“I didn’t mean to. I know better than that. It’s just—” She glanced over her shoulder and out the windows at the journalists with their cameras and microphones. A wave of nausea swirled through her stomach. “They’ve got it all wrong. They said something about the assemblyman testing to be a potential donor.”
“That’s actually something that’s on the table.”
“What?” She nearly choked on her tongue. “Since when?”
They moved toward the elevators at the back of a long, sterile hallway where thankfully, the reporters were out of sight and earshot. “I’m assuming it’s another diversion tactic, but I heard Assemblyman Taylor wants to see if he’s a match. I mean, it does make for great journalism, right?Two sailors once lost at sea form a bond to last a lifetime.” Dr. Conklin spread his hands out in the air as though reading the words on a light up marquee. “Turns this illegal fishing trip into something heartfelt. Turns Assemblyman Taylor from a villain into a hero. It’s genius, really.”
“And we’re going to just let him?”
“Anyone can be tested, Tabitha. We can’t really stop him, especially since Jim is onboard with it.”
Tabitha couldn’t believe any of this. In all her years as a surgeon, she’d never had the people she loved thrust into the media spotlight like this. Those terrible things they were saying about Foster? She couldn’t stomach it. This was new territory. Territory she didn’t like one little bit.
“I’ve got a surgery in thirty,” Dr. Conklin said. “I’ll sync up with you after.”
Tabitha had time before her first surgery of the day, so she headed toward the cafeteria to sit down with her thoughts. Honestly, she would have preferred to scrub in, just to focus on something—anything—other than the circus outside.
She wanted to tell Foster. Give him a heads up that his name might very well be drug through the Seascape Shores Tribune mud. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t her place, even though she had been placed directly into the middle of it all.
The cafeteria was quiet at this hour, just a few family members of patients grabbing a quick bite. Tabitha threaded through the line, picking up a blueberry muffin and banana before heading toward the coffee machine near the back that made instant lattes and mochas. It would never give Curly Joe’s a run for its money, but on a day like today when she needed that burst of caffeine to pick her up, it would do.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Balancing her tray and steadying her drink onto it, she paced the cafeteria toward an empty table and settled into her seat. Another text vibrated her cellphone.
Tabitha had planned to ignore it. Everyone close to her knew she was at the hospital this morning, and they would save their texts until later. But having a phone repeatedly buzz was enough to make anyone curious. She peeled the wrapper off her muffin and took her phone out of her pocket with her other hand.
Mark.
What on earth was he contacting her about now? She hadn’t talked with the man in forever and now, within a week, he’d tried to connect with her not once, but twice? Something was amiss.
She typed in her passcode when her phone didn’t recognize her face as she took a large bite of the baked good.
Mark: Please tell Camille I’m sorry for any sort of distress this has caused her and her new husband. But good news, right? Looks like Assemblyman Taylor will be the perfect donor.
Did he know something Tabitha didn’t? And why was he reaching out to her about this?
Against her better judgment, she composed a reply, unable to let his cryptic message go.
Tabitha: We’ll just have to see if he’s a match.
Mark: You haven’t heard? The results are already in. He is. It’s almost as if this entire expedition was meant to be. Serendipity.
She bit into a plump, sour blueberry and grimaced. Not exactly how Tabitha would word it.
Tabitha: You politicians certainly are good at twisting things to fit your narrative.
She didn’t get a reply, nor did she expect one. And while she didn’t love getting early morning texts from her frustrating ex-brother-in-law, she was mildly grateful for the heads up on this information. Because it did change things. For Foster. For Jim.
And for Camille.
This would be a huge relief for her sister, and Tabitha knew it. She just wondered how she would be able to break through Camille’s worry without simultaneously breaking hospital policy. It was a fine line that she wasn’t positive she would be able to walk.
“Canyou believe all of the junk that’s washed up on shore?” Camille stabbed at a hamburger wrapper cartwheeling down the beach with the clawed end of her trash pickup tool. “I’m grateful for the calm in the storm and that it gives us a chance to tidy up around here, but I didn’t realize how much tidying we would actually be doing.”
“All of that wind blew in some pretty gnarly stuff.” Tabitha had already filled one trash bag and was working on her second. “I think a beach cleanup day is something our entire town could benefit from.”
“We haven’t had one of those since we’ve been living here, have we? I know Seascape used to hold an annual one, but I think Martha Dunswell was in charge of it.”
That made sense. Martha was a sweet elderly lady who had resided in Seascape Shores since she was a young girl. Her family was considered to be one of the founding ones. They typically organized the volunteer beautification efforts, but in recent years, Martha’s memory had begun to wane, and her physical ability to get out and volunteer had diminished. It was probably time for her to pass the torch, and Tabitha wondered if that was something Camille ever thought about taking up.
