Chapter Four

Leaning back in the wicker chair Joey closed her eyes and tried to lose herself in the harmonious melody of the wind chimes. As a little girl, the sound had meant climbing trees and splashing around in the creek, 4th of July fireworks and her mom's homemade lemonade. The sound meant simpler times, a time when life wasn't so complex and nerve-wrecking.

Joey sighed and opened her lids. It was no use. She couldn't relax. Her eyes glanced upon the strained glass hummingbird wind chime hanging above the Potter B&B's kitchen window. The bird taunted her as it swayed gently in the early spring breeze, making everything she used to take for granted seem so close, yet so far away.

She abruptly turned away. Maybe coming back for the weekend was a mistake, she thought as she stared out at the creek from the porch. She had agreed to accompany Pacey back to the Cape. Despite his repeated denials to the contrary, Joey knew that he needed to check in at the Icehouse after his abrupt departure yesterday, but he, true to his word, was reluctant to leave her side. As much as she didn't want to be anyone's main priority, especially his, under these circumstances, she was. Circumstance was the only C term that she could attach at the moment to this particular scare without her stomach becoming a tightfisted knot. So they compromised. Joey would come with him and while he attended to business, she would tell her sister about her forthcoming biopsy.

And so far, it was going better than she expected. Okay, maybe it just seemed that way because as soon as she uttered the words, a guest came out asking Bessie for extra towels after her twin toddlers made a flood in the bathroom. Bessie had no choice but to hurry inside.

Now Joey heard the squeak of the screen door and turned her head. Her sister walked out carrying two glasses of iced tea. "Here," she held one out to Joey before taking a seat in the other wicker chair.

"So is potential disaster averted in the bathroom?" Joey asked before taking a sip.

Bessie nodded, "All cleaned up."

They lapsed into silence and Joey's gaze returned to the scenery. She breathed in the sweet scent from the rose garden that Bessie recently added to the B&B. "It's peaceful out here," she said quietly, almost to herself.

"I'm so glad we extended this porch. It's a great place to read, watch the sunset... or to engage in small talk to avoid what's really on our minds," Bessie smirked when Joey turned her head.

"I'm not avoiding it, she said, dropping her gaze to her lap.

"When's the biopsy?"

Joey sighed and looked up, "This…this Wednesday."

"I'll be there."

She shook her head, "Bess, you don't….you don't have to."

"I want to, Joey."

"No, okay," she argued with more sharpness than she intended. This was exactly what she didn't want. There was no need to take out her anxiety and frustration on others. Sighing, Joey gentled her voice, "I…I mean, it's just a test, Bessie. A needle biopsy is not major surgery. And Pacey will be there."

"It's not the same," her sister countered, putting her glass on the nearby table. "Why don't you let people care for you?"

Brushing her hair behind her ear, Joey reluctantly admitted, "I'm doing my best, okay. It's just been a little more than twenty-four hours since the doctor told me that…that…I…that I might have…have…"

"That you might have cancer," Bessie supplied gently.

Joey flinched, sniffling she said, "I can't say it. God, it's like a cruel joke, Bess. I finally have my life where I want it to be. I finally tell Pacey I want to be with him and now the rug's starting slip from under me."

"It doesn't mean you will be entirely thrown off course. We don't know anything yet, Jo, "her sister gave a hesitant smile before continuing. "You just can't close yourself off. I…I know you're going to hate this, but I called Dad and he'll be here tonight."

Joey's eyes widened and asked, "Why?" She sighed. "I really didn't want to tell him until I had the results, Bessie. What am I supposed to say?"

"Exactly what you told me, that you're going for a biopsy."

Joey shut her eyes, raising her hand to her forehead. The beginning of a headache thumped to life as she fought back the tears threatening to fall.

Bessie came over and enveloped her into a hug, "It will be okay, sis. "

Even though she didn't believe the words, Joey welcomed the comfort.

….

"How are you holding up?" Gretchen asked her forehead creased with concern.

Leaning back against the bar and crossing his ankles, Pacey let out a heavy breath. He'd come to the Icehouse to prevent trouble before the Friday night crowd scurried in only to find that his sister already had things under control. Naturally, this meant that he had nothing to do but worry about Joey. For the last twenty-four hours, Pacey had tried to act like his regular carefree, humorous self, for Joey's sake, while feeling helpless on the inside. He didn't want her to feel obligated to reassure him every second. He knew already that she was going through hell.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

His frustration had caused him to lash out at his prep cook for having the water for the pasta a bit too high. Frank, being the big teddy bear that he was, stammered, "S…Sorry, boss, I…I was just about to lower it."

But Gretchen was less than intimated. "What the hell is your problem?" she'd asked Pacey after assuring Frank that he did nothing wrong.

So Pacey told her.

Now he said, "How do you think I'm holding up, Gretchen? I can't make this better. I can't say everything will be okay without having doubts and apprehension. And Joey knows it. I..I feel powerless."

"You're doing enough, Pace, just by being there for her."

He dropped his head and sighed, "You're just saying the compulsory thing because you don't know what else to say."

