A Sea of Heartache

"I never doubted your abilities for a second, Doctor," she laughed, her beautiful breasts jiggling as she did. "You may kiss it if you wish." It surprised her when he did.

"Hmmm," they both hummed in chorus.

"Now. Back to business before we get carried away here," he smiled, rising. He moved to the foot of the table. "Keep looking at the ceiling, Karen. I'm going to check how well your nerve responses are. When you feel me poking you, just say yes." He took a probe from the tray and gently started pricking nerve branches from her toes and slowly up her leg. She felt every one. Peter was elated.

"Fan-friggen-tastic," he whooped, rubbing her thigh. "It appears everything is fully functional, My Dear. Now, let's get you over to Xray and get some shots of that femur." He began pushing the cart out of the room.

"Um, Doctor? Stop, please! Not that I mind being sprawled out in all my glory in front of you, but I'd prefer it if you'd throw that gown back over me before you roll me out into that crowded hall and down to Xray," she giggled.

"Oops! Sorry. My bad. I was just so tickled over kissing that beautiful bresticle that I lost my head." He actually blushed. She was laughing so hard she was holding her stomach. He covered her with the gown, leaning in for another kiss.

"Hmm. I love it when you do that," she smiled, running her soft hand along his face.

Peter stood beside the Xray tech as she lined up the shots he wanted, then brought them up on the screen to view them. Karen was healing nicely. Just to be sure, he wheeled her into the ultrasound room, inserted a catheter in her arm, her stout aversion to yet another needle made verbally obvious, and ran some contrast. He took his time carefully sounding her entire hip, leg and foot. Her perfusion was off the charts. Everything looked beautiful.

"Well, My Dear, you're definitely on the mend. Luckily, the fracture was toward the knee and not the hip. And it appears that the majority of the swelling has already gone down. We'll fit you for a removeable long cast so you'll be able to get around on crutches, with help, of course, and it won't feel like an elephant is sitting on your leg for the next three months or so."

"Peter, you've kindly and generously invited me to recuperate on your boat, and I couldn't be happier that you have, but are you sure you want to take on this kind of responsibility? I mean, I'm going to be kind of a boat anchor for a while. Won't that cramp your style?"

"My style?" Peter was laughing. "If you consider seeing patients on various islands, then retreating to my cove on Devil's Rock to get away from the world style, you're as boring as I am"

"You know what I mean, Peter," she said, sadly. "In as much as I've tried to ignore them, I have heard the rumors. Girl in every port and all that."

Peter rolled the exam stool over, sat beside the gurney and took Karen's hands in his. The sad expression on her beautiful face cut right through him like a hot knife through butter.

"Let me ask you something deep, Karen. You've obviously had a lot more time to examine this; us, out in the open than I have. I've been suppressing even the slightest hint of feelings for so long, it's become automatic. But in all honesty, how do you see us?"

"Honestly?"

"Of course."

"I love you, Peter. I've known it for quite some time now. And no. I'm not expecting you to feel the same way. I hope and pray that you one day will, but, as you said, I'm a lot deeper into the actual analysis phase here than you are. There's just something about you. Underneath that false façade of coldness and aloofness, there's a wonderful man in there who's just so handsome and intelligent and warm. You try so hard to hide that side of you that I think you've honestly started believing that the crusty curmudgeon you portray is the real you. It's not. A person's eyes are the window to their soul, Peter. And I can see the real you in your eyes every time I look into them."

"I don't know. Maybe you're right; but maybe you're not. The man I am today is definitely not the man I was before my life fell apart. But on the other hand, what if you're wrong? What if I have become a chronic, incurable, reclusive curmudgeon? Or as Sandy refers to me, a whoremongering gigolo? I mean, I do find that I'm totally at peace in utter isolation when I'm moored at this cove I found out on Devil's Rock. What if we start something between us, Karen, and we find out that I truly am an asshole? You'll be hurt deeply. And I've learned lately that hurting you hurts me. I think that scares me more than anything."

"Whoremongering gigolo?" she laughed. "For starters, Peter, she's hardly the person whose opinion you should be basing your future mental health decisions on." Karen was laughing even harder.

