A Sea of Heartache

When he returned to the pilot house to start the mains, Karen was in tears.

"Hey, hey, hey. What is it, Karen?" He sat beside her, wrapping her in his arms.

"This is Sara," she choked out, holding the book to him. A beautiful blonde haired, green eyed little girl, happily playing with her tiny feet, stared back at him. He felt his own tears threatening to burst through.

"So beautiful. Just like her mom," Peter smiled, pulling her closer.

"Everyone said she looked like Charles, but her baby pictures and mine are dead ringers for each other. When she turned the page, a tall, handsome man in fatigues stood there, rifle in hand, smiling.

"I haven't looked at these in years," she sniffed, wiping her eyes. "But do you know what?"

"No. What?"

"It doesn't hurt nearly as much to look at them now. Do you have pictures of your wife and kids, Peter?"

"Yeah," he choked. "They've been sealed since I sold the house. Too many memories."

"I understand," she smiled, rubbing his chest. "Well take it from someone who now knows; it kinda helps chase away the bad memories. I remember when I took that picture of Sara. We'd just come back from a picnic. It was one of those perfect days. The only thing missing was Charles, so I Skyped him and he talked to Sara, laughing to beat the band, as she tried to talk back to him and then eat the phone."

Peter was both elated for Karen, and deeply saddened. He thought briefly of his own daughter, Megan, alias Mimi. He wasn't quite ready to dig out the pictures yet.

"You just sit back and enjoy, Karen. I'm going to pull in the lines and get us to Saint Margaret." He started the mains and the generator and went to the pier to disconnect. When he returned, Karen was still deeply engrossed in her photo album. He remained quiet, looking out over the horizon as he pulled away from the pier and out into the channel. Either the tide or a clean up crew had cleared all the debris.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I didn't mean to stir things up."

"You didn't. Sitting here, watching you so engrossed in your memories truly warms my heart. I don't think I'm quite ready to face mine just yet though."

"I understand. Would you like me to put this away for now?"

"Of course not. And feel free to share. We've got a two hour ride ahead of us and I just set the autohelm so, while I do need to keep an eye out, I can glimpse away every now and then to see a picture."

"Really? You're sure?"

"Sure. Who knows? Maybe it'll be just the push I need. You seem to have a knack for drawing things out of me," he smiled.

"I'm working on it," she smiled. "Is it working?"

"I believe it may be." He smiled, kissing her soft lips passionately. He didn't know what was coming over him, but he had to admit: it wasn't all bad.

*******

Surprisingly, Peter didn't feel as uncomfortable rummaging through the scant assortment of women's clothes available on the small island as he thought he would. When they had a chance, they'd head to the mainland for a few days to relax and let Karen stretch her legs and do a little shopping to get things more suiting her personal taste. He knew from some of their wild and crazy past "dalliances" that the utilitarian underwear they had at the small general store were far from Karen's normally exquisite tastes, but they'd get her through. Luckily, the toiletries were a breeze. She wore make up modestly. She didn't need it. Her flawless complexion and natural beauty would be hidden by more than lipstick and a little eye make up. She gave him brands and specifics for those and, thankfully, her tastes, and the majority of the women on St. Margaret's tastes, must have been in sync. They had everything she requested.

"I never realized you were into crossdressing, Peter," the voice behind him giggled.

"Candace! Nice to see you." Peter smiled, shaking her hand.

"Well let's pretend you didn't see me, ok? I'm here with my husband, so pretend we don't know each other. I'll explain later."

"Husband?! You didn't tell me you were married!"

"Oh come on, Peter. You can't be that naïve."

"Apparently I am. And no later explanations are necessary, Candace. Have a good life." He stormed off, shocked, paid for his purchases and got out of that store as quickly as his feet would carry him. He admitted that he may have been a sonofabitch, but fooling around with a married woman was over the limit-even for him. He was furious. How did he not read the signs?

"Peter! Wait!" Candace was running up the sidewalk behind him. She grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. "What's the problem? We agreed that what we were doing was just for fun. Now you're suddenly having a come to Jesus moment?"

"You're married, Karen."

