Walking on Sea Glass

by Julie Carobini

  “Impossible,” she said with a huff. “Okay, maybe we can catch up tonight.”

  “You got it.”

  Ten minutes later, her grocery and incidentals list opened on her phone, Liddy made her way through a store aisle, tossing items into her cart. The bright lights inside the warehouse-like building did a number on her vision, blinding her enough to make her squint. She wished she could slap on a pair of sunglasses like some Hollywood celebrity, you know, because that would look normal.

  A twenty-something woman moved toward her on the opposite side of the aisle. One of her children, a dark-eyed boy with waves of chocolate hair, leaned far out of the cart, straining toward some unnamed treasure on a shelf. The other child, a girl she guessed by the tiny red bow tied to a wisp of a hair spout, snuggled against the woman’s chest in a sling. Liddy slowed as she passed the scene, taking in every messy detail, like the wad of wrinkles on the woman’s sleeve, and the aroma of ground-up graham crackers on little hands.

  At the sight and sounds of the party of three, an ache carved at her insides and worked its way toward her mind causing her to envision all kinds of dreams she’d never known she carried within her. Maybe they’d been there all along, locked up in a loveless marriage with no viable reason to be set free. Or maybe that curious voice she’d heard in the hospital, the one promising her a family, had provided the key.

  The baby in the woman’s sling let out a cry, a sound like a bleating calf, and Liddy shook her mind free from her musings. She smiled at the little family and turned toward a shelf of pasta, pretending to search out the perfect noodle, all the while hoping she hadn’t been mistaken for a stalker.

  She wasn’t exactly sure when the row of shelving in front of her began to shrink, as if pulling away from her like the back end of a car. Instinctively, Liddy reached for a shelf, ignoring the box of pasta that fell to one side before sliding almost in slow motion, to the scuffed linoleum floor, the noise of it shaking her senses. She shut her eyes, willing away the sense of pressure in her head, then reminded herself to breathe.

  Breathe.

  Like she’d done that day at work when she’d been unable to respond to anyone around her.

  Breathe.

  Slowly she let her hand drop away from the shelf and, surreptitiously, she glanced about. The mother and children rounded the corner, away from her. Calls for assistance at register number one went out over the loudspeaker, as usual. The general din of the grocery store had the same dullness, but sounded louder somehow. More grating.

  Liddy dug a hand into her purse and searched for the bottle of medication that had been her lifeline, especially right after her diagnosis when she’d had to continue working. She would have loved to stay home back then to nurture her fearful self, but starvation had not been a desirable option. She checked all pockets and came up empty, then allowed her fingers to poke along the bottom lining of her bag.

  On her bed. The medicine bottle must be somewhere on her bed, most likely buried beneath a taut sheet. So much for learning from a young age to always make her bed! If she had a nickel for every time she had pulled the sheets and comforter over her phone, her wallet, her keys …

  She pressed her lips together, stifling a sigh. When she’d arrived home last night, she couldn’t sleep. Her mind had been poring over the events at both the restaurant and hotel—and some from the evening before with Beau—so she’d stayed up and dumped the contents of her purse onto the bed, hoping to reorganize it all.

  And then Beau had surprised her by calling to check up on her.

  Liddy glanced around. If she hurried, she could pay for her items, run home for medicine, and still meet Beau around noon.

  When she arrived at home, she yanked away the covers of her neatly made bed, but the medicine bottle wasn’t there. Neither was it on the bathroom counter or in her nightstand drawer. Strange. She usually kept it close, like a tube of lipstick, always there and ready to give her what she needed—and quick.

  She retraced her steps from the night before, starting with the front door. By the time she’d wound her way like a lost dog through her small condo, it hit her: when she’d cleaned out her purse, she had not come across the bottle. Think, Liddy, think!

  No, it definitely hadn’t been there. So where was it? Maybe she’d left it in the drawer at work where she kept her purse.

  She glanced at the clock. It was already quarter to noon. Not enough time to stop by the hotel before lunch. Her heart raced in her chest, but not from dizziness. Instead a creep of dread began its ascent, winding through the knots that had already formed in her stomach.

