The Coast Road Home (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 13)

by Vickie McKeehan

  For the first time in months, she smiled at the memory. “Funny, that doesn’t make me sad talking about it. Look, Dr. Nighthawk, I gotta run. You have a great day. I’ll see you around.”

  She walked off down Crescent Street with a bounce in her step. If Scott was right and she’d have to move soon, she needed to start thinking along those lines, plotting out where she should live next.

  After making a pot of coffee, she took her breakfast out to the front porch where she ate two pieces of toast with blueberry jam. She’d have to remember to ask Gilly where the fruit spread came from because it tasted like a burst of homemade delight.

  She waved to a lady pushing a baby stroller down the street and a young woman who was walking a pack of dogs from the animal clinic.

  There was something about the scene that made her want a dog of her own. Maybe the way the pups seemed grateful for their freedom outside, to be able to prance down the street free of their cages. But if she set her sights on a dog, she needed to nail down a permanent place to live. Was she up to the task of making those kinds of decisions? After all, she’d chucked life in Wisconsin for…anywhere else. Friends back home thought she’d finally lost it. While she understood their concerns, she wanted…something else.

  And here she sat, living in someone else’s house, adrift, surrounded by a temporary situation she’d brought on by acting reckless and irresponsible.

  Absent any prospects might’ve scared anyone else. But Marley Lennox had something more compelling on her side. She’d stared death in the face and realized nothing much could scare her beyond that one single fact. Realizing she had nothing to fear from her immediate situation, she relaxed a little. There was no need to rush. She’d simply get a feel for the town. She’d take her time, do it right. She’d consider every angle, take a measured approach before making any rash decisions.

  She did a quick calculation in her head regarding her bank balance. She’d need to make sure the transfer went off without a hitch. Because if she stayed, she’d need to find a job. And that might take a while in a town this size. Whatever type of work she found would have to allow her access to the outside. She would no longer park herself behind a desk for most of the day. She was done giving other people advice about their mental health. For one, she didn’t know squat about anything. She wasn’t any more brilliant or clever than Joe Blow nextdoor. A Ph.D. in psychology didn’t make her a competent clinical therapist. Apparently, nothing did. So…she’d go another way. Find another purpose that was different than the one she’d known.

  That’s what she’d do. She’d find her own way again. It might not be pretty or easy or quick, but she’d carve out a new life for herself, one without the tremendous guilt of before. She’d strive for a before and after.

  The scent of magnolias hung in the air as she started that journey and took the first step—a stroll around town, getting to know the place, one brick at a time.

  Further down Tradewinds, Marley discovered a not so pretty side—abandoned houses, vacant storefronts, and a slew of empty weeded lots.

  She didn’t need a tour guide to tell her that this area of town had fallen on hard times. But…she’d seen enough of small towns back in Wisconsin and elsewhere lately to recognize the signs of an economic downturn that never fully regained its footing.

  Like most little towns, it wasn’t all gray or lousy. It had its hidden gems. She stood at the entrance to Phillips Park admiring the robust April flowers. Thick hedges were dotted with white river daisies. Golden larkspur flourished in flower beds alongside a panoramic red, white, and blue sea of pansies.

  She walked beneath the flowering dogwood, scattering the snowy petals that had fallen to the ground. Tall elm swayed in the breeze while shaggy birch and cypress exposed their peeling bark. She caught a whiff of jasmine as she crossed the street to the bank.

  Using her brand-new ATM card, she slid it into the slot to check her balance. And was relieved to know her money had shown up.

  She kept moving, making mental notes of where everything was. The smell of food wafted on the sea breeze as she passed the pizza shop.

  Downtown could only be described as quaint. The old lamp posts along Main Street gave off a historical vibe. Bright awnings over the shop doors welcomed customers inside. The Driftwood, a movie theater, was a step back to the 50s. The cinema marquee advertised the latest offering, A League of Their Own, in honor of springtime.