"So? So's Tammy for that matter. When you've been married for a while, you sort of get a taste for something different every now and then. I mean, I love my husband, but eating bologna sandwiches every night gets boring after a while."

"I'm sorry, Candace. In as much as I may appear to be a total dick, I do have some standards. And fooling around with married women just isn't in my make-up. Not that I'm condemning you. I'm in no position to judge anyone. But that's just a line I don't care to cross. I've got enough explaining to do when I meet Saint Peter as it is."

"Too bad, Peter. You're an awesome lover. You will keep this between us, right?"

"Of course I will. I certainly don't have any plans of blackmailing you or causing you any grief. But you can pass my sentiments along to Tammy. We can wave in passing from now on, but the rest has to stop. Let's keep our acquaintance to meeting in public."

"I understand." She reached up to kiss his cheek. "Find that happiness you so desperately seek, Peter. Whatever demons you're battling, let them go. Life's too short. Be happy." She kissed him again and was gone, waving sadly.

Peter hit a few more shops along the way in a daze. He made short work of it. All he wanted to do was get back to the boat and forget everything running through his head. Had he really not realized Candace and Tammy were married, or did he just choose to ignore all the blatant signs? He felt dirty. What's worse, he realized that he'd done on to others exactly what Candace and Tammy had done on to him. Karen being the first person that came to mind.

He felt a deep sense of peace as he pulled his wagon down the dock and up the brow amid the familiar surroundings of the boat. The warmth of the salon quickly started chasing off the chill the damp, near freezing day and the revelations installed deep in his bones.

"Hi, you! Have any luck?"

"The day I met you!" He wrapped her nude body in his arms, her crutches falling to the floor and kissed her like there was no tomorrow. In mid kiss, he swept her up in his arms and carried her off to the lounge and sat, bringing her down in his lap.

"Holy shit! I need to write that one down in my journal before I forget one nuance of how totally amazing that was! Not that I'm complaining in the least, but what brought that little bit of heaven on?"

"Just suffice it to say that I will spend every minute for the rest of the time you can put up with me, making up to you for the terrible, horrible way I treated you?"

"Peter? What is it, Sweetheart? You've never treated me terribly?"

"Yes, Karen, I have. I foolishly thought that our dalliances, as you called them, were emotionless pressure relief exercises. I dragged you into my hell, totally disregarding your feelings. And I can't apologize enough to make up for that."

"Peter! You truly are set on a life of martyrdom, aren't you? I mean, come on. How many times do I have to say it? I was a totally willing participant in our "dalliances," she smiled, using her fingers to emphasize the quotes. "To be honest, you're one hell of a lover. After the first time, I used to get all twitchy, praying I'd see Recluse tying up at the pier so you could rock my world again. Our original understanding was a mutual thing. Yes, I started having feelings for you soon after. I'm not going to apologize for that. And it certainly isn't as if I shared those with you-well, until I had that childish meltdown. That wasn't your fault, Peter."

"When did you come to the realization that it was more than just a sexual thing?"

"The night you fixed that homemade pizza and we laid in bed watching Casablanca," she smiled, lost in the memory. "You were just so sweet and so, I don't know: accommodating. I remember we fooled around, twice if I remember correctly," she giggled, "then you asked if I was hungry. You made that pizza, then popped in the movie and we just laid there, enjoying the pizza, which was excellent, by the way, and the movie. We talked and held each other and it was just so wonderful."

"If I remember correctly, I ended up eating a slice of that pizza off of your gorgeous boobs when you dropped it on yourself," he laughed, squeezing her a little tighter.

"Truth be told, I dropped it on purpose," she laughed, blushing. "Now let's put this whole guilt trip thing to bed right now. I certainly have. We were a couple of lonely, horny people when we met. We found some comfort and solace in each other. We both agreed to that. And things have blossomed, thank God. At least on my end they have. Are you rethinking things?"

"Of course not. If nothing else, my determination to keep that beautiful smile on your face is becoming a pleasant quest."

"And I think you're just the man to do it." She grabbed his face with both hands and planted the kiss to beat all kisses on him.

