Sandcastles Under the Christmas Moon

by Vickie McKeehan

  It was Sydney who went into detail. “Because of your son, Beckham Dowling has a concussion and ruptured eardrum.” She pulled out the photos as proof.

  “I don’t believe Kyle would do such a thing.”

  “Maybe you should ask him,” Julianne suggested.

  “He’ll just deny it,” Sydney charged.

  But Lisa was adamant. “He wouldn’t do that. Kyle is on the honor roll.”

  “That may be true, but he’s also done this to Beckham several other times before today. In fact, it’s a ritual he practices every other week. Beckham doesn’t know when he’ll strike or where he’ll attack next.” Sydney wagged her finger very close to the principal’s face. “Let me tell you something, Mrs. Hargraves. Beckham is a good boy. But he’s going through rough times right now. His grandmother has Stage-4 cancer. She’s hanging on by a thread. She’ll likely never live long enough to see him make it to high school. Are you hearing me? If you don’t find a way to get that brute, your own son, to leave Beckham alone and stop bullying him, I’m going after your job. I brought Julianne here as proof I mean business. Do you understand me now? Nod if you do.”

  Lisa nodded. “What makes you think this was Kyle?”

  “Because Beckham told me so. And he doesn’t lie. Beckham’s seeing a doctor right now for his injuries. After seeing the physical damage, not to mention the emotional damage a beating like this will leave, I’m seriously considering retaining a lawyer on Beckham’s behalf and suing the pants off you, then taking it right down the line to your front door on so many levels. Then I’ll go after the school district for allowing things like this to happen on school grounds. How long do you think you’ll get to keep your job then, Mrs. Hargraves?”

  “All this over a little fight between boys? That’s ridiculous.”

  “You don’t seem to be getting this. This wasn’t a fight. It was an ambush. And it isn’t the first time. Beckham was held down on the ground from behind, Kyle on his back. Kyle kept hitting his head into the dirt repeatedly, enough times to give him a concussion. And Kyle damaged his ear with some sort of object. Make no mistake, I’ll go to the school board if I have to. There are rules against this type behavior. We’ll just see if the district agrees with me that your son is getting away with this solely because of who you are. What right do you have not reining in your own child when it comes to letting him beat up one of your other students?”

  Lisa tried to respond but Sydney rolled right over her attempt. “Trust me, this will get very ugly, very quickly. So think long and hard about what your response should be. And if there’s any retaliation against Beckham after our conversation tonight I’ll see to it that assault charges are filed against that hooligan you call an honor student.”

  Sydney wheeled around so fast she almost knocked over a vase in the hallway. She fidgeted with the door handle before managing to get out of there with Julianne hot on her heels. Once she made it to the car, her knees buckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so mad before in my life.”

  “Or so determined. Wow. Did you mean all that in there?” Julianne wanted to know.

  “Every word. Come on, hop in. We need to find the nearest mall and get Beckham some new sneakers.”

  But once the two women found a discount store, Sydney decided shoes weren’t enough. Standing in the middle of the boy’s department, she called Quentin and had him get Beckham’s sizes. After several texts, back and forth, Sydney and Julianne left with a shopping cart full of shirts, jeans, and a jacket.

  At the clinic, with Quentin’s help, Beckham did his best to walk his grandmother up and down the hallway. But as soon as he heard Sydney and Julianne in the reception area, curiosity had him yelling out, “We’re back here. How’d it go? What happened?”

  “You should’ve seen her in action,” Julianne boasted to Beckham as Quentin led Charlotte back to her bed. “She threatened to sue and then file charges against Kyle for assault.”

  Beckham made a weak attempt to pump a fist in the air despite his sore neck. “Cool. What are all the bags for?”

  “I didn’t tell him you went shopping,” Quentin explained, leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed, a wide grin on his face. “On a day like today, I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

  Sydney handed over the sacks to Beckham. “These are for you. If there’s anything you don’t like, we can take it back and get something else. Don’t be shy about…”

  Beckham leaped into her arms. “For me? Really? All this stuff? Why?”

