A Man From The Sea

By A. J. O'Dell

Dr. Sara Mitchell has a successful psychiatric practice, a new beach house and because she was unable to save her drowning brother, a case of guilt the size of LA.  The last thing she needs in her life right now is another challenge. But the sea has a way of changing that when the tide brings her a shipwrecked Irishman with no memory of his past, but a strong desire to change Sara's future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781590881293

Book preview

What They Are Saying About

A Man From The Sea

A .J. O'Dell is a fresh new voice on the romance scene. A MAN FROM THE SEA is exciting, mysterious, and a wonderful romance. I loved the story and the characters! A.J. O'Dell is a name to remember. Hurry up, A.J., write the next book!

—Maggie Osborne

Author of I DO, I DO, I DO

Winner Romance Writers of America 2002

LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD

New author, A.J. O'Dell makes a promising debut with this heartfelt tale.

—Jessica Wulf

A Man From The Sea

A. J. O’Dell

A Wings ePress, Inc.

Contemporary Romance Novel

Edited by: Lorraine Stephens

Copy Edited by: Crystal Laver

Senior Editor: Kate Strong

Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Cover Artist: Pam Ripling

All rights reserved

NAMES, CHARACTERS AND incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Wings ePress Books

Copyright © 2002 by Avis O’Dell Halbert

ISBN 978-1-59088-129-3

Published In the United States Of America

Wings ePress Inc.

3000 N. Rock Road

Newton, KS  67114

Dedication

I would like to thank God first and foremost.

Secondly, this is for my children,

Christy and Jeff,

who always believed in me.

To my wonderful critique group

and to Mary Ann Kersten,

who lovingly line-edited my manuscript

and to my editor, Lorraine Stephens,

who liked my book enough to give me a chance.

Last but not least,

to Ronnie O.

who will always be my inspiration...

One

Sara Mitchell breathed in the heavy salt air, laced with smells of fish and moisture, an aroma that spoke to her heart. Gulls swooped and dove with loud cries. The early morning was heavy with fog that rolled in from the cool water and burned off as rays of the sun scorched its way to the beach. Except for Pearl, her energetic golden retriever who ran ahead to chase gulls and dig for treasures, there was only the sand, sea and sky as far as the eye could see. Sara loved the special mornings when she and Pearl had the beach to themselves. It did her good to let her thoughts run free, to forget, just for a while, that her brother, Jake, was dead.

She watched Pearl toss an object in the air, let it fall, roll on it and then carry it in her mouth as if it were a prize. The soggy, rag-like object drooped from the dog’s jaws.

Sara approached slowly. Here, let’s have a look at what you’ve found.

There in Sara’s hand, water-soaked and limp, was a captain’s black cloth hat with a shiny brim. Now where could this have come from? She leaned down and patted Pearl on the head. Turning the cap inside out, she tipped it so the light could hit the inside brim. Sara read the monogram on a small label: To Logan—A True Mariner.

Sara held one hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the brightness of the early morning sun. Where’d you find this, Pearl? Her dog barked, looked at Sara, then back at the sea. Sara scanned the horizon. As far as the eye could see, waves broke softly, one after another, green and shimmering. Gulls dived for small fish stirred by the currents. Waves rolled and spiraled, then washed over her feet, depositing a fine powder over her toes and worn sandals. Sara strained her eyes again, scanning the white, foamy breakers. When she was a lifeguard, she’d learned to search the waves for swimmers caught in undertows. Again and again the waves rolled in, spraying their fine mist against her face. Still she saw no one.

The wind just carried someone’s cap away. It doesn’t always have to mean something bad... She patted her wet dog. Com’ on, Pearl, I have to shower and get to work. Sara tossed the cap away with a flip of her wrist. I certainly don’t want a soggy old captain’s hat—reminds me too much of Jake. She turned and walked toward her beach house.

Jake never listened to anyone, least of all his little sister. He never gave me credit for knowing fore from aft. She missed the way her big brother’s curly blond hair blew around wildly when they would tack across the waves.

Just then, Sara had a feeling she should take one more look at the sea before heading back. There, bobbing beyond the breakers was a black object. Could be wreckage, she thought as she strained her eyes, trying to make out a shape, a form, anything that would identify what she saw as human. Then she spotted something shiny that reflected the sun.

What the—? She turned away for a moment to see if anyone was within shouting distance on the beach. Fifty yards due south an early morning jogger ran along the beach. The man saw Sara waving to him and increased his pace. He reached her out of breath.

It’s a person! I’m sure of it! She pointed excitedly toward the shiny object reflecting the sun. At first the runner looked puzzled. Then he tried to focus on the point she indicated.

See, it’s a bracelet, or maybe a watch on someone’s arm? Can you see it?

Then he nodded. Lady, you’ve got eyes like an eagle! He ran in the direction of the nearest beach house with a shout over his shoulder. I’ll call 911!

