll start with the burn patient in room five. Is Doc around?”
Rachel took the charts Cassie handed her. “He's here. Check room three.”
Cassie walked away. Just like that. Peter's lungs felt like they were ripping from his chest. He forced himself to pull air into his constricted throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but Rachel silenced him with one of her don't-even-think-about-it looks.
“Doc warned you to give her space. Now I'm on patrol.” She tapped her watch. “Time's up, Nurse Chapman. Go home.”
“Whose side are you on?”
She shook her head. “No sides here, brother. We all want you two to come out of this mess in one piece.”
“Everyone wants us to make it except Cassie.”
“Oh, now you're feeling maudlin.”
He shrugged. “You gotta help me here, Rachel.”
She pointed to the door. “I am. Sign out and go home.”
* * *
C
ASSIE
WALKED
PAST
room three and room five and dove into the ladies' room, locking the door behind her. The heat in Peter's dark eyes when he had tried to talk to her had her knees quaking. There he was, smiling and chatting with the discharged patient in that way of his that made everyone he spoke with feel genuinely important. The couple had been smiling back because they had sensed his honest regard. The way Peter's face had switched from happiness to anguish when she had walked through the doors wrenched her gut. Yet, she had ignored him.
Why was she being such a bitch?
Because Peter had pushed her too far. All she could do was push back. She had ended up using all her strength to keep Peter, his proposal and his devastated look from her mind for the past three days, forcing herself not to think about him. She'd cut off any conversations Mom and Dad tried to start about Peter. Instead, she had slept for hours and watched mindless television when she couldn't sleep. She'd done fine avoiding all thought of him until walking in, seeing him first before anyone else and getting blasted with the desire in his eyes.
She knew his kindness firsthand. Knew the balm his soft words made on her jangled nerves. Understood when he presented her with that amazing ring that his intentions were honorable. Her insides turned to mush when she let herself think about him. Yet, she had pushed him away.
She twisted on the hot water and washed her hands, unwilling to look at her reflection in the mirror. A coward would look back at her if she did. Peter's parting words in her bedroom had done their job burrowing into her conscience. She didn't want to deal with any of it. Not now. Not when she was fighting for her life.
So much had happened since first seeing Peter drive past in his truck all those months ago. Instinct had told her back then that if she gave Peter one medicine cup full of her attention, she'd fall for him so deeply there would be no swimming back to the shore of her own good senses.
She'd been right. The worst had happened.
Almost.
She'd had the wisdom to cut off their relationship before it got out of hand. Her choice must have been correct because she felt like throwing up now just from seeing him again. Maybe she felt ill because she'd made a mistake. Or, because of the damned chemo poisoning her body.
Maybe you really don't want happiness.
His words stung. Circled her mind when she let them creep in. She'd already spent years working through the guilt of being the one to remain alive after losing Kyle. She'd learned to live with the pain of his death. The loss. Watched how his absence eroded the relationship between his parents until they'd divorced one year later. Had they broken apart because they'd believed they didn't deserve happiness after their son had died? Did she believe it was okay to continue living but not to build happiness on the memory of the dead?
She didn't want to think about her reasons any longer.
You'll never be courageous enough to put all your love into one man.
Kyle had been her heart, and he had disappeared from her life in the time it took to turn around. His death had blown a black hole wide-open in the middle of her being. She hadn't become a caregiver for nothing. Her need to help others had begun as a child when her mother had taken her to sit with children recovering from serious illnesses or older folks with no family. Then later on, when Mom had been on death's door under the influence of painkillers, and had lain in bed crying for Bobby, who'd been out at sea instead of holding her hand and feeding her ice chips like Grandma Mica had. Grandmaânot Dadâhad spoken the soothing words and tended to Mom's fevered head with cool compresses. Cassie had stood outside her room, quaking with outrage and feeling helpless because she could do nothing. Dad could have done something and he wasn't there. That dark gulf inside her had grown wider with the realization that you could love someone with your whole heart, but if they couldn't be there when you needed them most, what did it matter?
Cassie had watched. Learned.
Giving aid filled a need. Felt safer than asking for help. Giving aid gave one control over one's world. Felt more promising than collecting scars from abandonment. So giving aid became second nature to Cassie. Like breathing. Loved ones hurt you whether they intended to or not. By helping others, she could not be hurt.
Cassie loved her dad. She loved Peter. Oh, yes. She could say that with all certainty. But, damn them both, she couldn't give them her power. She was strong enough to care for herself. There was nothing wrong with a woman wanting to be in charge of her own destiny. Reconciling unintentional abandonment was much worse. She had no doubt that Peter loved her. He simply pushed her too hard, too fast. He was right that she wasn't ready to trust one man. She needed the gift of time. She had every right to slow things down. He simply shouldn't have shown her that goddamn ring.
The ring was perfect. Peter was perfect. The timing stunk. She stared at herself in the mirror. A coward didn't look back. A pale reflection of a woman gaunt with illness didâa woman battling more than her own wounded feelings, the pain of her loved ones or the distress she'd caused Peter.
She supported herself against the sink, her legs growing weak. What if she died? Knowing how Peter felt for her, breaking up with him saved him the devastation she still carried from losing Kyle. Hers was not the act of a coward, but an act of love. Breaking up with Peter wasn't about her. It was saving them both. Damn it all. She loved Peter enough to set him free.
