Sandcastles Under the Christmas Moon

by Vickie McKeehan

  “Are you kidding? I’m not going anywhere. As a nurse, this is the most anyone’s truly needed me since I came to town. And look at you. You’ve jumped into this thing with both feet. You should know by now, I’m no quitter.”

  Fifteen

  “I just got off the phone with several of Beckham’s teachers,” Quentin explained to Sydney. “Turns out, the kid isn’t a bad student at all. His science teacher, a Mr. Glasgow, says he’s one of his best students. And Mrs. Fuller, teacher of English, says he often disappears during lunch hour and goes—somewhere, she wasn’t sure where—to hide from the bullies. He’s often tardy getting to her class because he loses track of time studying or simply misses fifth period altogether. But he always makes up the work.”

  Sydney seethed. “Are you telling me that this Mrs. Fuller knows these kids are terrorizing Beckham and does nothing to stop it?”

  “I asked her that. Her answer was when she catches them at it, she sends them straight to Mr. Pierce’s office. But because Kyle is the son of the principal, the staff usually makes allowances for him.”

  “They go easy on Kyle? I knew it!” She made a derisive noise in her throat. “That is so wrong. A couple of things while we have a lull. For the most part, I’ve put Beckham in charge of Jimmy Chew. Those two have been inseparable. That dog is just the right distraction he needs.”

  “Good call.”

  “Then I’m on a roll. I hope you aren’t mad, but I took the liberty and sent out an SOS to Zach. He’s on his way over to the cannery to discuss what you need done by this weekend. I told him you’d meet him there.”

  Quentin blew out a breath. “Thanks for that. While I’m meeting with him will you make sure Beckham puts those drops in his ears. He’s like Jimmy Chew. He won’t sit still long enough to get them in there to work.”

  “Will do. I’ll use my super-secret powers of persuasion.”

  At the cannery, Zach had brought his design software with him. “I hear you have company coming and need our expertise. Quick.”

  Quentin walked around the loft in dismay. “I need walls.”

  “Do you have a plan for the eventual layout? Because this is a huge space, a lot of square footage for a home. You’ll need to make sure you think long and hard about where you want those walls.”

  An idea popped into Quentin’s head as he stared at Zach. “What did you just say?” His question echoed out into mostly empty space.

  “Look, I don’t want to make you mad or anything…”

  “No. It isn’t that. This is a gigantic building. Why the hell do I need this much space to live in? The answer is simple. I don’t. Why didn’t I see this before? This old cannery would make a perfect medical facility, a hospital.”

  Zach nodded. “As I see it, the only drawback might be getting it handicapped compliant because of that bridge out there.”

  “Yeah, but could you do it?”

  Zach scratched his head. “Sure, Doc. But you’ve already spent so much money on renovating it.”

  “Have I really? Look around and tell me what you see. Have I really committed so much to a home here, Zach? For the most part I still see an empty slate. Look at the amount of room we’d have if this were a medical facility. Think of it.” Quentin stepped near the front door. “We could have a nice size reception area here, more exam rooms on that wall, more long term care beds on that one. We could use this right now for Charlotte and maybe others who need twenty-four-hour care down the road. And just look out at the Pacific Ocean. It’s a beautiful setting, bright light, perfect for patients who need an uplifting view.

  “But that’s just it. This is prime real estate, best in town with a view of the bay. Do you really want to give that up?”

  Quentin smiled. “You know, I think I do. I need to get Sydney’s opinion, see what she thinks. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you and Sydney…are you at all interested in becoming a couple?”

  Zach’s grin spread from ear to ear. “No. You’re free to follow that path, Doc. We’re just friends. Now it’s my turn.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Sydney has turned out to be a really good friend. That kind of thing doesn’t come along every day. Will you get upset, jealous, when we meet up for lunch once or twice a week and don’t invite you?”

  Quentin sent him a smile. “I’m not that clingy or possessive. As it was pointed out to me earlier, Sydney was here first. Her friends are her friends. I’ll have to work on getting my own.”

  “Good answer. I’m sure we’ll let you tag along for a burger after we think you’ve earned it.” He turned back to business. “So what do you want me to do with this place?”

  “Start putting up the walls like this.” Quentin drew out a sheet of paper from the printer near the bookshelves, began to draw up a rudimentary layout. “I’m sure you’ll be able to pretty it up in your software program. But I’d like the place to keep its open feel and brightness. As my contractors, you guys will be tasked to obtain the necessary permits to turn this place into a first-rate hospital.”

  “That won’t be a problem. But Doc, where are you gonna live while we’re doing all this? You can’t bunk here, you’ll be in the way.”

  “I’ll figure it out. Who knows, maybe Beckham and his grandmother will take me in.”

  From the cannery Quentin went to the bank and asked to see its president, Nick Harris. After waiting ten minutes he was ushered into the man’s office. He spotted a slew of photos on the credenza behind the banker of his wife and kids.

  “Are you getting settled in at the clinic?”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “If there’s a problem I want to hear about it.”

  “Not a problem per se, but there might be one. I have a big idea that I need to run by you. Before I get my hopes up or get in too deep and can’t pull it off, I need your input.”