Sara paced at the edge of the water. She fought the urge to dive in, knowing that the very undertow that snared the victim could also pull her under. Dear God, let ‘em be alive! The undertows near the breakwater were some of the most treacherous for miles. Once a lifeguard, always a lifeguard. Sara couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. Not wanting to think about the odds, she kicked off her sandals. Damn it all, I have to try! Her heart slammed hard against her ribcage as the familiar surge of adrenaline raced through her veins. She remembered the time she hadn’t been there soon enough and the anguish she’d felt. If only Jake was here—he was the stronger swimmer.

Her eyes felt as if she’d rubbed salt into them. Com’ on. Softly she prayed that the waves would carry the person closer. Then the floating debris disappeared behind a wave. When it reappeared, it was considerably closer.

They’re taking too long! I can’t wait for the rescue squad! For a moment, her mind was paralyzed with thoughts of the last time she was too late.

The moment passed. Sara mentally prepared herself for what she morally knew she had to do.

Pearl ran back and forth at water’s edge, barking wildly. Sara could make out the form of what she thought was a man, one of his arms draped over what looked like a broken piece of an old wooden mast.

I can’t wait any longer! Sara watched as Pearl jumped into the waves and began swimming out ahead of her. Wait for me, Pearl! Sara dropped her sweater and her canvas bag with all the seashells she’d collected that morning.

Taking long, jumping strides, she attacked the water with all that was in her. Diving into the first breaking wave saved her from being pushed back to shore. It was hard to see, but she focused on the pale patch of her dog’s fur and headed straight for the man in the water. She could see Pearl paddling hard. As Sara avoided the peak of each wave, she felt the muscles in her arms respond to the need for speed. She pulled hard with each stroke and set her cadence the way Jake had taught her. Almost there, she thought.

After what seemed an eternity, Sara reached out for the piece of mast, pulling herself close to a large man with his head barely above the water. She tipped his head back. He sputtered and coughed. When Sara freed his arm, she was able to turn him and slide one of her arms across his chest, performing her rescue strokes with the other arm. Relax and I’ll swim for both of us. She was relieved that he was too tired to struggle against her. Once more she set her cadence, each stroke intended to pull them closer to land. She paced herself, praying that her arms still had enough power to get them both to shore.

Out of the corner of her peripheral vision, Sara saw that Pearl had grown tired of swimming and was back on the shore. The dog ran back and forth on the wet sand, barking excitedly as the rescue squad arrived and waded out to help.

Once they were all on the beach, the paramedics worked quickly to warm the frigid man and give him oxygen before loading him into the ambulance.

One of the paramedics handed her a blanket. That was a brave thing you did, crazy but brave. Bet this guy will be glad you took a risk to swim out and rescue him. We’re taking him to Bayside Hospital in Breakwater Bay. He reached for her hand to take her pulse. You really should come in with us and get checked.

She walked close to the shivering victim, wrapped in blankets. Momentarily he opened tired brown eyes. The corners of his mouth turned up in a half smile. Thanks, his voice barely audible. Then he closed his eyes again and gave in to exhaustion.

You’re welcome. Sara smiled.

Miss, you really should come with us. The paramedic urged.

Sara turned, I appreciate your concern, but I’m a doctor and I assure you that I’m fine. She handed him the blanket and walked in the direction of her bag. Without another word, Sara watched as they loaded the stranger into the ambulance.

I can’t wait to tell this guy that he was rescued by a beautiful woman. The driver must have been all of twenty. He nudged his partner as they stretched a safety belt over their patient. Sure you don’t want to ride in with us?

She turned around and waved. Thanks for your help. Maybe I’ll stop by Bayside before I go to my office. She picked up her sweater and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Odd comment for him to make. She’d never thought herself beautiful. Outdoorsy maybe, but not beautiful. She watched the ambulance speed away in the direction of town. How could I possibly have time to swing by Bayside? I have group therapy to run in an hour and a half. She looked at her watch, which was none the worse except for a stubborn piece of kelp clinging to the band.

As she walked towards her beach house, she saw Pearl throw something in the air playfully and shook it hard. When she approached, Pearl ran from her with the black cap again hanging from her mouth. The game was on, and Sara was determined to retrieve the cap without a chase. Damn it, Pearl, I’m too tired to chase you!

After pursuing her dog for a few moments, Sara decided to act disinterested and walk towards the back porch. It worked. Pearl followed her at a distance, not wanting to have her prize catch end up in her master’s canvas bag.

The beach house had never seemed so far after the strain of the swim and the excitement of finding the stranger in the sea. Finally Sara climbed the stairs to the sun-bleached deck, retrieving her spare key from beneath a large terra cotta flowerpot full of daisies.

As soon as Pearl was inside the screened porch, Sara grabbed the cap and forced the wet dog to surrender her treasure. Pearl, in turn, gave a growl of protest before trotting over to her feeding dish. Once there, she gave a forceful shake, sending sprays of salt water and sand all over the stone entryway. When finished shaking, Pearl turned and looked back at Sara, then over at her bowl.

Okay, okay. You deserve a reward. If it hadn’t been for your finding his cap, that poor man might have drowned before he washed ashore. Sara gave the wet retriever a healthy serving of her favorite dry dog food and a rawhide bone to keep her busy. She then went to the garage for cleaning rags.

