Summer on Lovers' Island

 

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To Fenton Burke and Tish Thornton, and all the other teachers and professors who fed my appetite for literature and, most of all, believed in me.

 

C
HAPTER
1

As punishments went, Lizzie Howard could have done a lot worse.

The “recommendation” was for her to get out of town for a few days, and she'd chosen to visit her best friend, Charlie, in Jewell Cove. The story Lizzie'd given Charlie was that they could spend the weekend celebrating Lizzie's thirtieth birthday. That sounded much better than the truth, which was that she was slinking away from Springfield with her tail tucked firmly between her legs.

Thirty. Her career was supposed to be taking off instead of stalled in its tracks. How the hell had this happened?

The wind was cool even for spring in New England as Lizzie's convertible wound around the scenic road that led to her best friend's house. Charlie lived with her husband, Dave, a few miles from town limits. Their home was nestled along a curve in the road, its cedar deck overlooking the shimmering waters of Penobscot Bay—the perfect retreat for Lizzie to clear her head.

With each mile separating her from Massachusetts, she could feel her tension ease a little. Maybe Maine wouldn't be so bad after all, she thought, pulling in the gravel driveway in front of the little cottage Charlie now called home. Gray shingle siding and white-trimmed dormer windows gave it a cozy, worn-in look. The trees and lilacs were budding, unfurling their new spring-green leaves to the sun, and at a small white picket gate hung a quaint little sign that read: Seashell Cottage.

Lizzie loved it immediately. It was like something off a postcard.

As she got out of her car, she realized that the walkway to the door was lined with shells and she let out a soft laugh. Her best friend was living in an idyllic world far away from the high-class Boston neighborhood where she'd been brought up.

Lizzie breathed in the sweet-scented air and smiled to herself, thinking of the shell-studded candles she had in her bag as a delayed housewarming present. Her only regret was that she hadn't come sooner. She hadn't actually seen her friend since Charlie and Dave's destination wedding on a Jamaican beach in January.

At least she wasn't completely out of touch where her best friend was concerned. Lizzie knew Charlie had always wanted a home like this. Nothing big or ostentatious, but a little corner of the world that she could call her own and an adoring husband across the breakfast table. A few babies with brown eyes and dimples to call her “Mama.”

Lizzie wanted more. She'd been working her ass off in Springfield, determined to fill Ian Fortnam's shoes as Chief of Emergency Medicine. It was what her father wanted for her and she would do him proud even though he wasn't here to see it. The fact that Ian had been the one to ask her to take a leave of absence—a strong suggestion that Lizzie equated to a suspension—annoyed the hell out of her.

Ian insisted it was because he cared and the time off was for her own good, but she wasn't so sure. Yes, she'd screwed up, with devastating results. She'd admitted that. And she had been working too hard. She admitted that, too. But the biggest mistake she'd made was having an affair with Ian in the first place. They'd remained “friends” when it ended, as they both knew it would, but she hated that he was in a position to influence the career she'd worked so hard to build. Mixing her personal life with her professional one was a mistake she wouldn't repeat again. Ever.

So now here she was, standing in the dappled afternoon sunlight, miles from home and hospital. Lizzie shouldered her travel bag and blew out a breath, determined that she wouldn't be dragged down again. She'd make the most of the days ahead and recharge her batteries. This was only a weekend, after all. Didn't she deserve that much of a break?

When Lizzie returned to Springfield it would be time enough to fight to get her position back. This forced leave was utter nonsense. If there was a lawsuit, it would be settled, just as they always were. She was a good doctor. Everyone would move on.…

She was halfway up the shell-lined path when the screen door slammed open and Charlie was there, bouncing on her toes and with one hand on her slightly rounded belly. “You're here! You're finally here! At my house!”

“Yes, I'm here.” Lizzie laughed, her dark thoughts banished by Charlie's enthusiastic greeting. “I promised, and here I am.”

Charlie came down the stone steps and drew Lizzie into a hug. “Gosh, it's good to see you.”

Lizzie felt Charlie's strong arms around her and closed her eyes. It wasn't one of those polite, restrained hugs full of pretension between casual friends and colleagues. This was big, hearty, and full of affection. After all the weeks of being so very alone, it felt wonderful. She could feel the firm baby bump against her own tummy and laughed, drawing back and framing the gentle roundness with her hands.

“My God, look at you. You're beautiful.” Tears pricked Lizzie's eyelids and she laughed self-consciously. “And showing already.”