  Liddy reached for her phone, and her thumb hovered over the call button. Instead, she sent Beau a quick text: Sorry. Have to cancel lunch. Will make it up to you!

  She added a happy face emoji, and slowly laid the phone on the table.

  * * *

  “You’re distracted,” Beau said that evening. “Everything all right?”

  Liddy nodded at him, a lightning-fast flash of something in her eyes. “Yes, fine,” she answered, but something was off. He’d seen that expression before, but he could not recall when, and therefore had no reference in which to frame it.

  Beau eyed her for a few seconds more before returning to his meal.

  Plenty of light still poured from the sky as he and Liddy sat outside, protected only by hazy blue netting hung like a tarp from each corner. Since they had not been able to meet up for lunch, they had decided to have an early dinner on the pier. Beachgoers, their feet slapping against weathered planks, and territorial seagulls provided entertainment enough to fill the pockets of silence between them.

  Liddy’s phone rang. He watched her glance at the screen, hesitate, and when she saw his eyes on her, quickly turn off the ringer. Then she speared a shrimp, ate it, and took a long sip of sparkling water while gazing at the expansive body of water that fanned out behind them.

  Something was definitely bothering her, but it wasn’t his place to pry her loose like a soldered oyster. He’d long learned that a woman would share what was on her mind often—and when she cared to. Besides, though he and Liddy had grown exceptionally close in a relatively short amount of time, neither had made a long-term commitment to the other.

  Long-term. He mulled that over for a few seconds. The idea didn’t scare him like it once might have. Maybe it sucked a few liters of air from his lungs at rapid fire pace, but fear? Not really.

  Liddy’s phone rang again, and this time her eyebrows knit too closely together for his comfort.

  “Go ahead and answer it. I’ll wait here.”

  Her body barely reacted, but he could tell by a shimmer of hope in her eyes that she was glad he had encouraged her.

  “I’ll be just a second,” she said, then quietly slipped out the gate and entered the fray of tourists milling about. She kept walking, head down, until she reached the pier railing. She leaned into it while continuing to talk, one hand holding the phone against her ear, and the other rolled into a fist.

  Though he knew he would never interrogate her over that intense phone call, Beau could not tamp down the desire to stroll over there, take her fist into his hands, and kiss each finger free.

  * * *

  Liddy shut her eyes, but the warm breeze did nothing to cool her. “I don’t understand why I’m getting bumped again.”

  The woman on the other end, the hospital’s MRI scheduler, said, “I’m sorry, Liddy, but we’ve had some emergencies and it’s created a domino effect. I’ve been asked to reschedule those whose MRIs are just routine.”

  “Routine? A brain tumor is … routine?” Her voice had begun to rise. She hated the feel of it scraping through her throat.

  “I understand, but you had it removed. Right?”

  She sighed. “Yes, yes, of course.” It hit her that if she was being bumped, it was likely for someone who had been in her position months ago. The memory of those days and hours waiting to learn her fate rendered her without an appetite. “Listen
,” she broached, “I understand that there are more dire cases in front of me. It’s just … I’ve been experiencing some weird symptoms lately—”

  “In that case, you should really make an appointment to see your doctor.”

  “Oh, but I was hoping that this MRI would prove that all was well …”

  “If you’re having symptoms, your doctor may want to order a more involved test. Shall I hold off scheduling you until you can get an appointment with him?”

  “No, no. Please.” She bit her lip, hoping she hadn’t sounded too desperate. “Let’s just leave it as is for now.”

  Liddy made her way back to the table with a pasted-on smile. Seeing Beau waiting for her helped to quell the unease churning her stomach until another thought broke through: What if he asked her about the phone call? Did she really want to tell him about the follow-up MRI? And what if he learned she’d been dizzy lately? Would he prod her for more information? He’d already asked her how she was feeling far more than was comfortable for her.

  She slid into her chair, resolved.

  He eyed her with concern. “Everything okay?”

