“It’s amazingly difficult work. Did the man die?” Reverend Ben asked quietly.
Daniel shook his head. “He was in the coma for three days and finally came out of it. But he’d lost some of his faculties for speech and movement. It was needless . . . A tragedy for his family.” Daniel had been staring out at the sea, remembering. He looked back at Reverend Ben. “The family filed a complaint against me, but they never tried to sue. The hospital reviewed the case. I was questioned and reprimanded, but they never suspended me or took my license. I was free to keep practicing. But I felt responsible. I couldn’t just shake it off and go on as if it had never happened.”
“Which is what you were advised to do?” Ben asked.
Daniel nodded. “Yeah, advised a lot. By the other docs in the case especially. But I knew that I shouldn’t have gone in that night. It was really my fault. I can’t blame anybody else.”
“So you’ve carried this around for a long time.”
“It’s been more than seven years. I thought I was ready to go back and try again. But I had a terrible week in my classes . . . I failed a test. I can’t even tell Liza. She’s been great. Really in my corner on this all the way. She’ll be so disappointed.”
“She might be,” Reverend Ben agreed. “But you can’t worry about disappointing Liza. You’re the one who has to live with the decision and feel sure of it. In your heart. Everything follows from that.”
Daniel looked up at him. “I did feel sure of it. At least I thought I did. Now I’m not so sure. Now I’m all confused about it,” he admitted.
“Because you failed a test? Do you think that’s a sign that this isn’t the right path for you after all?”
Daniel shrugged. “Well . . . it could be.”
“Just because a path we’ve chosen is suddenly hard going, it doesn’t mean God is trying to say you made the wrong choice. He just might be saying you need to work harder. Ever think of it that way?” Reverend Ben wasn’t sarcastic. In fact, his tone was quiet and kind.
“I guess I didn’t. Not this time.”
“Think of Moses and the Israelites. They wandered forty years before they crossed the desert. That was some tough going. I’m sure they had their doubts about their mission at times. But they didn’t turn around and go back to Egypt.”
“No . . . they didn’t. I get your point. But I sure hope it doesn’t take me forty years to pass these exams.”
Reverend Ben smiled but looked thoughtful again. “Daniel . . . I think when you felt ready to go back to medicine, you felt ready to forgive yourself. And you should forgive yourself. God does,” he added with certainty. “If He does, you should, too.”
Daniel didn’t answer. Liza had said the same thing, more or less. He had brushed her words off, but now he felt them. Thought about them.
“You felt you had healed and were ready to go back to the fight,” Reverend Ben continued. “Now you’re actually out on the road, moving toward your goal, and it’s harder than you thought. That doesn’t mean you should revert to your old way of thinking, of blaming yourself. Or feeling you shouldn’t be forgiven. Or that you don’t deserve to be a doctor again. Is that what you’re really thinking? Is that why you failed that test? Maybe to prove to yourself that you don’t deserve this, after all?”
Daniel heard a big wave crash on the shore and felt the spray. But he was so stunned by Reverend Ben’s question and how it resonated within that he couldn’t answer for a moment.
“That’s a good question, Reverend. I have to think about it,” he said honestly.
“All right. Fair enough. But you know, I’ve come to see that people are really only limited by their beliefs. Or should I say, misconceptions? God has given us all infinite gifts. After all, we’re made in His image. We can really do just about anything we set our minds—and hearts—to do. Sometimes the goals we want most are the hardest to reach. But when you put your heart into it, the universe has a way of cooperating. God has a way of smoothing a path for you. When you expect to get there, and ask Him for help, you do.”
Daniel nodded. He let out a long breath. Maybe, deep down inside, he was still conflicted, feeling he shouldn’t follow this impulse, this drive. That he should still deprive himself because of the incident that happened so long ago.
But maybe the past wasn’t what was really holding him back. Maybe after all this time, he was plain scared. Scared that he couldn’t do all this studying again and pass these exams. Scared of practicing medicine again.
“Maybe I’m trying to trick myself. If I fail the exams, I’m off the hook. I can say, ‘Well at least I tried, and I couldn’t do it,’” he admitted.
“Yes, but you’ll always know deep inside that isn’t true.”
“I would know. I wouldn’t be able to fool myself. Or Liza,” he added. “Well, I have a lot to think about now,” he said finally.
Reverend Ben reached out and touched his shoulder. “I hope I’ve helped you—and haven’t just confused you more?”
Daniel laughed. “No, sir, not one bit. I’m going to walk some more and think about what you’ve said. I thought I had made this decision. But maybe I have to dig in a little deeper, see what I’m really made of.”
Ben smiled and nodded. “Maybe. I hope you feel at peace with your decision. Whatever that turns out to be,” he said sincerely.
Reverend Ben soon returned to his fishing poles to check the lines. He waved at Daniel as he continued down the beach.
Daniel walked to the jetty and sat on the rocks while the waves swirled around him. Reverend Ben had been right. Life was all a matter of perspective; this situation was, anyway. As long as he continued to think he didn’t deserve to be a doctor, he would continue to undermine himself. To mess up his tests and blow off his studying.
