Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Isaiah grunted a little as he lifted playground equipment pieces and started to carry them over to where he was going to set them up. It was the middle of the afternoon, almost the end of his workday, and he was beginning to feel tired.

He felt proud of the work he’d accomplished that day. He looked across the half-built playground, smiling in satisfaction. It really did look nice—he knew the kids were excited about getting to play on it. He’d heard some of them saying so, and Olivia had told him that they talked about it a lot inside the school.

He glanced at the red brick building and grinned. “It’ll be done soon, kiddos,” he said, even though none of them could hear him. Every once in a while, he caught sight of one of the kids watching him from one of the upstairs windows—they usually ducked out of sight immediately when he spotted them as if he was some kind of wild man.

He was looking forward to the end of the school day, when all of the kids got picked up by their parents. He enjoyed watching them scamper and run along the sidewalks, excited to go home. He found the sight of them endearing and uplifting. A few of the more outgoing kids had become his pals, and they would stop and say hi on their way to the cars.

And after that , he thought with relish, I’m done for the day.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what he wanted to do after work—he’d rented a jet boat for the remainder of his time in Blueberry Bay, and he was itching to get out onto the water. He loved boating and being on the ocean, and today was a perfect day to go out. It was warmer outside that day than it had been earlier in the spring, and he had beads of perspiration along his hairline and dripping down the back of his neck. He kept thinking about getting out onto the water and feeling the cool breeze rush against his face. He wanted to drink a cold beer and catch the sunset—he knew getting out on that boat was going to feel so good after working hard all day.

Soon the bell rang, and kids started to pour out of the school like a colorful river. His pals raced up to the playground.

“Hey, Isaiah!” called out the first one, a red-headed kid named Mikey. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good. What do you think of the new swing set?”

“It looks awesome,” said a girl in pigtails named Annie. “When are you going to be done?”

“Soon,” he promised, and then car horns honked and the kids waved at him and took off. He smiled as he watched them go. He glanced at his workload—he’d been planning on stopping after the last bell, but he told himself he’d get one more thing done that day. The kids were so excited about the playground—maybe he could finish it for them a little faster than he’d planned.

He went over to a pile of metal parts that he hadn’t had a chance to sand yet.

It’ll be easier to sand these once they’re up , he thought. If I’m careful, I’ll be okay. I’ll get a couple more pieces set up before going home today.

He reached down and picked up a long metal piece that was fairly heavy. He was careful to touch the smooth parts of it, since there were jagged metal shards poking out of it here and there. As he was carrying it over to where he wanted to set it up, he stumbled on a tool that he’d foolishly left lying on the ground, and the metal piece slid down in his hands.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, feeling a sharp protrusion of metal slice through the palm of his hand. He dropped the metal piece and looked down at his hand. Bright red blood appeared swiftly in a line along his palm.

“Well, that’s not good,” he murmured, looking down at it calmly.

It stung badly—but what he was most worried about was how much he was bleeding. He wouldn’t be able to continue working until he got his hand cleaned up and bandaged.

I’m sure it’s nothing , he thought. Doesn’t seem like that deep of a cut. But I’d better get this cleaned up before I keep working.

He started to walk toward the school, keeping his injured hand closed in a fist to try to prevent more bleeding. It hurt, but the pain wasn’t terrible. He knew there was a first aid kit in one of the staff bathrooms, so he decided to stop there and tend to his cut.

As he was walking along the hallways of the school, Olivia turned the corner and grinned when she saw him.

“Hey, you,” she said. “How was your—oh no!”

He chuckled. By that point, he was holding his uninjured hand over the other to keep it from bleeding too much, but his fingers were bloody enough that Olivia was able to see clearly that he’d been injured. “I’m okay,” he said. “Just on the hunt for a first aid kit.”

“What happened?” she asked in concern, falling into step beside him and trotting along at his side. “A tool cut you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I was foolish enough to try building with pieces I haven’t sanded yet. I got sliced by a metal shard.”

“Oh, Isaiah,” she clucked sympathetically, looking down at his hand with a frown. “I hope it isn’t too bad. I’ll help you clean it up and bandage it.”

“Thanks. I’m sure it’s not too bad,” he said, smiling at her.

A few moments later, they reached the staff bathroom that had a first aid kit. Isaiah washed his hands in the sink while Olivia opened the kit and got out alcohol wipes and a gauze bandage.

“Okay, let me see it,” she said, tearing open the alcohol wipe’s packaging.

