Prossers Bay Series

by Cheryl Phipps

  “Any fool should leave well enough alone. You don’t know everything that happened between Stephanie and me. There’s too much that can’t be undone, even if we had an interest in doing so, which we certainly don’t.”

  “When two people care about each other way that you do, there will always be an opportunity to make things right. It’s what you do with that opportunity that defines how important someone is in your life, in your past and in your future.

  Jamie took a deep breath. This philosophical stuff was what he’d grown up with but he’d been gone too long to swallow it down without question, like the foul medicines from his youth. He couldn’t get angry with his dad, not when he looked so frail, but he had to be firm.

  “Dad, I get that you like Stephanie, even love her. That you thought she and I would one day marry. Hell, I thought so too once upon a time, but it was just another fairy tale with a bad ending. You need to understand that there’s no chance Stephanie and I will get back together. We don’t want the same things and we haven’t for a long while. We’re all grown up and if we can accept that, then you have to as well.”

  His father frowned. “Every couple wants different things. That’s what keeps the spice in a relationship. Your mother and I had a life that didn’t always go according to our plans, but we made the best of things and, for the most part, we were very happy.”

  “Except for her problem”

  “We’ve always called it what it was, you and I,” he admonished. “It was our greatest fear that her alcoholism would make you leave and not want to come home. My deepest regret was that I had no cure for her.”

  Jamie coughed, the sadness in his father’s eyes a painful sight. They were the only family each other had. Not that the two of them had had very many in-depth conversations around his mother’s addiction. No, it had been carefully managed right up until her death, which Jamie had secretly thought had been a blessing. He didn’t think he’d ever get over the guilt of that, but watching her die had been the worst thing he’d ever endured. Losing Stephanie had come a close second.

  He knelt beside his father’s chair.

  “I can’t deny there were times it was hard. No matter how much I wanted to ignore the gossip, at the end of the day it was mostly true. I know mom was ashamed, and as I grew older I understood how much she fought it. I always loved her, in spite of her problem. Just like you did.”

  “I’m glad you felt that way. It would have made your mom very happy to know it, too. It’s never fair on a child to have to accept their parent’s faults, while the world watches. You did a remarkable job in dealing with it. All the therapy in the world couldn’t get rid of her demons, but you were the light of her life and you made things bearable when she was in her dark places.”

  “Thanks, Dad, but I know you were the one that made her as happy as she could possibly be. You were perfect for her.”

  His father snorted. “After all these years, one piece of knowledge that I believe is absolutely true is that there is no perfect anything. All marriages or relationships are works in progress. They come with highs and lows. Some of them incredibly high, some of them so low you’re not sure that you’ll ever be able to make things work. But when you love each other, it’s always worth the struggle. I loved your mom and I married her knowing that her abusive childhood had left deep scars. Her suffering was hard to watch, for a husband and a child,” he sighed.

  “It was, and yet there were some good years in amongst the bad times, for all of us.”

  “That there were, and I don’t mean to say she didn’t occasionally annoy the crap out of me and vice versa, yet every day until she passed away was rewarding in many ways. She was the love of my life and my friend. I will always miss her but I can’t get her back. You have the opportunity to do just that with Stephanie. All I’m saying is don’t waste this chance to clear the air.”

  Enjoying the moment, Jamie was abruptly brought back to where his father had intentionally been heading. He stood up and went to the fireplace where he placed his hands, trying to suck back his frustration.

  “I’m glad we can talk about mom, or us, but please, let the Stephanie thing rest. I’m only in Prossers Bay for you. Now, I’m going next door. Please behave yourself and I’ll come back with all the news.”

  His dad gave him a small smile which let Jamie know he had a slight reprieve, but the old meddler wasn’t done yet. He just knew it.

  Although he had found some comfort in his father’s words. The conversations they’d had prior to this, about his mom’s illness, had been such a long time ago and there had never seemed the need to discuss it over and over, when his dad managed things so well. Not since she’d passed away eight years ago, when her liver decided enough was enough.

