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Time and Tide: A Christian Inspirational Romance (Moanna Island Book 2)

By Kristen Terrette

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Tuesday
Chad
September wasn’t supposed to be as hot as the middle of July in North Georgia, but the sweat dripping down my face told me something different. I zipped the last window onto the frame of my fire-engine red Jeep Wrangler with my shoulders burning, both from the strain on my muscles and the sun on my skin. I left the top off every season except winter and parked it in my garage. Which meant I only took the top off once a year and put it on once a year. And now I remembered why. The sleek exterior of my BMW coupe crept into my mind. I shook it away as fast as it came. I never allowed my mind to go there, to such an unsafe place.

I opened the backseat door and pushed my last two suitcases up against the ones I’d already placed on the other side before I got distracted with my soft top. My suitcases weren’t only full of clothes, but also a random mix of items from my life in Atlanta I still wanted to remember, which didn’t amount to much.

The squeaking sound of the gate at the end of my drive sounded. Few people knew the gate’s code, so I knew it was Tony driving up behind the Jeep. I shoved the door closed and watched him put his truck in park. His engine was off and his feet were on the pavement so fast it seemed they happened in unison. “You better have not been about to leave for Savannah before I got here.” He walked to me.

“I told you I was leaving at noon.” I glanced at my watch to disguise my smile. “So I would have given you four more minutes at least.”

Tony laughed before saying, “All right then, I’ll keep it short.” He gripped my shoulder. “I’ll miss you.”

I shrugged his hand off. “Seriously stop with the serious talk, okay?” I was going to miss a few things in Atlanta, but I was hoping what I was leaving led me to a new start. “You’re leaving Atlanta too.” Though certainly not for the same reasons I was. “C’mon, I’ve got to get some things from the kitchen.”

He followed me to the house, a full brick ranch in the poshest part of the Atlanta area. One of the first homes in the neighborhood, it was built in the fifties, and its property value had only escalated since then. It sat on a large two-acre lot with hundred-year-old Magnolia and Poplar trees running alongside a high rod iron fence, tucking it away from onlookers at the road. It felt isolated from the city life just outside the gate, which was a comfortable place for me to be.

We went through the empty garage, the garage I should have pulled into to put the Jeep’s top on. Tony hung back, always careful to give me space as I limped ahead of him. The injury on my left leg meant I had to avoid putting my full body weight on it. In the two years since my car accident, it still made itself known to everyone even though I wore jeans all the time to hide its existence. My limp served as a forever reminder of my mistakes.

As I passed through the doorframe into the kitchen, Tony said, “Honey, I’m home!”

I laughed as his words pulled me back to our college days and the endless times we’d yelled that at one another when we were roommates.

Tony leaned against the counter. “So how’d your last meeting go this morning?”

I shrugged and opened the fridge. “They signed the papers allowing me to move, so I guess well. They’ve already assigned me to a new parole officer and counselor down there.” I tossed him a bottled water. “First meetings are scheduled Thursday afternoon.” I exaggerated a smile.

“They’re not wasting any time.”

“Nope. And then I’m staying with Mom through the weekend. She wants to show me around town, and I need to spend some time with her.” Though no amount of time will make up for the utter failure of a son I’d become. Addict. Criminal. Cripple. Those words hovered over me like a rain cloud warning others to steer clear of the miscreant. I shook the thoughts out of my head, tucked them away into my hidden soul. “I’ll head over to Moanna on Sunday after Mom has had my full attention for, what, five days. I’ll need the alone time by then.” Tony laughed while I took a swig of water, knowing the truth of my words. “And then I’ll be ready to drive back to Savannah the next week for another meeting, and the week after that and the week after that…”

Tony cut me off, “It’ll be over soon.” His eyes told me he felt sympathy and I looked away, focusing on the pool in my backyard, the pool I used to hold weekend parties at without a thought to the damage my addiction could
do to people. Tony spun the water bottle around in his hands. “Once you get settled, and they see you’re still going strong with your sobriety, they’ll release you from probation, and you can put this all behind you.”

