Cottage by the Sea

by Debbie Macomber

  Before he left Mellie’s, Keaton checked on the Lab himself. Bending down, he stroked his head. The sickly dog looked at him with big brown eyes and gratefully licked his hand.

  Like Keaton and Preston, Mellie had an affinity for animals. He often brought those he found to her. He suspected that at one time she might have worked for a veterinarian. She was far too knowledgeable for a novice, and he’d watch her perform countless procedures. She seemed capable of handling just about any injury, short of surgery. Keaton was grateful to partner with her on behalf of these animals, and he knew Preston appreciated her help since the closest veterinary clinic was more than fifty miles away.

  Over the years, Preston had trusted her with just about every kind of beast one could imagine. Working at the shelter, Preston had brought her stray dogs and cats, several birds, a baby raccoon, and even a bear cub with a broken leg. Not once had Mellie complained.

  After checking on the dog and Mellie, Keaton returned home and figured it was time to unchain the dog’s owner. It took him twenty minutes driving down country roads to return to the cabin where he’d found the Labrador. As he knew he would be, the man remained chained to the tree.

  The cabin owner looked up when Keaton parked his truck. His eyes filled with fear.

  Keaton walked toward him, a menacing frown on his face.

  “Unchain me. I’m no animal. You can’t do this to me.”

  Keaton snickered.

  “You think I don’t know who you are? You’re that freak who doesn’t talk.” Sober now, he spit the words out at Keaton. “You’ll pay for this. I swear I’ll make you pay for what you done to me.”

  Fine by him. Keaton felt no obligation to release a man who was threatening him. He returned to his truck, prepared to drive away.

  “Don’t leave me!” the man shouted. “You can’t just leave me here. I could die.”

  Keaton hesitated. As far as he was concerned, that was exactly what the dog owner deserved. Slowly, he turned back. Squatting down so he was at eye level with the dog abuser, he spoke softly. “You ever treat another dog or any animal the way you did that brown Lab, I will find you and make you regret you were ever born.”

  The threat wasn’t an idle one. The other man’s eyes widened with fear.

  “You hear me?” Keaton asked.

  Again, the man nodded.

  “Say it,” Keaton demanded.

  “I’ll do what you said…no animals. Nothing but a damn nuisance anyway.”

  Keaton unchained him and watched as the man staggered toward the house before heading back to his truck. He was confident he wouldn’t be seeing the drunk again.

  CHAPTER 9

  After her first week working at the clinic, Annie had fallen into a routine. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her work in the medical community. This was a fresh start for her and it felt good. That didn’t mean she’d forgotten her family—the reminders were everywhere, especially living in the cottage. What she held on to, though, were the memories of the happy times, of the laughter and fun they’d shared the weeks they’d vacationed at the beach.

  Living and working in Oceanside was different from vacationing because this was now her home, the place where she was determined to find the strength to be happy again.

  Annie enjoyed working with Dr. Bainbridge, Candi, and Julia. Within only a few days, she could tell they would make a great team. For the first time in nearly a year and a half, Annie’s days had purpose. She had a reason to set the alarm and get out of bed in the morning. She was needed in that little community, and each day, broken as she was, Annie felt like she had a positive impact on people’s lives. It was good to have a role in something that didn’t involve the tragedy that had swallowed up her life.

  On her way to the clinic, as part of her normal morning routine, Annie stopped off at Bean There for a caramel latte. Most mornings she was greeted by the young, shy barista named Britt.

  “Mornin’, Britt,” Annie said when it came to her turn at the counter.

  Britt offered her a bashful smile. “The usual?” she asked, recognizing Annie after only a week.

  “Please.” As she came closer to Britt, Annie could see a bruise on the side of her face, one the teenager had taken great care to conceal with cosmetics. At first Annie was tempted to say something, but she didn’t want to embarrass or call attention to the girl in front of her peers.