  Then again, had he ever asked his dad if he wanted to talk about her? Or, how he was coping? He’d simply assumed that Dad, being as practical as he’d always been, was doing well enough. Now, for the first time, he could see that his father was feeling very low. Maybe it stemmed from his health issues, when he was used to being a vibrant member of the community that he loved. But could it be that he was also lonely? He felt the guilt solidifying.

  He should have spent more time with his dad, come home more often and checked up on him more regularly. Even extra phone calls would have been something.

  Instead, he’d gone on with his own life after the funeral when his father had perhaps needed him most, relieved to leave behind the stigma of a parent that didn’t fit the norm, especially in a small town, where a weakness was always noticed and often commented upon.

  Despite having a doctor’s income, his parents had lived frugally. They were kind and generous to the poorer families in Prossers Bay—sometimes to their own detriment, even negotiating other forms of payment when the farmers had rough years, or someone in town had been down on their luck. He suspected that some of his parents’ friends had reduced fees, even now. There had also been times when they’d even struggled paying for his education.

  So, now it was his turn to give. The question was how?

  He couldn’t forget seeing his father in the hospital yesterday, seeing how frail and old he’d looked. Somehow, he had to make sure that his father would be okay when he left for Seattle. He knew there’d be services that could look in on him and help with housework, and maybe he could organize a roster for his dad’s friends to catch up with him. Maybe Mary Anne had a part to play after all. The thought afforded him a little comfort.

  Jamie also had to broach the subject of his father retiring, something, he knew his stubborn father didn’t want to address yet. In reality, it was probably time, before he killed himself. The thought made him shiver. Retirement was a topic he’d no doubt have to tip-toe around. That, and Stephanie.

  No, Stephanie was an entirely different issue. When he’d received the phone call telling him that his dad had collapsed and was in the hospital, he’d dropped everything and thought of little else but getting cover for his own patients in Seattle. It wasn’t until he’d been stuck on the plane that he’d allowed himself the time to think of his father being gone from his life, and the hole that would create. Then he’d thought of the possibility of seeing Stephanie, and his mind became entangled in doubt and fear. Feelings that he’d supressed for such a long time had hit him hard.

  His dad was right. He was still angry with the way she’d left him. Sure, he’d known she wasn’t happy. But, to take off the way she had, after yet another fight about coming home to Prossers Bay and leaving only a brief note saying that’s exactly what she was doing, permanently, and wishing him well had hurt him deeply.

  He’d loved her so much and had wanted to share his life with her, but she’d hated the city life and his long hours. Her job, the first one she’d managed to get after months of searching at a large Sydney restaurant, had been mundane with seemingly no chance for advancement and he’d realized too late that she’d probably been depressed. Was that enough of a reason to shelve her aspirations?
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  Now that he’d seen her and felt the undiminished physical attraction, he knew he had to stay away or risk getting hurt all over again.

  He only had a few of weeks to figure everything out concerning his dad and he’d have to make sure every second counted, which meant no time to dwell on Stephanie being so near. He hoped.

  Chapter 3

  The surgery was full. Lydia, her red hair threaded with silver and pulled back into a severe bun, jumped up when she saw him.

  “Jamie! Welcome home.”

  She threw her arms around him, much to the amusement of the room full of patients. Everyone in town knew Lydia as the doctor’s fierce receptionist, who screened his calls and asked personal questions to save the doctor time, but to Jamie she’d been a warm shoulder to cry on when, sometimes during his childhood, his dad was too busy and his mom was . . . having one of her down days, and he’d hurt himself or was in trouble at school. Both things usually stemmed from a need to stop other kids from bagging his mother, who had gone to the shops in her nightie or was found in the park asleep on a bench. They were a couple of the more memorable, less scarring, incidents.

  “You look as lovely as ever.” Jamie hugged her back.

