A Sea of Heartache

"I'd hardly call you non-essential, Adele. Come on in. Can I get you a beer or a soda? A glass of wine, maybe?"

"A beer sounds great, Peter. Thank you."

"Have a seat."

"My God! From the way Sandy painted this boat, I was expecting some floating garbage scow. This boat is absolutely gorgeous."

"Sandy's never even been aboard. You've been listening to her rabid, imagined ramblings for too long. Must be wishful thinking. Doctor Moore and I have a sort of love-hate relationship. We love to hate each other."

"She doesn't hate you, Peter. I'd say the opposite was more the case. She's just dedicated to medicine and she looks at those who don't have her obsessive level of commitment to somehow be denying the sick."

"She places an awful lot of stock in her own opinions, that's for sure. While my practice may be a little unorthodox, I can assure you that I give my patients everything I have, and I still study continuously to keep those skills honed and up to date."

"I saw that when you operated on those patients. You're definitely a very skilled surgeon, Peter. And if I'm breaking a confidence here, I'm sorry, but Sandy did see Karen before you came in. She's the one who condemned the leg. She knew she couldn't handle something that complicated. She swore me to secrecy, but after seeing the awesome save you pulled off, I just don't think that's fair to you."

"Well, everyone has their strong suit, Adele. I mean, she's a general surgeon and a damn fine one from what I've seen of her work. I was a general surgeon before I was awarded my fellowship to become a vascular surgeon and, as you saw, Karen's injury required a very complicated and delicate bit of vascular surgery. Another beer?"

"Sure. I'm staying at the inn, so it's just a short walk."

"Listen, Peter. I saw the real Peter in that OR. And I'm not going to ask what drove you to come up here and live your reclusive lifestyle. That's none of my business. But I can almost see Sandy's point. You'd be able to do so much good for so many if you were out there in the real world."

"Been there, done that, Adele. And it was never as rewarding or fulfilling as this is. The poor deserve quality medical care just as much as the beautiful people do. I'm just one among many vascular surgeons back there in the world, but I'm the only one these people up here have. And they get sick and injured just as much, if not more, than those with a vascular surgeon just a google search away."

"I see your point. Anyway, I come bearing a request?"

"Sure, Adele. As long as I get to make one of you."

"Let's just say I'm open to listen to your request, but given your reputation, I reserve the right to slap your face."

"Wow! Not you, too? All right. Fair enough. What's your request?"

"Karen truly wants to see you, Peter. When she found out that it was you that saved her leg, she was beside herself. She's done nothing but cry since you left."

"I don't know, Adele. She was pretty adamant about wanting me out of her aura post haste."

"Not that this is an excuse, but if you remember correctly, she was still under the influence of the anesthesia and the pain meds when you saw her. It took her forever to even come around."

"Well she seemed pretty coherent when she was dressing me down."

"You're a surgeon, Peter. You know the after effects of the goofy juice we pumped that poor kid full of. I had her under pretty deeply. Once you left, she went right back out again. When she woke up the next morning, she was actually asking about you. She didn't even realize she'd talked to you. When I told her what happened, she went to pieces."

"I suppose I could stop by. But if she runs me off again, that's it. I'll never step foot on Adamson again except to get my plane and go. You may not believe this, given Sandy's obvious smear campaign, but I do have feelings. I went from hero to pariah to everyone on that miserable island as soon as the crisis ended."

"Not with me you didn't. But I did see that. And, no. It wasn't your imagination. Sandy has a way of rudely dismissing people when she feels they may somehow usurp her throne. And she has a silent way of broadcasting her feelings to everyone around her. But if at any time I made you feel that I was part of that, I'm truly sorry."

"Apology accepted. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Ok. What's your request? And keep in mind that if you try to get me into bed, I'll lose what little respect I have for you."

"Boy! You truly have been listening to Sandy's bullshit line for far too long. Jeez. I've been tried and convicted solely on the lunatic rantings of a frigid, psycho, Barbie doc. No, Adele, I wasn't going to ask you to sleep with me."

"Why? Am I not good enough for you?" she laughed, trying to ease the sudden tension. After a pregnant pause, Peter laughed, too."