  “Because you needed some new clothes after that ass—” She stopped herself from going there. “After that Kyle person tore up your other stuff.”

  “I don’t know what to say except thanks.”

  “That usually does the trick,” Quentin cracked. “Why don’t you go in my office and try some of those on? Don’t forget to model those cool running shoes.”

  After Beckham had disappeared down the hallway, Quentin turned to Sydney. “Should we contact Kinsey and kick off this thing for real?”

  “That’d be great. I don’t even know what our options are.”

  “From my perspective as a principal, you definitely have a good case,” Julianne offered. “Don’t be surprised though if Lisa makes her son apologize at school tomorrow to head off any repercussions.”

  Quentin shook his head at that. “Beckham won’t be there. I’m not letting him attend school until I know he’s able to fight off another attack. That concussion will sideline him for several days. That’s not even bringing up the eardrum. Right now, he’s experiencing dizziness that will likely keep him from that weekend job. I haven’t told him that yet.”

  Sydney chewed her lip. “He was counting on that job. He’ll be upset. Which is why I think Beckham should spend some time with you tonight. Jimmy Chew and I will take charge of watching over Charlotte.”

  After changing Charlotte’s bedding and getting her settled for the night, she let Jimmy Chew out the back door. She loved the dog but she’d be glad when Eastlyn and Cooper made it back from San Francisco.

  She’d just put in leftover stew to warm in the microwave when her cell phone dinged with a call from Hayden.

  “What are you doing right now? How’s the dog-sitting?”

  Sydney told her about Charlotte.

  “So that’s why I haven’t heard from you all week. How’s the new guy doing? Is he a complete ass like you thought?”

  “Uh, not exactly.” As sisters like to do, she caught Hayden up on the latest.

  “Wait a minute. A week ago you couldn’t stand this guy and now you’re besotted? Sydney, you’re clearly not thinking straight.”

  “I know it sounds crazy but…”

  “Sydney, it’s downright flakey behavior,” Hayden cautioned. “One day you can’t stand looking at the guy and the next you’re thinking of sleeping with him? That’s beyond the pale. Don’t let your lack of a sex life drive this thing over a cliff.”

  “I never said I didn’t like the look of him,” Sydney protested.

  “Oh, Sydney, you did.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m giving it time to…build. I’ve never done that before. I promise that I’m firmly rooted in taking it slow. I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  Hayden’s voice sounded as if she already knew the outcome because she knew her sister. “It’s your heartache. And your life. You’ll have to deal with the consequences. By the way, what are you doing this Sunday?”

  “Uh, about that…I’ll probably have to work.”

  “Well, if you’re able to pull yourself away from Dr. Hunk, Ethan and I want you to come for brunch.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Fourteen

  Since his contractors had finished installing the windows, the cannery had taken on a more completed feeling. But it still lacked warmth, or the most basic furniture, or any resemblance to an actual home.

  Quentin had picked up takeout from the Hilltop Diner, meatloaf and mashed potatoes for
him and a burger and fries for Beckham.

  Kicking back on the sofa, eating his cheeseburger, Beckham was still riding on a high from having new clothes. “So I’m spending the night here?”

  “Yep. The mattress for that bed should be here by Friday. Until then, I’ll take the sleeping bag on the floor and you can have the couch.”

  “And I’m not going to school tomorrow either?”

  “Not until Monday.”

  “But…if I don’t go to school, I should be better by Friday, right? I’ll still get the job unloading the Christmas trees over the weekend, right?” Beckham asked, hope glinting in his eyes.

  “With your head and your ear like they are, I wouldn’t recommend an adult do that kind of activity, let alone a boy. Plus, your shoulder is likely to hurt if you try lifting anything, including a heavy tree.”

  “But I want to try. Gram and I could really use the money. How else are we going to pay for the doctor bills, the chemo, and pay for food and the all the other stuff?”