"Men! You're all so clueless. She's in love with you, Peter. And she's extremely jealous of your talents. Adele gave me the four-one-one on that in confidence while she and I were playing pinochle one night. And what's more, you intimidate her. For what it's worth, both Adele and I are both in total agreement that Sandy's definitely not your type. Which is probably another reason why she's so uppity and stiff around you. She knows it, too. You're definitely not the white tie and tails, jet set, country club type and that, rumor has it, is Sandy's whole world."

"As for your hurting me should your assholiness be terminal, I'm willing to take that chance. I'm a whole lot tougher than I look. Once again, call it woman's intuition or whatever you like, but I have a gut feeling that you're not capable of intentionally hurting me. Or anyone else for that matter; try as you may. At least not consciously. And I also know that, if you let me, I would move heaven and earth to help you deal with your recent revelations and make you the happiest curmudgeon on earth," she smiled, patting his hand.

"And you believe you have the patience and intestinal fortitude to deal with me? I mean, I'm not kidding, Karen. I've been a loner for almost five years. Two of them up here in this desolation. The only thing I've had even the remotest feelings for, admittedly, other than you, is Recluse. Sad, isn't it? I'm in love with a fucking boat," he smiled sadly. Let's face it, Karen. I'm pretty screwed up."

"Because you've felt that Recluse was the only thing you could truly depend on and trust since the tragedy. You were decimated to your very soul by another human, so you poured all your faith and trust into an inanimate object; something unable to hurt you; that you felt would never let you down."

Peter laughed. "You missed your calling there, Ace. You should have gone into psychiatry."

"I definitely fit the bill. You need to be nuts to be a psychiatrist and, Buddy, I'm about a flea's fart away from certifiable." She was laughing along.

"Ok, Hot Shot. I'm willing if you are. Mold me," he smiled.

"I don't want to mold you, Peter. Then you wouldn't be the man I fell in love with. I want the Peter you want to be. The Peter that I know resides deep down in those ashes you've allowed yourself to sink into. And I believe, with time, and the caring affection of someone who truly cares about you, that wonderful, talented man will rise from those ashes again."

"I guess we'll see. Buckle up, Buttercup," he smiled, squeezing her hands. "Now let's get this cast on you and get you back to your room."

"When can I try the crutches?"

"First thing in the morning. Promise. For tonight, you need to rest. I'm guessing this is the most excitement you've had in the two weeks since this nightmare befell this island."

"Well, there was those pinochle games with Adele, some gossip with Cathy and, of course, that whole storm thing, but yeah. These last two days have been a whirlwind of heartache and unbelievable emotional ebbs and flows. But things are definitely looking up," she smiled.

****

Karen took to the crutches like a fish to water. Once she had, they couldn't keep her in bed. It warmed Peter's heart to see her scooting around the hospital like a little, albeit kind, dictator, ensuring everything everyone needed regarding the revitalization of the station was on track. She had everything under control.

Three days later, when Peter was sure that she was well on her way to recovery and past any potential further crises, and after he and Sandy had discharged all but two of the remaining patients, he discharged Karen.

"Oh my God! This air smells wonderful," she chirped, as Peter guided her from the hospital to Recluse. The day before, he scoured through what remained of Karen's quarters to see if he could find anything salvageable. There was very little. However, he did find a folder full of photos, along with her camera, in a waterproof camera bag in what remained of her locker He was tempted to look through it to see whether the camera and the pictures had survived, but he didn't want to intrude on her privacy. He'd let her make the determination. He'd been with her night and day and, so far, she hadn't given the bag a second look."

"Every time I come on this boat, I just feel this, I don't know, this sense of peace. It still takes my breath away."

"Mine, too. And I've had her for over three years," he smiled. "Now, young lady, you've been like the Road Runner on amphetamines since you got on those crutches. What do you say we get you settled in and comfortable in the salon and let you relax?"

"I'd like that," she smiled. "And if you don't mind, Doctor, could you draw the curtains so I can get out of these scrubs? They're tight as hell and it's driving me nuts."

"Anything your heart desires." He went around, closing all the curtains. "If you're feeling up to it, we need to cruise into St. Margaret. I need to get my mail, and we definitely need to get you some clothes and some notions and potions. The commissary was gutted and it won't be restocked for quite a while. Until we get to a store, you're stuck with my deodorant," he laughed. Peter knelt down to help her get the tight scrubs off over her cast.

