Authors: Hope Navarre
Casting off from land untethered him and Bobby, as if tapping into some primal memory, tying men and adventure to the sea. The easy sway of the trawler making its way over the water to the jetty exhilarated him almost as much as riding the perfect curl.
What was it about the ocean's draw that he couldn't resist? He knew in a heartbeat: freedom. Absolution. Stimulation. Connection with a force of nature so improbable that you were either nurtured or mercilessly brought down, making the risk worth riding over or exploring beneath her waters. He turned his face into the sun, the breeze cooling his skin, lifting his hair. The draw was impossible to resist. He understood why so many women and men loved the sea. Writers. Singers. Sailors. Artists. Athletes. Philosophers. Fishers. Lovers. Loners. The ocean's constant motion and unfathomable depths were too magnificent to ignore.
He joined Bobby in the wheelhouse. The smell of salt air, seasoned wood and a pleasant lingering scent of fish filled his lungs.
“Nice day for a run,” Peter said.
Bobby adjusted the Yankees cap on his head. “A good day at sea is better than a bad day in Heaven, my boy.”
Peter smiled. “I'm glad to finally be taking a spin with you.”
“Yeah. Should have had you out sooner.”
Peter clapped Bobby on the shoulder. “I can pretty much figure out why you didn't.”
Cassie's father released a long sigh. “Life sure can complicate matters sometimes.”
The men stood in companionable silence, sipping coffee from insulated containers while Bobby steered the
Lady Beth
through the jetty into open water.
“Where are we headed?”
Bobby shrugged. “How about a few miles out? Let's see what's running.”
“Sounds good.” Peter scanned the horizon. The sea was pretty calm, and the
Lady Beth
rode the small swells with an easy grace. “So, how is Cassie doing?”
“The same, I'd say.” Bobby looked at Peter. “She told us about your proposal. I'm sorry she said no.”
“I have to say, I didn't see her refusal coming. I thought for sure she'd say yes.”
“You mad at her?”
Peter scoffed. “Seriously not. Distressed? Yes.”
“She said you were pretty rough on her.”
“I didn't candy-coat my reaction to her rejection. No.”
Bobby nodded once. “Good.”
“Really?”
“It's been a long time since Kyle. She has to move on.”
“I believe she
is
in love with me. That's the problem.”
“I want to know what you're planning to do.”
Peter stood straighter. “Well, if you think for a minute that I'm giving up on her, you're out of your mind.”
Bobby adjusted the trawler's bow and pushed the
Lady Beth
to an easy cruising speed. “I'm glad to hear your resolve. You're good for her.”
Not sure if he should prod into a subject where he didn't belong, he took the chance. “Doc tells me Kyle was like a son to you.”
Bobby actually winced. When he looked at Peter, anguish pooled in his eyes, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Losing that kid was like the devil deciding to destroy me.”
Peter couldn't even imagine trying to wrestle with the burden of such guilt. “That day must have been hell for you.”
Tears filled Bobby's eyes. He choked on his words. “I don't think I'll ever get over losing Kyle.”
“What happened?”
He released a ragged breath. “We were near the canyon. Hundreds of feet deep. We first heard about the storm on the ship-to-shore before we saw her coming. The black clouds flew toward us like witches flying in front of the sun. The rain, thunder and lightning hit within minutes. The wind whipped up the sea like a washing machine.”
“Wow.”
“When I figured out what happened I cut the damned engines. Kyle was wearing an inflatable life jacket. The damned thing must have been faulty or he would have floated. His waders filled up and dragged him down. The three of us scrambled around the deck screaming his name in that storm, stripping off our clothes while looking for some sign of him. Something to grab hold on, while clinging to the sides so none of us would get swept over. We only needed some sight of him beneath the surface so we could dive after him. We wanted Kyle back. One minute that damned wave swamped the deck. The next minute, Kyle was...gone. Goddamn the ocean for taking him.”