He laughed and held out his hand. “You sounded just like Mom when you said that.”

She grinned, and carefully began to sanitize his cut. He winced, sucking in his breath. It hurt more than he thought it would, and she noticed his reaction.

“This looks deep, Isaiah,” she said, pressing her lips together. “And look at how much it’s bleeding again already. I think you might need stitches, and?—”

He let out a grunt as a sudden shock of pain went through him. Part of the cut hurt a great deal more than the rest of it.

“And I think you might have a metal sliver in here,” she said, peering down at his cut in concern. “You need to go to the doctor right away.”

“The doctor?” he protested. “Olivia, it’s just a cut. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

She shook her head firmly. “Absolutely not. I’m not having you get some kind of infection while you’re working on something I asked you to do. This needs proper care and attention so it doesn’t get worse. You are going to the doctor and that’s final.”

“Now you really sound like Mom,” he said, grinning.

She laughed. “Good. Hopefully that’s enough to convince you to go get this cut checked out.”

“What if I just keep an eye on it for a while, and?—”

“Isaiah!”

“Okay, fine.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “You want me to drive you there?”

“Yeah, if you want. Although I could probably walk there from here, it’s not that far.”

“I’ll drive you,” she said. “Let’s leave right away, as soon as I finish taking care of this cut.”

A few minutes later, he was sitting in the passenger seat of Olivia’s car, and she was pulling up to a little red brick building in the middle of one of the gift store areas of town.

“What are we—oh, you’re taking me to that doctor, huh?” All of a sudden, his stomach did a somersault.

Olivia cocked an eyebrow, glancing over at him. “She’s very nice and she knows what she’s doing. And besides, she’s closer than the hospital.”

He gave her a look, and then stuck his tongue out at her for good measure. She grinned at him.

“I’ll park the car and then wander around and shop while I wait for you,” she said. “Text me when you’re done?”

“I will. Thanks, Olivia.”

“Of course!”

He got out of the car and started to walk toward the clinic. Olivia had bandaged his cut, but it was still bleeding so much that the bandage was red, and it hurt whenever pressure was applied to it. He was glad he hadn’t had to drive himself—that would have been tricky.

He felt a flutter of nervousness as he stepped through the door of the clinic, but he told himself that he was being silly. A smiling young woman sitting behind the reception desk greeted him.

“Hi. Do you have an appointment?”

He held up his bandaged hand. “Nope. This was unplanned.”

“Oh my goodness,” she said, standing up. “Dr. Gwen is just doing some paperwork in her office. I’ll take you into the examination room and then send her right in.”

“Thanks,” he said.

The nurse led him into a small, clean examination room with mint green walls and a little window looking out over a back garden. It was decidedly the most pleasant doctor’s office he’d ever been in, he thought.

“It won’t be long at all,” the nurse assured him, and stepped out of the room.

A minute later, the door opened and Dr. Gwen stepped inside. He was immediately struck by how pretty she looked—and then he noticed how blank her expression was.

“Hi,” he said, grinning at her. “Remember me?”

She nodded, stiffly. He couldn’t blame her for being less than enthusiastic to see him, considering what their last interaction had been. She looked immediately at his hand, frowning at it in a clinical way.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Well,” he said, lifting one shoulder wryly, “I’m building a playground for Little Clams, and I decided that it wouldn’t be any fun if I didn’t try to impale my hand while I was at it.”

She looked at him with a deadpan expression and blinked a couple of times.

“Do you ever laugh?” he asked, grinning. Then his voice got a little quieter. “Or are you still annoyed with me for almost backing into you?”

“Let’s get your hand cleaned up,” she said, ignoring his question as if he hadn’t asked it. She took his hand and began to unwrap the bandage carefully. “How long has this been on?”

“Less than half an hour. It’s a fresh cut.”

“Mm, you’re bleeding a lot.”

“Do you think I’m going to make it?” he asked, teasing, as she picked up a metal tool that looked like some kind of medical grade tweezers.

“I think you have a small chance of survival,” she said, her lips twitching a little as she brought the tweezers close to his cut.

He laughed, cheered by the fact that she was bantering with him and even looked like she was holding back a smile. In the next moment, she pulled a small metal sliver out of the palm of his hand.

“There,” she said briskly. She examined his hand closely for a few moments. “That’s the only splinter, so that’s good news. Unfortunately, you will need stitches.”

