The Ocean City Boardwalk Series, Books 1-3

by Donna Fasano

  “I’m so sorry, Heather.” Sliding closer, Cathy clasped Heather’s hand in both of hers and held on tightly. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that I betrayed you like I did.”

  She paused long enough to swallow. The concern that had softened Heather’s face just an instant before turned melancholic.

  “I get it now,” Cathy said. “I want you to know that. I fully understand exactly what I did. I made you feel vulnerable. I peeled back your protective blanket. I exposed all the bad things you felt about… yourself. And I am so sorry. I truly am.” She licked her lips. “It would be like… if you had told Brad about my bruises, my black eyes, my broken nose.”

  “I would never have done that,” Heather whispered.

  “I know. And I never should have told Daniel your secret.” Cathy gazed at her friend with intense love, hoping to convey all she was feeling. “Instead of being flip, instead of sending you stupid texts in the hopes that you’d get over it, I should have apologized. Over and over. I should have kept apologizing until you understood just how sorry I am.” She squeezed Heather’s hand. “Because I am.”

  Heather’s eyes filled with tears; Cathy cried, too.

  “You mean the world to me,” Cathy said.

  They hugged each other tightly, and for just a moment, the burden sitting heavily on Cathy’s shoulders lifted just a little.

  When they parted, Cathy said, “Tell me what’s going on with Sara. Is she okay? Did she have the baby?”

  “Not yet,” Heather told her. “But she’s in labor. She had a couple of heavy contractions this morning. She’s been under so much stress.”

  Cathy nodded. “I know. Landon has been dragging his heels about the wedding. Geneva’s been pushy about the plans.”

  Now Heather nodded. “I know. It’s been awful.”

  “Maybe between the two of us, we can figure out how to help her deal with it better.”

  “I think Mother Nature’s figuring it out for her.” Heather tucked a wayward strand of dark hair behind her ear. “The doctor said stress can cause early contractions. He wasn’t happy with Landon, let me tell you.”

  “I hope the doctor gave him hell,” Cathy said. “Geneva needs a talking to, as well.”

  “After the contractions, Sara’s water broke. The doctor told her to meet him here. I think he was going to decide whether or not to induce labor, but he didn’t have to. Sara’s contractions continued and they’re pretty regular now.”

  “Is the baby okay, though? She’s early.”

  Heather’s eyes went round. “I think so. Sara’s hooked up to 2 different monitors and a couple of IVs. There’s more beeping in there than a Friday night traffic jam. Girl, you’ve got to go in there and see the equipment.”

  “I look a mess.” Cathy smoothed her palm over her hair. “I can’t let her see me like this.”

  “You look like you’ve been in a jet ski accident,” Heather teased. “Come on. What’s a little briny stink among friends?”

  They stood up.

  “Okay, but I can’t stay long. I should go down and check on Brad. They might know something more by now. His parents are going to want to know what’s happening.”

  “We’ll just say hi,” Heather said. “Sara won’t be in the mood for more than that. And then I’ll pop over to your house and bring you some fresh clothes.”

  “That sounds heavenly.”

  Clasped arm in arm, they walked toward the maternity ward.

  Chapter Eleven

  He looked like he was sleeping. Having been cleaned up, the wound on his head didn’t look bad at all. The cut hadn’t required sutures, and only a small lump and slight bruising showed beneath the single, small steri-strip.

  Cathy sat by Brad’s bed, keeping vigil, just as she’d promised his mother she would do. Even if she hadn’t made the promise, she wouldn’t be anywhere else but right here. She was the reason Brad was in that bed; she couldn’t rest until she saw with her own eyes that he was okay. And if he wasn’t okay when he woke up…

  Icy fear seeped through to the marrow. Well, she would never forgive herself.

  His hand lay on the outside of the sheet, an oxygen monitor clipped to his middle finger. At least a dozen times she had reached out to take his hand in hers, but each and every time she’d drawn back before making contact. She desperately wanted to feel the warmth of him, assure herself that he really was alive, but she didn’t deserve to touch him. Not after what she’d done.

