Rocky Point Promise Read online

  “Thank You, Father God,” she said softly as she waved at one of their patients walking on the other side of the street. “I feel I’ve come home here.”

  She waved to Rachel Sinclair as she passed her antiques shop a minute later, still captivated by the appeal of small-town life. She’d stopped in the shop her first week, looking for a small table. The owner had introduced herself and shown Faith what was available. Rachel had talked at some length about Faith’s recent move, the history of Rocky Point, the turbulent times during the Great Depression, fishing as an industry and longtime families. Faith hadn’t found a table the size she wanted, but had enjoyed visiting with Rachel and learning so much about her adopted town. Rachel said she’d call if and when a suitable table came in.

  Faith had made the ice-cream parlor a regular stop on Saturday afternoons. She loved sitting on one of the small tables on the sidewalk while eating a mocha fudge cone and watching tourists wander by. She’d eaten at the café at the other end of town more often than she ate at home. The meals were delicious and reasonable in price. Plus, she liked being around other people and felt a bit lonely when she was home by herself day in and day out. Marcie, who owned the café, had been friendly and even sat with her a time or two while she ate.

  As she drew near the sea, Faith inhaled deeply, relishing the tang of salt in the air. Living by the water was good for her. She still didn’t have all her strength and energy back—the chemotherapy she’d undergone had sapped so much of that. But today’s events proved she could rise to the occasion. Of course, the injured sheriff and the scared toddler didn’t quite compare to the trauma events at her Portland hospital. But she’d done well and was proud of making another step toward complete recovery.

  And she relished the fact that no one in town knew her medical history. Well, except for Dr. Mallory. No friends hovered over her, watching to see if she was okay. No memories of Allen and his betrayal. No concerned senior nurse cutting back her schedule. Here everyone treated her like a normal person—which she was.

  The summer sun lingered in the sky and she swung by the marina park to sit on one of the benches and study the boats tied in slips. Which of the fishing boats on the commercial side had run into Tate Johnson? She wouldn’t like to be that guy when Tate was feeling better.

  Slowly, the peaceful scene erased the stress from the day. She didn’t have many friends yet in her new hometown. It would be nice to have someone to call on the spur of the moment for dinner, talk over what happened during their day. She needed to expand her horizons a little and make more of an effort to forge friendships. She’d spent the few weeks she’d been here getting her apartment just as she wanted it. She still hoped to paint her bedroom, but had put it off. First of all, she’d never done such a project and wasn’t sure how to start. And second, most of her free time was still spent resting, or going on walks to build up her stamina.

  Time to look to the future and make plans.

  Chapter Two

  A loud burst of thunder woke Faith up in the middle of the night. She snuggled beneath the covers, glad to be warm and dry. Staring out the window, she watched as two more bolts of lightning lit the sky. The clap of thunder that followed was almost instantaneous. The storm was right overhead. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was almost four in the morning. She’d gone to bed early. Now she wondered if she’d be able to go back to sleep. Staring at the window, she watched as another bolt flashed. Thunder shook the building. Slowly, as the minutes crept by, the storm moved away. She began to relax, drifting.

  The shrill sound of her cell phone snapped her awake. She reached over and peered at the caller—Marjorie O’Brien. Was there an emergency?

  “Hi, this is Faith,” she answered and sat up. If Marjorie was calling in the middle of the night, there must be something wrong.

  “Faith. Good thing I found you at home. Dr. Mallory’s at the Jarrards—Kathy’s in labor and waited too long to get to the clinic or a hospital. So the doc’s tied up. It’s pouring outside. And black as pitch. Honestly, emergencies should be scheduled better.” She sighed in exasperation. “Anyway, you need to get to the clinic. The sheriff called. Apparently there was a mix-up in the medication the doctor ordered for him.”

  “What kind of mix-up?” Faith asked, concerned.

  “He has the antibiotics but there aren’t any pain meds and his head’s killing him. I think the doctor said he’d written him a prescription and given him some pills to tide him over until he could get the prescription filled. But with all that went on this afternoon, I’m not sure what happened.” A hint of accusation filled her voice. “Maybe you got flustered and didn’t give all the meds and prescriptions. Anyway, you need to rectify things.”

  “I gave him the packet the doctor ordered.” Faith took a moment to think back. She remembered the envelope with some pills inside, sitting on the prescription sheet.

  “The sheriff called the doctor’s office and the exchange called me. I’m sure I don’t know where the medicine is.”

  “Okay, I’ll go check it out. It’ll take me a few minutes. Where do I take the pills?” She was already on her feet, going to the dresser to get something to wear. “I don’t know where Joe Kincaid lives.”

  “Tate said he spent the evening with Kincaids, but then insisted they take him home. His place isn’t far from Main Street. Take Kirlandic to Morse and then to Silver. His is the third house on the right. Do you need me to look up his address? Or can you manage that?” The snippy tone in her voice conveyed her disdain to Faith.