She dried her hands. No. She'd done everything right. Peter would simply have to deal. Her stomach lurched, a burning went up her throat. She slapped the lid up for the toilet and heaved. Damnation. When would the purging end?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
B
OBBY
CLIMBED
INTO
the engine compartment of the
Lady Beth,
needing to fix something. He looked around the small, absolutely pristine space, already knowing every line, every valve, every bolt and screw was in place. The engine reflected his pride in his trawler, but it was nothing compared to his pride and love for his wife.
Yet deep inside, he knew he'd neglected Beth over the years in ways he would never neglect the boat. He knew the difference now. Knew it back then, but couldn't bring himself to face the truth. He'd been a wimp. His wife had courted death and needed him. He'd let her down in a big way. From the very start, he'd run out on her. Scared to death. Scared that he'd have to stand by and watch his wife die.
Sure, he had needed to keep an income flowing, especially with the medical expenses, but he was always an honest man and could never outrun the truth. There was no way he could have stood around and watch cancerâor chemotherapyâkill his wife. No one had promised she'd survive. The prognosis had been poor. Only a miracle could save her. He'd never been a praying man but he'd spend hours at sea begging the powers that be to turn their eyes on his ailing wife just that once.
They had. Beth survived. And by running away while his wife did battle without him, he had destroyed the precious light he'd seen in her eyes every time he walked through the door before she got sick. Like a finger snap, that light had turned off, leaving him scrambling to find the switch to turn it back on.
He'd worked his tail off since then to make things right. Turned on the affection. Improved the house. Made sure the money kept pouring in through the years to keep Beth and Cassie comfortable. Yet, he'd never spoken to Beth about his mistake. He carried on pretending that he'd done the right thing by acting like nothing was wrong. After all, if he'd hung around he'd have been a blubbering idiot and Beth wouldn't have had the strength to heal. She would have seen the fear in his eyes and believed she was going to die. But Beth had defied the odds and lived. He'd never been more proud of her. He'd never felt more ashamed of himself. He was reminded of it every time he held her in his arms. She'd never spoken a word of her disappointment, but he felt it in her kisses. In her casual replies. In the absence of her reaching for his hand when no one was looking.
Watching the intent Peter showed in wanting to be up front and present for Cassie, especially only knowing her a short time, had hammered home how badly he'd handled Beth's illness. Releasing a long breath, Bobby climbed out of the engine compartment, replaced the hatch and stepped off the
Lady Beth.
There was something he had to do that had been way too long in coming.
* * *
B
ETH
WAS
PULLING
groceries from the trunk of her car when he drove up. Seeing her now was like seeing her for the first time. She looked as beautiful as she had the first time he had seen her in seventh grade. Granted, he'd known her all his life, but up until seventh grade she was just long-legged, blond-haired Beth, who could outrun most of the boys. Then something happened in seventh grade, and her laughing blue eyes, beautiful smile and those cut-off denims did something that made him feel all weird inside. By the time they hit high school, they were spending every minute together. The day she married him was the best day of his lifeâuntil that early morning one year later when Cassie was born. Back then, he couldn't imagine living a day without Beth in his life. The feeling never felt as intense as it did right now.
“Hey, honey. Let me help you with those.” He grabbed the rest of the bags and shut the trunk.
She looked surprised to see him. “I thought you were running errands.”
He opened the kitchen door for her. “Yeah, and I'm here to finish the most important one.”
Concern creased her brow. “Oh, yes?”
He held the kitchen door open for her.
She smiled her thanks. “What's going on?”
One by one, he began emptying the bags, then realized he was buying time. Crushing one of the bags, he turned to face her. “Beth, there's something I have to ask you that is way too long in coming.”
She stopped what she was doing. “What is it, Bobby?”
He reached for her hands and kissed the backs of each. Not thinking he could trust himself, he let the words out in a rush. “Can you ever forgive me for hurting you so badly when you were sick? I know how much you needed me and how much of a total jackass I was for running off on you. I was too damned scared. Too damned worried that you were going to die to even stop and consider how hard that fight had been for you.”
Beth had stepped away from him while he spoke. She'd made it to the table and sat down.
He frowned. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “This is quite a bomb you're dropping on me.”
“But you've felt this way. I've known it all along.”
“Why now? Cassie?”
“Yeah. I see it now. You needed me to hold you. To promise you everything was going to be okay, and I didn't. I caved. I let my fear ruin the trust you held for me. I've pretended all these years that I'd done the right thing, but I can't pretend any longer.”
He pressed on. “Seeing Cassie sick, I'm remembering everything that happened between us, and it rips me up inside. Can you ever forgive me for leaving you at the worst possible moment of your life?”
Tears brimmed in her eyes. “If you only knew how long I have waited to hear you say those words, Bobby. Thank you.”
He blinked. Shook his head. “You mean that's it? You're not going to rant? Tell me how much of an idiot I am? What a fool I was?”
She laughed through her tears. “Well, if you already know that, why do I have to tell you?”
“I've wasted so much time being afraid to lose you.”
She wiped at her tears. “If we can hold on to the fact that we're both still alive and well, we can start to rebuild.”
He sat down next to her. “Are you willing to, Beth?”
“I don't think we have a choice. Cassie needs us to find our way back to each other.” Beth stood, reached for his hand and led him toward their bedroom. “So, why don't you come with me and we can start practicing.”