Page 34 of The Scars I Bare
“Yes,” I answered firmly.
“Well, good for you. Some of us don’t have that luxury.”
And there it was. That haunting look I’d seen in her eyes the night before. It was here again, and the instant I saw it, I wanted to pull her into my arms and erase it, no matter the cost.
But I knew, if I did, she’d bolt. Like a deer caught in the headlights, she’d run and never come back.
So, instead of pressing even further, I backed down.
“I’d better go,” I said, meeting those sad eyes once more. “I need to get some things done.”
“But what about lunch? And my finger fish?” Lizzie cried out.
I smiled in her direction, leaning forward, like I had a special secret just for her.
“Here’s the trick, kid. Are you ready?”
She giggled, scooting up onto her knees so that she could lean forward over the table.
“Use your fingers,” I whispered loudly so that her mom could hear.
Lizzie laughed wildly, her hand covering her mouth but doing little to muffle the sound.
“And make sure your mom does the same,” I instructed before rising from my seat.
“But what about your food?” Lizzie asked.
I threw enough cash down on the table to cover the two meals plus an ample tip.
“Well, now, your mom will have no excuse but to eat fish with you!” I said, giving her one last wink.
Cora began protesting the money I’d just dropped. I ignored every word as I walked away. I knew my mama would be appalled by my behavior, but someone needed to show Cora Carpenter that in this town we took care of one another.
Even if she didn’t like it.
It didn’t take Jake long to track me down after he returned home from his business up the coast, and we met up for a late beer at one of our favorite places in town, Taps. Since his return to Ocracoke earlier that year, I’d grown accustomed to seeing the various new sides to my childhood friend. After all, we had both changed a great deal since high school.
But, sitting across from him tonight, I could see the stress from the clinic was weighing heavily on him.
That, or it was something else.
“Dude, you look like hell,” I said after several microbrews samples arrived on the table for us to try.
In an effort to attract tourists, Gavin, the bartender and longtime friend, had recently renovated the long-standing restaurant and given it an updated tap-house feel, hoping locals would appreciate the selection of brews as well.
We did.
Jake and I came in every chance we had, slowly making our way through the impressive menu as we dined on the equally ambitious bar food.
“Kind of feel like it, too, but thanks for bringing it up.”
“Please tell me this is just clinic stress and not some precursor to you making a beeline out of here again.”
He set his beer down as his face went rigid. “No. Hell no. I’m not leaving. Not ever again. This? This is just me pushing through. Betty leaving was a solid blow, one I honestly wasn’t prepared for. Leave it to the highly trained, prepared-for-anything cardiothoracic surgeon to crumble at the first sign of distress when his only nurse retires.”
“Is there anything I can do? I don’t know shit about medical stuff, but I’m sure I could come in and—”
He held up a hand. “It’s fine. Really. Cora is learning the ropes. It’s only been two days. One and a half actually.”
