Desperation on Wildflower Island Read online

  “Where’s the baby?” Catherine asked, groggily.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I have some bad news.” Emily walked over to the bed and took Catherine’s hand. “The baby didn’t make it. I’m so very sorry.”

  “What? No. That can’t be true. The baby was fine.” Tears started slowly down Catherine’s face.

  “I know. She seemed to be okay. Then we went out for tests. There was something wrong with her heart, and the baby died while we were doing the tests. I can’t even express how sorry I am.”

  Emily wanted to give Catherine some space. She knew the woman needed some time to grieve on her own, without a stranger watching her. So, Emily left the room, after telling Catherine that she would be back in a little while.

  Catherine spent the next hour sobbing. Her heart ached for a child she would never know. Though she was homeless, and her husband was in prison, Catherine still knew that she would have been a great mom. She just needed some time to pull herself up and out of the mess she had gotten into. Now she would never have that chance.

  When Emily walked back into the hospital room, Catherine had clearly been crying. Not that she expected anything less. Catherine’s eyes were red and puffy and ever so sad. It broke Emily’s heart, but it was something that did happen from time to time and she tried explaining that to her patient.

  “Hi. How are you doing, dear?” Emily asked her as she handed Catherine some tissue. “I’m really sorry about the baby. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “I’m doing okay, I guess. I’ve been thinking and wanted to ask you something. I hope this doesn’t sound harsh, but am I expected to have a funeral? I mean, it’s just me. No one else will come and I don’t have the money for one.”

  Emily thought about the best way to answer the question. “No, I don’t think it is really expected. I mean, sure, some people have one in situations like this, but most don’t. You are young and all alone and don’t have the money to do it. So no, don’t worry about what people expect.”

  “Then what do I do with the baby’s body? I’ve never gone through anything like this before,” Catherine asked, through her tears.

  “I can take care of it for you, if you like. There are county services available for situations like this. They can take care of everything, even the cremation. I can make sure it is all done properly. Would that be okay with you?” Emily was sincere in wanting to help Catherine with her situation.

  “Yes. I would really appreciate that. Thank you,” Catherine said as she wiped her puffy eyes and nose with the tissues.

  Would Catherine do it all again, knowing the finality of it all? Knowing the love? The betrayal? The heartache? There’s always the heartache. Yes, even with all of that, she would absolutely do it all again.

  Chapter 2

  PRESENT DAY

  George Pierson was an unassuming man. Middle aged, balding, a few extra pounds, and one of the friendliest people on Wildflower Island. The man never met a stranger. Or an enemy for that matter. He had lived on the island his entire life, and planned to die there.

  George owned a small motel on the edge of town that he ran himself. He spent his time taking reservations and doing all the maintenance required. Occasionally he hired some extra help during the busy summer season. But, most of the year, he ran it completely alone, even cleaning the rooms himself. It was the only way he could make ends meet. He once had a wife that helped him run the motel, but she had passed away years ago. Though he was now alone, he had no intention of making any changes. He missed his wife dearly, but nothing had changed in his life. And never would. And that was just the way he liked it.

  The busy summer tourist season was over, which was fine with George. It gave him some time to wind down after months of non-stop visitors to the island. He enjoyed most of them, with their happy, friendly faces. Those are the people that are thrilled to be on vacation, on an island, and are nice to everyone. They usually spent their time hanging out on the beach, shopping, dining at restaurants, and having a great time.

  Then there are the ‘entitled people,’ as George called them. They were the ones that were never happy. No matter how nice their room was, or how clean it was, or how accommodating George was, they were never happy, and nothing George ever did could change their attitude. They just wanted to complain about everything and would expect something for free. Never mind the fact that George owned a small motel, that made him a decent living, but he certainly was not rich, and really couldn’t afford to give people things for free. That angered them. When that happened, George would take a deep breath, smile, and let them know in the nicest way possible that they could move to another motel. However, he could only refund them their money if he could re-book the room. Unfortunately for them, that was unlikely. They were on an island and most people made reservations weeks and often months in advance. They were not on an interstate somewhere, where people just stopped off for the night. He rarely had walk-ins. He was in the hospitality business and knew it was par for the course, as they say. By the time the fall season arrived, George was in a much better frame of mind, since things had calmed down quite a lot with the visitors.

  On this particular September morning, George was up at dawn, his favorite time of day. The air was crisp, but it would warm up nicely by lunchtime. It always did. He decided to work outside in his garden before heading into town for breakfast. The constant stooping and bending was hell on his knees, but he didn’t care. He was proud of his garden and it was important to him to keep it in tiptop shape.

  There were purple roses, pink oleander, yellow daisies, white camellias, and so much more. He loved all of the beautiful, colorful blooms they provided. His garden was a rainbow of colors. He often received compliments on his garden, which bloomed year ‘round in the mild island climate.

  A few neighbors walked by with their dogs. Most stopped and chatted for a few minutes, before continuing on down the road. George looked forward to these short visits that happened almost daily. Because he lived alone, he craved human contact. During the summer, he got plenty of that, with the non-stop visitors to his motel, but that slowed way down once school was back in.