Bobby slapped the wheel, his voice tight with frustration. “How do you go home to your baby and tell her you lost the man she loved?” He rubbed his eyes. “How do you tell your buddy and his wife that their son isn't coming home? Ten years later and it feels like he died yesterday.”
“It wasn't your fault. Nor'easters come from nowhere and are deadly.” Peter knew his explanation did nothing to make Bobby's sense of guilt any less. No words could.
“Blame isn't the problem. It's living with the helplessness of knowing there was nothing I could do.” He shook his head. “I can promise you, that day brought me low.”
“Yet, you still come out here.”
Bobby held up a hand. “Doc told you straight. Kyle was like the son I never had. Out here is the only place I can talk to him. I wanted to bring you out here so he could check you out and see how determined you are to take good care of his girl.”
“Jesus, Bobby.”
A crooked smile broke on his face. “When I thought Beth was dying, here is where I emptied my soul. The good part is, you can howl your brains out and no one will hear you.”
Silence fell in the wheelhouse once more. After a while, Bobby gestured to the wheel. “Want to run her for a while?”
Peter took the helm. He skimmed the horizon, resting on a black cylinder-shaped object. “Do I head for that buoy?”
Bobby laughed. “Probably not a good idea.”
“Okay. What's so funny?”
“It's no buoy. You're looking at the conning tower of a submarine heading out from Connecticut. You'd be chasing that puppy for miles and never catch up.”
It felt good to laugh at his own ignorance. “I guess I'd make a lousy sailor.”
“Nothing a little time at sea couldn't change.”
“Well, I have a bigger fish to catch back on land. She has another think coming if she believes for one second that I'm going to let her get away.”
Bobby looked at his watch. “We'll have to head back in a while anyway. I promised Beth I'd take her to lunch before Cassie got off from work. Beth likes to be around when Cassie is home.”
A pang of longing rocked him. It wasn't even a week and he craved some quiet time with her. “I know the feeling. Don't rub it in.”
Back at the dock, Peter phoned his brother.
“Hey, Gil. Where are you?”
“In town. Rudy and I are talking with this lovely woman who owns the flower shop.”
“Can you pick me up?”
Bobby finished securing the dock lines. “I'll give you a ride home, Peter.”
Gil must have heard Bobby's offer. “That would be great, bro. Some interesting stuff is going down here. If we could have another half hour we might have good news.”
“I'll have Bobby bring me to the florist's. It's closer than his house.”
“That works. See you in a few.”
Peter found Rudy and Gil chatting with the petite redhead who owned the store. The three of them stood by the counter at the register discussing marketing strategies and ways to rearrange the interior of the store, talking as if they were lifelong friends.
Gil lit up when he saw his brother. “Pete, come meet Janie Baldwin.”
Peter shook hands with the smiling woman. “You sold me roses in the beginning of the week.”
“I remember. You're dating Cassie Michaels.”
He didn't bother to explain the change in their relationship. After all, if he had his way, he'd be turning Cassie's attentions back onto him as soon as possible. “That's right.”
At Rudy's raised brows, he shrugged.
Janie gestured to the guys. “Talk about coincidence. I've met the love of my life, but he happens to live in Key West. So, I'm changing my life. Relocating.”
Gil added, “Rudy and I are buying the flower shop from Janie. She's offering us excellent terms.”
Peter whistled. “Holy cow. You guys move fast.”
“No moss on these rolling stones, bro.” Gil shook Janie's hand. “So, your attorney will draw up papers and we'll talk more next week.”
Janie smiled. “Perfect. I can't believe how well this worked out.”
Rudy put a hand to his chest. “Breathe deep, Petie. Can you imagine spending every day around the fragrance of flowers? This is heaven to me.”
Peter laughed. “If you want me to be happy for you, don't call me Petie, especially in front of a lady.”