  “I told you not to worry about that,” Quentin said emphatically. “So don’t. Let me deal with the insurance part of this. You worry about keeping up your grades, keeping current with your schoolwork, which I intend to get from your teachers for the next few days. You no longer have the job of taking care of your grandmother all by yourself. We’re a team—you, me, and Sydney. Got that?”

  “I suppose,” Beckham said, downhearted. “I appreciate the help…but…”

  “But what?”

  “I was counting on that extra money.”

  “I know you were. But you can’t do anything that physical with a concussion. Look, we’ll keep an eye on it. If you should start feeling better, we’ll revisit the Christmas tree job. I spoke to Landon and Shelby this afternoon. They know you’re injured. There’s still time for you to work the Christmas tree lot after school and on weekends running right up to Christmas. How does that sound?”

  Beckham perked up. “Okay. Sure. As long as I get the chance to earn some money.”

  “Does your head still hurt?”

  “A little.”

  “How’d the clothes fit?”

  “Great. I love my new jacket and everything. I have five changes of clothes now. Who knows? Maybe I’ll look just like all the other kids now and they won’t call me names like stinky.”

  Quentin lifted a hip when his phone signaled that he had a call. “Hello?”

  On the other end of the line, his grandmother was excited. “Stone and I have decided to come down to this Pelican Pointe and check things out for ourselves.”

  “That’s great news, Nonnie. Will you stay for Thanksgiving?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll even cook the turkey dinner.”

  Quentin glanced around at his bare-bones kitchen. “Uh, that might be a tad difficult. I’m lacking a few essential items that you’ll need for baking a turkey.” Like a stove, he thought.

  “Then get to it. Stone and I are leaving first thing Monday morning. We’ve already had our first snowfall here, got two inches overnight. The temperature’s hovering around twenty-five degrees tonight.”

  “Not here. The low will be around sixty right into Thanksgiving.”

  “Good. My old bones could use a little warmth and sunshine.”

  After she hung up, Quentin looked over at Beckham. “Looks like you’ll get to meet my grandmother next week.”

  “This place doesn’t even have a bed yet. Where’s she supposed to sleep?”

  Quentin rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s a definite problem. I only have five days to get this place looking like a home.”

  “Good luck with that,” Beckham scoffed.

  “I could always make a reservation at Promise Cove for her and Stone.”

  “Who’s Stone?”

  “Her tribal medicine man.”

  “Get out. For real? Do I get to meet him?”

  Quentin pushed off the couch to pace and think. “I’m sure you’ll be the major topic of conversation,” he said absently. All that ran through his mind now was how Nonnie would react to getting her first look at this stark old cannery. She’d freak out for sure. “I need to give Ryder and his friends a heads-up. See if they have time in their busy schedule to do something about it. I need this place looking like real digs instead of an empty shell by Monday night.”

  “That’s a tall order. Just get some appliances. You already have the chairs on order for the table. You’ll need another bed and some comfy chairs. And you’ll have to go shopping for more food. But hey, your grandmother is coming and she’s cooking the turkey. How sweet is that?”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty damn sweet. But she’ll give me a hard time if she sees this so…bare.”

  “Then you should probably get your butt in gear and fix this place up before Monday.”

  “Didn’t I just say that?”

  Beckham grinned. “Don’t take it out on me because you’re not ready.”

  Around ten-thirty after they’d fallen asleep, Quentin’s cell phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Quentin, this is Sydney. I hate to bother you but Charlotte’s blood pressure has dropped significantly.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Quentin grabbed his jeans and started getting dressed.

  Beckham lifted his head. “What’s going on?”

  “Go back to sleep. I need to go check on your grandmother.”

  “Is something wrong? Do I need to go with you?”

  “Stay put. I’ll be back soon. Keep the doors locked and don’t let anyone in.”

  Even in the dark, Quentin saw the kid roll his eyes and heard him grumble, “I’m not a baby.”

