The Promise

  Three

  Peyton didn’t expect to find adequate housing in Thunder Point; she was fully prepared to search out an apartment or duplex in a nearby town, even one as far away as North Bend. First of all, she was looking for a tailor-made lease—month to month or three months, but she couldn’t commit to anything longer. Second, she no longer had her own furnishings.

  “This is an amazing coincidence,” Ray Anne Dysart said. “This absolutely never happens. I got a call this morning from a part-time resident. They come up here from Sacramento to get out of the summer heat—usually stay about five months, from May through September, but couldn’t make it up here yet this year and looks like they won’t. Health issues. They said if I could rent it for a few months to a responsible tenant, they’d appreciate it. I haven’t even seen the inside. Want to have a look?”

  “Sure,” Peyton said.

  “The daughter called. She said there might be a few personal items left in the house—they really thought they’d be back. And the daughter can’t get up here for a couple of weeks, but asked if I’d box up anything that’s real personal and she’ll come for it. I have no idea what that means. Let’s check it out.”

  It was a very small two-bedroom, a duplex with a small patio with a six foot fence around it, just like many apartment complex patios. The decor was altogether too fussy for Peyton—crocheted toilet tissue cozies, driftwood accents here and there, a fishing net strung on the kitchen wall with hooks in it for oven mitts, dish towels and other paraphernalia. There were also family pictures on tables and walls, baskets holding shells and lots of seaside-themed throw pillows. But the furniture was attractive and comfortable. The place would have a welcoming air about it, once the crafty doodahs and family pictures had been removed. It was only a few blocks from the clinic—a few more to the marina and beach.

  “This will do nicely,” she said to Ray Anne. “I told Dr. Grant I could give him three months. Can you check with the owners about that time frame?”

  “Sure. Do you have a lot of stuff to move?”

  “I’m not going to move furniture for just a few months, especially since this place is nicely furnished. I have a few things I want to fetch from my brother’s house where they’re stored—my own linens, a couple of rugs, a few kitchen items I’m attached to. You know—creature comforts. Can we poke around closets and drawers and see what kind of things were left behind that have to be packed up?”

  Peyton would buy new before admitting she had left her last address with practically nothing. She had a turntable and valuable vinyl record collection, her grandmother’s lace dresser scarf that she’d tatted herself, linen placemats and matching napkins, her other grandmother’s antique hand-tooled serving platters, things she wouldn’t invite her sisters or sisters-in-law to use or she might not see them again. There were some old crystal wineglasses and a decanter. And she had some carefully chosen art that she’d had boxed at a gallery for storage because there had been no place for them in Ted’s house.

  In fact, that’s about all that was left. When she’d moved in with Ted, she stored most of her furniture with George—he had room in the basement of his house. Little by little they’d gone the way of family members who needed them. Her four-poster bed was “loaned” to a niece who needed a bed; the dresser eventually made its way to the same bedroom. Her mother’s antique pie safe and dry sink was being used by Ginny. “It looks so perfect in my house!” Ginny had said. Her sofa, love seat and accent tables had gone into Ted’s game room where they were beaten to death by his kids. She no longer liked them and had left them behind. Her antique rolltop desk was in Adele’s little apartment in San Francisco where it was being loved. Her kitchen table and chairs were with Ellie and her family; it would never be the same. She wouldn’t loan the art—she knew how that worked. Although things were always “borrowed,” they seemed to never be returned. They weren’t thieves by any means. They were merely presumptuous relatives. And passive-aggressively forgetful.

  Many of Peyton’s favorite things had made their way into Ted’s house—her Crock-Pot, a set of dishes and glassware, toaster oven, stainless-steel flatware, some very nice bath towels. Most of it wasn’t worth packing up when it had been time to leave. In fact, she’d been on the verge of leaving, trying to make herself do it, when something that simply crushed her happened. She’d told the kids never to touch her turntable or the original vinyl record collection she kept stored in their bedroom. But then she came home from an errand, heard the sound of the original Beatles album she’d had for years coming from her bedroom. She heard it skipping. It was marred with a deep scratch, as were several other records...and she fell into tears. Twelve-year-old Pam had screeched, “You’re just plain stupid! It’s just a stupid record! We don’t even have records anymore!” When Ted had gotten home that night, Peyton was packing a couple of suitcases and some boxes. She’d explained it was the last straw, and he’d said, “I have to agree with Pam to an extent. Leaving over a broken record is pretty stupid. I’ll buy you another. I’m sure it wasn’t malicious.”

