Rocky Point Reunion (14 page)

“Old man Hendricks still run the bar?” Zack asked.

“Yes, and I wonder how old he really is. When we were kids, I thought he was about a hundred. He doesn't look any older now.”

“Probably pickled and smoked to last a long time.”

“Umm. He's good about keeping kids out, however. Either because he wants to, or Tate put the fear of the law in him.”

It wasn't long before they passed the bank and the hospice thrift shop and reached the large park that overlooked the marina. Zack led the way to a bench that gave a view of the sea in the day. With dusk falling, the water looked cold and uninviting.

“I feel talked out,” Marcie said, sitting several inches away from him.

“Some things have changed, but not a lot. In a way, I'm surprised more didn't change over the years. It's nice to find so much the way I remember it.”

“Probably seems boring to you.”

“No, it seems like home.” He gazed at the marina, a thousand memories crowding in. Most of them centered around Marcie. It was good to be back. Seeing things with a different perspective had a way of changing everything. He welcomed Rocky Point and all it stood for.

They sat side by side for a while, letting the tranquility of the sea washing against the pilings seep into them. Gradually the night sky grew darker, the stars began to twinkle. Street lights behind them gave a soft warm glow.

“I've missed you,” Zack said, reaching out to take her hand. It was easier in the dark, so he couldn't see her if she pulled back. Instead, Marcie returned his hold, squeezing slightly.

“You've been too busy to miss anyone,” she said.

“You're wrong. Especially at night, in some hotel room, or the flat I've called home. No old friends to call and talk to. No buddies to go out with, no special person to share my life with. I threw away a lot for the hope of a dream. I'm not sure it was worth it.”

“Oh, Zack, I think God had a wonderful plan for your life. It didn't include staying in Rocky Point. I've had years to think it through. I still have trouble with the way you left. I thought we were so close we could almost finish each other's thoughts. I had no idea you were feeling anything but longing to get married. I read everything wrong.”

He turned to look into her eyes. “Not everything. I loved you, Marcie. Really loved you. It was just—I don't know, the feeling I was settling down before the age of twenty
and would never go anywhere or do anything grabbed me by the throat and scared me to death. My dad and mom had a great life, but they never went outside of Maine, I don't believe. I didn't want that at eighteen. I handled it wrong. But honestly, if I'd faced you and you'd started crying, I would never have been able to pull away.”

Marcie didn't say anything. Zack wanted her to talk to him. Before—ten years ago—they'd talked the night away. Now, nothing.

“Say something,” he urged.

She hunched her shoulders a bit, as if withdrawing. Sadness filled her eyes. “I cried so much after you left. Now I just want to think it was worth it. I would feel awful if we lost what we had and neither of us had anything to show for it. I have a nice life here, Zack. God has blessed me in many ways.”

“You never married.”

She shook her head, looking away.

“Why not? I can't be the only man in the world who sees all you have to offer. Why not, Marcie?”

She pulled her hand away and stood.

“I need to go home,” she said, turning to head back up Main Street.

“Why not?” he persisted, rising to stand beside her.

“Because I never found another man who felt like he was the other half of me,” she whispered before hurrying away.

“T
he other half of me.” The words echoed in Zack's mind as he drove home, as he tried to sleep. They had been so close. It had been like cutting off an arm or something when he'd left. He could relate to the words. Marcie had once seemed to be the other half of him. A half he'd destroyed and thrown away. Seeing her every day, talking to her, he realized he still loved her. She was still the other half of him. The thought had him wide awake. He loved Marcie, probably always had. How could he have been blind enough to think he could ever walk away from her and find any kind of joy in life?

Giving up on sleeping, he rose and went to the window overlooking the darkened landscape. His bedroom from childhood. He'd come full circle. Looking at the starry sky, he offered up another prayer.

Father, guide me, please. Let me make amends for the harm I've done. Grant me a bright future—with Marcie, if that's Your will. I still love her. How can I convince her of that? I pray You will show me the way. Thanks for arranging things so I came home. I'm feeling a bit like the prodigal son. Not that everyone is throwing a party for my return, but I know how that guy felt when he returned to
all that was familiar and dear. If Marcie's right and You did inscribe my name on Your palms, let me come back to You, as well. Let me be the man You might always have wanted me to be.

The peace that descended felt like a hug directly from God. He smiled. When he slipped into bed, he had no trouble falling asleep.

 

The next morning when Zack entered the shop, Joe and the rest of the men had already started work. Even Sean beat him in. If he was going to buy in to the business, he had better show a better example of punctuality.

“Banker's hours?” Joe said with a grin.

“Needed to work a bit on the track situation. I've got an insurance man looking into coverage. And a possible firm who will line the parking area like I want. Once I get a few more things settled, I'll head back to negotiate with the owners.”

“You're not the only one to have two things going at once. I think I have a tenant for the apartment over Gillian's studio.”

“I thought you said no one was interested.”

