A Sea of Heartache

"Conrad, have you seen or heard from the Doc lately?"

"Not in a couple of days. The last I heard; he was out at the Colony. One of the rich and famous probably got a hangnail or something."

"Come on. You know he doesn't cater to the rich and famous. We're damn lucky to have him. Any man who gives up on the world and dedicates himself to helping isolated and indigent people, free of charge, is aces in my book."

"I didn't say he wasn't the greatest thing since sliced bread, Karen. He's aces. I just wanted to know if you were asking because there was someone sick on one of the islands? Did we get a distress call?"

"No. I was just wondering. I haven't seen or heard from him in a while. He's not answering his phone or his radio. I worry about him. He's so reclusive. Do you know if he's out there on his boat, or did he take his plane?"

"Not sure. Bring up the runway manifest. If it shows his plane's still on the ground, he took his boat. I'm guessing he did. If he took the plane, he'd have probably brought the patient back here to treat them. He's got an entire hospital on that ginormous boat of his."

"Adamson Base calling Recluse. Do you copy?"

It took a few minutes for the response. "Ten four, Karen." Karen breathed a silent sigh of relief. "I was in the middle of landing a rather large mackerel before a certain someone interrupted the battle," he laughed. "Trouble in paradise?"

"No, Doc. We just miss your grumpy butt. You haven't checked in for days."

"Took a little vacation. I'll be pulling in to Adamson in a day or two. I'm running low on beer."

"How about if I have a cold one waiting for you at your slip when you tie up?"

"That sounds like a winner, Karen. I've got to stop back by Cooper's Light and then the Colony, before I come in. Look for me sometime tomorrow evening."

"Ten-four, Doc. Adamson out."

Karen sat staring silently out through the massive window of the com shack and out over the choppy water rolling in and crashing haphazardly against the shore. In her heart, she knew the illusive, cagy doc wasn't one that she'd be able to capture in her womanly web entirely, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to keep trying. He was the most handsome, rugged, manly man she'd ever met. She got a tingle just thinking about him.

No one knew what made him give up on his lucrative surgical practice somewhere in the Carolinas and move, lock, stock and barrel, to this isolated, frigid little piece of the world, but she and the vast majority of the inhabitants of the outlying islands were all thankful that he had.

It wasn't an issue with his medical license that turned him into a recluse. That, the local busy bodies made sure of. The village council on the mainland covertly investigated him immediately after he'd performed an emergency appendectomy on his boat.

While the doc was scoping out the islands, introducing himself when he first arrived, Milly Scott on Fulton's Head had been in bed for two days, complaining of a high fever and severe stomach pain. She'd tried every home remedy her neighbors could conjure up with no luck.

Lucky for Milly, Doc was introducing himself to the inhabitants and lazily shooting the breeze over a beer in the pub with one of them; Milly's neighbor. When the guy he was talking to learned that Doc was, indeed, an MD, he asked if Doc wouldn't mind paying Milly a visit. Doc happily agreed. Twenty minutes later, Doc and Milly's neighbor were carrying a very sick and lethargic Milly to Doc's boat where, lo and behold, he had a well-stocked surgery set up in one of the large berths.

When word of his miraculous save hit the rumor mill, some of the nosier, standoffish natives started digging for something new to flap their gums over. Most were disappointed, a few outwardly so, when they found out that, while reclusive and a bit different, Doc was a five-star surgeon without a blemish on his current, stellar, medical record. He was a renowned vascular surgeon, heavily published, who had perfected a lifesaving vascular bypass surgery that was all the buzz in medical circles. More disappointing for some of them was that there wasn't the slightest hint anywhere to indicate his reasons for moving to their isolated piece of nowhere anywhere to be found. And some of the more determined members of the clique dug deeply. Regardless of the facts, the exaggerated rumors started to spread like wildfire.

"So, I'm a mackerel, huh?" Linda something or other laughed, laying naked in the main berth, hotter than a firecracker.

"Gotta keep them guessing." Karen's call interrupted some extremely heated foreplay.

"So, you're going into Adamson tomorrow?" she growled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her heaving breast. She was still fidgeting, waiting for him to pick up where he left off before they were so rudely interrupted.

"Yeah. I'm expecting some medical supplies. They're supposed to be delivered to the hospital in the morning."