  “It was completely malicious!” she’d said. “Everything is malicious! And there isn’t another—it’s a collector’s item!”

  “What is it you want, Peyton? Do you want me to go drag her out of her room and force her to apologize?”

  “Yes!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he had said. “Grow up.”

  “How can you, the most sensitive doctor I’ve ever worked with, be so insensitive?” she had asked.

  She had packed everything she could and went to the farm. There had been things missing from her closet that she knew she’d never see again—boots, shirts, sweaters, blazers. If she could have summoned the energy, she would have searched Krissy’s and Pam’s rooms. She hadn’t had the strength. She’d stuffed her car with everything she could and told Ted she’d be at the farm for a couple of weeks. She had a lot of vacation coming. “I’ll commute to work from the farm after I take a little time to think things through, to recuperate.”

  “Maybe we should just make a clean break,” Ted had said. “You’re through with me, that’s obvious. I don’t see how we can work closely together after this.”

  “Who will do my job? Take my patients?” Peyton had asked.

  He’d given her a shrug, hands in his pockets. “I’ll find someone. Maybe I should just give Lindsey a chance, see what she can do.”

  “She’s an RN,” Peyton had said. “She’s twenty-five. Inexperienced.”

  “She’s ambitious. Resourceful.”

  And suddenly Peyton had known. How had she never guessed? She slowly turned to him. “How long?” she’d asked.

  “How long?” he’d echoed.

  “You’re seeing her, I can tell. How long have you been involved with her?”

  “Involved is too strong a word. We’ve developed a...well, I guess it’s a close friendship. You’ve been pushing me away. You’ve been hell to live with the last year. Be honest, Peyton, you know it’s true. You hate it here. You don’t want me anymore. I don’t think we can go forward from this point. I’ll give you a good recommendation.”

  “You bastard,” she’d whispered. “I don’t need your recommendation. I’m very well known in the medical community in Portland. Lindsey will need your recommendation!”

  “I’ll give you a generous severance,” he’d said.

  “Mail it to the farm,” she’d said, lifting a box and carrying it out to her car.

  Peyton shook herself back to the present. She smiled at Ray Anne. “I’ll just get together a few things and move in, if that’s all right,” she said. “I’ll visit with my parents overnight while I load up.”

  “Let’s call the owner’s daughter and figure out this lease right now,” Ray Anne said, getting comfortable at the kitchen table and opening up her briefcase.

  And it was done. Forty-eight hours later she was packing the left-behind linens and clothing and some of the owner’s kitchen wares into boxes. Sh
e would store them in the second bedroom until they could be picked up. She went through the canned goods and spices and checked dates, thinning out that supply. There wasn’t much for her to deal with. She got out some of her own things to use in the kitchen, hung one of her paintings and put out a few of her own family pictures. The fishnet came down. She put her precious turntable and record collection on its small display case—the only piece of furniture she’d brought—and placed it against the living room wall. And she played Johnny Mathis, Funny Girl and Yentl. She had great speakers and blasted the music, singing along with it. Singing was a Basque tradition, except mostly the men sang the folk songs. Just as well—Peyton wanted to sing with Etta James or Barbra.

  Alone, in her new little duplex with her own bathroom, bookcase, garage, bedroom and kitchen, she would dance! She realized for the first time in a long time, she felt safe. And as long as she didn’t think of Ted and his family, she was no longer lonely. When her thoughts drifted that way, she was reminded that she’d really, truly thought she could do it. She’d thought she could make a life with him and love his kids and somehow make a difference, even if she couldn’t cajole them into loving her. Or even liking her.