Charlie laughed, too, wiping her eyes, then tucked her dark hair behind her ears. “Dave says future linebacker in the making. I'm not due until September.”

“He could be right.”

Lizzie straightened, looked at her best friend, and couldn't stop smiling. No unwanted pregnancy here, no angst or uncertainty. This was, Lizzie realized, exactly how it should be. “You're glowing, Charlie. God, I'm so happy for you.”

Charlie sniffled and beamed even as she flapped her hands at her tears. “You see? This is why you needed to come! It's going to be good for you. You're skin and bones, Liz. I'm going to stuff you full of yumminess all weekend.”

“Hey, I eat.”

“Peanut butter doesn't count.”

Lizzie couldn't help but laugh. Charlie was the closest thing to a sister she'd ever had, and they'd definitely gone through starving student days when peanut butter sandwiches kept them going, especially during long days of labs and hospital shifts. In an emergency they'd forgotten about the bread and just gone for a spoon.

“Come on in. Dave will be home later this afternoon and he promised to cook us dinner. We can sit on the deck and catch up.”

Lizzie followed Charlie into the house. The inside was as charming as the outside, filled with sun-strewn windows whose light bounced off walls the color of the sand on the beach below. The flooring was wide plank hardwood, stained a gorgeous shade of oak. White country cupboards filled the walls in the kitchen and a stunning butcher block held a bowl of lilacs, bringing the fragrance in from outside.

“This is your room,” Charlie said, opening a door. The walls were the same sandy taupe, but splashes of aqua at the windows and on the duvet brought it to life.

“It's beautiful, Charlie. Just beautiful.”

“Get yourself settled, then come find me,” Charlie offered, stepping out to give Lizzie a moment of privacy.

Lizzie put down her bag and went to the windows. The room overlooked the ocean, the sun glinting almost painfully off the constantly shifting surface. She knew why she was here and it had little to do with her birthday or even a suggested leave of absence. She was running from her grief and running from her problems, pure and simple.

A lone sail bobbed on the water, skimming parallel with the shoreline. She squared her shoulders.
Not running,
she corrected.
Regrouping.
There was a difference.

She found Charlie in the kitchen heating the kettle. “Tea,” Lizzie said with a smile. A plate held several cookies. “And shortbread. Did you read my mind?”

“It's not my shortbread, are you kidding? There's a bakery on Main that is amazing. I'll take you there tomorrow.” She handed over a square and poured water into the mugs. “I still haven't learned to cook very well. Oh well. No one's perfect, right? Dave cooks and if all else fails there's takeout. Or frozen pizza.”

Lizzie took a nibble of the cookie and sighed happily. “It's yummy.”

“It's orange spice. Told you it was amazing. Jewell Cove has all sorts of treasures and I'm going to show you them tomorrow. We're going to hit all the shops along the waterfront.”

“You wouldn't still happen to be trying to sell me on covering your mat leave, would you?”

Two weeks ago, just before Lizzie was ordered to take her “break,” Charlie had called asking if she wanted to cover her maternity leave. Leaving Springfield right now wasn't an option, not when what Lizzie really needed to do was get her act together. She had a job, a reputation, at stake. Responsibilities. Like proving to Ian and the rest of the administration that she was worthy of the faith they'd placed in her. Proving to herself that she hadn't lost her edge. Physicians lost patients; it came with the job. They had to deal with it.

Besides, family medicine in a small town would bore her to death, even for a few months.

Charlie handed over the mug, a saucy grin lighting her lips. “Shamelessly. Is it working?”

Lizzie had to admit, the pretty drive and idyllic setting had already eased some of her tension. But this was a weekend, not months. And she figured she'd only last a few days in a small town before going stir-crazy. “Let's go outside,” she suggested, changing the subject. “I need to hear the ocean.”

They settled into Adirondack chairs and Lizzie closed her eyes, let the sun bathe her face as she listened to the shushing sound of the waves hitting the shore below and the gulls shrieking as they circled. The spring breeze was fresh and chilly; Lizzie pulled her knees in and rested her feet on the edge of the seat. Charlie said nothing. She always seemed to know when Lizzie needed quiet and when she needed to talk. After a few minutes Lizzie opened one eye and squinted to look at her friend. Charlie was taking a sip of tea, completely comfortable to just
be
. One hand rubbed the curve of her belly. Lizzie would bet any money that the action was one of sheer habit, and she took a moment to appreciate the picture that was Charlie, burgeoning with motherhood.