"Ok, Peter. Ask away."

"Adele, I've been thinking a lot about that nightmare out there. I had planned on talking to you after that rousing two days in the OR, but as you saw, I was blatantly dismissed."

"Anyway, you handled the anesthesia like a pro during Karen's surgery and the other six or however many we did during that nightmare. If you hadn't, we'd have been in a real pickle. Mary Ann's the only anesthetist they have out there and she was tied up with Sandy's surgeries. I mean, I'm pretty good, but I can't handle both ends of the table."

"You have a knack. I saw it. I've worked with numerous anesthesiologists with MD's who didn't have that calm, one step ahead mentality you have. There were a few close calls in those procedures and you handled them like a champ. You're already an NP. Why don't you go back to school and take whatever classes you'll need to get your nurse anesthetist's certification? You seem to love handling the head of the table. You owned it, actually. You definitely looked, at least from where I was sitting, like you belonged there and like you wanted to be there."

"I do want to be there, Peter. But the problem is what it always is: money. I'm sure you know how much masters level medical courses, not to mention the books and supplies cost. I have a mom, a dad and three little brothers back home that I'm helping to support. I just couldn't swing it. I'd have to leave Adamson to go back to school which would mean no income. They kind of frown when you show up with an empty checkbook at the college registrar's office."

"Let me ask you something. If I can make a few phone calls and get you a scholarship, or some financial aid, would you consider it?"

"In a heartbeat. You'd actually do that for me?"

"Sure. I've always liked you, Adele. You're one of the few on that station who's ever treated me like a human being."

"Because I've seen your capabilities, Peter. And I respect those."

"Thank you. Where's your family living?"

"Orangeburg, South Carolina."

"Oh, ho, ho, ho! This is going to be an easy one. My practice was in Columbia. I have a lot of connections back there. My only request would be that anything I do for you, and anything you learn about me, you keep to yourself."

"Are you wanted by the law, Peter? A fugitive?"

"Of course not. Don't you think the locals would have dug up that information when they started their witch hunt if I was?"

"I suppose. And if you can arrange anything to get me back in school, Peter, I'd be forever in your debt."

"I don't want anything in return, Adele. Just do me proud in your classes."

"Oh, that much I can promise! I always loved school." She jumped up, as happy as a lark, kissed Peter's cheek and sat back down to finish her beer.

"I'll make some calls and see what we can do. I'll let you know as soon as I hear something."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. It's like a dream come true."

"You're very welcome." They were standing to say good night.

"Please promise me you'll go out and see Karen, Peter."

"A deal's a deal, right? I'll head that way in the morning. How many patients are still out there?"

"Fourteen, I think? All the ambulatory patients were taken to the mainland. I'll be going back myself in two weeks. They're putting up temporary quarters now. Some prefab things until they can get all the new buildings built, according to the rumors."

"Give me your cell number. When I hear something, I'll call you."

"I can't thank you enough for this, Peter."

"Just remember. This is strictly between the two of us."

*****

Peter laid down and picked up Candace's book again. He found himself engrossed. Her writing style was smooth and polished. Her feelings came out in her words and her knowledge of the Inquisition was incredible. Before he knew it, he'd read the entire book cover to cover. He placed the autographed book in the glass trophy case in the salon and went off to bed. He realized he was liable to dream those dreams again if he went to bed sober, but he decided to take his chances. Candace's request for a zipless fuck were echoing around in his head. He never realized what an impact those words could have on someone. What they must have done to Karen. He shut off the lights, locked the doors and crawled into bed. He always slept better on fresh sheets.

The horrendous nightmares, thankfully, didn't come that night. For the first time in a long time, sober anyway, Peter slept through a dream free night and woke feeling like a million bucks.

Feeling his oats, he started a pot of coffee and decided there'd be some sausage and eggs in his future. He turned on the stereo and was dancing around the galley as the smell of the green pepper and onion omelet wafted throughout Recluse. His stomach growled in anticipation. When the toaster popped, he sat back and actually savored a meal for the first time in as long as he could remember.