She began to safely dispose of the splinter, and he watched her in admiration. She was clearly very good at her job—quick and efficient. He wondered if maybe she’d only been bantering with him to distract him from the pain of having the splinter removed.

“Don’t worry, Doc,” he teased, “I’m pretty tough. I can handle some stitches.”

“I’m sure you can,” she said. “And thankfully, the cut isn’t very long.”

She sanitized his cut again and began to apply the stitches. It was painful, but he braced himself and tried to focus on other things.

“So, Dr. Gwen,” he said, trying to distract himself by talking to her. “Tell me about yourself. What brought you to Blueberry Bay?”

“Well,” she said, and he didn’t know if she was frowning in concentration or because she didn’t really want to answer the question. “I’m from New Hampshire. I had a practice there, which was very successful.”

“Huh.” He smiled at her as she talked, despite the fact that he was in pain. “Why did you leave it?”

She hesitated, and then said, “I felt it was time for a change.”

He cocked his head to one side curiously. She didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic about that change—when he looked toward the future, all he felt was eagerness. Her attitude was clearly one of reluctance. “You seem like you’re not very excited about the change, though.”

For a moment, she paused and gave him a look. It was slightly reprimanding, but mostly surprised—she seemed taken aback that he would be so forward with her, since the two of them were still technically strangers.

“I had a life plan, and then it was altered,” she said. “I think that’s always a little frustrating.”

“I bet it had to do with a guy,” he guessed without thinking.

Her expression froze over for a moment, making it clear that his guess was correct. Inwardly he kicked himself for being insensitive, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. He couldn’t help wincing a little as she continued to stitch up his cut.

“I guess you’re probably thinking that you can tell why he left me,” she said dryly, finishing up the stitches briskly.

His jaw dropped. “What?” he protested.

She glanced at him, and he couldn’t read her expression—but she almost looked curious. “Well, what are you thinking?”

“Not that,” he said without hesitation. “I would never be a jerk like that. Besides,” he added hurriedly, not wanting her to misinterpret his words, “I think you’re very nice.”

“But I’m sure you have theories about why he left me,” she said, sanitizing his stitched-up cut. Her tone was playful, but he knew from the look in her eyes that she was hurt about what had happened to her, and she truly wanted to know what he was thinking.

“I do have a theory about that,” he said, looking her right in the eyes. “My theory is that he’s an absolute fool.”

Her lips parted and she blinked a couple of times. He saw her cheeks flush slightly, and she turned away, seeming to not know what to say. She moved a bit awkwardly as she bandaged his hand again and then washed her hands at the sink.

“Well, thank you,” she said finally.

“Of course,” he said, grinning at her. “If there’s one thing you can always trust me to be, it’s honest.”

“What else can I always trust you to be?” she asked, smiling slightly as she dried her hands. There was a teasing glint to her eyes, and he liked it. He liked it a great deal.

“Oh, well, charming and fun to be around,” he said, chuckling. “And generally optimistic.”

“Hmm.” Her smile became a little wider.

For a moment, the two of them didn’t say anything. He sensed that there wasn’t anything more she had to do for him—after all, his hand was all stitched up and bandaged—and he was surprised that she hadn’t told him yet that it was time to leave. He was getting the impression that she didn’t want their conversation to end quite yet. He grinned, liking the idea that maybe she didn’t want to stop talking to him. It was a good sign. It meant that she was warming up to him despite the cool attitude she’d had earlier.

For a moment, he considered asking her if he could stay a little while longer and keep talking to her. His lips parted, ready to ask the question, and then he stopped himself. He didn’t want to push his luck.

“Well, I guess I’m all set then, aren’t I?” he said, standing up and smiling at her.

“Yes, you are.” She smiled briskly back. “Have you had a tetanus shot recently?”

“Yeah, not too long ago.”

“Good. Then Heidi will give you a print-out on wound care at the front desk. Be sure to keep your cut clean and try to keep too much pressure off it. It should heal fairly quickly, as long as you don’t do anything to make it worse.”

“Don’t be stupid, got it,” he said, giving a playful nod.

She laughed a little, and he grinned at her.

“Thanks for stitching me up,” he said, reaching out with his unbandaged hand to shake hers. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Her tone was a little clinical, but her eyes were decidedly warmer than they had been when he’d first arrived. “Call us if something goes wrong.”

She stepped out of the examination room and started toward her office. He watched her go, smiling quietly to himself. He hoped that he would get the chance to see her again soon.