  “You’re working on Saturday?” Britt asked as she wrote the coded instructions on the paper cup and handed it off to her coworker.

  “It’s my weekend. I work at the medical clinic,” Annie explained.

  “I know. Not much new happens in this town that goes unnoticed,” she said before turning to the next person in line. Looking back to Annie, she added, “Have a nice day.”

  “You too,” Annie returned, and frowned slightly as she glanced at the bruise again. Once she’d collected her drink, Annie continued walking to the clinic. If the weather cooperated, she could easily walk, making her way along the beach, and then past the shops and that intriguing mural. It was a little less than a mile between the cottage and the clinic, and it took her thirty minutes with a stop for her latte at the halfway point. By the time she arrived at the clinic, she’d finished her drink and was eager to start her day.

  The exercise was good for her. Her mother had always kept fit and found it important to get at least thirty minutes of moderate exercise a day. Annie found herself thinking more and more about her mother. The sadness remained, of course, but adapting part of her mother’s daily routine helped Annie fill in the hole her mother’s absence had created. Now that Annie had made this walk a habit, she had to admit it felt good. The fresh air, heavy with the scent of the ocean, invigorated her. She enjoyed picking up seashells along the way and had a small collection she kept on her kitchen windowsill. In some obscure way, Annie felt her mother would be pleased by the treasures she’d collected.

  When she arrived at the clinic, Annie found Candi sitting at her desk. The receptionist glanced up and smiled. They were on the same weekend rotation, which suited Annie. She liked Candi, who made it her responsibility to familiarize Annie with the community. It seemed she had a story to tell about every local who visited the clinic.

  Annie waited until Candi had disconnected the answering service and collected the messages before she asked the question.

  “Do you happen to know Britt? I have no idea what her last name is. She works mornings at Bean There?”

  Candi frowned and bit into her lower lip. “Britt?” she repeated.

  “She’s a teenager, possibly still in high school?”

  Candi’s eyes widened as she recognized the name. “Oh yes, that’s Britt McDuffee.”

  Annie leaned against the counter and folded her arms. “What can you tell me about her home life?”

  Candi sadly shook her head. “It’s not the best; her mother’s a hard worker, cleaning houses. Britt works mornings at Bean There and attends classes in the afternoons. She’s a senior this year, finishing up her last few credits.”

  “Is her father in the picture?”

  “Not that I know of. Her stepfather worked in the lumber industry but has been out of work for as long as I can remember. Between you and me, I think he has a drinking problem.”

  Annie mulled over the information as the clinic officially opened. Soon the teenager slipped her mind as the day quickly filled with those in need of medical attention. As it had been when she worked in California, people tended to wait until the weekend for help, to avoid missing work. Saturdays were often the busiest days of the summer at the clinic; Candi and Annie had to work hard to support each other.

  By closing time, Annie was physically and mentally drained. She walked out with Candi, who offered her a ride home. Annie was about to accept when her phone rang. Caller ID told her it was Trevor. They hadn�
�t talked in a while and she didn’t want to put him off.

  “I’ll walk, but thanks anyway; I have to take this call,” she told Candi before sliding her finger across her phone to accept the call.

  “I haven’t talked to you in forever,” she said, happy to hear his voice.

  “What’s this I hear?” he asked, sounding upbeat and a little amused. “You’ve left Seattle and moved to some obscure beach community?”

  “Gabby told you? It’s not a secret or anything. I’ve been busy moving and—”

  “Excuses, excuses,” Trevor interrupted.

  Annie grinned as she started walking toward the cottage, chatting with him at the same time. “True, that is a weak excuse. I’m sorry, Trevor, I’ve been meaning to reach out.” Consumed with her grief and dealing with the aftermath of the tragedy had stymied her. As a result, Annie hadn’t made the effort to maintain friendships. Trevor had been the one who consistently kept trying, and Steph too, of course, now that they were a couple.