“It's been available for almost a year. Today Doctor Mallory sent a referral over. A new nurse for the clinic. She liked it and said she'd be back in touch in a day or two. Apparently she's also looking at a place out on Clinton Road.”

“This place would be better in winter. She could walk to the clinic if the snow's too deep to drive in.”

“I'm hoping that'll sway her. Plus the view.”

“Things are looking up, then.” Zack glanced over to Sean. “He's still doing well, right?”

“A natural. Always asking questions. I think nights
he's studying classic cars on the internet or something. He really knows more than I expected.”

Just then the teenager gave a yell. All eyes turned to him as he pulled his hand out of an engine, a screwdriver stuck through the palm.

“Oh, no,” Joe said, rushing over.

Zack was only one step behind. Swinging by the stack of clean rags on a workbench, he quickly wrapped the hand, trying to staunch the flow of blood, letting the screwdriver stay in place to help stem the blood.

Sean looked dazed. “I was trying to force that head off but it was stuck. Shouldn't we pull it out?” He looked at his hand in horror.

“Not yet. It'll help staunch the flow of blood,” Zack said. “Come on, I'll drive you to the clinic.”

“I'm going, too,” Joe said, slinging an arm around the teenager.

In less than five minutes they walked into the clinic that served the town and surrounding area. Dr. Mallory was on duty and quickly assessed the situation.

“I'll get it out, but in case of nerve damage, I don't want to do more than stop the bleeding at this point. He needs the hospital in Portland. I'll call for an ambulance.”

“I'll be okay,” Sean said through gritted teeth. Zack knew the hand had to hurt, but the kid showed courage, keeping his cool. “I don't need an ambulance.”

“Better if a specialist sees this,” Dr. Mallory said.

“I'll take him up. No need for the expense of an ambulance,” Zack said, guessing some of the reasons for Sean's resistance.

“I'll pack the wound, put on some ice. The sooner you get there, the better,” the doctor said.

“I'll go as fast as the law allows,” Zack said. Speed was important, but so was safety.

“Hmm, maybe get Tate to drive. He can run that siren and really make time. Watch him for shock, too.”

“Okay.”

Once on the road, Zack in the back with Sean, Tate really opened up the police car. The highway was not crowded and so he made good time, faster than the posted speed, but still within safety limits.

“Our drag-racing days paid off,” Tate said at one point.

Zack grinned. “Who'd have thought? Remember this the next time you find some teenagers speeding along.”

“I want to keep them safe.”

Sean gave a soft moan.

“Hurts now, doesn't it?” Zack said sympathetically. “The initial reaction's passed and now the pain starts. Those pills the doc gave you will start to work soon. Hang in there, kid.”

“If I have to stay in the hospital will you call my mom?” Sean asked.

“We'll call her now,” Zack said. He dialed the number Sean gave him and in a couple of seconds heard a woman's voice.

“Mrs. O'Connell, this is Zack Kincaid.”

“Didn't he show up this morning? I told him to get up in time. He was up late last night on the computer, so probably slept through this morning.”

“Actually, he beat me into work. There's been an accident.” Zack explained what was happening then handed the phone to Sean so he could reassure his mother. She insisted on getting to Portland as soon as she was able. Zack took the phone back and told her which hospital they were going to, and that he'd take care of Sean until she arrived.

“I can manage,” Sean said, hearing that comment.

“A friend hanging around doesn't hurt,” Zack said when he ended the conversation.

“Could you also call Miss Winter for me? She'll be expecting me at two. I hate to let her down,” Sean asked.

“Marcie'll understand.” Zack made that call, giving a brief recap and promising to call her once they knew what the doctors at the hospital said.

Once they reached the hospital, Zack went in with Sean while Tate went to park the car. The emergency room was quiet. They were able to take Sean immediately, and Zack was told to wait until after they went to X-ray, and returned before going in with Sean. He nodded, understanding the drill, and went outside to find Tate. Wandering around the side of the building, he came to the general parking and saw Tate wending his way through the parked cars.

The doors marked Outpatients whooshed open to his right and out walked Bill Winter, Marcie's father. Zack did a double take and the older man stopped suddenly, then looked as if the world had fallen in.

“Don't you tell Marcie!” Bill said with a stern note.

“What's going on?”

“Nothing you need to be concerned with. What are you doing here anyway? Did you follow me?” he asked suspiciously.

Zack studied the doorway behind him speculatively, then looked at Bill. “We had an accident at the shop and I had to bring Sean O'Connell in to the E.R. Shouldn't Marcie know about this?” Zack didn't have a clue what her father was doing here, but Bill seemed distraught.

The older man shook his head and stepped over to one of the benches lining the wide walkway. Zack saw Tate pause two rows away and just watch. Zack shook his head at Tate and went to join Bill on the bench.

“If you need help, what's better than being on the prayer
chain at church,” Zack said, remembering his parents participating on the chain. He'd almost forgotten about that.
Help me here, please, Father God. I'm floundering in the dark. If it's Your will I learn what's wrong with her dad, guide me. Don't let me make a mess of this,
Zack prayed silently, hoping the Lord would give him the right words to say.