  Nick leaned back in his chair. “I’m all ears.”

  For the next forty-five minutes, Quentin laid out his plan. Without going into Charlotte’s medical history, he used her case to emphasize what might happen if a person required hospitalization and didn’t opt for making the trip to Santa Cruz for treatment.

  “The house Jack has been using all this time is fine for patient visits, but not for any type of extended care.”

  “This actually came up with my daughter, Hutton. She had her tonsils out. Jack sent us out of town to get it done.”

  “What I’m proposing is a real hospital here. I’m willing to give up living in the cannery and turn that space into a state-of-the-art facility, one wing for patient visits, the other side for ten beds at least.”

  Nick’s eyes lit up. “But where will you live during the renovation?”

  “I’ll find a place.”

  Nick chewed his lip. “You could use Douglas Bradford’s house. Logan bought it after your uncle died. He toyed with the idea of turning it into a library.”

  “I’d tell him to go ahead with his plans and do that. The town needs one.”

  “The thing is that’s down the road for now. The cost was just too prohibitive. He might yet but I’d say there’s nothing preventing you from moving in there. The place still has furniture, dishes, household goods. I’m sure if you talked to Logan he’d let you stay there for as long as necessary.”

  “So you’ll give me the money for the hospital project? You’ll help me make it a reality?”

  “You bet. And so will the entire town.”

  Back at the clinic, Sydney’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “You did what?”

  “I brought my excitement about the project to Nick. That cannery will make a perfect hospital and Nick thought so too. I don’t know why I didn’t step back before now and see that place is just too big for me. I thought I could make it a home, but I can’t. I don’t even want to any more. It’s much better this way, serving as our offices and medical facility. I’ll need your input to pull this off and help with the design.”r />
  Sydney took his face in her hands. “If you go through with this, you’re an amazing man. Most would see that piece of prime property and say, ‘This is mine, I want this for my own.’ Or, ‘Sell it and make me a fortune.’ But not you. You, on the other hand, are willing to give up what could’ve been the most prestigious location in all of Pelican Pointe. That’s incredibly generous.”

  He took her mouth and felt the heat ramping up between them. The kiss was all too brief because he realized where they were. “Every time I’m around you it seems I have a hard time not doing that.”

  “I’m the one who can’t keep my hands to myself.”

  He ran a thumb around her mouth, creating a firestorm. “What do we do about this?”

  “We find some time to be alone. Which floats a question to the top—where do you intend to live during this major transformation?”

  “I have options. More than I thought. I could stay here, sleep on the sofa in the office. Although I promised Beckham we’d be there for him when we send Charlotte home. Maybe I’ll stay with them.”

  “You don’t mind giving up your privacy like that?”

  He cocked a brow. “That might be a problem since we’re moving toward something on a more intimate level. For now, how about we celebrate this huge decision tonight?”

  “I was just about to suggest that. But what about Beckham?”

  “I have an idea about that. I think it’s time his neighbors get to know him better, maybe older folks for starters, and then we bring him around kids his own age.”

  “Bring him into the fold slowly. I like it.”

  “My grandmother will be here on Monday. She’s the bright light in all this. She knows kids. She used to be an elementary school teacher. And if I handle this right I’ll be able to work on her and Stone to relocate here permanently. I like the idea of that.”

  “If we could just figure out an effective treatment for Charlotte, things might be looking up.”

  Quentin frowned. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

  “She had another episode where her blood pressure crashed. Beckham wouldn’t leave her side.” Sydney paced back and forth in the small office. “What if we tried that new experimental method using the polio vaccine to attack and kill the cancer cells? There was a recent documentary on its effectiveness for certain cancers.”

  Quentin shook his head. “Already considered it. Wouldn’t work. For one thing, we’d never get her into a trial now. Two, the cancer is already spread into major organs. Most people on the trial have been in chemo for longer than Charlotte. And three, her age is a factor. Then there’s an additional problem. Her immune system right now is overloaded to the point that she’s not able to keep up. She isn’t strong enough to fight off the polio virus. It might just kill her instead of attacking the cancer cells.”

  “Damn.” She ran a hand through her blond hair. “Then I don’t know how to turn this around. It’s grim, isn’t it?”

  Quentin blew out a breath. “Yeah. I’m not sure it’s feasible to hope for a miracle. But it wouldn’t hurt. That’s why it’s important we pick Beckham up, keep him occupied, keep him engaged. That’s the reason I think he could use more friends added to his circle other than just the two of us. He needs more buddies his own age.”

  “Is that what happened to you…after your father and your mother died?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Somehow, my grandmother knew I needed to keep my mind off the tragedy of it and keep moving forward. I lived in a small town like Beckham does where there was nothing much to do. To remain out of trouble, I started devouring books, kept up my studies, got good grades. I wasn’t much into sports or other activities. But I did know what I wanted to do at an early age and my grandmother made sure I got to do it.”

  “You wanted to be a doctor?”

  “More than anything. Beckham needs to know he isn’t adrift. That he has a solid base, an anchor, in us.”