Gil steered Peter from the store. “Next stop, your friend Brian. Let's secure that apartment so we can enjoy the rest of the day. I want to hear how your sail went with Bobby and the deep blue sea.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
C
ASSIE
SAT
IN
the recliner chair in the infusion area on the third floor of the hospital. Doc had been by earlier while they had administered the pre-chemo drugs through her port. His easy chatter helped distract her from the medicines burning her chest, and the warm blanket tucked around her lessened the chill running through her body. Today she wore a fleece athletic cap on her head because she just could not get warm during treatments.
While waiting for the pharmacy to mix her chemo cocktail, Mom had run down to the lounge to answer some phone calls. Dad sat in the chair next to Cassie in her little cubicle watching a morning talk show, which she was sure held no interest for him.
She caught his glance jumping back and forth from the television to the heart monitor reading her vital signs. She appreciated that Dad wanted to be here for her. Probably would have been better if he wasn't, though. She sensed his worry, knew he didn't have the stomach to watch her suffer. She didn't have the heart to ask him to give her space the way she had summarily dismissed Peter. She couldn't be so unkind to Dad. They had too much history to cause each other any more pain.
The irony was, Peter would have been the perfect bedside companion for her during these chemo sessions, the way he had been for the first half of her sessions. Yet, she'd made damn sure he hadn't been here for any more after they had broken up. She had given strict instructions to the nurses in charge not to admit him. She knew her decision hurt him, but she had to win this battle without leaning on him. Right or wrong, it was her decision. She'd live with her choiceâor not.
Closing her eyes, she pushed Peter from her mind for the hundredth time that day. She'd been so tempted to answer his last text, but what good would that have done? She had asked for distance between them. And she was getting it. She hadn't expected his absence to consume her every waking thought. What the heck was wrong with her?
The chemo nurse returned with a second nurse wheeling the infusion. They'd done Cassie's blood work earlier and given her a copy for her files. The nurse asked Cassie to read her arm band, state her name and date of birth to check against the proscribed chemical mix to be sure she would be given the correct dosage.
In one breath, she hated this regimen, in the other, she was grateful for a cure. Knowing her body was going to physically react to the poison for the next week had her heart pumping. Breathing deep, she popped in the ear buds from her iPod. Her muscles immediately relaxed in response to the flow of tranquil piano music filling her mind.
She settled into her recliner for the long four-hour infusion while the nurse attached the tubes to her port. She had lost a few more pounds this past week. They'd told her to eat a large breakfast this morning, but she hadn't been able to. A milk shake and toast were all she'd eaten.
Between the steroids and the other nonchemo drugs, she felt curiously alert for the beginning infusion. Dad had held her hand while they'd inserted the tubes, and he still held it now as they sat together, music streaming through her ears while she watched the feisty blonde on the talk show measuring her short height against her guest, a seven-foot-tall basketball player.
An unusual sensation of nausea overcame Cassie. She swallowed a few times, realizing her throat had tightened. Her skin felt prickly. She didn't want to say anything to distress Bobby, so she breathed slow steady breaths and hoped what was happening wasn't what her nurse's mind told her was happening. A cold sweat broke on her forehead. Her throat constricted more. Bobby squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. The television screen began to gray before her eyes, focus blurring. She blinked a few times. The screen swirled. No. She needed help. Fast. Pulling the ear buds from her ears, she said, “Dad. Help.” She wasn't sure if the words came out. She tried to mouth the words to get the nurse, but the light-headed sensation grew more intense, gave her a sudden sense of calm. She decided she didn't need to speak. No, she'd rest. Closing her eyes, she drifted. Bobby called her name from a distance. Once. Twice. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was aware her mother had returned and had begun yelling.
* * *
F
INISHING
UP
WITH
a patient whom Doc had just fitted with a cast, Peter was unable to take his mind off Cassie, who was undergoing treatment three floors up. Today was her second-to-last chemotherapy regimen. He had signed up for a double shift today and knew exactly in which room she was having her infusion. He wanted to be aroundâas close as he could get without upsetting her, just as he had every single chemo treatment since she asked him to leave.