  “Yeah, well…” he muttered, unable to finish his warning. He could only hope that Scott, The Ghost, didn’t believe in terrorizing children.

  Quentin checked Charlotte’s vitals again and studied her chart. “Let’s pull her off the rituximab. It could be the culprit causing her body to begin the shutdown process. Her fever’s climbing. We need to get that down. Fast.”

  “Let’s hope she rallies,” Sydney said with a sigh. “How’s Beckham?”

  “Doing what he always does—hanging in there and hoping for the best. That kid has a great outlook on life for someone who’s been through the kinds of things he has. I don’t want to lose him, Sydney.”

  Fear clutched her belly. All manner of terrible scenarios entered her head. “What do you mean?”

  “There comes a point in a kid’s life where if the odds become too great, he or she just decides to give up. I don’t want that happening to Beckham.”

  “We won’t let it.” She slapped his arm. “I thought you meant he’d taken a turn for the worse or something. Don’t scare me like that again.”

  “Sorry. Let’s change out this IV minus the rituximab. If her blood pressure continues to drop we’ll know it’s something else.” But in the process of switching the drip, Quentin’s left hand began to visibly tremble. There was no hiding it from Sydney.

  She reached over and put her hand over his to calm the motion. The gesture worked. The shaking stopped.

  “I guess you were right. I really have no business practicing medicine again.”

  “I was wrong to say that…and cruel. After such a long day, your muscles are probably tired and twitching. That’s all. I can’t think of another person who’s more qualified to be treating Charlotte Dowling right now than you are. You’re standing right here, exactly where you need to be—the best man for the job.”

  Trying for humor, he quipped, “You’re just saying that to get me into bed.”

  She laughed. “I hope that’s where we’re heading.”

  “What about your staunch dislike for doctors?”

  “I’m warming up to you. Besides, you aren’t much like the others.” She thought of what Shelby had said. “I let my disdain and past experiences lump you in there with all the other assholes. That’s on me.” She tightened her grip on his fingers. “I’ve been in a dry streak lately. It seems you’re
the first person in almost two years I’ve been attracted to.”

  He grabbed her around the waist, closed his mouth over hers. When they broke apart, he rested his head on her forehead. “That has to hold both of us for now. What do you say we get Charlotte stabilized and see what we have to do next?”

  Doctor and nurse never left the woman’s side. They stood nearby talking in whispers.

  “We have to have a plan for Beckham in the event of the unthinkable.”

  “I promised Charlotte I’d be there for him and I mean to follow through. I’ve even thought about dangling the kid in front of my grandmother to get her to stay here.”

  “That’s clever. Would it work?”

  “We’ll see come Monday. She’s rolling into town with her boyfriend for Thanksgiving. Don’t let me forget to make a reservation for her out at the B&B, otherwise she’ll have to bunk at my place.”

  “Your grandmother has a boyfriend?”

  “Seventy-five years young and a pistol. Stone, that’s the boyfriend, is just as old but spry. They’ve been dating for probably twenty years. The odd thing is, Nonnie refuses to let him move in with her. At first I thought it was because I was around. I thought she’d change her mind once I left for college. Nope. Not Winona Channing Blackwood. She’s always been the independent sort.”

  “It sounds like your place is far from being ready for guests.”

  “That’s an understatement. It’s not ready for anything but toasting marshmallows around a campfire. And Nonnie wants to cook Thanksgiving dinner there.”

  “Just order a stove from Tucker and anything else you need.”

  “How about walls? I could use a few by the weekend.”

  “That’s pathetic.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  A tense hour ticked by before Charlotte started to rally.

  “Fever’s going down. Her blood pressure is coming back up. I suppose I need to go now and get back to Beckham. Keep me posted.” Without preamble, he gave her a quick kiss. “I know there’s a lot going on, we’re slammed on all fronts with several things happening at once, but try to hang in there with me through this. Please.”