"You know, if you ever need an assistant..."

"I appreciate the offer, Linda," he smiled, working his way between her long, sexy legs "but I work alone." He was rubbing his massive cock, one of the reasons the lovely Linda always awaited his return visits to her island anxiously, teasingly along her heated, dripping quim. She didn't resist in the slightest, still panting, as he slowly entered her. She was on the brink when he stopped to answer the damned radio. Her strong legs immediately wrapped around his back.

"You're going to tear some lesser woman in half with that abomination one day." She grunted, as he slowly worked into her dripping sex. "And if it's me, just know I went happily," she giggled, then moaned louder still as he delved deeper inside her.

"I'm a doctor. I can fix that," he smiled, taking her curvy hips in his hands as he sank into her deeper still.

"Yeah, Baby!!" she growled, her hips swaying to aid his access. "Ou, ou, ou!!" It never took long for the orgasmic Linda to get off. Unfortunately, whenever they finished, she always wanted to lay there and cuddle when all he wanted to do was see her beautiful ass going down the brow. He'd done the true blue, dedicated thing once before and it cost him his very soul. He wasn't getting himself romantically involved with anyone ever again.

"Yeah! Yeah! That's it, Baby! I...I...ahhhhh!" Linda's second big O. She was flopping around on the bed like that mackerel would have been if he'd actually boated one, her head thrashing about like a woman possessed.

Doc sped up his thrusts. He was close. Just one more good... "Ahhhhh!! Yeah, Baby," he groaned, hot spurts of his spunk sailing into her.

Yes...yes...yes!!" Her third and most powerful trip over the mountain wracked her long body as her fingers pulled her rigid pink nipples to enhance her powerful release.

Her screams echoed off the walls in the large space. "Wow! Just...wow!" She was fighting to catch her breath. "I think we should have a drink to celebrate that bell ringer."

"Next time, Darlin. I've got to get to Cooper's Light. I've got a patient out there with some ongoing problems. I need to get his medicine to him."

"Let me go with you, Doc?"

"Not this time, Linda. I've got to see my patient and get back to Adamson. This is the busy season for retired doctors. Winter's coming."

"All you ever want to do is fuck!" She was pouting.

"Hey, you knew the situation the first time you did that drunken striptease on the deck."

"You're a real sonofabitch, you know that!" She jumped up and started dressing without even showering. That was the fastest he'd ever been able to get rid of her.

"Well fuck you very much, Doc! Don't worry. I won't take up any more of your precious time." It was her typical goodbye. She stormed out of the berth, up the companionway and off the boat in a huff.

"See ya next trip, Darlin," he yelled to the retreating beauty, smiling. Her middle finger was waving spastically. She was such a drama queen. He got better and better at being an asshole at every stop. She'd be back. She always came back.

****

Doc pulled his lines from the dock and drifted out with the current. He was in no hurry for anything other than to get away from people. Linda in particular. Her childish antics were truly starting to get on his nerves.

Once the small island was out of sight, he dropped the hook and showered, fixed a light dinner and fired up the mains on Recluse, his custom, seventy-two-foot Selene Ocean Explorer that he'd had to wait a year to take delivery of, and charted his course for Cooper's Light . Then he'd be off to the Artist's Colony and finally Adamson Station.

Thankfully, his ongoing efforts to control Evan Masterson's glucose levels on The Light were coming to fruition. He made the short stroll to the senescent lighthouse from the small, sagging dock and found Evan looking much improved. His glucose levels confirmed it, as did the restoration of his jolly disposition.

"I brought you more of your injectables, Evan. Make sure you keep those in the refrigerator. And keep an eye on those levels. I think we've finally gotten you to where you need to be. You're doing great," he smiled, packing his instruments in his bag. "Just stay on this regimen and stay away from the Reese's Pieces."

"You'll stay for dinner, won't you," Doc?" Evan's wife Emma asked. She was truly a sweet, lovely lady; one of the few people Peter actually liked.

"Thank you, Emma, but not this time. I've got to get into Adamson and pick up supplies. I'll take a raincheck, though."

"Anytime, Doc. The light's always on." Evan laughed his old, hearty laugh, pointing up, referring to the lighthouse light.

"That never gets old, Evan," Peter laughed. "Keep a close eye on him, Emma. And make sure you find all his candy stashes."