"Speaking of which, seeing as how I'm dressed for the occasion, do you think you could help me get a shower before we set sail? I feel so nasty after almost three weeks in that gross hospital."

"As I said, I'm at your service."

"You're just saying that because I'm naked," she giggled, taking his hand in hers. "Thank you so much for everything, Peter. Not just the leg. That, of course, goes without saying. I mean about opening up and sharing with me. And for agreeing to, at least, open the gates just a crack to see if I fit in."

"Karen, if anyone was ever going to fit in, it would be you. I guess I've known that for longer than I care to admit. And it's not because you're hotter than hell," he laughed. "To quote you, that goes without saying. There's just something about you. I started to see it shortly after we met. I have to admit that's probably the reason my visits to Adamson became less frequent after we'd been together a few times. I just didn't want to deal with any feelings. And I guess I convinced myself that you were as comfortable with the arrangement we had as I was."

"We've discussed that, Peter. That's more my fault than it is yours. My blowing up at you was my repressed feelings coming to a head. I just kept those feelings bottled up for too long. I was afraid that if I did tell you how I felt, you'd sail off for good."

"I don't think even I was capable of that. Although I was pretty close to it after that night. I got it both barrels from you, and then Sandy was being a total asshole when all I asked her to do was open the mail room. I even changed my address to Saint Margaret which is why, after your shower, we need to get over there. I get weekly medication shipments for my patients and if I don't pick them up, especially the cold stuff, it's useless."

"And you pay for that out of your own pocket?"

"Most of it. I made deals with a few of the drug companies. They donate a lot and give me reduced rates. Not that they're charitable in any way. They write it all off and use their perceived generosity to further their false claims that they're humanitarian. That, and I do have friends back in South Carolina. They send care packages for whatever they can shake the drug reps down for."

"You big phony, you!" She had that, I caught you, look on her face. "I knew it! I knew there was more to your current endeavors than just trying to atone. You're a big hearted sap and even you know it." She was laughing that carefree, all's right with the world laugh as she leaned forward and threw her arms around him, squeezing him close.

"You tell anyone that and I'll feed you to the sharks," he laughed, hugging her back. "God you feel so good."

"Well, Sir. Get me cleaned up and we'll see what kind of acrobatics we can do with this cast." She had that naughty, sexy look on her face that always led to a night of unbridled passion. It struck him then how much he'd missed her. How much he'd actually delayed leaving immediately after their intimacies to lay in bed with her and talk or just relax watching a movie.

"One step at a time there, Crash," he laughed, helping her up on her crutches. "But you are looking rather fetching today."

"How can you say that," she giggled. "I've been using waterless shampoo for weeks, I haven't done any maintenance, other than shaving my pits, and as you well know I've been flat on my back for over two weeks."

"And yet you still manage to take my breath away." He smiled at her sincerely. She just looked so tiny and helpless sitting on the end of the bed as he went about preparing the head. One detail he'd overlooked when he'd designed the boat to suit his needs was to make at least one of the heads handicapped accessible. "Smooth move there, Doc," he thought to himself.

"I snatched these waterproof cast protectors from Sandy's supply cabinet. Think she'll mind." He was laughing as he worked the cumbersome device up over her cast.

"There. Now, this is going to be kind of awkward, but I put a whole bunch of towels on the floor so don't worry about the splash. You just take your time and soap up to your heart's content. Once we get you all dried off, I'll get you set up and comfortable in bed and run out and get you something to wear."

"I can go with you, Peter. I've gotten pretty good on these crutches."

"Yes you have, Beautiful. But do you really want to put those ill-fitting scrubs back on, with no underwear, and crutch through the muck and mire out there just to try on clothes? It's been raining on Saint Margaret, too."

"Good point. I'll be chaffed by the time we got there."

"Bingo. You just give me sizes and I'll get you something to make that trek into town more comfortable. That's if we even get out of here today. The fog's pretty thick out there. In the meantime, you have two options: we can either leave all the curtains drawn and you can run around in that dazzling outfit you're currently wearing, or you can deny me the pleasure and wear a robe around."