As he ate, he considered his promise to go out to Adamson. He felt that he at least owed Karen the chance to tell him to fuck off without aid of the multitude of medications she had coursing through her veins after the surgery. Of the dozens of times they'd slept together, he just thought their arrangement was mutually beneficial and mutually agreed upon. In retrospect, he'd have to admit that he started seeing the elusive changes in her. A subtle clinginess. A possessiveness when she spied him talking to Sandy or one of the nurses. Her little gifts and comments, and the invocation of the us word when she'd plan things that a no strings relationship didn't usually include. All that should have been a wake-up call. "Yes," he thought. He owed her the opportunity to tell him what an asshole he is and give him the big kiss-off when she was in full control of her faculties. If for nothing else, to give her closure and the upper hand. She deserved that and so much more than he could ever give again.

His thoughts were going to a dangerous place. He tried to quell them, but it was of no use. If he dared to delve into the abyss he'd condemned his heart to, and allowed feelings in, he'd have to admit that he had some pretty strong feelings for Karen. That she was actually getting to him. When he first saw that beginning to happen, his response had been to become more aloof and colder, and to stay away from Adamson for longer periods. She didn't deserve that, he knew it, but he had his own demons to battle.

"Physician heal thyself," he said aloud, shaking his head.

He also considered just weighing anchor and heading for Yarmouth for a week or so to clear his head.

"Eeny meeny miny mo," he sighed. He rose from the table, cleared the plates and went up to the pilot house to check the weather. It was forty degrees outside and as gloomy, if not gloomier, than it had been the day before.

Three to five foot seas, fog and rain, but nothing scary. The next worrisome front was days away. Decisions, decisions. But in truth, he knew what he had to do. As much as he tried to maintain his aloof, asshole persona to keep the world at bay, deep down, he knew that Karen saw right through it. He started another pot of coffee in the pilot house, plotted his course and cruised out of the channel and on to Adamson.

Peter was pleasantly shocked when the island first came into view. The weather nerds apparently had some serious pull in high places. A military style, temporary collapsible pier was in place and, as he got closer, numerous Quonset huts were being erected where the canvas covered frames and old wooden shacks once stood. They were even doing some façade repairs to the aged hospital. The entire island was all abuzz with a flurry of restoration.

"Adamson Station, this is Recluse requesting permission to dock?"

"Ten-four, Recluse. Permission granted."

Peter tied up and shut down the mains. He considered leaving them running. He had a strong feeling that either Karen would give him a blast and an invitation to eat shit and die, or Sandy would banish him from the station permanently. They'd had some pretty harsh words in the shower.

"Hi, Shirley. What room is Karen in?"

"Hi, Doc. We're kind of sparsely occupied at the moment, so Her Majesty has a private suite down in six."

"Thanks, Shirley."

Peter felt as if he was walking the green mile as he slowly trudged down the hall, head hung low in thought, and around the corner to six. He knocked on the door and heard her soft voice beckoning him in. He opened it and stood there in case she was feeling well enough to toss a bedpan or something at him.

"Oh, Peter! Hello! Hello! Come in, come in," she chirped, smiling and waving enthusiastically. "Sit. Please. I've been praying you'd come back."

"That's a whole lot nicer welcome than I expected," he smiled, sitting. "How are you feeling?"

"Still sore, but the toes wiggle and the numbness is almost gone. They've been in here doing some sort of therapy, moving this and that, to make sure it's not going to fall off. I hear I have you to thank for my still having this leg, Peter."

"I was just doing my job, Karen. Mind if I have a look?"

"Not at all. There wouldn't be a leg there if it weren't for you. Just don't pay any attention to the Muppet style hairdo going on down there. Some psycho gremlin slipped in during the night and did the most bizarre, dastardly things with a razor," she laughed.

"Hey. In my defense, I was more worried about saving that leg than I was with giving you a Parisian coiffure."

"And I can't thank you enough for it. As a matter of fact, I may just keep it that way to remind me of what could have happened."

Peter looked at her chart, then the most recent Xrays, and examined the leg over thoroughly, checking the pulses. They were throbbing like a fine Swiss watch. He was elated. She was healing beautifully. The prognosis couldn't be better. Over two weeks post op and the leg, aside from the bandages and the fading bruising, looked almost like it had before the nightmare befell her.