  Lydia blushed but giggled, further astonishing the patients who were more used to her staunch and dictatorial ways. Yes, there were two sides to Lydia Jackman, and the best one she reserved for him and his dad.

  “How’s Cliff?”

  “He’s okay. A bit tired, which is to be expected. He wanted you to know that he’s home. I’ve managed to keep him away for today but you’d better expect him tomorrow. You know what he’s like.”

  “That, I do. I’m very surprised he’s out so early.”

  “You and everyone else. I called the hospital and it seems like he was making such a fuss that they didn’t think it wise to keep him any longer.”

  “Oh, dear. I’ll have to make sure the temp isn’t around when he does show up.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Lydia looked around the waiting room and then pulled Jamie out to the lunchroom, and still reduced her voice to a whisper.

  “Your father will have a fit when he sees him.”

  “Come on, he can’t be that bad.”

  “In my defense, he was the best I could do on such short notice, and he’s well qualified. But, he has tattoos and a really long beard.”

  Jamie put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed his reassurance. “That doesn’t sound like too much to worry about.”

  “Your father is very particular when it comes to temps. As you know, he hardly ever takes time off and, when he does, it takes him weeks to find a stand-in. I simply didn’t have weeks.”

  “It’ll be fine. As long as he treats everyone in a way that doesn’t discredit the practice, then dad won’t have anything to complain about. Will he?”

  “Hmmm. We’ll see.”

  They heard a door open and Lydia raced back to the front desk. Jamie followed her and he had to admit the temp did indeed stick out in the old-fashioned rooms. He appeared very young, with his hands resting in the pockets of his trousers, looking totally at ease.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Dunbar. That rash will heal nicely with the cream I’ve prescribed. Now, who’s next?”

  Jamie cringed a little at this breach of etiquette while Lydia gave him an ‘I told you so’ look. He sounded American, and it looked like this small town, which wasn’t fond of change, was getting a bit of a shake-up.

  The young doctor scanned the room as the very embarrassed Mrs. Dunbar left in a hurry, not making eye contact with the other patients, some of who were looking at the new man with open hostility.

  Jamie took advantage of the lull in proceedings to introduce himself.

  “Good morning. I’m James Morris, the son of Doctor Clifford Morris.” He held his hand out and the young man took it willingly.

  “Pleased to meet you. I’m Simon Powell. How’s your father doing? I haven’t met him, but his patients certainly have been worried. They all ask after him and when he’ll be back. I’d be offended if I didn’t get how much they think of him.”

  His teasing had a mixed reaction on the audience, but Jamie thought he was probably a pretty genuine guy, just not the sort his father would take to.

  “He’s on the mend. He’ll need to take it easy until he’s a hundred percent better. I’d hate him to have a relapse.”

  The patients hung on his every word, looking deflated at the news. He had the distinct impression that if he’d said his father would be back any time soon they’d have all left, preferring to wait for an appointment with the ‘real Doc’. The suspicious way they now regarded the young doctor was almost comical—if this wasn’t so serious.

  “Was it a heart attack?”

  “Yes, it was.” Jamie gave him a look which his residents would have been quaking in their boots over. Not Simon.

  “I thought so, from what Lydia told me.”

  “Will he be okay, Jamie?”

  Old Mr. Peters, who sometimes played chess with his dad in the park, looked pale—perhaps thinking of his own mortality, since he was close to ninety.

  “They put a stent in and he’s much better. Just very tired, as you can imagine.”

  “I wanted to go see him. Maybe if he’s home now I could pop in?”

  There were murmurs around the room and Jamie felt his heart harden. “I know how much you care about my father and as much as he’d love to see all of you, I’m requesting that you give him a few days. He needs rest and quiet if he’s going to recover fully.”

  There was no point in pussy-footing around with this lot. Mr, Peters, who’d jumped up quickly despite his years, sat down dejectedly.

  “Okay, James. Since you’re a doctor, too, I guess you know best.”