  Feeling like a failure was every bit as hard as feeling rejected.

  Peyton had been called a perfectionist. She had never been insulted by that. She worked at things until they were absolutely as good as they could be. How could there be anything wrong with that? With trying your hardest?

  Hell to live with? she asked herself. Maybe I’m just better off alone.

  * * *

  Devon held up the dress she would wear for her wedding. It was an unpretentious floral sundress with a wrap for evening. She was dressing at Cooper’s house because hers still smelled like paint and sawdust. They would have a little exchange of vows on Cooper’s deck with about a dozen guests, toast the marriage and then Devon would kiss Mercy and Austin and leave them with Cooper and Sarah, and off they would go.

  “I don’t approve of the simplicity of this,” Laine Carrington said. “I understand, but I so don’t approve. I wanted you to have dancing, drinking, craziness, lots of food, too much to clean up and many hangovers.”

  Devon laughed at her best friend. “You’ll get over it. This is absolutely what we want.”

  And so it was. There were just a few couples and Scott and Rawley. Sarah and Cooper hosted and provided champagne, Gina and Mac McCain were there, Carrie James brought the hors d’oeuvres from her deli and put out a very nice spread before the nuptials, including a beautiful, small wedding cake. Mac’s aunt Lou and her husband, Joe, and Ray Anne and her boyfriend, Al, rounded out the group. Laine brought her significant other, Eric. And of course, the kids Mercy and Austin were there, being very well behaved. Devon’s suitcase was packed for a little getaway and was in the back of Spencer’s car

  A woman named Lynette Tremain, an ordained minister from Bandon, presided. Right at seven in the evening, when the sun was beginning its downward path and before it reached its glorious moment of touching the Pacific horizon, Lynette gave a very short wedding sermon about the beauty of second chances, of rebirth and renewal since Spencer was a widower and Devon’s daughter had been conceived and born in a commune. For them, this was a new start, a new life.

  The vows were spoken, the kisses and congratulations bestowed, the champagne poured, and the cake was cut. Devon and Spencer stayed another hour to visit with their guests, but Spencer was very eager to whisk his bride away. Before leaving, Devon took Scott aside. “I called Peyton’s cell phone and left her a voice mail, telling her I’d be out of town for a few days, and I gave her your cell phone number. I told her you thought you’d manage just fine, but if she wanted to stop by...”

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “She might feel obligated. I managed just fine before you started working at the clinic.”

  “Well, that’s true, except for the ‘just fine’ part.”

  “Was that an insult? Because I bought you a nice wedding gift!”

  “You’re wonderful with the patients, Scott. But when I started, there were months of backed-up paperwork and your files were...” She made a face. “Really, you have to stick to medicine.”

  “We all have our weak spots. But it wasn’t that bad.”

  “I’ll be back in five days. Just leave everything on my desk. I’ll straighten it out when I get back. And if you have any questions—”

  “I’m not calling you on your honeymoon!” he said.

  “No, you shouldn’t,” she said. “But if you have any questions or if you get in a mess, you should try Peyton. She knows her way around a doctor’s office.”

  “I don’t want to impose....”

  “Scott, she wants to work for you. Don’t suffer in silence.” Then she hugged him.

  Devon then found Sarah. “Now, if anything starts up, if you feel the slightest twinge announcing the baby—you call me! We’re not going to be that far away. We’ll come straight back if the baby decides to come.”

  “I’m going to hold my knees together,” Sarah said. “But only for you! There isn’t a single other person on the planet I would do this for. And if I have my way, the second you’re back, I’m pushing.”

  Devon giggled. “It’ll be soon.”

  She found Rawley and gave him a hug. It was Rawley who’d given her refuge in Thunder Point and thus a second chance at happiness. “Thank you, for everything, Rawley. Will you help Cooper and Sarah with the kids?”

  “Don’t I always?” he asked.

  “You always do,” she said.

  “I was just wonderin’ one thing, chickadee. How’s Thunder Point workin’ out for you?”

  She laughed at him and said, “It’ll do. Now, I’ll be back in five days, but if you need me...”