But that was wrong thinking. He could see that now. He had made a mistake long ago, a lapse in judgment. But he was only human. No one was perfect. No one was infallible.
God forgave him. It was time to forgive himself, wasn’t it?
All these years out of medicine, he hadn’t really felt his true self. It was more like he was taking a break, playing a role. Always thinking it was only temporary. Did he really want to go back to that now that he had woken up to the truth?
I could do a lot of good if I can get back to being a doc. I know I can. That has to count for something, Daniel told himself. I have to think of the good I can do, instead of the one time I messed up. That’s what I have to remember. That’s why I have to do this, he finally decided as he rose and headed back to the inn. He would try to find some time alone with Liza tonight and have a quiet dinner together. But he would head back to Boston early tomorrow and straight for the library. Liza wouldn’t be pleased, but she would understand.
God, if You can hear me, I have something to say, he began to pray silently as he walked along the soft, smooth sand. You put this thought in my head about being a doctor again, and I went with it. But I’ve been going at it only halfheartedly these last few weeks. Now I really have to dig in. I know it’s win or go home. I’ve got to give it my all—or live to regret it. But I need Your help. I don’t think I can get there without You.
* * *
WEDNESDAY was often a slow day at the inn, especially if there was rain in the forecast. Though most of the rooms were booked weeks in advance, there were always the last-minute arrivals in good weather that filled the place to the brim—and in bad weather, some people canceled.
Claire didn’t mind a little rain once in a while. She enjoyed the cozy feeling in the dimly lit rooms and the fresh, cool scent of the air. The garden needed rain, as careful as Nolan had been this summer to water it. And a rainy day was perfect for cooking, too. It cooled down the kitchen nicely when she needed to bake or roast something in the oven.
She had finished a large batch of banana and blueberry muffins for the weekend breakfasts and decide
d to get a breath of air outside. The mail had arrived; she trotted down the drive with an umbrella to retrieve it.
She was expecting a card or letter from Jamie. During their last call, he mentioned he was sending her something. She had her own address at her cottage, of course. But during the summer months, he would know to send it here.
Jamie was still in his twenties, and he teased Claire about not using e-mail. But she just couldn’t get the hang of it and didn’t own a computer. She would have to use Liza’s or go to the library in Cape Light, and both seemed far too much trouble. She preferred a good old-fashioned phone call, and if not that, a short note. Just let me know you’re all right, she would tell him. That’s all I need. He was like a son to her, and Jamie looked upon her as the mother he’d never had. So he did indulge her this simple wish, calling almost every week, and sending a card or note from time to time, as well.
Best of all were the visits. Since Jamie had settled in Portland last fall, he had come to the inn for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and she knew he would come again this year. She was just about his only family, and he was her only family, too.
What would Jamie make of Nolan? she wondered as she pulled out a thick stack of mail. Jamie would probably be intimidated at first. He had just about finished high school, but had graduated with a GED.
But after some initial awkwardness, he would like Nolan very much, Claire thought. He would be intrigued by his inventions, that was for sure. Jamie was mechanically minded, too, and wonderful with electronics and computers. That was what he had decided to study, and it was proving to be a perfect career path for him.
Claire ran back up to the porch with the mail tucked under her arm. Once under cover, she shook out the umbrella and set it to the side of the door to dry. She quickly leafed through the envelopes, all addressed to Liza or the Inn at Angel Island except for one thick manila envelope at the bottom of the stack. It was very official looking and was addressed to Dr. Nolan Porter. He had a PhD, so that was his correct title, Claire reasoned. The return address looked like the name of a big law firm, with several surnames strung together. She picked up her umbrella again and quickly walked to the barn. The barn doors were open just a crack, and she heard the sanding machine running. Daniel had helped Nolan get the boat up on metal supports that held it steady and upright, high enough off the ground so he could repair it. Nolan had to climb a ladder now to get on the deck and work inside—and to reach most of the outside, for that matter. The boat looked much bigger in the barn than it had in the water, or even out on the beach.
Nolan was on the ladder, wearing goggles and some sort of earmuff contraption. The machine was going, and he didn’t hear her approach.
“Nolan? There’s a letter for you.” Claire waited a moment. When he didn’t answer, she knocked on the side of the boat.
Nolan suddenly glanced down, looking alarmed. Then his expression eased into a warm smile.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Were you waiting down there a long time?” He yanked off his headgear and came down the ladder.
“Not long. This came in the mail for you,” she said, holding out the letter. “It looks important. I thought you might want to see it.”
She had not even finished speaking when Nolan took the envelope from her hand. He stared at it long and hard, pulling on the reading glasses that hung from a cord around his neck and then tearing open the package.
“I’ve been waiting for this. Thank you, Claire, for bringing it out to me. This could be it. Should be it. From what my attorney told me last time we spoke, it’s the settlement. He said that he finally reached an agreement with the scoundrel I’ve been suing. All he needed to do was finalize a few details and get it signed on the dotted line.”