I pushed out a hard breath but didn’t respond. I didn’t think I could ever put behind me the fact I was a cocaine addict and because of it I almost killed someone. I tried to focus on the words was and almost, but it never worked. They never left me feeling any redemption, just regret, and grief.

Tony knew me well enough to know I wasn’t going to say anything else on the topic. “Will you sell this place?”

I could respond to that question. “I’m not sure.”

“You could make a ton off it.”

“I know.” Tony knew I didn’t need the money, but it did seem to make the world go ‘round. “You know I love this house. I put a contract on it the day I saw it.”

“I remember. Your ridiculously big inheritance from your dad was burning a hole in your pocket. You came back to our dorm room telling me you were buying a ranch house and wanted to know if I’d be one of your roommates. I was thinking a small, cooped-up hole in the wall, far away from Washington University and everything fun in the city. When you showed me this,” he gestured around the room and into the attached family room with an enormous flat screen still hung above the mantle. “I couldn’t get out of our measly dorm room fast enough.” He laughed. “But if you’re living so far away then…”

“Yeah, it seems dumb to keep it. I guess I’m just waiting to make sure I like it there.”

“Dude, you’re moving to Moanna Island. I think you’ll like it.”

Moanna Island was forty-five minutes away from Savannah, where I’d be working for my dad’s company, well, my mother’s company now, since Dad passed away six years ago. “I’m about to find out if I’m an islander, that’s for sure. It’ll be nice and quiet.” That’s what I was counting on.

“Yeah, loner-Chad…never-wanted-any-friends-Chad will thrive there. Too bad I’m not around to keep you from sinking into the introvert, anti-social realm you long for.”

“Aren’t I lucky?” I winked at him, though he knew part of the reason I’d been an introvert was to hide the addiction that had me in a vice-grip. Now that I was clean and not living a secretive, double life, I wasn’t quite as closed off as I used to be. At least this is what my drug counselor and Tony had told me over the last year. “But listen man, I won’t be alone. I’ll be working, though I’m not set to start at our Savannah Cusher Corp. office for at least a month.” The Cusher Empire. My family’s legacy. The place I was supposed to have helped Mom run years ago. “Mom wants me to ‘get settled in.’” I made quotations with my fingers.

“You think she’s worried about you?”

I ran my hand over my short-cropped, on the verge of curly, brown hair, roughing it up, mirroring the way I felt insideroughed up. “I hope not.” Tony chewed on the inside of his mouth. “I’m going to be fine, man, don’t worry. I don’t have any connections to get drugs down there anyway, so it’s probably a safer place than here.” I spun my hand in a circle over my head. “Here I know who lurks around the corners.”

“You’re right.”

“Anyway, enough about me. You’re about to leave the ATL too.”

Tony showed off his side grin. “Jacksonville, here I come. I still can’t believe I got the transfer so fast.” He was an engineer for a regional gas company with an office in Jacksonville, the town his girlfriend lived in.

“I still can’t believe you’re moving to a city to be close to a girl.”

Tony shook his head. “I didn’t think it could happen either, but when I met Melissa on that cruise last summer, I just knew. You wait and see. When you meet her, the one, your whole life is going to go a new direction before you even know you’ve taken out the oars and started rowing.”

I scoffed. “That is never going to happen to me.”

“You just wait…” He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “I’m going to ask her to marry me.” He held up a picture of a ring, and I had to cover my mouth because I almost spit out the gulp of water I’d just taken.

I grabbed the phone for a better look. “You serious? When?”

“I don’t know yet. In a month? I want to get my stuff moved and figure out the details, the wheres and hows, but I’ve already asked her dad.” He took his phone back. “Luckily he said yes.”

“Congrats man.” I meant it. I didn’t want to ever get married, didn’t even want to bring someone into the crazy world I’d created for myself, but if my best friend did, then I was happy for him. I grabbed the small cooler off the counter and opened the fridge again.