He knew Cassie had given orders not to let him in, but the nurses were kind enough to let him peek in when she was dozing, or assured him of her progress if she was awake. Beth and Bobby were with her now. Bobby had come down about an hour ago to let him know all the preliminary meds had been administered and they were waiting for the chemicals.
He could see Cassie in his mind's eye lying back in that recliner, resting and staying painfully still while the chemo invaded her body through the port in her chest. He could imagine the three infusion bottles hanging upside down on the metal holder silently dripping the poison into her. Hear the soft, soothing music playing from her iPod. Cassie hated this treatment. Knowing how much this cure hurt her made his heart ache. He'd do anything to be in her room right now. He wanted to be there for her. Hold her hand. Stand watch over her until the last awful drop of chemo was finished, then bundle her into his arms and carry her home.
She never answered the text he'd sent her on Friday. If Gil and Rudy hadn't distracted him all weekend, he would have gone out of his mind. The sooner her therapy was over, the sooner he could begin his campaign to win her back. He wasn't a praying man, but this entire ordeal was bringing him to his knees. All he could do was keep working. He headed to the nurses' station. Rachel was there managing her morning paperwork.
“How are you holding up, Peter?”
He tapped the finished chart to his forehead. “Not so good. How about you?”
“I hate thinking about her up there,” Rachel said.
“Bobby said she had a good night's sleep so was rested for the treatment.”
“I spoke with her yesterday. She sounded steady.”
While he tucked the chart in the filing bin, Rachel said, “Huey tells me he's joining you fellows for the fishing expedition next week.”
He was grateful she changed the subject. At least working on the fund-raiser gave him a sense of doing something positive to help Cassie. Maybe if he told Rachel how badly he wanted to speak with Cassie, she would pass the word.
“I'd do anything for a chanceâ”
“Rapid response team. Floor three. Room three-seventeen.”
Peter's blood ran cold at the alert coming over the speaker. He and Rachel exchanged shocked glances. “That's Cassie's room!”
He bolted for the stairs.
Doc was coming out of the elevator as Peter blasted through the stairwell on the third floor. Without a word, the two men ran to Cassie's room. Help was already there with the crash cart and gurney. The nurses were stripping the chemical lines from her port, reading her vital signs, prepping the oxygen bag.
The chemo nurse said, “Blood pressure eighty over forty. Anaphylaxis.”
With one glance at the monitors, Doc said, “Let's get her down to emergency.”
* * *
C
ASSIE
FLOATED
.
S
HE
really wished Doc would stop barking orders. She could hear him just fine. She was comfortable where she was. Light. Free. Oh, if she waited just a little longer, she'd see Kyle. She'd heard him whisper her name in the whiteness surrounding her, but Doc's voice was too loud. Mom was answering him in her crisp, efficient nurse voice. There were other voices invading her hearing, vaguely familiar but they meant nothing to her.
“Cassie...come on, honey. Wake up.”
Peter! Now, his voice drew her attention. Like sea-swept air and burgundy wine, Peter's voice spiced her awareness with recognition, with want, with desire to reach out and connect. She sighed. The feeling of lightness and well-being that engulfed her deteriorated to a buzzing in her ears, burning in her chest, her nostrils stinging with the deep inhale of air.
Her eyes opened. She felt as if she were returning from a distant place. Peter's face hovered above her, his concern quickly morphing into that heart-melting grin. Those dark eyes softened when his gaze locked onto hers. Unbridled love seemed to pour right into her from the look in his eyes. She was mesmerized.
“Hey, beautiful. Welcome back.”
“Peter? What...?” Her throat parched, she couldn't finish speaking.
Peter bent to kiss her forehead. “Anaphylactic shock, honey. You had a delayed allergic reaction to the chemo.”
Doc and Mom stood on the other side of her bed. Relief flooded her mother's face. Doc flashed her that satisfied smile they always shared between them when a medical task was well done.
Beth took her hand. “How do you feel, honey?”
Tired. Sweaty. Like crap. “I want to go home.”
Doc chuckled. “We're going to watch you a bit longer before releasing you, Cassie. That was a close one.”