Nolan was talking so quickly and excitedly, Claire could barely keep up with him. But he did seem very happy. Finally. She watched as he held the thick sheaf of pages in his hand, the uppermost being a letter with fancy letterhead on cream-colored stationery with crisp black type. From what she could see, the body of the letter was just a few lines long.
That’s all it takes to turn things around in a person’s life at times. A few lines of good news. Claire smiled to herself, feeling happy for Nolan that his problem was resolved.
But as Nolan scanned the page, his happy expression melted into confusion and distress. He shook his head, then read the letter again, then examined the back of the page, which was blank, as if he must have missed something. He finally looked back at her, pale and upset—and quite shocked.
“What is it, Nolan? What’s the matter? Isn’t it good news?”
“It was supposed to be. But . . .” He sighed heavily and sat down on a wooden crate, then passed his hand through his long hair. “Everything’s changed. The deal is off. My attorney didn’t get an agreement after all.”
“But you said it was all decided. How could they go back on their word?”
Nolan swallowed hard. “Well, they can and they did. The lawyers for that crook who stole my idea threw in a monkey wrench and delayed this again. Set us back a giant step.” Nolan shook his head with dismay and distress. Edison trotted over to him, sat near his leg, and leaned against his body. Nolan hardly noticed, absently patting the dog’s head.
“Oh, my . . . that’s not fair. That’s not fair at all.” Claire’s words were quietly spoken. “Have they turned you away entirely?”
“They’ve made some counteroffer.” He waved the pile of pages. “A very paltry one; just not acceptable. Not acceptable at all,” he repeated with an angry edge to his voice. He suddenly stood up and faced her.
“This is just a tactic. They think they’ll wear me down and I’ll just give in. But I’ll never give in. There’s no question that I’m in the right here. It’s shameless how they twist everything and try to get around the law. I don’t know how they get up in the morning and face themselves in the mirror.”
His complexion had gone from pale as paper to bright red. His hand was shaking as he held out the letter, and Claire was worried about him.
“It’s stuffy in this barn, Nolan,” she said gently. “The rain has stopped. Why don’t you get some air?” He looked at her, seeming unable to answer. But Claire took his arm and led him slowly out of the barn. “How about a glass of water? You must be thirsty,” she said, leading him toward the back door.
“A glass of water would be good,” he said finally.
She guessed that he didn’t feel well, but didn’t want to admit it. Edison followed close behind, and Claire had the feeling that the loyal dog was concerned about Nolan, too.
Nolan sat down at the table with a heavy sigh and dropped the papers in front of him. Claire quickly poured him a glass of cold water. He drank it down thirstily, though his expression remained bleak when he was done.
“Can I get you something else? Something to eat, maybe?” She wanted to do something for him, but felt so helpless. All she could offer was food and drink.
“I’m not hungry. Maybe later.” He rose from the seat and grabbed his papers. “If Liza doesn’t need me right now, I’m going up to my room. I need to write my attorney a strong letter. He obviously doesn’t know how to handle these people. I have to tell him exactly what to do, what to say . . .” He sighed again. “I’d better get to work. This is going to take some time and thinking.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll tell Liza what’s happened. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Claire watched Nolan go, with Edison padding after his master.
Claire felt a bit shaky herself after witnessing Nolan’s receipt of bad news. She put on her apron and began cleaning some kale that Nolan had picked for her earlier in the day. The wet weather had made the leaves extra muddy, and she had to rinse them several times in the big deep sink. She didn’t even notice that Liza had come into the kitchen until she was standing right next to her.
“What’s wrong with No
lan? I passed him going upstairs. He didn’t even notice me. Doesn’t he feel well?”
“He’s not sick, exactly. But he’s had a shock,” Claire began to explain. “He got a letter today. He was expecting good news from his attorney, papers to sign agreeing to a settlement on his claim. But he was sent a counteroffer instead that made him very upset. It was a terrible blow.”
“How awful for him, poor man. Did he go up to rest?”
Claire shook her head, lifting the kale, leaf by leaf, into a strainer. “He wants to write a letter to his attorney, telling him what to do, how to handle this development . . . He said to tell you that if you need him, he’ll come right down and get back to work again.”
Liza considered the offer. “It’s all right. He’s all caught up on his work. He even had time today to work on his boat. Maybe he’ll feel better once he gets his thoughts down on paper,” she said. “It sounds as if he was very angry.”
“Oh, he was—and sort of crushed at the same time. It was quite upsetting to witness,” Claire admitted. “It will be good for him to write that letter. A letter that he may never mail,” she added, knowing Nolan’s propensity for not editing his feelings.
“We’ve all written a few of those,” Liza agreed. “Let’s give him some space for the afternoon. He’ll probably have things in better perspective by this evening.”
Claire certainly hoped so. If he didn’t come down eventually for some lunch, she would fix him a tray—maybe just some fruit and cheese—so he wouldn’t get a headache from being too hungry on top of all the stress.
Harbor of the Heart Page 12