  The light tap on the door drew her attention, and seeing Landon there, Cathy made to stand. But he lifted both hands and motioned for her to remain seated.

  “Is Sara okay?” she asked him. “Has the baby arrived?”

  “No baby yet.” He kept his voice quiet. “Sara’s tired. Things progress a bit, and then they slack off. She’s dilated five centimeters, though, so that’s good. The doctor said it could be a few more hours.” He took a half step further into the room. “Listen, Jack called me earlier. He was supposed to meet Brad at the arcade at four today, and when Brad didn’t show up…”

  “Oh.” Cathy shook her head. “I didn’t think to call Jack.”

  “He called me an hour or so ago,” Landon said. “He’s here. Is it okay if—”

  “Sure, sure.” Cathy stood up.

  Landon turned, glanced out into the hallway, and beckoned.

  Jack entered and nodded a greeting at her.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, Jack,” Cathy said. “I didn’t think…”

  “It’s okay. Do his parents know what’s going on?”

  “Yes, I talked to his mom myself.” Cathy placed her palms together, laced her fingers. “They’re on their way. His parents, I mean. I was able to give them an update before they left.”

  “That’s good,” Landon said.

  Jack nodded as he gazed over at Brad. “Can you tell us how he’s doing?”

  Cathy couldn’t imagine Brad not wanting his friends to know about his condition. “He has what’s called an arterio, um, something malformation. An AVM.” She closed her eyes and tried again. “An arteriovenous malformation. That’s it. It’s a tangle of veins in his brain. It was something he was born with, I think. And when he hit his head, it began to bleed.”

  “Bleeding on the brain?” Concern pulled at the corners of Jack’s mouth.

  “The bleeding has stopped,” Cathy rushed to assure him. “That’s what I was told. His vital signs are stable, and he’s scheduled for a follow-up MRI in the morning.”

  She looked from Jack to Landon. “They’re treating this conservatively and they keep telling me they expect him to wake up soon.”

  The ICU nurse appeared in the doorway. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, “but someone’s got to go. Two visitors in the room only.”

  “I’ll go,” Landon said to the nurse. He looked at Cathy. “I’m sure Sara’s wondering where I am. Call me if anything changes, okay?”

  “I will,” she promised.

  Once Jack and Cathy were alone, he asked, “What happened?”

  “I wrecked the jet ski.” She swallowed; her voice sounded like rusty hinges. “It was my fault, Jack. It was completely my fault.”

  She thought she might cry, but her eyes remained remarkably dry. It seemed there were no more tears in her.

  Jack sighed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “He’s a good guy.” He stared at Brad for several long moments and then glanced at Cathy. “He’s a really good guy, Cathy.”

  The simple statement sounded like an admonishment.

  “I know that.”

  “Do you?”

  The calmly spoken question belied the emotion tensing Jack’s facial muscles. A frown bit into Cathy’s brow and she remained silent.

  “Would it have been so difficult for you to be happy for him about the arcade?” Without waiting for her answer, he looked over toward the hospital bed as he added, “Brad had such high hopes that the new business would—” his tone quieted to a
whisper “—change things.”

  Jack pulled his hands free from his pockets so quickly that Cathy heard the jingle of coins or keys.

  “I’m going to go,” he told her.

  “Wait.” Cathy touched his arm. “Brad said something today I didn’t understand. He said he didn’t owe a mortgage on the arcade. How can that be?”

  He shook his head. “You’ll have to talk to Brad about that.”

  “Well, what did you mean?” she pressed. “When you said he thought the arcade would change things? I don’t understand.”

  He pressed his lips together. Finally, he sighed. “I didn’t mean anything. I should have kept my mouth shut. It’s none of my business. I’m going to go.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket. “Would you call me if his condition changes?”

  Her frown only deepened as she accepted the card. “Sure.”