  “Aw, I don’t need nothin’, chickadee. I just need my people settled and right with the world. What more is there?”

  “Well, as it turns out, there’s true love,” Devon said with a laugh.

  He gave a nod. “I think that coach fella is okay,” he said.

  “Thanks, Rawley,” she said with a smile. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

  * * *

  Getting settled in a very small furnished duplex had been almost as simple as moving into a hotel room. Peyton made a run to Costco and Target for new linens and a few accessories and then spent the rest of her time getting to know the town. She’d already been to the beach and Cooper’s bar, so on Saturday she went to the diner where she met Gina, who was more than happy to tell her about the town. Based on Gina’s recommendation, she planned to go to Cliffhanger’s for a glass of wine and a peek at the menu. She dropped by Carrie’s Deli for a salad to take home and knew at once she had found the place to buy her lunches for the next three months. Carrie had a wonderful array of premade sandwiches, one-person pizzas, microwavable breakfast burritos and egg-and-sausage sandwiches. And she also had spectacular take-out dinners, from chicken parmesan to turkey lasagna—ready for the oven. “I may never have to go to the grocery store again!” Peyton exclaimed.

  “Suits me fine,” Carrie said. “I’m always trying new recipes. I keep menus up-to-date for the next catering job. Next week I’m doing a big batch of stuffed mushrooms—a real crowd pleaser around here.”

  “I’ll be here!”

  That night, Peyton decided to take a walk on the beach. Although it was summer, she needed her sweater; the Pacific was cold, especially at night. There were quite a few people on the beach walking dogs, strolling hand in hand, teens setting up for a campfire. She stayed close to the water’s edge, keeping out of the way of others, but that didn’t stop them from nodding hello. She assumed if she hadn’t been walking alone, head mostly down, some of them might stop to talk.

  She went all the way to the dock and sat on the edge. From there she could see the entire beach and bay, and it was a beautiful, clear night. Ordinarily she might walk up the stairs to Cooper’s deck where several people sat, having just
enjoyed a beautiful sunset. There were candles on the tables, and right next door, at Cooper’s home, she could not mistake a few Tiki torches lighting up his deck. That was where Devon’s wedding would have taken place—among the torches. She could see a few men standing around and women sitting in deck chairs; she heard their laughter over the waves. She’d stay down here, out of the way. If she sat on the deck at the bar, someone from Cooper’s house might see her and wave her over. Devon had extended an invitation, though at the last minute. She didn’t want to intrude. She was a newcomer here, not a part of their group of friends. Plus, she was in no mood for a wedding tonight.

  After about nine months of dating Ted and working with him, frequently spending the night when he didn’t have the kids, he’d asked her to move in with him. “I don’t know, Ted,” she had said. “Your kids haven’t really warmed up to me. I don’t know why—I always thought I got along well with kids.”

  “They’re just moody,” he’d said. “Kids that age are.”

  “It might be best just to stay as we are. I’ll be happy to have dinner with you and your kids, but then I’ll go home to my place. Until they’re done being ‘moody.’”

  “You practically live with me now,” he’d said. “Almost every day the kids aren’t with me, you spend the night. And I love it.”

  She remembered fighting the idea. They didn’t like her and she knew it. As it was, the minute Olivia, the ex-wife, learned that Ted had a girlfriend, the scheduling problems began. Olivia was a geologist who researched fault lines and tsunamis. She was tired of her career taking the backseat to Ted’s, so she took full advantage of Peyton being available to tend them, chauffer them, even sit in on meetings at school if necessary. If Ted was to have the kids from Friday afternoon until Sunday night, Olivia found reasons to add a couple of days or just change the days altogether. She had business trips, pleasure trips she’d been deprived of for too long, extended work days.

  Ted had no one to ask for help but Peyton—he had patients having heart attacks! And of course, the kids had activities and events, ranging from concerts to meets and games. Too often Ted had been tied up with patients and needed Peyton to pick up the kids, take them home, try to get them started on homework, get something together for dinner. And had they been grateful? Oh, God, no! They’d been miserable.