  “Thanks for understanding, Mr. Peters.”

  Simon turned back to Jamie in astonishment. “Oh, you’re a doctor? I didn’t know that. How come you don’t want to look after your dad’s practice?”

  Seriously? Did this guy have no filter? The patients were nodding and eagerly awaiting his answer.

  “I work overseas. In fact, I’ve recently taken on a new post in Seattle.”

  “So, you won’t be stepping into your dad’s shoes when he eventually retires?”

  “No, I won’t be, but my father will find a new doctor who will be perfect for Prossers Bay.”

  “Nobody will be as perfect as your father. You might have been okay, but I don’t want anyone new poking and prodding me.”

  Dear Mrs. Durbin, the biggest busybody in town, with a tongue like a conveyor belt. Whatever Jamie said today would be common knowledge by tomorrow. Yet, he wasn’t going to lie or give the town the wrong impression. He had a huge opportunity in his career to work alongside the best and nothing was going to stop him from doing that.

  “Dad’s not retired yet, Mrs. Durbin, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay? Now I’ve held you all up long enough. Lydia, could you organize Dr. Powell’s next patient? I’d better get back home, in case he needs me.”

  Five minutes later, Jamie was leaning on the closed door of the house, cursing his luck at having more to worry about. The temp wasn’t going to work out long-term. Not when his father was so damn fussy. As soon as he could get some privacy, he’d contact the agency. He’d no intention of alerting his father to the possible drama unfolding next door, and he still had to find the right time to broach the idea of retirement. It wasn’t going to be an easy subject to bring up, but if the choice was between annoying his father or watching him die, then annoying got his vote.

  When he got back into the sitting room, his father was sound asleep, snoring softly. Jamie tucked a blanket around him and went to find his laptop. He fired it up and found the link that advertised on behalf of doctors looking for their own practices. Now was as good a time as any to do some research, and it would be nice to have a few solutions to present to his father when he did tackle those tricky subjects.
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  Stephanie walked into her small apartment at the end of a day she wanted to forget. She made a coffee, and stood at the window which looked across the green. The Doc was there again, feeding his birds. The sight was one she’d witnessed countless times over the last couple of years and it had always soothed her. Not tonight. Not knowing full well that in the house behind him, Jamie would be there. Doing whatever he thought was enough for his father. Unfortunately for them both, nothing short of Jamie staying in Prossers Bay would be enough.

  And, of course, that definitely wasn’t what she wanted. No, she was only thinking of the Doc. Wasn’t she?

  At that moment, Jamie strode out of the house and ushered his father back in. The green was too big for her to see his face but it seemed as though Jamie took a moment to look across to her. She stepped back quickly and pulled the curtains.

  She’d tried not to think about him, but it had been almost impossible. She’d also tried to stay busy to keep the thoughts of how good he looked, how every line of his face and every gesture was so familiar. What the hell was she going to do about this situation? She couldn’t be continually on guard in case she bumped into him while she was cleaning his dad’s house, because that was pretty much inevitable.

  Grabbing dinner from her supplies in the freezer, she slapped it in the microwave and slammed the door. She’d call Abby and ask her to help by changing houses for a while. They’d done it before, and although they had their routines it wasn’t set in stone if something cropped up. The only drawback was that there would naturally be questions to answer, and Stephanie wasn’t looking forward to that.

  The microwave beeped, startling her, and she almost burnt her hand getting the damn container out before she got it to the table. She peeled back the lid and stared at the unappetizing meal. As if it was a mission she couldn’t refuse, she took a small bite of something pretending to be chicken. God, it was awful. For someone who loved to cook, the whole prepared meal scenario was a cop out. Her fingers itched to be baking something. Anything. The only reason for not dumping the disgraceful slop and going and buying take-out was money. She’d been saving—forever it seemed—to start up her own café. As the bank account grew, her hopes had risen but her nerves had taken a hammering. Self-doubt plagued her. She was just a barista, and lately a cleaner.