  Liddy smiled. “It is. Now what were we talking about?”

  “You’ve actually been pretty quiet today. Unusual.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that you’re not your usual chipper self.”

  A wave crashed in the distance, sending a goose bump-inducing breeze through the patio. She forced a smile. “Didn’t realize that was a requirement.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could call them back.

  He crossed his forearms and leaned them onto the table, his eyes imploring her. “Are you feeling well?”

  She straightened her back and reached for a napkin, rolling it in her hand. Again? Why was he pressing her? “Of course. I wouldn’t have come to dinner if I didn’t.”

  “You haven’t told me why you missed lunch.”

  She scrunched that napkin into a ball. “Really, Beau? Are you accusing me of something?”

  Beau’s right brow rose as he scoffed. “Well, I wasn’t, but now I’m starting to wonder …”

  “Wonder what?” she snapped.

  This time his brow lowered, concern marking his face. Beau reached across the table for her hand. “Hey, wait. I’m sorry.”

  His touch seared her fingers, sending a dart of passion through her. The sensation comforted her. She wanted to cry, but held herself in check and looked away, pretending to examine the sea.

  What would he do if he knew how scared she was right now?

  Could he handle it?

  And how would she handle it if he couldn’t?

  Warmth continued to flood her body at his touch, and she pulled her gaze back to his, finding safety his eyes. If only this sense of calm had the ability to drive out the deep fears that had rooted in her weeks ago, the ones that had bloomed in unwelcome glory earlier today.

  He played with her fingers, but slowly she untangled her hand from his. She swallowed, a sharp knot of emotion lashing the base of her throat. “I’m sorry for being so crabby,” she said, wicking a look at him. She attempted a small laugh. “I’m really tired from last night, I guess.”

  He smiled, and though it reached his eyes the corners turned down slightly—as if carrying a weight of sadness. “Partying with the girls can do that.” He hesitated, then said with a spike of a laugh, “Or so I’ve heard.”

  That night, she kissed him goodnight on the landing outside of her condo. As she locked the door behind her, she could not shake the ominous cloud of fear that had followed her home.

  Chapter 20

  At work the next morning, Liddy checked every drawer, behind every knick-knack that Trace had somehow wrangled approval to leave up, and every inch of carpeting under the desk, but she came up empty. The medicine bottle was nowhere. Lost. Gone.

  So she ducked out to call her doctor, even though she had barely started her day.

  “Dr. Grayson’s office. This is Mary.”

  The woman from the picnic. “Hello, Mary? This is Lydia Buckle.”

  “Lovely to hear your voice. Are you calling to make an appointment?”

  “Uh, no. Not exactly. I realized this morning that I’d lost the bottle of Dilantin that Dr. Grayson said I should keep with me at all times. Would it be possible to refill that prescription?”

  “Well, let me take a look. Just a moment. Hmm. It says here that the doctor hasn’t authorized any refills.”

  “I know, but like I said, I lost the bottle and …”

  “And from what I can tell, this is not an active prescription.”

  Liddy pressed her lips together, shut her eyes, and took a deep breath through her nose. Should Mary even be reading her chart? Aren’t there HIPAA laws or something?

  “At least that’s what I can tell from your file, although I haven’t worked as a nurse in years. Tell you what. Dr. Grayson is in surgery all day, but I can have his nurse look over your file when she’s free and advise me. If she gives me the go-ahead, I’ll call in your prescription for you.”

  And Liddy let the breath she was holding back out.

  For the next hour or so, she kept busy answering calls and making dinner or show reservations for guests. Once or twice it crossed her mind that she hadn’t received a text from Beau. He knew she was at work, though, as was he, so that’s likely why.

  Hopefully she hadn’t scared him away the night before.

  Trace leaned in next to her. “Something’s going down at the O.K. Corral.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She gestured with a flick of her chin toward the bell desk. Yep, Hans was on a tirade and the poor bellmen and valets were stuck dealing with it.