“Thanks. Since Jacksonville isn’t too far away from Savannah and Moanna, maybe we’ll come for a visit soon.”

“That’d be good. I need to meet her, at least before you tie the knot. Oh, man, I’ll have to throw you a bachelor party.”

The same realization hit us, and we knitted our brows. He was the first to break the silence. “We can have a low key bachelor party…like, go to a football game or…I don’t know…a fishing trip or something. Trust me—I don’t want some Hangover movie redo.”

“Sorry you have such a lame best friend.” Tony knew I didn’t need to be anywhere near a bar, any place that’d make me vulnerable to a misstep on my sobriety.

“Chad, seriously, man. We’ll find something fun to do without meeting the stereotypical bachelor party guidelines.”

I shook my head. “Booorrrinnggg.” He laughed because he knew I liked my boring life. It meant I wasn’t putting other people in danger. I’d gladly take boring over risky any day. I changed the subject. “Want anything out of the fridge?” I packed the last few things I wanted into the cooler and zipped it up. “Karen, the housekeeper, is coming to clean everything out this weekend. I told her to keep it clean and dust free around here for now until I decide what to do. And Joey will continue to take care of the lawn and pool like normal.”

“Good plan. Nah, I’m good.”

I put the cooler strap on my shoulder, and we both stood there, letting the awkwardness fill the room, the kind that drips off men trying to hold back emotions. I was pretty good at it, living behind a mask. Tony…Tony was a crier. I’ll never know how Tony had gotten through my loner exterior and became my friend, really my only friend. His devotion to being by my side after the accident had only solidified our friendship even more. I didn’t deserve him.

His eyes glistened, and I pretended not to notice. “Well, this is it.”

“Yup, the seasons are a changin’.” He smiled with effort. “We’re twenty-five after all. We had to grow up sometime.”

I swallowed that heavy dose of truth. “Yeah, it’s time.” Time to start new as a man who would make my mother proud.

»»•««

Ryan

Hospital waiting rooms were all the same. They had the same neutral colors on the walls, floors, and in the furniture, which was usually accented with a touch of mauve, the “it” color in the nineties, which must have been the last time this place had been remodeled. As expected, there was an old TV hanging on the wall and, of course, the furniture was uncomfortable. I believed it was the hospital staff’s idea to get people to go home.

This hospital waiting room was no different. Square chairs lined the walls. A small, hard loveseat was located underneath a painting that looked to be a scene from the 1800s because the girl in the background wore a long-sleeved, buttoned-up the neck, shirt tucked into a long, flowing skirt. She was out in a field, with what was probably a barn off in the distance, watching the sunset over the hills. She looked beautiful and peaceful, even amongst all the tacky furniture. She was there to give the people who’d sat amongst these chairs a sense of calm.

It wasn’t working for my dad and me.

“Mr. Mason?”

“Yes.” Dad sprung out if his seat with me at his heels.

The doctor waited until we were close enough for him to lower his voice. “I’m Dr. Rimer, one the emergency room doctors on duty tonight. We have Alan sedated and will need to continue watching him as we give him doses of the medicines he’s supposed to be taking…”

The doc continued to talk but my mind zoned out, and my eyes found the women in the picture. Her peace couldn’t keep my heart from palpitating as fast as it was. I only hoped my speed racer heart didn’t reflect on my face. I focused on the doctor again, trying to keep my trance steady and unwavering. I was used to putting on a mask resembling strength and faith, even if my insides quivered.

“I know this is difficult news, but it is my opinion, and the other doc here tonight, that Alan needs to be placed in a facility that can give him more one-on-one care…at least for now.”

I spoke up, and the voice didn’t even sound like my own, “You mean put him in a mental hospital?”

Dr. Rimer took a deep breath. He looked sincerely sorry for having to tell us this news. “Well, miss, we don’t usually refer to them as those, we typically prefer to say treatment facility or rehabilitation facility.”

This time Dad broke in, “That sounds like a place for drug addicts. My son is just a schizophrenic!”