  “Seeing that you’re so curious to find out how I knew, then you should know it wasn’t Gabby. Steph told me.”

  “And Gabby was the one who told her.”

  Gabby and Steph had been college roommates, and later, when Annie moved to Los Angeles, Steph had become her friend, too.

  “If you were going to move,” Trevor continued, “I’d have thought you’d come back to California. We miss you, girl.”

  “And I miss you guys.” It was the truth, but California seemed like a distant memory, an entirely different lifetime. It was hard to fathom that it had been seventeen months ago that she’d been fun-loving and carefree. She was not the same person now; she was far more serious, more focused and committed to her career.

  While she wouldn’t want to admit it, especially to Gabby or to her aunt, until the move to Oceanside, Annie had been floundering badly. Being able to rent the cottage had given fresh breath to her lungs, and in some ambiguous way, it had freed her.

  “I understand you’re working. How long is your contract?” Trevor asked.

  “A year.” She felt better now than she had for a long time, and if it worked out the way she hoped, Annie wasn’t opposed to extending the contract beyond that.

  “A year,” Trevor repeated slowly. “Hopefully you’ll find time to visit every now and again. We miss you. Everyone does.”

  “Same here,” she said automatically, and while it was true, what she really missed was the devil-may-care lifestyle she’d experienced living in southern California. Back then, she hadn’t given more than a fleeting thought to the future, bouncing from paycheck to paycheck, running up her credit cards. With few responsibilities, she lived for the weekends when she wasn’t scheduled to work at the clinic. Those lighthearted days were gone. The woman she’d once been was no more. Annie didn’t think it was possible to be that person again.

  Trevor was full of gossip about their mutual L.A. friends. As she walked, Annie listened and smiled, commenting now and again. Chatting with him did her heart good. She could almost forget…

  Almost.

  “I’m glad you called.”

  “Your arm isn’t broken, you know. You can stay in touch, too, Annie.”

  “Yes, I can,” she agreed.

  He hesitated, as if there was something more he wanted to say but wasn’t certain if he should.

  Annie suspected that he was about to tell her that he’d finally proposed to Stephanie. She sincerely hoped that was the case. Early on, Annie and Trevor had dated and enjoyed each other’s company. For Annie it had always been about friendship. It became awkward when she realized he was far more serious than she. After her broken relationship from college, Annie was leery of becoming romantically involved with anyone. She found it hard to trust.

  “Okay, Trev, what’s on your mind?”

  “How…What?”

  “Give it up. I know you. You’re holding something back; I can hear it in your voice.”

  “Am not.”

  “Trevor!” she said, smiling broadly. She walked past Bean There and looked inside, half expecting to see Britt even though the teen had worked the morning shift.

  “Does this involve Steph?” Her friend had fallen hard for him and done her best to hide her feelings while he and Annie dated. As soon as Annie realized Steph had a thing for him, she stepped aside, giving the other woman her chance. And seeing that he was a man, Trevor seemed completely oblivious to Steph’s feelings until a year ago or so.

  “In a way, it does involve Steph.”

  Annie knew it, and she was happy for her friends. “What aren’t you telling me? Come on, spill,” she chided good-naturedly.

  Again, the hesitation, and then finally: “I ran into Steph this morning and she said she’d been talking with Gabby…Listen, Annie,” Trevor blurted out, sounding concerned and anxious. “I need to know that you’re okay.”

  “Okay? Of course I’m okay. What do you mean?”

  “With the date?”

  Date? What did any of this have to do with the date? It was April seventh, she thought to herself. Then she abruptly stopped walking.

  Her mother’s birthday. Today. April seventh.

  Annie had forgotten. The date had completely slipped her mind.

  “Annie? Are you there?” Trevor asked desperately. “Talk to me.”

  “I forgot,” she whispered.

  “Damn. And I had to remind you. I’m so sorry, Annie.”

  “No…No, it’s fine. I would have remembered at some point.” No wonder her mother had been on her mind all day.