  After cleaning up, George headed out on his daily morning walk through town. On most evenings, he walked along the Ridge Path, a walking trail along the cliffs, with the wonderful sunset views of the ocean. He looked forward to his daily walks as they were his favorite times of the day. Occasionally one of his friends would join him, and he liked the company, but he preferred the quiet solitude of walking alone.

  “Good morning, George. How are you today?” Tim asked, as George sat down at one of the outdoor tables at the Wildflower Cafe. He loved watching the ocean each morning as he had his breakfast. It made him think of his wife, as they had frequently walked to the Cafe for breakfast together. Now, he did that alone.

  “Oh, I’m all right,” George replied, as he did most mornings. He was a man of few words.

  Tim Carmichael, the owner of the Wildflower Inn and Cafe on the beach of Wildflower Island, handed George a steaming cup of black coffee as soon as he sat down. George went to the cafe to have coffee and breakfast almost every morning, and had been doing so for nearly 20 years. The last few without his wife. He and Tim spent many hours over the years sitting there and talking about nothing in particular. Though George owned his own motel, he didn’t have a cafe and liked Tim’s company. They both looked forward to his visits.

  George wasn’t fortunate enough to have a nice inn on the beach, like the Carmichaels had. He wasn’t envious though. He took it all in stride, due to his easy going, friendly nature. He made enough money to live comfortably, and that was just fine with him. George’s wife inherited the motel from her parents not long after she and George got married. They loved running it together and never wanted to do anything else. When she passed away, George continued running the place. He would be there until his last day.

  “How’s business? Slowed down now that summer’s over?” George asked Tim
that morning. George knew the answer. The island was the same every September.

  “Oh, not so bad, now that most of the clean up work from the wave is done.”

  Tim was talking about the earthquake and resulting huge wave that hit the island at the beginning of the summer. Many of the residents and a few tourists were killed. His own family was hurt, but all were all lucky enough to get through it with with minor injuries. His twins, Piper and Mary, got themselves caught up in a murder investigation when a boy they knew washed up on shore after the wave, and was clearly beaten to death. Luckily, the culprit was caught and his girls were okay.

  The cafe was slow that Saturday morning, so Tim walked over and picked up the two breakfast plates from the window himself. He and George dug in while they continued talking.

  “Hi George. Bye Dad,” the twins both said as they walked across the cafe’s wooden deck and down the steps on their way to visit some friends.

  “Bye girls. Have a nice day,” George said, waving at the twins. “You sure do have a nice family,” George told Tim when they were out of sight. “Where’s that beautiful wife of yours?”

  “Oh, Roxanne is in the office, doing some paperwork,” Tim replied with a smile.

  He was pretty sure that George had a crush on Roxanne. He asked about her all the time. Tim didn’t mind though. How could he blame George? Roxanne was a beautiful woman.

  And Tim was pretty sure that George was not the only one. Roxanne had several admirers around town. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, she rarely wore makeup and it didn’t matter. Men were naturally attracted to her and her flirty ways. She didn’t do it on purpose and Tim was sure she wasn’t even aware that she was flirting. It was just the way she was.

  No need to worry though, Roxanne was a one man woman, and he knew it. He also knew that she was miles out of his league. Roxanne knew it too and sometimes chided him about her ‘many boyfriends around town.’ It was a running joke between the two of them.

  The two of them didn’t fight often, but when they did, it was loud, and it was nasty. They held nothing back. The people of Sea Cove knew that they had better clear out when Tim and Roxanne got going. Luckily for them, they got over it quickly. Twenty minutes after one of their screaming matches, and they were completely back to normal. No one could tell that they had even been angry at all. It amused their twins, who over the years, learned that their fights were temporary and were no big deal in the end. They were right.

  A few minutes later, Frankie, one of the cafe’s waitresses, and a resident of the inn, waved goodbye as she also headed off down the road, her red hair dancing in the breeze. It was her day off and she was on her way to see her boyfriend, Sawyer. George and Tim waved back as she made her way down the road. Frankie always looked as if she didn’t have a care in the world. You would never know that a lot of the island’s residents thought she was a murderer just a few short months ago. That was all over now though and she was taking it all in stride. She had a nice boyfriend, a place to live, and people that genuinely cared about her. That was good enough for Frankie. She jogged up the street a bit to catch up with the twins.

  About an hour later, George decided it was time to go. The cafe was starting to get pretty busy and he wanted to make way for paying customers. Tim never charged George for his breakfast and he felt he should give up his much needed table that morning, and not linger any longer. He had tried many times to pay for his meals, but Tim flat refused to take his money. Once George left cash under his plate, so Tim wouldn’t see it until after he had left. An hour later, his daughter, Piper, showed up at George’s motel and gave him the money back. George just smiled. Tim had won that round and he and George still laughed about it from time to time.

  “You need anything done around here before I head out?” George asked Tim as he slowly rose from his chair, his knees cracking and popping as he stood.