"Feel free to do that any time you like," he laughed, quoting her. "And please don't think that any of the garments I got you are in anyway a reflection on my taste. The general store is great if you need dog food, beer or farm implements, but they could definitely use a woman's touch in their clothing department," he laughed, laying his shopping spree out on the couch.

"What? None of those lacy wares that get you all hot and bothered," she giggled, pulling out all the toiletries.

"Not a chance. Not that you need props, you sexy thing. I can honestly say I did look, though. I have a feeling that a whole lot of people on this island make love in the dark," he laughed.

"Well you did wonderfully. Not exactly my taste, but definitely my size. Thank you so much, Peter."

"My pleasure, Dear Lady. And you won't have to wear them for long. We'll get you out in the air soon and you can pick out what truly suits your tastes on one of the bigger islands."

"Listen. Do you have to be back on Adamson anytime soon?"

"Not really, no. I'm officially on convalescent leave. Until my handsome doctor releases me, I'm as free as a bird."

"Ever been to Yarmouth?"

"No. I hear it's beautiful, though."

"It is. And if you're feeling up to it, I'd like to show it to you. We can see the sights, eat some good food and just relax."

"I'd love that, Peter! But don't you have patients to see?"

"Not for another week. Unless I get a distress call, I only round on the islands every two weeks or so. And, thankfully, my patients are currently all stable and they have enough medicine to last them for another few weeks. It's storm season. I always make sure they have an ample supply in case I get bogged down somewhere."

"Then I'd love to go to Yarmouth! Thank God they salvaged my purse when they found me. My passport and all my papers are in there."

"Then we'll relax tonight and cast off in the morning. We can hit Dunwoody and do a little shopping so you can get some clothes more suited to your taste, then leave for Yarmouth from there."

"Sounds like heaven," she smiled. "Really? Grannies is all they had," she giggled, holding up a pair of the plain white cotton panties.

"Sorry, Kiddo. It's just a little general store. No department stores or malls on Saint Margaret.

"Well these jeans and the tops are beautiful. Thank you very much. And I'll be forever grateful for the deodorant and the soap and things. I'm clean, but my pits smell manly," she giggled.

"You're still sexier than a body has a right to be," he smiled, giving her a squeeze.

"Well if you have no objections, Doctor, I'll just wear this old thing until we get to Dunwoody," she giggled, arms out, displaying her ungodly beauty for Peter's perusal.

"No complaints whatsoever," he laughed, scooping her up in a hug. "That is, without question, the most beautiful outfit ever made."

"The fact that it pleases you is all that matters to me. How bad do you think the scarring will be, Peter? I mean, will I ever be able to wear shorts again?"

"Karen! Are you serious? In the first place, anyone seeing those beautiful eyes or that heart stopping smile of yours wouldn't be looking at your legs. And if they do, they'll see a thin, red line that, unless those shorts are very short, will barely be noticeable under the hem. I'm not bragging or anything, but I take great pride in my suturing and stapling prowess," he laughed. "And if you religiously rub cocoa butter on it after every shower, once the cast is off, of course, in a year or so, it'll probably be all but gone."

"And I see you also thought of cocoa butter," she smiled.

"Peter, I can't thank you enough. I mean, three weeks ago I thought I'd never see you again. Then, when anyone else would have ignored Sandy's distress call after the way we'd treated you, you charge out in a storm of ungodly magnitude, risking your life and Recluse, perform a surgery only you can perform on someone who you thought shunned you shortly before, put up with untold abuse from me and, from what Adele told me, everyone else, then you came back. Do you not see that, try as you may, that wonderful heart of yours outweighs that phony curmudgeon persona you were trying so hard to perfect?"

"Karen, let's have a heart to heart. Ok?" He sat beside her and took her hands in his.