He lifted her gown, gently palpating over her ribs, then lifted the dressing to check the sutures, carefully lifting her breast to see the sutures clearly."

"Well! If I'd known you were coming to ravage me, I'd have put on some make-up and a little cologne," she giggled.

"I just wanted to see how things were healing. Those sutures are ready to come out any time now."

"Play the hard ass all you want, Peter, but I think you may have overlooked the fact that people coming up from anesthesia can sometimes hear things. And relax! I'm not holding you to anything you said." She smiled that million dollar smile. "But I would appreciate it if you'd sit back down here beside me on the bed and hold my hand." He took her tiny hand happily as she extended it and sat down beside her.

"After this nightmare, Peter, I have a new outlook on life. When I was laying there under that truss, I thought that was it. I was sure I was going to die."

"Not for nothing, but you almost did!"

"I know. But while I was preparing to meet my maker, I had a lot of time to think. It was freezing cold and pitch dark in there. I was soaking wet, shivering and that storm sounded like I was going to be hit by an oncoming freight train at any moment."

"Conrad was lying beside me: dead..." She began to cry, her tiny shoulders quaking. He leaned down and took her in his arms, running his fingers through her hair.

"Shush, shush, shush, Karen. You're alive and you're going to be fine. Conrad is a tragedy, but from what I heard, he never felt a thing. He went quickly and peacefully." In truth, a piece of the truss was torn loose and shot through Conrad's head like an arrow, killing him instantly.

It took her a few minutes to compose herself. He just held her, rubbing her back, and let her get it all out.

"Ok. Anyway," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "While I was laying there in the pitch dark, soaked, freezing cold, just certain I was going to die, I came to a lot of realizations. The biggest ones were that you can't change the past, the dead don't come back, and life is for the living."

"I'm going to tell you a story, Peter. And this isn't a tit for tat. You're under no obligation to reciprocate. But I feel I owe you this."

"Karen, you don't owe me anything."

"I believe I do, Peter. While I'm not even the slightest bit happy with the way things went down between us a few weeks ago, I have to admit that I'm just as responsible for what happened as you are. You were very up front about where you stood from the beginning. I'm the one that let feelings break through my normally impenetrable shield."

Repeats of Peter's conversation with Candace were coming back to haunt him in spades; her soft voice echoing through his head.

"Karen, regardless of what we agreed on, I'd be a liar if I ever said you were just a piece of ass. And if I ever made you feel like you were, I apologize from the bottom of my heart." It felt as if the words were coming from someone else and being broadcast through his lips. Where was it coming from? He hadn't spoken like that to anyone in years.

"Well, I appreciate that more than you know, Peter. Now I'm just wondering who you are and what you've done with Peter Richardson?" she laughed. "Relax. This isn't a finger pointing ceremony, or an intervention."

"Now, if I may, I've had a lot of time to think while I've been laying here in this bed. About what life would be like if I'd lost the leg; about a whole lot of things. Not the least of which is that it's time for me to face up to a few of my demons and stop letting the pains of the past dictate my future and my life."

"This sounds deep."

"It is. Are you in a hurry?"

"No. I've got all the time in the world."

"Good. But I don't think it'll take that long," she smiled.

She paused for a time, working up the courage to speak. Pain was evident on her beautiful face. "I had a daughter, Peter. A beautiful, perfect, blonde haired, green eyed daughter. She was my whole world."

"You never told me that," Peter replied, incredulous.

"Because I've never told anyone about that period in my life. I wanted to so many times, but you made it quite clear that we didn't have that kind of relationship. This, Peter, is one of the things you've always said I kept bottled up.

"Karen. I'm so sorry! I just never thought..."

"Shush. Relax, Peter. This isn't a blame game. As I said, I'm just as responsible for our situation as you are."

"My husband was killed in Syria. He was with special forces. Before he deployed, we had a rip snorter of a going away party. Afterward, we did what two drunken revelers, deeply in love with each other, usually do after a party and, lo and behold, I got pregnant. Apparently, the alcohol overpowered the pill. Not that I minded. I mean, I was working toward my doctorate at the time, but I was more than happy to put that on hold to raise our child. I loved him very much. We truly had a fairytale marriage."