"When have I ever denied you anything?" She was laughing and winking at him exaggeratedly as he helped her maneuver into the shower. He made a mental note to see if they had a shower seat in the small general store on St. Margaret.

"Well this is awkward," she giggled, her back to the showerhead."

"Next time, break your right leg," he laughed along. He pulled the handheld showerhead from the bracket and gently wet her down."

"Ouu! I could get used to this." She was running her fingers through her hair, eyes closed, enjoying the shower immensely.

"You'd better. We're going to have to do it this way for the next couple of months at least."

"Now that just breaks my heart." She was smiling, obviously happy. "If you would be so kind, Sir, may I have the shampoo, please?"

"Why certainly." He squirted some in her outstretched hand.

"Well don't just stand there. Get soaping there, Sailor."

"Now you're breaking my heart," he laughed, soaping a washcloth and swirling the soap all over her beautiful body.

"Don't be shy, Doc. It all needs to be washed." She was moving awkwardly, spreading her lovely legs.

"Now I get it. You're going to get me all worked up and then get a headache, right?" They were both laughing and giggling, truly enjoying the alone time out of that drab hospital.

"Buddy, if you can figure out a way to have your way with me with this cast, headache or no headache, you're welcome to give it your all."

"And so we shall, Dear Lady. And so we shall."

Peter helped her out of the shower and gently dried her from head to toe while she held firmly to the handrail on the shower wall.

"Peter, do you have a stool or something I could sit on to shave my leg? I'd really like to get back to feeling human again."

"Actually, yes. I have one in the exam room. Let's get you seated on the bed and I'll go and get it."

"Now. We can set this down in front of the shower stall, sit you on it and you can put your good leg in the shower and use the handheld as you need it. If you think you'll be ok doing that alone, I need to go up to the pilot house and check the weather."

"I think I can manage," she smiled, reaching up to rub his cheek. "Thank you for everything, Peter."

"No. Thank you," he smiled, winking. "I have a funny feeling the nightmares might not be so horrible tonight."

"If they are, I'll hold you. We'll get through this, Peter. Both of us. You'll see."

"I know we will." He leaned down and kissed her. A long, passionate kiss.

"Hmmm. Feel free to do that any time you like."

Peter quickly checked the weather and returned to Karen. She was humming a beautiful tune, her soft voice grabbing his heartstrings. He started writing a list of the things they'd need to get on St. Margaret. He just needed to get Karen's input and he'd make short work of his trip into the hamlet and get back to her. He was perusing the list intently when her tiny, cute foot suddenly appeared in his lap.

"Feel," she giggled, wiggling her toes. He ran his hand up and down her short, muscular leg, the soft feel sending pulses to his groin. "It feels sooo good to be clean again."

"I'll bet." He didn't want to let the soft, shapely leg go, and she didn't seem to be in any hurry for him to do so. Still nude, she laid back on the bed, eyes closed, and let him enjoy the feel of her soft skin.

"What happened to the Muppet?" he laughed.

"In as wonderful as the memories of that lil fella are, I had to be realistic. I wish now that I'd had you take a picture of it, though. For sentimental reasons."

"Speaking of pictures, have you looked to see whether your photo album survived the deluge."

"I haven't had the heart to look yet. If they're destroyed, I'll just die. It's not like I can get new pictures of them." She began to sob. He just sat up and pulled her into his lap, holding her. He could feel the pain radiating from her.

"Would you like me to look to see if they're ruined?"

"You didn't check them when you found the bag?"

"No. I didn't want to intrude on your privacy."

"You're a very special man, Peter Richardson. Would you mind getting the bag for me?"

"Sure," he smiled, gently helping her up the companionway and settling her on the couch.

"Here goes." She inhaled deeply, then held her breath as she slowly pulled back the zipper and looked inside with one eye closed; the other at half mast.

"Oh, thank God! The camera may never work again, but the pictures seem to be ok!" Her sigh of utter relief echoed around the pilot house.

She pulled the book out and opened it gently, lovingly. When she opened it to the first page, Peter stood and went about preparing to set sail. He was giving her some time alone with her memories. His heart ached for her. His own photo albums had been sealed in a watertight container and stored, lovingly, on the top shelf of the closet in his berth.