  “Damn,” he said, cussing himself out again. “I should have kept my mouth shut.”

  Annie’s throat was growing tight as she struggled to hold back the surge of emotion. “I…need to go. Trevor, I appreciate the call. I promise I’ll be better about staying in touch.”

  “Don’t hang up, Annie, please. I feel terrible. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m a jerk.”

  “Trevor, I’m fine, but I need to get off the phone.”

  “You’ll call me back?”

  “Yes. Not today, but soon; I promise.” Trevor was sensitive, and he would need that reassurance.

  Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, Annie disconnected and remained frozen as tightness enveloped her chest, making it difficult to breathe. How could she have forgotten her mother’s birthday? The guilt ate at her like acid.

  In the months that followed the loss of her family, Annie had gone over that last conversation with her mother a thousand times. She’d been a brat, insensitive and selfish. She’d refused to change her plans for Thanksgiving because she wanted a four-day weekend to herself.

  She could have made it work, but spending time with her family had been low on her priority list. Annie had refused to give in, not even when her mother had practically begged her to come. While it was true that her refusal had saved her life, she felt dead in other ways. After the mudslide, Annie wished she had been killed rather than facing the future so utterly alone.

  Lost in her thoughts and in her renewed grief, Annie made the turn to the beach. Walking along the shore with the wind buffeting against her would hide her from curious stares. She needed to be alone.

  The weather was gloomy, cloudy and cold. Rain was predicted for later in the evening. The wind off the ocean chilled her, but Annie ignored it as she walked, her arms tucked around her middle. Her pace was fast and furious, in an attempt to outrun the terrible memories.

  “Happy birthday, Mom,” she whispered, tilting her chin toward the heavens. At that moment, Annie would have given anything to talk to her mother one last time, to be able to tell her how sorry she was and how much she regretted her stubbornness. A sob tore through her. She wanted her mother. She needed her mother, especially now, when she was alone. Being a daddy’s girl, Annie had no idea how much she
would miss her mother.

  After a while, continuing at a clipped pace, she was breathless. Sinking to her knees in the sand, she covered her mouth with one hand in a useless effort to hold back the sobs. Her shoulders shook as she gave in to her heartache. Soon she was hiccupping and struggling to breathe. It took several minutes to regain control of herself.

  Exhausted by the effort to pull herself together, Annie sat back in the sand and wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking back and forth gently. Before she continued on to the cottage, she needed to calm herself and find her center. She didn’t know how long that would take. An hour? Two? An eternity?

  With her eyes closed, she sat listening to the wind and the pounding surf, seagulls crying overhead. The tide was coming in, so the waves surging toward the shore grew in intensity. Drained, she couldn’t find the energy to get up and move. Sitting there, wrapped in the familiar beach sounds, she was desperate for solace.

  What she wanted, she supposed, was some sign from the beyond that her mother was close, if not in body, then in spirit. Annie and her mother had often clashed, especially in her teen years. To her discredit, Annie hadn’t appreciated her mother nearly as much as she should have. Now that her mother was forever stripped from her life, Annie missed her every single minute. Some days, the need to connect with her mom felt overwhelming. She’d always been closer to her dad, but now, for reasons she couldn’t explain, it was her mother she missed most. Perhaps it was because her last conversation with her family had been with her.

  From out of the corner of her eye, a movement captured Annie’s attention. She turned her head and noticed Keaton and his dog walking along the beach. She assumed this was part of his daily routine, as she often saw him and Lennon; usually they simply waved to each other, but they never stopped to talk. She would have enjoyed getting to know him better, but Keaton was the one who showed no interest.

  When the big dog caught sight of her, Lennon sprinted ahead, kicking up sand in his wake, heading straight to her. If she didn’t know the dog, she would have been alarmed. He stopped directly in front of her, panting hard. Annie circled her arms around his neck and buried her face in his fur.