  “Sounds like a plan. We’ll keep him so distracted he won’t have time to think about the bad that’s coming.”

  “Trust me, he already knows. And he’s scared.”

  It suddenly hit her then. That’s what Scott had alluded to that night in the courtyard. Because with what’s coming he’ll need an ally. Beckham would be left on his own. Before she could bring it up, she had something else to cover. “I have an idea what might help him, but I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “While you were out playing businessman, Eastlyn and Cooper got back from their trip a little early. They stopped in to pick up Jimmy and took one look at the way the dog interacted with Beckham and came up with an idea.”

  “Oh no. I’m really not going to like this, am I?”

  “Up to you. They think Jimmy would be better off with Beckham and the dog might help Beckham get through the difficult days ahead. When you think about it, Quentin, it’s a pretty good plan. The dog’s had all his shots, he’s neutered, and he comes with a guarantee. If it doesn’t work out, Jimmy can go back to them. Beckham is old enough to take on the responsibility. He seems to genuinely adore that animal. The two seemed to have bonded in just a few days’ time. When Eastlyn brought it up, I couldn’t think of a single reason not to let Beckham have this.”

  Quentin rubbed his eyes. “When you put it like that how can we refuse, knowing he’ll need support from every angle just to get through this. Let’s do it. I was thinking about getting a dog anyway. It wouldn’t have been Jimmy Chew though.”

  She put a hand on his arm. “But just think how much the boy could benefit from having the dog around. Maybe they could lean on each other. You know, man’s best friend and all.”

  “You want to tell him?”

  “Not me. I’ll let you do it since that chewer will be living with you most of the time.”

  Quentin waited until Beckham had finished his schoolwork and the clinic was quiet to make the announcement.

  “Do you miss having Jimmy Chew around?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What if I told you that Eastlyn and Cooper have decided they can no longer take care of him.”

  A horrified look crossed Beckham’s face. “Why? They want to send him back to the shelter? That’s wrong.”

  “No, they want to give Jimmy to you so you can take care of him—full-time.” Quentin saw the boy’s eyes mist over, a tear trickled down his cheek.

  “Does that mean they couldn’t ever ask for him back, Jimmy would be mine?”

  “That’s what it means. You’d have to feed him, walk him…”

  “Can he sleep with me in my bed?”

  “He does have his own big pillow.”

  “Jimmy doesn’t like that.”

  “I see. In that case, I suppose Jimmy…” Quentin didn’t get a chance to finish before Beckham made a leap toward him and threw his arms around Quentin’s neck.

  “I promise to take good care of him. Uh, I just thought of something though. Can I change his name? He doesn’t like the one he’s got.”

  “Oh really. And you have one all picked out, do you?”

  “He wants to be Buckley like from Harry Potter.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to get him to answer to Buckley?”

  “I’m pretty sure I can. I just thought of something else. Who’ll take care of Buckley while I’m in school?”

  Quentin let out a noticeable sigh. His orderly world was spinning out of control way too fast. “Something tells me that chore falls in my lap.” But even as he said it, he didn’t mind taking care of the dog. After all, it seemed no different than taking care of the boy.

  Sixteen

  By Saturday morning, Buckley had already adjusted to his new name. Beckham had made sure of it. The kid had taken over the front yard. He’d practiced more than two dozen times getting the dog to respond to his new moniker.

  “I hate to interrupt your training session, but if you still want that job at the nursery, we need to get you
over there and fill out the papers.”

  “Cool.”

  “Buckley should stay behind with Sydney.”

  “Hear that, boy. You gotta go inside.”

  From there, Quentin put his plan in motion. He decided starting small was the key. It was tricky and a little sneaky. But baby steps would get you to the finish line…eventually. Taking Beckham over to The Plant Habitat to introduce him to the Jennings family was strategy number one. The boy had already met Cooper and getting to know Caleb, Landon, and Shelby would be a natural progression from there. He didn’t think it would send up any red flags.

  In his heart, he believed Beckham needed a wider social network. A kid of thirteen should have more friends. He shouldn’t be worrying about the future so much. Even with Charlotte’s dire medical prognosis, the boy needed to get out more, do more, and get his mind off his grandmother’s illness.

  As they walked down Crescent Street, Quentin talked up the idea. “My first paying job was delivering newspapers. Not nearly as exciting as a Christmas tree lot.”

  “What’s so exciting about that? My Gram and I haven’t had one in years.”

  Quentin put a hand on Beckham’s shoulder. “This Christmas won’t be like that.”

  “What makes you think so? Gram might not even be around by then. What will happen to me? I’ll go to some foster family who already has a slew of other kids they don’t want. Why should I look forward to that?”

  “You won’t go to a foster family. I promise. Have a little faith in me, will you?”

  “Sure. If you say so. But it isn’t up to you. There’ll be a social worker involved. I wish people wouldn’t treat me like a little kid. I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks I am. I know how this usually goes when you lose a parent. And Gram is my parent.”

  “When have I treated you like you’re stupid? When?”

  Beckham simply grunted and moved a shoulder up and down. “I don’t know.”