“Don't need everybody and his brother knowing my business,” Bill grumbled.

“Seems like you need all the help you can get.”

The moments ticked by. The day grew warmer. Tate leaned against a car and watched from the distance. Zack waited.

The older man sighed. “Maybe you're right. It's going to come out eventually,” Bill said resignedly. “I'm having kidney trouble. I have to come here several times a week for dialysis. I'm on the waiting list for a transplant.”

Zack was startled with the revelation. He'd never expected something like that. Marcie would be devastated. He wanted to be with her when she found out.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked. “Be tested for a match or something?”

Bill looked at him. “You'd do that?”

“I've got two, from what I hear, a person only needs one.”

Bill shook his head. “I don't know what to say. I never would have suspected—” He stopped, looked away.

“I'm sure I'm not the only one who would be tested,” Zack said, thinking of all the people in Rocky Point who liked and respected Bill Winter. “How would I go about that?”

“I haven't a clue. We could ask my doctor.”

“No time like the present,” Zack said. He stood and motioned to Tate.

When the sheriff joined them, he nodded to Bill. “He and I are going in to talk to someone. Can you head for the E.R. and be there for Sean?”

“Sure. Everything okay here?” Tate asked.

“Will be,” Zack said.

When they entered the outpatients' lobby, Bill thanked Zack for not telling Tate the true situation.

“Hey, it's your call. But sooner or later Marcie has to know, and I'd think sooner would be better. She's going to worry herself sick.”

“That's why I didn't want to say anything. I'm managing with the dialysis so far. Once I know about a transplant, I figured I'd tell her. There's a lot of hope once the transplant takes place. I'm all she has, you know. There's no other family, so I wanted to spare her as long as I could.” His skin almost seemed to reflect his gray hair. His expression was a combination of determination and regret.

Zack winced. If he had not left ten years ago, Marcie would have other family—him and any children they might have had. And Joe and Jenny.

“Let's see what we need to do. I'll go with you if you like when you tell Marcie,” Zack said.

As they waited to see Bill's doctor, Zack marveled at the working of the Lord. He'd even proposed following Bill, never suspecting he would end up here. Without having to resort to subterfuge, he'd still found out.

In less than an hour Bill and Zack were heading for the E.R. The testing procedure for donor compatibility hadn't been necessary once the doctor found out Zack's blood type. It was not a match with Bill's. But both men were more informed now.

Sean's mother was sitting with her son when they entered the E.R. Tate sat in a chair next to them. He rose when he saw Zack.

“Everything okay?”

Zack shrugged. “Long story. I'm going to drive Bill back to Rocky Point. Thanks for waiting.”

“No problem. Bill, good to see you.”

Bill nodded. “You might as well know, everyone will soon. I have kidney failure. I'm on a waiting list for a donor.”

“Oh, man, that's tough.” He glanced at Zack.

“I already talked to the doctor.” He held out a folder. “I've got a lot of info on the transplant scenario. Unfortunately, I'm not eligible for Bill.”

“Marcie know?” Tate asked.

“Not yet, but soon,” Zack said, drawing a deep breath. He ached for the shock and fear she'd experience.

Sean was watching. Zack turned to him and his mother.

“Thank you for calling me,” Earline said. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

He smiled. “Sorry for the injury.”

She looked at her son. “It's a guy thing. At least the doctors don't think the hand will suffer permanent damage.”

“You okay?” he asked Sean.

“Yeah. Sixteen stitches, can't get it wet, have to check in at the clinic in a week.” The hand was splinted and bandaged. While not bulky, it was wrapped in a way to prevent much use.

“Take the time off,” Zack said.

“I can still come in, watch, if nothing else,” Sean said.

His mother looked at Zack as if hoping he could read her mind. Maybe he could.

“When you feel like it. And I'll explain things to Marcie. I'm sure she'll hold the job for you.”

“Thanks.” The teenager looked as if he wanted to say more. A quick glance at his mother and he looked back to
Zack. “No one except my mom's ever done so much for me. Thanks seem dumb, not enough.”

Zack gripped his shoulder, the emotions spilling over. “Any time,” he said, glad he'd been able to help in a meaningful way. More reasons coming home had been the right thing to do.

 

When Zack and Bill reached the Winters' home, Zack went in with the older man.

“I'll call Marcie,” he said. “You want to lie down or something?”

“No, I'm okay. Something to eat or drink?”

“No, thanks,” he said, amazed that Bill Winter was offering him anything—though he supposed his own offer had changed things with the man. Zack placed the call to Marcie.

“Hi,” she answered. He relished the happiness in her tone and hated to be the one to change it.

“Can you come over to your dad's now?” he asked.

“What's wrong?” she said in a worried rush.

“We'll tell you when you get here. Drive carefully.”

“That'll have her flying home,” Bill said from his place on the sofa. “I doubt driving carefully will figure into it at all.”