“Yes, I know those terms can be deceiving. The best place in Savannah actually does deal with addictions as well as mental illnesses. Listen, your son continues to resist his medications, and when he does…well, you see the effects. He lashes out violently, and that’s not safe for him or the community. This time it was only toward you, Mr.Mason. But next time we might not be that lucky.” The doctor paused as Dad raked his rough, work-worn hands over his face. The face of a man whose age seemed to be catching up with him lately.

Dr. Rimer laid his hand on Dad’s shoulder. “It is very common for paranoid schizophrenics to have violent tendencies, mostly because their paranoia leads them to believe someone is after them, or someone wants to harm them in some way.” He paused, and I looked away. We’d heard this information a thousand times over the past two years. Ever since Alan took drugs at a college party, overdosed, went into a comatose state for a short period, and woke up a different person. His wild night ended his baseball career at Florida State University.

Dr. Rimer took a breath. “But…as I’m sure you both know, it is also very possible for someone like your brother to be in control of these tendencies with the right medication and the right dosage. If we can’t be sure he is taking the meds correctly at home, then a hospital environment is best to ensure this is successful.”

At some point during his spill of information, tears started to take up space in my eyes, washing away my mask. I brushed them away and looked at Dad. He was about to cry too. I put my arm around him and looked the doctor in the eyes. “So when do we make this decision?”

He gave me a small smile. One that told me he was grateful I’d been listening to him. “I will make some calls to the Savannah Mental Health and Rehabilitation Center which is a couple of blocks away. I’ll see if they have an opening and can send someone here to talk with you both tomorrow morning. Your insurance should cover some of it, but not always all of it, so I will try and have her gather some numbers and a plan of action to present to you. In the meantime, we will keep him sedated so that he can get a good night’s sleep. Rest always helps.”

Dad had gained some composure and stood a little taller as he thrust his hand out to the doctor. “Thank you, Dr. Rimer.”

Grabbing Dad’s hand firmly, he answered, “You’re welcome. I’ll have the nurses talk to you when we hear from the facility.”

He gave us a nod and walked away. I led my father to sit down on the hard loveseat underneath the old TV.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Dad was on the verge of tears again as his voice broke, which made a physical ache shoot out from my heart.

I made a show of taking off my Adidas jacket to gain some resolve before I said anything because I was afraid I might break out into a bawling fest myself. “Dad, maybe it’s the best thing for him right now. I mean, he came at you with a knife when you walked in the door after work.”

Dad had run through the house terrified as my brother chased him. He was yelling at Dad to stop threatening him and calling him by the name of Sam, which was not his name. His name was Thomas. Dad made it out the back door and was able to hold it shut while calling 911. I was thankful his cell phone had been in his pocket instead of laying on a counter or his truck’s dash like it usually is. When the police officers arrived, they had to tackle my brother, wrestling him to the ground to get him to drop the knife. He wasn’t arrested but thrown into a cop car, and immediately taken to the hospital for an evaluation. Of course, he fit the “insane” category, at least until his meds kicked in.

Dad phoned me while following the cop car. I had known my brother was having a rough day, but he still seemed relatively coherent when I left their house to head to the grocery store for them. I hadn’t been gone an hour. That was how quickly his sickness could fully take over his brain.

I focused back on my dad. “Please don’t cry. We know it is not the real Alan when he lashes out. This will get better. It has to. It’s okay to go ahead and grieve, but He will figure this out.”

Dad knew the He I was referring to.

Ever since Mom passed away when I was five, I had taken on the motherly role in our little family. I was the nurturing caregiver to Dad and Alan. Though I didn’t remember watching this trait played out by my mother because I was so young, it still came naturally to me, which was strange and fascinating. I always felt it was her way of helping us…passing down the ability and desire to console and love on others.

Dad grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug. Our hug helped console our wounded hearts. After a long embrace, he quietly said against my ear, “Yes, baby girl, you’re right. We will get through this. It’s just a big decision, and I hope we make the right one.”

“I know. I do too,” I whispered, still holding on to him and not wanting to let go.

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