  Because he never paid for breakfast, George was always the first to pitch in to help with minor repairs around the inn whenever he could. George was much handier than Tim was and he figured it was the least he could do. George could fix just about anything and Tim relied on him more often than he cared to admit.

  “No, nothing needs to be done,” Tim told him. “Everything is fine, thanks for asking though. You have a great rest of your day. See you tomorrow?”

  “Of course. You should have that beautiful wife of yours join us sometime. She works too hard and needs an hour off once in a while,” George told Tim in a casual sort of way.

  He wasn’t fooling Tim though and he smiled to himself. “I’ll do that,” he told George.

  “See you tomorrow.” George picked up his to-go cup of coffee that Tim sent him home with every day, and waved goodbye as he picked his way down the steps and headed up the street.

  On George’s walk back to his motel, he made a detour toward the hardware store, coffee in hand, to see his good friend, Dooley. The two of them went way back, both having grown up on the island, though Dooley was several years older than George. Dooley had owned the only hardware store on the island for ages and George liked to stop in and hang out whenever he could. Several of the old timers would stop by throughout the day to share a story or two, and more often than not, have a couple of shots from the whiskey bottle that Dooley kept behind his counter. That was a not very well kept secret around town.

  Chapter 3

  George was a favorite among the locals on the island and many of them waved when he walked by, or even stopped for a short chat, as he was a familiar face on the sidewalks of Sea Cove. He knew just about everybody in the small town. On the infrequent occasion where he came across someone he didn’t know, he almost always knew their parents and would chat them up about the good ole days. The older folks didn’t mind it so much, they liked to stop and chat. But the same couldn’t be said for the younger crowd. They thought of George as a nice enough man, but they had much better things to do than stand around for a half hour listening to him yap on about how their parents were ‘such good people.’ George rarely seemed to notice though, and when he did sense the boredom in front of him, he cut his story short and moved on. He never took it to heart. He knew that the ‘youngsters,’ as he called them, even though some were almost 30 years old, were bored by old men that rambled on. He remembered being a youngster once. That seemed like a lifetime ago to George.

  As he did almost every day after having breakfast at the Wildflower Cafe, he stopped and bought a daily newspaper out of one of the coin operated newsstands on the sidewalk in front of the only candy shop in town. This particular machine was painted red and had been standing there, in the sea air, for so many years that it was more rust than paint. The coin slot didn’t work anymore and it hadn’t for years.

  Harold, the newspaper delivery guy and owner of all the newsstands in town, didn’t want to shell out the cash for a new machine, therefore the townspeople had effectively been put on the honor system.

  And it worked perfectly for the islanders. Each morning Harold placed a ceramic coffee mug on top of the stack of newspapers inside the machine. Those that wanted a newspaper put their coins in the mug and took one. Occasionally a tourist would take a paper without paying, and once in a while some kid would walk by, open the machine and take the coins from the cup. When that happened, one of the locals would plop a couple of dollars in the cup and be on their way. Overall, the whole system worked pretty well and Harold never had to buy another machine.

  On that particular day, once George placed his quarters in the mug, and always an extra one to help cover any freebie takers, he let the drop down lid slam shut. He turned back toward the building as he picked up his paper coffee cup from where he had placed it on top of the machine. As he spun around, he looked up to see Jeanette Hale and her 10 year old daughter, Isabella, walking up the sidewalk toward him.

  “Hi George,” Jeanette said just as they were about to pass him on the sidewalk. Her daughter barely gave George a sideways glance and said nothing.
r />   Uncharacteristically, George scowled back at the pair. Jeanette had just a second to process why he did that before she saw George drop his coffee cup and newspaper in a heap on the sidewalk by his feet and lunge at them. For a man of his age and girth, he was very fast, bridging the gap between himself and Jeanette in a second.

  With no time to think about what he was doing, or to warn anyone, George hit them harder than he meant to, knocking the breath out of both mother and daughter as they hit the wall of the candy shop they were passing by. As Jeanette and Isabella slammed into the wall, they were shocked and taken off guard temporarily. As Jeanette tried to catch her breath from the hard hit to the brick wall, she looked to George for an explanation of his actions.

  Just then, before she could even say a word, two teenage boys raced right past them on bicycles, laughing and carrying on with a football they were throwing while riding down the sidewalk. The boys weren’t paying a bit of attention to anyone else and almost hit Isabella, who had stepped just a bit away from the wall. Jeanette pulled her daughter back up against the building at the last possible moment. She then looked down at Isabella as her daughter started crying and rubbing the back of her head.

  “Hey, stop!” George yelled at the riders. Several people on the sidewalk heard him and turned toward him. George didn’t even notice. He was laser focused on the two teenage riders.

  As one of the boys turned to see who George was yelling at, he hit a lamppost with his bike, flew over the handlebars, and smacked into it with his face. Losing complete control of his bike, the boy landed hard on the sidewalk. He let out a howl of pain as a small crowd formed around the teen. His friend doubled back to see if he was all right. He was. Just a hurt ego and some future bruises. Nothing more.

  “Hey Chuck! Don’t let them leave! Okay?” George pointed at the teens as he yelled to a friend of his that he saw standing in the crowd.