  Though she knew it wasn’t the most mature move ever, Liddy rolled her eyes. “It’s too early for this,” she whispered.

  “Don’t I know it. I’ve still got a hundred phone calls to make and won’t that be distracting if Hans decides to raise his voice at exactly the wrong moment?”

  “Well, you make your calls. If a client hears Hans, it’ll be his fault!”

  Trace pulled back. “Whoa. What’s got you in a snit?”

  “Yeah,” said Meg, as she sidled up to the concierge desk, “you look like Shawn just asked to borrow your car.”

  Liddy almost cracked a smile at that.

  “Seriously. What’s up?” Meg asked, her eyes zeroing in on Liddy’s.

  She shrugged. “Nothing. Overslept this morning and didn’t get enough coffee. That’s all.”

  Meg pursed her lips.

  Liddy waved her away. “Go on now. Don’t you have some million-dollar client to book?”

  Slowly, Meg nodded. She began to walk backward, and Liddy fought off a twinge of envy over the perfect cut and fit of her friend’s sleek cobalt blue suit. It was like she had stepped into a glove. How fun would that be to do every day? She glanced down at her plain-Jane wardrobe, as outlined in the employee handbook.

  When Meg pointed a two-finger V-sign at her as if to say “I’m watching you,” Liddy laughed out loud.

  It was late afternoon before Mary called her back. “You’re all set,” she said, adding that Liddy really should make an appointment to see Dr. Grayson soon. She would, of course, but not until after she had undergone another routine MRI, which was now more than two weeks away.

  A niggling worry from earlier in the day had evolved into one of epic proportions. Grabbing her phone, Liddy turned to Trace. “I’m going to run outside for a break.”

  “Good for you. Sea air is good for the soul.”

  “Agreed. Be back soon.”

  The short walk to the water’s edge brought a noticeable drop in her blood pressure—not like it was ever really high—but tension eased out of her neck and shoulders as the cloudless sky beckoned her. Seated on a bench overlooking the surprisingly calm sea, a gaggle of boats bobbed on the water. She punched in Beau’s number.

  He picked up on the first ring.

  “Hey,�
� she said.

  “Hey,” he answered. Was there a moment of hesitation?

  She licked her lips, and rubbed them together. “I wanted to … I wanted to apologize for my crankiness yesterday.”

  “Are you better today?”

  “Yes. Much. Work has been crazy, but I …”

  What could she say? Her mood was lifted now that her meds were waiting for her at the pharmacy? Or now that she had not experienced a moment of dizziness all day long?

  “I guess I just wanted to apologize.”

  “No need. We all have bad days.”

  She nodded. He spoke the words she expected him to, but somehow they lacked enthusiasm. Perhaps he was just busy. She pictured him sitting behind his paper-strewn desk.

  “So … so I guess I’d better let you go, since you’re at work,” she broached.

  “I need to ask you something, Liddy.”

  She hesitated. “Of course.”

  “How are you? Really.”

  “I’m good. Happy. Meg had me laughing today, even. Hans is on the warpath for some reason, but even that’s fairly comical. So, all in all a good day.”

  “Mary mentioned you today.”

  A sixty-something man on roller blades wove down the sidewalk in front of her, his tie-dyed shirt lifted on the breeze, giving her way too much information. But even that did not fully distract her from Beau’s statement.

  “Mary from my doctor’s office?” Did her voice just rise in pitch?

  “Yes,” he said evenly. She imagined him sitting in his office, his hand raking over the gristle growing on his cheeks.

  “And?”

  “She mentioned something about you calling in a prescription, and I wondered—”

  “Are you kidding me? Isn’t that illegal?”

  It took him several seconds to answer. “It is. She shouldn’t have said anything, but now that she has all I can do is wonder. You’ve seemed tired lately. And last night you were definitely not yourself. Now I learn you need more medication. Liddy? Are you … is there something you want to tell me?”

  She stood up. A flag on a sailboat whipped flat against the sky, hailing from its mast. “I’m fine. I can’t believe she divulged my personal information. That’s unbelievable.”