"Oh, I've got them all ferreted out, Doc." "He's sneaky, but I'm sneakier," she smiled, both following him down to the dock.

They shook hands, Emma hugging him, as he boarded. Evan threw him his lines. They waved him off and he was where he loved being most: at sea and far from people. When he maneuvered clear of the hazardous, submerged rocks, he picked up his ship's phone.

"This is Doctor Richardson. Have any packages arrived for me at the hospital mail room? Great! I'll be by to get them in the morning. Thank you." He smiled. Thankfully, this time his stay among people would be short.

"Hospital," he thought, laughing. Adamson Island was a fairly busy meteorological and scientific station a few hours off the coast: population two-hundred-thirty. It was inhabited by nothing but a bunch of weird, geeky NOAA scientists and equally strange support staff. The so-called hospital was a cinderblock, two story building with one surgeon, two NP's, a nurse anesthetist and four nurses. In his other life, Doctor Peter Richardson operated in hospitals with twenty-two surgical suites, staffs of hundreds and every technical marvel and amenity known to man. Calling that relic of a building a hospital was like calling a Yugo a Jaguar.

In actuality, the island had been an army listening outpost built during WWII that was decommissioned immediately after the war. Regardless of its' age, the sprawling, decrepit hospital building served its' purpose. The doc there, Sandy Moore, was a very qualified surgeon and a total doll when she lowered her snooty nose down out of the clouds. Despite her air of superiority, she took good care of the residents and oversaw the medical experiments on the rock fortress. He'd tried his more upscale come on lines on her a few times, but try as he may, he couldn't get that starched skirt up. He hadn't given up yet.

While Sandy dealt with the needs of those on Adamson and a few of the surrounding islands, Doc sailed Recluse, or flew his single engine Beechcraft, to the multitude of outlying islands to deal with the isolated populations. Mainly those who couldn't afford to, were too infirmed to, or didn't care to get into Rocky Point or Port Harris to seek medical attention. The fortune he'd amassed after years in the aforementioned surgical suites; as well as his cunning business and investment acumen, and a hefty inheritance, afforded him the ability to either sail or fly around and deal with those less fortunate. He worked when he wanted to, and sailed off to a quiet, uninhabited cove he'd found and happily holed up in alone when he didn't. The ability to retire and basically disappear from the face of the earth at the ripe old age of thirty-three, two years prior, was a momentous accomplishment. He tried to convince himself that his new lifestyle was for humanitarian purposes; which, in part, it was. In reality, it was to help him forget his former life and try to make amends for the sins he'd committed. He shook off his thoughts. Thinking was always dangerous. Try as he may, the vivid, loathsome memories just wouldn't go away no matter how much he drank.

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

"Hi, Doc! You're always welcome here. Bring that beautiful boat in." Karen was smiling from ear to ear as she rushed to the frig to collect her bag, then out of the command center and down the pier, twelve pack and sandwiches in hand. She sat the picnic dinner down and caught the lines as he tossed them over and tied him securely to the stout dock bollards.

"What cha got in the bag there, Beautiful?"

"I keep my promises, Handsome. Cold, dark lagers and my special chicken salad sandwiches-hand delivered."

"Ah! A lady after my own heart," he smiled, securing the boat. As always, Karen looked amazing. A sight for sore eyes. The evening was looking extremely promising.

"And I've been trying to get through to that heart of yours for two years now," Karen smiled, walking up the brow as he pushed it out.

"Nothing left to get through to there, Kiddo. This old ticker turned to stone years ago."

"I know, I know. Nothing you want to talk about, so I won't. But Doc, never forget; if you ever want to unburden your soul, I'm always here," she smiled sincerely.

Karen was an enigma in Doc's eyes and therefore, dangerous. He had to tread lightly around her. She appeared to truly like Peter and she was starting to become more vocal about wanting more than he could give. What scared him most is that if he had to admit it, he truly liked her. Unlike Linda and a few of the others, basically sperm banks for Peter and anyone else with the potential to take them away from their desolate island life, Karen was an accomplished scientist. Not to mention a drop dead gorgeous ten, hands down. At thirty-two, Karen could easily pass for twenty. Her long blonde hair, always in a pony tail, and those sapphire blue eyes, not to mention a body to die for and the brains to back it up, Karen would be the catch of a lifetime for any normal, red blooded man. Much like Peter, she had a story that she promised she'd share when Peter shared his story with her. Stalemate. He could respect that.

