Robyn Carr - The Promise

“Maybe we should just make a clean break,” Ted had said. “You’re through with me, that’s obvious. I don’t see how we can work closely together after this.”

“Who will do my job? Take my patients?” Peyton had asked.

He’d given her a shrug, hands in his pockets. “I’ll find someone. Maybe I should just give Lindsey a chance, see what she can do.”

“She’s an RN,” Peyton had said. “She’s twenty-five. Inexperienced.”

“She’s ambitious. Resourceful.”

And suddenly Peyton had known. How had she never guessed? She slowly turned to him. “How long?” she’d asked.

“How long?” he’d echoed.

“You’re seeing her, I can tell. How long have you been involved with her?”

“Involved is too strong a word. We’ve developed a...well, I guess it’s a close friendship. You’ve been pushing me away. You’ve been hell to live with the last year. Be honest, Peyton, you know it’s true. You hate it here. You don’t want me anymore. I don’t think we can go forward from this point. I’ll give you a good recommendation.”

“You bastard,” she’d whispered. “I don’t need your recommendation. I’m very well known in the medical community in Portland. Lindsey will need your recommendation!”

“I’ll give you a generous severance,” he’d said.

“Mail it to the farm,” she’d said, lifting a box and carrying it out to her car.

Peyton shook herself back to the present. She smiled at Ray Anne. “I’ll just get together a few things and move in, if that’s all right,” she said. “I’ll visit with my parents overnight while I load up.”

“Let’s call the owner’s daughter and figure out this lease right now,” Ray Anne said, getting comfortable at the kitchen table and opening up her briefcase.

And it was done. Forty-eight hours later she was packing the left-behind linens and clothing and some of the owner’s kitchen wares into boxes. She would store them in the second bedroom until they could be picked up. She went through the canned goods and spices and checked dates, thinning out that supply. There wasn’t much for her to deal with. She got out some of her own things to use in the kitchen, hung one of her paintings and put out a few of her own family pictures. The fishnet came down. She put her precious turntable and record collection on its small display case—the only piece of furniture she’d brought—and placed it against the living room wall. And she played Johnny Mathis, Funny Girl and Yentl. She had great speakers and blasted the music, singing along with it. Singing was a Basque tradition, except mostly the men sang the folk songs. Just as well—Peyton wanted to sing with Etta James or Barbra.

Alone, in her new little duplex with her own bathroom, bookcase, garage, bedroom and kitchen, she would dance! She realized for the first time in a long time, she felt safe. And as long as she didn’t think of Ted and his family, she was no longer lonely. When her thoughts drifted that way, she was reminded that she’d really, truly thought she could do it. She’d thought she could make a life with him and love his kids and somehow make a difference, even if she couldn’t cajole them into loving her. Or even liking her.

Feeling like a failure was every bit as hard as feeling rejected.

Peyton had been called a perfectionist. She had never been insulted by that. She worked at things until they were absolutely as good as they could be. How could there be anything wrong with that? With trying your hardest?

Hell to live with? she asked herself. Maybe I’m just better off alone.

* * *

Devon held up the dress she would wear for her wedding. It was an unpretentious floral sundress with a wrap for evening. She was dressing at Cooper’s house because hers still smelled like paint and sawdust. They would have a little exchange of vows on Cooper’s deck with about a dozen guests, toast the marriage and then Devon would kiss Mercy and Austin and leave them with Cooper and Sarah, and off they would go.

“I don’t approve of the simplicity of this,” Laine Carrington said. “I understand, but I so don’t approve. I wanted you to have dancing, drinking, craziness, lots of food, too much to clean up and many hangovers.”

Devon laughed at her best friend. “You’ll get over it. This is absolutely what we want.”

And so it was. There were just a few couples and Scott and Rawley. Sarah and Cooper hosted and provided champagne, Gina and Mac McCain were there, Carrie James brought the hors d’oeuvres from her deli and put out a very nice spread before the nuptials, including a beautiful, small wedding cake. Mac’s aunt Lou and her husband, Joe, and Ray Anne and her boyfriend, Al, rounded out the group. Laine brought her significant other, Eric. And of course, the kids Mercy and Austin were there, being very well behaved. Devon’s suitcase was packed for a little getaway and was in the back of Spencer’s car

A woman named Lynette Tremain, an ordained minister from Bandon, presided. Right at seven in the evening, when the sun was beginning its downward path and before it reached its glorious moment of touching the Pacific horizon, Lynette gave a very short wedding sermon about the beauty of second chances, of rebirth and renewal since Spencer was a widower and Devon’s daughter had been conceived and born in a commune. For them, this was a new start, a new life.

The vows were spoken, the kisses and congratulations bestowed, the champagne poured, and the cake was cut. Devon and Spencer stayed another hour to visit with their guests, but Spencer was very eager to whisk his bride away. Before leaving, Devon took Scott aside. “I called Peyton’s cell phone and left her a voice mail, telling her I’d be out of town for a few days, and I gave her your cell phone number. I told her you thought you’d manage just fine, but if she wanted to stop by...”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “She might feel obligated. I managed just fine before you started working at the clinic.”

“Well, that’s true, except for the ‘just fine’ part.”

“Was that an insult? Because I bought you a nice wedding gift!”

“You’re wonderful with the patients, Scott. But when I started, there were months of backed-up paperwork and your files were...” She made a face. “Really, you have to stick to medicine.”

“We all have our weak spots. But it wasn’t that bad.”

“I’ll be back in five days. Just leave everything on my desk. I’ll straighten it out when I get back. And if you have any questions—”

“I’m not calling you on your honeymoon!” he said.

“No, you shouldn’t,” she said. “But if you have any questions or if you get in a mess, you should try Peyton. She knows her way around a doctor’s office.”

“I don’t want to impose....”

“Scott, she wants to work for you. Don’t suffer in silence.” Then she hugged him.

Devon then found Sarah. “Now, if anything starts up, if you feel the slightest twinge announcing the baby—you call me! We’re not going to be that far away. We’ll come straight back if the baby decides to come.”

“I’m going to hold my knees together,” Sarah said. “But only for you! There isn’t a single other person on the planet I would do this for. And if I have my way, the second you’re back, I’m pushing.”

Devon giggled. “It’ll be soon.”

She found Rawley and gave him a hug. It was Rawley who’d given her refuge in Thunder Point and thus a second chance at happiness. “Thank you, for everything, Rawley. Will you help Cooper and Sarah with the kids?”

“Don’t I always?” he asked.

“You always do,” she said.

“I was just wonderin’ one thing, chickadee. How’s Thunder Point workin’ out for you?”