  After passing the police station, she made the block, waving at Wally as he worked on a car that wasn’t hers.

  Marley crossed Landings Bay, heading toward the beach and noticed several vacant houses for sale.

  She spotted a blonde rolling a book cart outside of Hidden Moon Bay Books. It was Hayden Cody, book lady, from the hospital.

  “Hey,” Marley began. “You have a nice location here.”

  “You got sprung!”

  “I did.”

  “Across the street, there’s The Pointe, fanciest place to eat in town, almost like a supper club. Live music, great food. Get the crab cakes and order a delicious fruity cocktail to go with them. Be sure and ask for a table with a view near the window so you can watch the waves. You’ll thank me later.”

  “Oh…well…I don’t really like to eat out by myself.”

  Hayden frowned and sent her a stern look. “Fine. But the owner likes to see the locals come in, which is why we regularly show up for happy hour. Helps the tourist business in the summertime. Gives the impression the restaurant is bustling with lots of customers.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope. Perry, that’s the owner, gives us special prices on cocktails. Next time we have a girls’ night out, you’re invited.”

  “Oh, thanks, but…”

  “No excuses. You’ll come even if I have to drag you out of the house myself. We’re used to newcomers. I recognize that you’re standoffish. I certainly was when I first got here. I’m not from here. Neither is my sister. You know her. Sydney Blackwood.”

  “The ER nurse in charge of…everything?”

  “Yeah. Syd always did love to boss people around. Here she gets paid for it. But since she’s good at what she does, she gets away with it. Anyway, we make a point of getting together once a month with some of the other moms.”

  “Moms? Uh…”

  Hayden saw the panic come into the woman’s eyes and realized she needed to change the subject. “Where are you headed?”

  “I’m just trying to get my bearings. Seeing what’s around job-wise.”

  “Ah. Job-wise you’ll find that pickings are slim. You either waitress, work out at the B&B during the busy season or end up at Taggert Farms picking fruit. There is something else, though. Know anything about plants?”

  “A little.”

  Hayden narrowed her eyes. “That’s not what I heard. Anyway, see the lighthouse on the hill? The land around there is our community garden. Hannah Summers is in charge of it now, and she’s always looking for help.”

  “Is it full-time?”

  “As full-time as anything is around here. You’ll find that most people work two jobs to make ends meet. It’s steady work if you love working around plants.”

  “That sounds promising. How would I get in touch with Hannah?”

  Hayden recited an address up on the hill. “Not long ago, Logan Donnelly redid the lighthouse along with the keeper’s cottage. Hannah splits her time between there and the vineyard she and her husband started. But you could also contact her through Logan. He’s got an office on Tradewinds nowadays. Half real estate, half construction. Now if you could swing a hammer, you could get a job tomorrow because his remodeling business is booming. He’s always looking for painters, carpenters, that sort of thing.” She eyed the other woman’s face where the bruises were just starting to turn a yellowish color. “But I really don’t think you’re fit to lift a drill until those ribs heal. Sorry.”

  “I won’t be like this forever,” Marley countered. “I know how to paint.
I’ve done the renovations on my house myself and helped with others back home. I can operate one of those professional sprayers, too.”

  Hayden’s face broke out into a grin. “I’m picking up on the fact that you’re a woman of many talents. You get well, and I promise you won’t have any problems finding work.”

  “But you just said pickings were slim.”

  “Not for someone like you who’s willing to think outside the box. How are those books working out?”

  “I’m almost done with all of them.”

  “Fast reader. I like that. A girl after my own heart.”

  “I’ll bring the books back by tomorrow and pick out new ones.”

  “I’ll look forward to it. See you later, Marley.”

  “Yeah. See ya.” Marley moved on down the street to check out the lighthouse. But the climb up the road was too much. She gave up before reaching the midway point and had to stop to catch her breath. Bent over, hands on her knees, she glanced up when a shadow fell across her line of sight. Staring at her feet, someone had leaned down next to her head.