"Yes. You're right. I mean, I took Sandy's abuse as kind of a challenge. I was actually starting to enjoy our sniping because, frankly, she was an amateur doing battle against a master. She's just soooo easy. I learned how to deal with the rich, upper crust when I was in college. My parents hit the lottery in my first year of college. Before that, my dad was a working class stiff and mom was a stay at home mom. I got a scholarship to an ivy league school where I was running around in Levi's and New Balance, and my classmates were wearing designer and custom tailored clothes. I drove a nineteen-seventy-six AMC Hornet hatchback that was more rust than it was metal, while they were driving Beamers and Mercedes. You either become real quick at one-upping the smart assed rich kids, or you suffer the slings and arrows.

"But in my entire life, I don't think anything, other than the death of my family, ever hurt me as deeply as your rejection that night when you came up from that anesthesia." Karen immediately wrapped her arms around him, tears flowing from her freely.

"I didn't say that to hurt. I said it to make a point. Try as I may to prevent it, you had managed to get to me, probably even before that great pizza party. No matter how strong I'd built that wall, no matter how aloof or downright mean and uncaring I tried to be, you managed to find the chink in my armor. I was just so confused. So hurt. I felt like I was betraying Hailey, someone who I'd already committed the most heinous betrayal against, by even thinking about you. And I thought about you a lot."

"Now that I've started making some peace with my demons, as you call it, I want to make a clean slate and, if you truly want to see where we can go, give you all the facts to let you make a clear decision."

"Peter. Peter. Shussshhh," she smiled, placing her tiny fingers over his lips.

"Honey, do you think me naïve? Do you think I was honestly air headed enough to believe I was your only booty call? Let's see. I know you and Cathy had a thing. She told me. I know you and Mary Ann did the horizontal mambo in the scrub room. Let's see. There's someone named Linda on Pear Island. She called the switchboard on Adamson; rather miffed, by the way. Said you were everything but a human being," Karen laughed. "And something about a waitress here on Saint Margaret. Does that about sum it up?"

"What? Did you hire a private detective?"

"Of course not, Peter. But the village drums on these islands beat a whole lot louder, and the message spreads a whole lot faster, than the internet ever dreamed of passing information. Do you have feelings for any of those women?"

"No, Karen. And I can look you right in the eye and tell you that with all honesty."

"And I believe you unequivocally. I knew that, Peter. I suspected it all along, so I wasn't surprised when I found out it was true. So, if I may, is that part of your life over?"

"Of course it is, Karen. I certainly wouldn't have poured my soul out to you, and invited you to come aboard and stay with me, if it weren't. I'm done hurting you. I never, ever want to hurt you ever again."

"And I believe that unequivocally, too. I never thought you intended to hurt me in the first place. You got that impression when I stood there so frustrated that I couldn't get through to you, that I had a childish tantrum out of sheer desperation. And to further leverage my hand in the guilt pool, had you grabbed my hips and banged one out, I'd have enjoyed it as much as I'd enjoyed all our other carnal romps. But you couldn't do it. You're not that kind of man. And that, my dear doctor, is when I knew I was getting to you," she giggled.

"And, just to further let you know what a mean, horrible man you are, Adele called me while you were out. Seems she mysteriously got a full ride to go back to school and get her nurse anesthetist's certificate. She was asking if I would consider speaking to Sandy to have her rehired as an anesthetist once she passes her boards."

"Well good for her! She's a good kid," Peter was elated.

"You're such a phony," Karen giggled, using her good leg to propel herself against Peter and push them both back on the couch, her on his chest, still giggling.

"Does the name Carolyn Bornstein ring any bells with you? I ask, because Adele used me as a reference on her application and Carolyn called me. Lovely lady. We had a looooong chat after I assured her that Adele was one of the most kind, caring people I'd ever met, and one of the best practitioners I've ever had the pleasure to open wide and say ah to."

"Ok, Copper. Ya got me. The jig's up. What's my sentence?"

"Your sentence, Mugsy, is the rest of the time you can put up with me learning again what it's like to have someone who truly loves and cares about you by your side, through thick and thin, bad dreams and all, adoring you and reveling in the dream of being with the real Doctor Peter Richardson."

"So I guess it's life, huh?"

"It is if you want it to be."

"I'm strangely starting to believe I truly do. Without the possibility of parole."

"For the record, Mugsy; handcuffs can be a fun addition to the whole prison scenario, wink, wink."