  “No. I’ll figure it out. I’m on my way.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  Great, Faith thought a couple of minutes later, it was still pouring rain. Just her luck to be needed during the worst storm she’d seen since arriving in Rocky Point. Her car was parked around the side of the building. Whenever possible she walked around town, to get to know the place and to build up her strength. Dashing thorough the downpour, she reached her car with water already soaking the shoulders of her shirt, dampening her hair, which would make it curl even more tightly.

  In only a couple of minutes she was at the clinic. It felt a bit spooky entering the dark building. But once the lights went on, she was fine. She went immediately to the area where sample medicines were kept. Searching for a moment, she saw the packet of pain pills off to one side of the counter, on top of a scrip for more meds, all with Tate’s name on them. Faith stared at them for a moment. They had not been there when she left work that evening. Shaking her head, she grabbed them and headed back outside.

  The asphalt seemed to absorb her headlights as the rain beat down relentlessly. She had her wipers on high and still had trouble seeing. Carefully following Marjorie’s hastily given directions, she had no trouble finding Tate’s house. It was the only one on the street with the lights on.

  She parked behind his big SUV. Knocking on the door a moment later, she was grateful for the overhang. Though the gusting wind blew rain across the porch, it was not beating directly on her anymore. She shivered. The temperature had dropped noticeably with the storm.

  Tate opened the door, his eyes squinting.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring anyone out on a night like this,” he said, opening the door wide and gesturing for her to enter. “I thought the doctor would call in a prescription or something and I could get one of the deputies on duty to swing by. Come in out of the rain.”

  She shook her head to dislodge what drops she could and stepped inside.

  “Actually, the storm woke me up before Marjorie called. I thought you were supposed to be somewhere where people could make sure your concussion didn’t worsen,” she said, holding out the packet of pills.

  “I’m fine. Except for the headache.”

  “Take two right away. It’ll ease the pain in less than ten minutes.”


  “Can I get you something hot to drink before you head out?” he asked, already striding toward the kitchen.

  Faith followed, noting the comfortable living room in passing. Big furniture, pictures on the walls, a big-screen television. All softened by a colorful rug, pillows on the sofa and one chair. It looked surprisingly finished for a single man living alone. Had he decorated it himself, or had he had help? She assumed he was single. No one had mentioned a wife.

  The kitchen was bright and modern, with stainless-steel appliances, a big double sink and an island where two stools were pushed up against it on one side. The window overlooked the dark backyard. In the distance, flashes of lightning jagged in the sky.

  She watched as Tate quickly swallowed the pills. He wore the same clothes he’d left the clinic in. No shoes. Glancing around, she went to the stove and snapped on the light over it, then turned off the overhead light. He swung around and looked at her.

  “Easier without that bright light, don’t you think?” she asked.

  He nodded, then winced. “I hope this headache isn’t going to become a permanent part of my life.”

  “It’ll ease up soon. Want me to make something for you? Did you eat dinner?”

  “I had dinner at Joe’s. I was going to offer you coffee or hot chocolate,” he said.

  “If you show me where things are, I’ll make it while you go sit down in the living room. Leave the lights off—there’s enough light from the hall. Rest up for a few minutes, I guarantee the pain will ease up.”

  It felt odd to be moving around someone else’s kitchen, Faith thought a few minutes later as she waited for the milk to heat. It reminded her of spending time in Allen’s kitchen. They’d loved to cook together, bumping into each other, and laughing, sharing what they’d done during the day, talking about their future, when they’d marry and make dinner together every night.

  She missed that companionship. Missed being loved. Missed being part of a couple. Would she ever have another special guy? Someone who would love her no matter what. Who wouldn’t flee in panic if something went wrong. Could she ever trust another person enough to try to build that kind of relationship?

  I’m open to anything You have waiting for me, Lord.

  When the milk was ready, she prepared two mugs of hot chocolate and carried them into the living room. She’d be taking off soon, but wanted to make sure Tate was feeling better before she left.

  Already the sky was lightening in the east. The storm seemed stuck over the sea off Rocky Point. She was in no rush to drive back home in the heavy rain.

  Tate lounged in a recliner, his head resting on the back, eyes closed. Quiet though she’d been, he heard her and opened his eyes to look at her.

  “Here you go. I hope you like it,” she said, handing him a mug. She sat on the sofa opposite the huge television. She’d love to watch some movies on that big screen. It would almost be like going to the theater.

  “Thanks. Miserable night to be out,” he said, clasping the mug.

  “But the rain’ll cool things down a bit,” she said, taking a small sip of the hot chocolate. Still too hot to drink. “Besides, it was our responsibility to make sure you had all your medicine when you left the clinic.” She remembered Marjorie bringing her the small plastic bag with pills and instructions inside.

  Had she deliberately left out the pain meds?

  Faith tried to ignore her suspicions. She couldn’t blame Marjorie for everything that went wrong at the clinic, even though she suspected that Marjorie had a hand in a lot of it recently.

  “No problem, except I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything to get rid of the pounding.”

  “Feeling better now?” she asked.

  “A bit. Not your fault I didn’t get all the medication.”

  “Well, as part of the clinic’s team, I’m part of any problem there,” Faith said.

  He changed the subject. “Where did Marjorie say the doctor was?”