  “Are you okay?” the man asked. “I saw you struggling when you went past my store. I own the souvenir shop at the bottom of the hill. The name’s Malachi Rafferty.”

  “Marley Lennox,” she muttered, out of breath. “I…I…”

  “You should sit down,” Malachi suggested. “Are you injured? Should I get you to the ER? The hospital is right here.”

  She paled at the thought of going back, but at the same time, she was leery of the man taking her arm. “No. No hospital.”

  He seemed to pick up on her wary nature and held up his hands. “Okay. Just follow me back to the shop then. Or do you want me to help get you home? That might be difficult though if you don’t want me taking hold of you.”

  “I’ll be fine. I will. Thanks. But…” She did manage to latch on to his hand.

  Malachi steadied her as best he could and started making conversation to put her at ease. “You’re new in town, the lady who wrecked her car. Cracked a few ribs, I’d guess. I’m a dad. My girls got music scholarships to UCLA. One’s a sophomore, the other a freshman. Can’t believe I moved to Pelican Pointe to get away from Los Angeles and now my girls are right in the thick of things down there. Goes to show that most of your careful planning is useless.”

  “Tell me about it,” Marley grumbled, beginning to feel not so light-headed as they reached level ground. “I’m stuck here for the time being.”

  “It’s not so bad here. For all my complaining, I love it here. The girls did, too. My T-Shirt shop does okay. But I’m also a musician. Play every Friday and Saturday night here at The Shipwreck. Since the place got a new owner, he lets me go on stage at eight, then I’m usually done by midnight. No more driving over to Santa Cruz.”

  “What’s wrong with Santa Cruz?”

  “Not a thing. But as I get older, I’m less enthusiastic about making the roundtrip there twice every weekend.”

  The confusion on her face had him going on. “I used to play in a dive over there Friday and Saturday nights just to keep my hand on the guitar. But the band couldn’t go onstage until nine or nine-thirty, sometimes as late as ten, which meant I wouldn’t get home until three or four in the morning.”

  Marley chuckled. “Aww, I’d feel sorry for you except I happen to know firsthand that the life of a musician is pretty good when it comes to…let’s say, the side perks.”

  Malachi grinned. “Ah. Well, I won’t lie, there was a time it had its pluses.”

  “You don’t have to lie. I know how it goes. My ex is the lead singer for Ashes2Armor. That’s why he’s my ex.”

  Recognition flashed in his head. “Ashes2Armor, a local band that started out in Milwaukee, made a name for themselves about ten years back. That means Ewan Evans must be your ex. They still tour, probably two hundred dates a year.”

  “Sounds like you keep up with your subscription to Music Weekly.”

  “Alternative Press,” he corrected. “And Billboard.”

  “That, too. Look, I’m feeling much better now, Mr. Rafferty. Thanks for helping me get down the hill.”

  “Malachi. Call me Malachi. You should come hear us play Friday night.”

  “Maybe I will. Thanks again.” Marley started down Crescent Street and stopped. “What’s the name of your band anyway?”

  “Dark Horse. The other band that plays during the week is Blue Skies, but their sound is more country. Dark Horse is a little edgier. So…I’m picking up on a vibe here. You don’t like musicians much, do you?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just don’t like the ones who cheat.”

  Once she made it back to the house, she dropped down on the couch and sunk into the cushions. She curled up into a fetal position. What had she done? She’d opened her big mouth…yet again. Now that information about her ex would spread all over town. By tonight, everyone would know her personal issues. And she only had herself to blame. Would she never learn to keep her trap shut?

  “You’re looking at this all wrong,” Scott said from the other side of the room.

  “Oh, yeah? How do you figure?”

  “You need to realize that no one is ever completely able to distance themselves from their past.”

  She kept her eyes closed, refusing to glance up at him or even acknowledge that corner of the living room. “Well, that’s certainly a cheery note. Thanks for your input.”