  “Day or night,” he told her. “Doesn’t matter. Just call.” He turned toward the door and then turned back, concern etched in the lines of his face. “You should treat him nicer, Cathy. Stop being such a downer. Stop making light of his job. Why are you always so critical? He works hard. He saves lives, for crying out loud. He deserves respect for what he does. For who he is. He’s a good man. You’ll never find one who’s better. You can take that to the bank.”

  Jack held her gaze, and then he left the room.

  Hours later, when the hallways were empty and quiet, Cathy’s mind still churned over Jack’s comments.

  Brad had such high hopes that the new business would change things.

  He’s a really good guy.

  He deserves respect.

  He works hard.

  Would it have been so difficult for you to be happy for him?

  Stop being a downer.

  He’s a good man.

  Jack hadn’t spoken in anger, and it sure sounded like he was making a plea on Brad’s behalf. But the man’s disapproval couldn’t have been made clearer. The strange thing was, she hadn’t felt offended. She completely agreed with many of the things Jack had said.

  Brad was a good guy. No one could dispute that. He was dedicated to his job as a lifeguard. He loved it, in fact; and he did work hard.

  As to Jack’s other claims—about her being “a downer,” about her not treating Brad right, about her making light of his job, being critical, not respecting him—Cathy felt slightly baffled.

  She had questioned Brad about his new arcade venture, but she viewed that as being practical, one concerned, business-minded friend to another. She’d want him to do the same for her if she were to ponder a career change. And she teased him often about working in a profession where nearly all his colleagues were in their late teens and early twenties. She’d even called him Peter Pan in the past… the boy who refused to grow up. She’d never meant any disrespect. It was all in fun. Just playful vexing. He did the same to her. Or, at least, he used to, and it had driven her half nuts because… well, because…

  Because she’d liked him so much back then. And she’d wanted him to feel the same way about her.

  She stared out the window, studied the gibbous moon, as a memory swarmed her mind like a hive of bees.

  Nineteen and all on her own on a Saturday night. Cathy drove the full length of Ocean City, looking for someone to hang out with. Neither Heather nor Sara were in town, and she couldn’t believe there was no one around she knew. She couldn’t stay out long because she had to work the next day, but she was antsy over the great opportunity that had come her way.

  At the restaurant where she was waiting tables for the summer, there had been a huge blow up and the owner had fired one of the line cooks. Cathy wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened, but while she was in the kitchen to drop off an order she’d noticed a strip steak sizzling in a pan to the smoking point. She hadn’t even thought about it; she’d simply rounded the island that separated the cooks from the wait staff, she’d grabbed a pair of tongs and turned the steak over. That’s all she’d done, and the next thing she knew, the head chef, James, was shouting instructions at her so she could complete the meal. Once she’d slipped the steak into the oven to finish cooking, she’d sautéed the haricot verts in extra virgin olive oil, added a bit of minced garlic, salt, and pepper.

  She’d taken a couple of culinary classes and had developed a real love of cooking, but with no employment experience in the field, she’d decided to go for the sure thing and apply for a position as a waitress.

  Chef James had been impressed with her skills and he’d talked to the owner about bringing her on as a line cook. Cathy had trembled with excitement. This opportunity had the potential to change her whole life. She should go home and get some sleep so she would be well-rested for tomorrow, but she was just too keyed up.

  Spying the bowling alley, she slowed and turned onto 72nd Street . She pulled into the parking lot and saw Brad standing near the front door. When she got out of her car, he walked over to her.

  “Hey, sweet cheeks.” He grinned.

  His blue eyes glittered, sending her the unmistakable message that he was happy to see her, and her insides churned as she smiled.

  Brad stopped just inches from her, leaned his hip against the door, and crossed his arms over his chest. Then he murmured, “God was just showing off when he made you.”

  The compliment tickled her. It was crazy how he could make her melt in her sandals with a sultry look and a few well-ordered words. That’s the way she’d reacted to him since back in middle school.

  They stood in the parking lot catching up, flirting, laughing, and teasing. Cathy told him about her opportunity at the restaurant. And they’d talked about careers and plans and dreams for the future.