She nodded. “I could sleep.”
Bobby stepped up to the bed, stood next to Peter. “Well, you'll be happy to know that I fainted.”
Cassie was too weak to express her amusement. Even in her exhaustion, she registered how pale he looked. “Oh, Dad. Such a softie.”
“I'm a wimp. At least I own up to it.”
Doc laughed. “You're more of a man than most just for admitting the truth.”
Careful of the IV in her other hand, Peter slipped his fingers through hers. “How does it feel to be on the receiving end of the E.R.?”
She shook her head slowly. “Let's not have a replay anytime soon, okay?”
Beth nodded. “You won't have to worry about that.”
Tears filled her eyes. A close call. She was done. “No more treatments for me, Mom. Dad. If the cancer doesn't kill me, the chemo will.”
Doc squeezed her arm. “No problem there. As of this morning, your chemo treatments are officially over. We're not taking any more chances with chemicals.”
“When can I go?”
Doc laid a hand on her shoulder. “Rest for a few more hours. Once we're sure you're stabilized, I'll release you for home.”
She closed her eyes. Not even aware that the thought had become words, she whispered, “Will Kyle be there?”
She realized what she'd said when the pressure of Peter's hand loosened. As he slid his fingers from hers, she opened her eyes. Peter was staring at Bobby, a look of regret on his face. He glanced at her, briefly smiled, then exited the room.
* * *
P
ETER
PULLED
INTO
the lighthouse parking lot and looked due east. Clouds over the horizon shimmered with predawn light. The Fisherman's Memorial, Long Island's easternmost piece of art placed between the Montauk Point lighthouse and the vast Atlantic crashing on the rocks below the cliff, stood silhouetted against the orange and pink hues staining the sea and sky.
When they had first met, Cassie had told him that Kyle's mother came here on his anniversary every year to leave flowers in his memory. Sure enough. He could see the damned bouquet she'd placed last week from here.
No way could he compete with the dead.
Peter approached the memorial, the sculpture's relief taking shape against the silhouetting sunrise. A pink granite pillar supported the bronze form of a man standing in a boat. The inscription read:
In Remembrance of Those Lost at Sea While Fishing These Waters.
His insides wrenched at the thought of Cassie surviving a near brush with death yesterday, Kyle's name, not his, on her lips. He remembered the grateful look of love in her eyes when she had regained consciousness and seen him. Yet, when speaking about going home, she had wanted Kyle.
A damned ghost.
The woman of his dreams was fighting for her life. All he wanted to do was love her, help her heal. But no. She'd turned him, and his offer of marriage, away because of a manâand a memoryâlost at sea years ago. Peter couldn't even lay hands on the dude to punch him out for breaking her heart...and get some satisfaction or release for his anger.
His tormentor stood over him in the form of Montauk's larger-than-life memorialâa muscled fisherman, shirtless, wearing waders and hauling a line. The fisherman stared away from Peter with sightless eyes, intent on the invisible catch over the side of the boat.
Peter pulled the engagement ring from his pocket. His grandmother's ring. Saved for the perfect woman. From his other pocket, he drew a pocketknife. As the morning sun rose over the horizon and splashed brilliant gold light around him, Peter kneeled to the left of the fisherman, and sliced deep into the grass. In a hole deep enough to siphon his life, he buried the ring, marking the burial place in his heart.
He walked away.
Sometimes the oceanâand the deadâhad no mercy.
* * *
I
T
WAS
LATE
MORNING
, Cassie sat up in her bed in lightweight sweatpants and a pink hoodie, the fleece cap on her head, finishing off breakfast on a tray, which she had balanced across her lapâif one considered breakfast a strawberry milk shake, barbecued chicken wings and a pile of mashed potatoes.
It had taken four days for Cassie to start feeling better. Luckily, they had only begun to administer the chemo drip in the hospital when she had reacted adversely to the drugsâher body didn't have to purge as much poison had she consumed a full dosage.