  “No, you’re still not getting it. Our past shapes us. It’s who we are. It’s who you are. You can’t run from your past. Ewan cheating is on him, not you.”

  She unfurled her feet and bolted upright, the movement making her head spin. “Okay. You might be right. I didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t me who gave up on our marriage. Ewan is the one who made that choice.”

  “And?”

  “I need to realize there was nothing I could do. Ewan wanted someone else, not me.”

  “He wouldn’t go to counseling.”

  “Counseling?” She blew a raspberry sound in his direction. “Counseling is BS, a total waste of time. It doesn’t work. It never works. Therapists know it’s a scam that makes people think things have a chance at working out when, in reality, there’s no real chance in hell of it happening.”

  “Wow. Jaded much?”

  “I’m not.”

  “You know therapy helps. You know it. How many people came to you and left feeling better?”

  “Not that many. I’m a realist. But you’ve opened my eyes about one thing. Why should I run from the fact Ewan cheated? That’s not on me. So what if he has a new life, a new wife? So what if he has other children? So what if he gets another chance at parenting and I never will? So what if the cheater finds happiness and I don’t?” Her energetic burst collapsed as fast as it appeared. She let her head fall back into the cushions again. “I’m tired now. I want to sleep. Go away.”

  Scott recognized the signs of depression. “There’s medication…”

  Marley picked up one of the throw pillows and hurled it across the room in his direction. In a low voice, she growled, “Go. Leave me alone. Get out. Don’t ever come back.”

  Alone, she buried her face into the cushions and wept.

  Inside his office, Gideon started his day with paperwork, signing off on insurance forms. Before making his morning rounds, he transcribed his notes into a recorder so that his part-time administrative assistant could update health records. Even in a hospital this small, these days each file was kept electronically. It made it easier to bring up a patient’s chart on the computer and look at what medications had been prescribed.

  When that was done, he went over Gilly’s shift notes from the previous night, making sure he was caught up.

  He’d admitted a teenage girl overnight by the name of Faye DeMarco suffering from an inflamed appendix that would likely have to come out before the end of the day. They had a shot at getting the inflammation to subside with antibiotics. But with less than twelve hours on medication
, he’d alerted Quentin to stand by to administer the anesthesia, if necessary.

  He also read over the file on an elderly patient who’d been brought in with what he deemed was the beginning of heart failure. After studying the test results, Gideon went over the chart again and was convinced Tahoe Jones would benefit from a repaired mitral valve. It would likely improve the man’s quality of living.

  Gideon pushed back from the desk and prepared to share the news with Tahoe’s granddaughter along with a slew of friends waiting in the lobby.

  He shook hands with Shiloh Jones, an attractive brunette with huge toffee-colored eyes that she turned on Gideon. Her playful nature included refusing to let go of his hand.

  Shiloh batted her eyes at Gideon and sidled ever closer.

  Gideon acknowledged the other people in the group who’d also been waiting for news. Once he got his hand back, Landon and Shelby Jennings pumped his arm with enthusiasm. The two seemed glad to know their friend would be all right.

  Shelby ran her hand through her short, silvery bob. A woman approaching sixty, she looked ten years younger. “And when would you do this? Because Landon and I want to be on hand for Shiloh. That goes for Caleb and Cooper, too. I just need to tell them when to be here.”

  Gideon pivoted toward the granddaughter again. “I’d like to schedule the procedure for Friday morning if that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine. The sooner, the better. How is he right now, though? Because Granddad is all the family I have left these days and I’ve been worried.”

  “He’s stable. Just be glad you brought him in when you did.”

  “As soon as I learned he was having problems, I told Landon and Shelby how bad he’d gotten. They’re the ones who helped me drag him here. We all practically had to gang up on him just to get him in the car. He was like our dog Mungo on the way to see the vet. We didn’t dare tell him where we were really taking him for fear he wouldn’t come. That’s Granddad, not Mungo. We didn’t mention the hospital until we got halfway here.”