  At one point, he’d said, “Tell me again why we aren’t dating.”

  She laughed and her thoughts scrambled like broken eggs and all she could think to do was repeat, “Why aren’t we dating?”

  They weren’t on some pre-planned romantic date. They weren’t in some fancy restaurant. They were simply standing under the stars, in a dimly lit parking lot of a bowling alley. And there was no place else she’d rather be. Brad made her feel happy. He made her feel pretty. He made her feel good about herself.

  When she realized how late it was, she told him she had to go, and he asked her to drop him off at the boardwalk on her way home.

  “I know it’s out of your way, but…”

  “No problem.” She’d waved off his concern. “Let me run inside to use the restroom. I’m going to grab a soda. You want anything?”

  “Nah, I’m good. I’ll just wait here.”

  While she was inside the bowling alley, she hoped he would ask her out. A chance at a new career as a line cook and another crack at the elusive Bradley Henderson. This was turning out to be a red letter day.

  She pushed her way outside and saw him leaning over and talking to a group of kids inside a Mustang. His back was to her, so he didn’t see her exit the building.

  The words he spoke to someone in the car carried on still night air. “Aside from being cute, what do you do for a living?”

  Cathy’s steps slowed, and that’s when the realization hit her like an unexpected palm against the cheek, and it smarted something awful. Brad made all the girls feel happy. He made us all feel pretty. He made us all feel good about ourselves. It was the game he played, a game he’d mastered. And it worked out very well for him.

  That game had always worked out well for him. How could she have forgotten that?

  Tomorrow could become a changing day for her. She was about to embark on what could be a new phase in her life, a new direction. She was going after what might turn out to be a whole new career. A real, honest-to-goodness adult profession. She could work her way up. Earn the title of head chef someday. Maybe run a kitchen all on her own. Maybe own her own restaurant.

  Did she really want to continue to do this? Brad was gorgeous, yes. He’d be a great catch. But…

  “Hold on a sec,” she heard him say.
And then he turned to see her; he jogged over to her. “Hey,” he said, “I can save you some time. Bobby and some of his friends are headed to the boardwalk. I’m going to hitch a ride with them, okay?”

  “Sure. That’s great.”

  His blue gaze grew intense and his voice lowered as he said, “I’ll see you around, though, right?”

  A vague smile was plastered on her face. He really was gorgeous. And he would be an amazing catch for someone. But would he ever be willing to be caught?

  How long was she willing to play these stupid games?

  “You bet,” she told him.

  The quick kiss he planted on her mouth startled her. As she watched him lope toward the car, she had this feeling that tonight had turned momentous. She felt suddenly pensive, ambivalent, as if she were standing on a precipice of some sort. The past held the familiar ground behind her, and the future was… out there… somewhere. And to find it, she’d have to turn her back on all the old, stymieing things and step blindly into the thin air.

  Cathy got up from the chair and went to stand at the foot of Brad’s hospital bed. He seemed so peaceful, so relaxed, but who knew what was happening inside his head. The bleeding had stopped, yes, but what damage had it done?

  “I have every expectation that he’ll wake up,” the doctor had assured her earlier in the evening. And she’d been so grateful to pass on that news to Brad’s parents before they’d boarded their flight.

  Her life had gone in a completely different direction after that night she and Brad had flirted for their final time as teens in the bowling alley parking lot. The next day had been her first as a paid, professional cook in an honest-to-goodness restaurant. And on her very first shift, she’d met Todd Kirkland, a produce supplier from Baltimore and the man she thought would bring her a lifetime of bliss.

  God, had she been wrong.

  Oh, her relationship with Todd had started out wonderfully. She’d been so full of hope. She wondered when, exactly, her happiness had turned to misery. The transformation had been so subtle at first that she had barely been aware of the change taking place. But over the course of the next nine years, her life had become a nightmare that had left her beaten and broke in every sense of those words—physically, emotionally, and financially.