  “Delivering a baby at Mrs. Jarrard’s.”

  “Their fifth. I’m sure it’ll come fast,” he said, taking a drink from the mug. “Umm, this is good.”

  Faith looked around. On the wall by the front windows were several photographs of a young woman. She rose and went to look at them. The woman was lovely, with long blond hair and a flawless complexion. She was laughing at the camera in one image, and Faith felt herself smile in return.

  “My wife,” Tate said, looking at the pictures.

  “She’s very pretty.” Faith wondered where she was when her husband needed her.

  “She was. She died a few years back.”

  “Oh, my. I’m so sorry. She doesn’t look very old.” Faith was shocked by the knowledge.

  “Death doesn’t wait for everyone to age,” he said.

  “No.” She thought of her own scare. If the chemo hadn’t been successful, she could have died at age twenty-seven. Giving a quick thanks to the Lord for sparing her life, she turned. “You must miss her so much.”

  “I do. Every single day. We lived in Boston. It was hard to stay there after she died. So when my dad had his stroke, I jumped at the chance to move back home.” He sighed heavily. “It’s not what I thought I’d be doing at this stage of life, but at least every place I turn I don’t see Mandy. Well, except for our furniture. She picked it all out. I couldn’t leave that behind.” He rubbed the arm of the chair thoughtfully.

  “I expect she’d be happy knowing you kept it all. It keeps her alive in your memory.”

  He looked at her and nodded. “I won’t ever forget her. I’ll love her all my life. But sometimes it’s as if no one around me acknowledges that she lived. That she was such an important part of my life.”

  Faith went to sit back down. “People don’t always know how to handle grief or death. You could let people know you want to talk about her.”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes I do, sometimes I get so angry she died I can hardly be around people.”

  “Were you married long?”

  “Not long enough. About two years. We’d just begun talking about starting a family when she was diagnosed. Then we spent all we had on trying to make her well.”

  “How did she die?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t mind.

  “Breast cancer. It was awful. She just wasted away. She fought hard, but it was too far gone when it was discovered.”

  Faith knew nothing she could say would make things better. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure the doctors did all they could.” It sounded flat.

  “That’s what the attending physician said at the hospital. Still, it seems to me that modern medicine should have been able to do something.” A shadow crossed his face. “It’s so unfair. She was a kind, loving, compassionate woman. She loved being an elementary-school teacher. All her children showed up at the funeral.”

  “Wow,” Faith said softly. Had she died, could she even have counted on Allen showing up?

  “Life moves on,” Tate said, taking another sip of his drink.

  “It does. And it seems to me Rocky Point came out ahead to have you as its sheriff,” she murmured. She’d been so devastated when Allen dumped her. But at least he was still alive somewhere in Portland. Their relationship had ended, but both were alive and well. How sad for the sheriff to lose his wife so young.

  He gave a slow, lopsided grin and Faith felt her breath catch. His dark eyes seemed mysterious in the dim lighting. But when he smiled, a small dimple peeped out on his left cheek. She looked away before she did something stupid. Like begin to dream more than she should.

  “Nice of you to say that. Some days are better than others. But on the other hand, folks around here have long memories and I wasn’t exactly a saint when I was a kid. I can’t totally escape my past, as I could in Boston.�
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  “So, tell me what awful things you did as a kid,” she prodded, intrigued by this side of the sheriff. It must be that the wee small hours invited talk. She was wide-awake and wouldn’t be going back to sleep. If talking took his mind off his headache, all the better.

  The next half hour or so Tate regaled her with tales of hijinks that had her laughing in utter disbelief. And from the number of pranks he’d managed to pull off, she could tell he’d been quite a terror back then. Yet, all had been done in the spirit of good fun—and without damage to property or people. Some he did alone, most with the Kincaid brothers.

  After one account of taking a cow into the high-school principal’s office, she asked, “What did your mother do with you after that? She must have been at her wit’s end.”

  “Oh, she and my father wouldn’t let me get away with anything, even if they thought the prank was funny. It lost some of its humor to me when Joe and I had to clean up the deposits left by the cow. And take care of the principal’s yard all summer long.”

  She laughed again, then glanced out the window. It was full daylight. Checking her watch, she jumped up. “I have to get going. I’m on duty at the clinic at nine and it’s almost seven o’clock now. I didn’t mean to stay so long.”

  He rose and reached for her mug. “Thanks for bringing the pills. They helped. In fact, I’m feeling so much better I’m sure I can sleep for a while.”

  “Then give me the prescription and I’ll have it filled and stop back by after one. That way you’ll get some sleep and I’ll have the medicine for you when you awaken. The clinic closes early on Saturdays.”

  “I can get one of the men at the station to pick it up,” he said.

  “Why bother? I’ll be out and about anyway.” And it would give her an excuse to check on him in a few hours.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  The rain had settled into a dreary drizzle. The brunt of the storm had moved on over the Atlantic, rendering the sea a steely gray with whitecaps visible as far as she could see. Parking the car in her regular spot at the side of the building, Faith climbed out, vowing to get a sturdy umbrella that afternoon.