Sara shivered as she cleaned the entryway on her hands and knees. Satisfied with her work, she climbed the stairs to her room. When she’d peeled off her wet clothing, she dropped them in the hamper in the laundry room. The captain’s hat she laid thoughtfully on her white ceramic sink, and then she stepped into the welcome streams of steaming hot water. A sea captain named Logan... Wonder how he ended up in the sea? There hasn’t been a word about a storm in at least a week.

The stranger’s striking features played on her mind. His strongly chiseled jaw line rose up to meet the prominence of his tan cheekbones. Dark eyebrows framed expressive brown eyes, the color of warm honey. He was hauntingly handsome, almost as if from a different time altogether. He so resembled the captain in the old oil painting she had hanging in her hallway: a historic sea captain, sailing his tall ship in a storm. The fury of the waves crashed against the ship. Wind-filled sails were stretched to the point of almost breaking loose, but the eyes of the man in the painting were steadfast and fearless as they focused straight ahead.

The painting, circa early eighteen hundreds, had always reminded her to keep her eyes on the goal. The man she’d rescued looked very much like the captain in her painting, with his curly chestnut hair blown away from his face by the shear force of the wind. She loved that painting.

Sara mused that after dozens of rescues as a lifeguard during her college years, it was odd that she’d remember a victim’s features. This man was different.

Once she’d towel-dried her long curls, she pulled them back into a silver clip and quickly slipped into a soft cotton dress, a linen jacket, and summer sandals. If she hurried, she could stop at Bayside and check on the stranger.

Halfway down the driveway, Sara realized that she hadn’t put the extra key back under the flower pot on the porch. She’d always had an extra key hidden there in case Jake came over. When he didn’t have weekend plans, he’d stop over to see her.

She’d arrive home after a tough day and walk into the kitchen to find Jake fixing his latest culinary delight for her. He’d been a big brother watching over his kid sister for so long that it was unnatural for her not to be able to talk to him. Jake was an incredible judge of character, a tribute to the medical profession, and her mentor when she was in medical school. He was supportive, even though he would have had her enter surgery instead of the field of psychiatry.

How could it have been one year since his death? It hurts like yesterday.

Sara closed her fingers into a fist around the key and ran to the porch to put it back. Sometimes holding on to even the smallest habit helped to lessen the pain. I miss you, Jake.

Once back in the car, Sara blinked back the tears that threatened to cloud another day. I can’t do this. I have to function. She stepped hard on the gas and turned onto the frontage road that led to the highway for Breakwater Bay.

Sara looked down at her watch. She’d have plenty of time to check the status of the patient and then speed to her office a few blocks from Bayside Hospital.

At eight-twenty, she pulled into the crowded physicians’ parking garage and locked her car.

Entering the ER was always an eye opener. One could see everything from children with broken arms, to various drunks and drug users with sundry infections. The ER’s main entrance opened into a plant-filled solarium furnished with padded chairs and a large salt-water aquarium with brightly colored fish.

Sara’s ER rotation two years prior to passing her medical boards was enough for her, especially when her ex-fiancé was the current trauma physician. Sara rounded the corner to the main desk and shuddered at the sight of her ex-fiancé.

Brad Johnson was a brilliant doctor, extremely good looking, but after she’d broken off the engagement, he’d turned into the biggest womanizer in town. He’d always been an egotist, but now he was his own biggest fan. Under normal circumstances, he was someone Sara avoided like a fresh case of the flu, but today she needed information.

Sara, did you get my flowers yesterday? Brad grinned.

Yes, I did. And Christy, my office manager, enjoyed taking them home with her. Sara’s eyes narrowed as she forced a smile.

Oh. He looked hurt for all of three seconds, then proceeded with small talk. So what have you been doing? Still making those little driftwood lamps? He smoothed his hair back, squared his shoulders, and leaned across the counter.

When I have time. The tourists like them. She stepped back to put distance between herself and Brad’s ego.

Actually, since starting my own practice, I don’t get over here much, but today I need some information. A lone strand of hair had worked its way into her eyes. She pulled it back into the clip, irritated at the way she lost her composure when she got near Brad. Just the sound of his voice made her nervous. He’d been the only man in her life for five years, even during her rotation in the ER. Now he affected her like fingernails raked down a blackboard.

Why haven’t you returned my calls? He drew close enough for her to smell his expensive cologne. How long are you going to punish me for one mistake?

Mistake? Oh, you mean when I found you in bed with my best friend, Marcy? How is good old Marcy, by the way? Sara raised her eyebrows and gave him a frigid stare.

She moved to Frisco. He looked down. You and I were a good team, Sara. Why can’t you give me another chance? You know? Let me make it up to you, huh? Have dinner with me tonight. I miss you.

"You’re pathetic, Brad. Oh, and I’ve been hearing how much you miss me. Christy fills me in on the singles scene around town. She says you have a different girl every week. Frankly, I don’t trust you as far as I can throw your Mercedes!"

Well, if you change you mind, he turned on the charm, give me a call, huh?

Do me a favor. Hold your breath! Sara scowled at him.