"I've been craving some of your delicious chicken salad since the last time I had some of your delicious chicken salad," Peter laughed, taking the bag from her as she reached the deck.

"If you don't mind, Doc, can we eat inside. I've been outside taking readings all day. I've got a chill right down to my bones."

"Sure. Come on down," he smiled, leading her down the companionway to the galley.

"My God, Doc. Did you buy a new load of books? You've got more books down here than the station's library. Have you read all of these?"

"Not yet, but I'm working on it. But I'll tell you what. When I finish them, I'll donate them all to your paltry library and find some new ones. Books are our friends," he smiled, reaching to take her coat.

"Take the coat, Peter, but I'm going to leave this sweater on for a while. I just can't get warmed up."

"Why don't you go into the head and take a nice long hot shower. There're clean robes in the closet. Help yourself."

"If you're sure you don't mind..."

"Excuse me, Beautiful, but this isn't our first rodeo," he smiled.

In the blink of an eye, her sprightly mood changed to an outburst of anger. "No, it certainly isn't. And, yet again, I'll be walking funny when I leave tonight without any idea of when, or even if, I'll see you again."

"Woah, Karen. What brought that on?"

"I'm sorry, Peter. And I know how you are. And I have killed myself to respect that. But if there's no way in the world to ever break through that force field of yours, all I am to you is just a piece of ass whenever you decide to grace us with your presence."

"Nothing says you have to be here, Karen. There's no chains holding you here."

"No! That's just it! There isn't! I mean, I'm not asking you to run off and marry me, Peter. And I have no desire to change you or how you live. All I need is some glimmer of hope that maybe, one day in the far distant future, I'll be something more than your duty booty."

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea, Karen. I'm sorry if I somehow led you on," he said sadly, handing her the bag. "What you see with me is what you get."

"Well here, Doctor! Just so your trip wasn't a total loss!" She stepped back and worked at her belt in an angered frenzy, then turned, dropped her pants and panties in one fell swoop and bent over, grabbing the counter, that beautiful, flawless ass glaring at him, freezing him in shock and making him ache. "Go ahead, Peter! Bang one out! Put another notch in your ships wheel and sail away. Go ahead! Fuck me! Do you want me to pop my tits out, too?! Here!" She jerked her sweater and bra up, screaming. "That's all I am to you is a pussy and tits with legs. Come on, Peter! Fuck me, then give me the brush off!"

"Time for you to go, Karen." He felt his own flash of both anger and sadness. She stood, awkwardly hiking up her pants and readjusting her bra. When she turned back toward him, her face was a mask of unbridled pain and sadness. Tears flowed freely down her beautiful face.

"Keep the beer and sandwiches, Doctor. Thank you for a lovely evening." It came out in a hiccupped hail of tears as she grabbed her coat and stormed up and off the boat.

Peter plopped down at the dining table, deflated, and cracked one of the beers. His favorite brand. She always paid attention to the little details regardless of what a dick he'd been. What bothered him most was that hurting her feelings like that hurt him. He suddenly hated her for that. His force field, as she'd so aptly named it, was the only thing he had left that protected what little soul he still possessed. He sat there for a while longer, trying to rationalize what had just taken place.

"No! Fuck this, damn it!" He stormed up the ladder, throwing on his coat, and fought the wind howling in off the sea as he made his way toward the hospital. It was after hours, but there had to be someone there who could give him his packages. Then he could cast off and leave Adamson. They had a doctor of their own. They didn't need him there.

"Well, hello, Sandy. Just the person I was looking for."

"Hi, Peter. If you're here to try and lure me on to that floating sexcapade of yours again, forget it," she snapped.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Sandy. I just need to get some packages out of the mailroom. I had a delivery come in and I don't have time to stick around until morning."

"Why? Did one of your numerous conquests find out she wasn't the only one?"

"What is it with you women tonight? Is there something in the air out here," he growled, incredulous. "I just want my packages, Sandy. Plain and simple. Can I get them please?" He was gritting his teeth and biting his tongue, holding back the barrage of curses he so badly wanted to toss at the frigid bitch.

"Such talent, Peter. Such gifted hands, yet your brains are all in your dick."