Gretchen nodded. "You're right. I don't know what else to say," she said wryly, pausing before going into business mode. "So I'll give you something else to worry about. You need a full-time manager, pronto. I need to go back to Maine early on Sunday. Chad's brother's getting married and as his wife I have to go with him, I'm afraid."

"Well, you did not need to come since I'm here."

"I'm glad I did. Look at Frank."

Pacey rubbed the bridge of his nose before saying, "I'm sorry about that. I'll apologize. And I'll talk to Susan about taking extra shifts. I'll be in New York all week…and maybe longer," he finished, not wanting to think too far into the future.

But his sister shook her head, "You can't do that. You can't ask Susan. She's a part-time floor manager and has three little kids and a husband who works nights, Pacey. You can't ask her to take on a full-time manager's job, some job she didn't ask for. Pacey, you need somebody permanently."

"I know," he replied dejectedly, "I've been trying to find somebody reliable for the past month."

"You're too picky," Gretchen accused, "Pace, being a restaurant manager is a demanding position, but it's not rocket science. I'll bet the next person to come through those doors can do it," she turned toward the entrance and froze.

"I'll do it," a familiar voice piped in. Pacey did a double take as his father walked up to the bar. He wore his faded Red Sox cap and a navy button down short-sleeved shirt, embodying the image of a stress free existence. This wasn't the same man who berated and insulted his youngest son, Pacey knew. Sometimes, though, he had trouble leaving that man behind while trying to create a new relationship with the warmer version.

"You'll do what, Pop?" Pacey asked, hoping he'd misunderstood because he couldn't imagine-

"I'll be your manager," John Witter, former-coldhearted-bastard-of-a-father-and-retired-sherriff-of-Capeside, replied in all seriousness.

"Well, there you have it, Pace, " Gretchen grinned, "the answer to our prayers." She slapped him on the back.

He shot her a dark scowl before saying, "Ah, Pop, as much as I appreciate the offer-"

"I know what ya thinking," John stopped him, holding up his hand. " 'It's a ridiculous notion. What do I know about the restaurant business?'"

"You have no experience."

"But I looked after this town for thirty-five years and crime was kept at a minimum," the retired cop countered with a resolute tone, showing that he wasn't joking now. "If I could keep this town running smoothly, I can do the same for this place."

"You're really serious about this," Pacey said more to himself than to his father, trying to believe it. The man who once called him a loser wanted to help him run his restaurant. The idea was outlandish, but he really did welcome the offer.

"I say we give him a chance," Gretchen chirped, smiling. "What's the worst thing that can happen?"

Pacey glared at her again, then turned to his father, "Why do you want to do this, Pop? You're retired. I mean, what do you really know about cooking?"

"Well, doesn't your kitchen staff know how to cook?" John replied gruffly, raising his brow.

"Yes, but-"

"Do you trust them?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then we wouldn't have a problem," John argued before sighing, "The truth is, son, your mother's driving me nuts. She has her reading and sewing groups to the house and tries to get me to participate. And you know the woman can't cook worth a damn."

Pacey couldn't help but smile and found himself asking, "You really think you can manage this place?"

"I'm willing to rearrange my schedule to show him the ropes," Gretchen offered with sincerity now.

"I thought you had a life to get back to."

"I can make an exception for Pop."

Pacey looked back and forth between Gretchen and their father. He wished that he had more time to think about it. Then again, he had more important matters to occupy his time, to wish and hope for. As much as Pacey loved and cared about the Icehouse, it didn't compare to how he felt about Joey. She came first in his life. And he needed to be in New York with her, not here interviewing possible managers. The urgency within him won out and he said, "You're hired, Pop." He held out his hand.

As they shook hands, a rare, genuine smile broke out across his father's face, "You won't regret this, son."

And in that moment, Pacey believed him.

…..

As the golden rays of sunset peaked through the windows of the B&B, Joey told Mike Potter what was ahead for her this coming week. She tried to not sound melodramatic, but her father could read between the lines. They may not always have had a close relationship, especially during her adolescence, but he could still see right through her tough exterior.

As they sat on the sofa, her father asked solemnly "How are you truly feeling, honey?"

Joey swept a strand of hair away from her eyes. "Scared," she admitted faintly, feeling her throat tighten.

"Thinking of your mother?"

She nodded.

Mike sighed before replying, "I wasn't there for you girls when you needed me the most. I was caught up in my own stupidity. I truly regret that. I don't know all that your mother went through, but I do know how courageous she was," he looked up and closed his eyes as if seeing Lillian Potter in all her heavenly glory, then returned his gaze to Joey. "And I know she's looking down on you now."

"I…I know that too," Joey said softly, smiling sadly. She remembered the cloudy days of her mother's illness and her father's imprisonment. Sometimes, the events became jumbled in her mind. It was difficult to recollect what came first. It really didn't matter. What mattered was that she'd lost both of her parents.

She was just grateful one came back.

Their conversation turned toward a different, more factual direction as Joey relayed what her doctor had said. Then her father asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

Joey shook her head, not really giving much thought to the question. At that moment, though Bessie walked over from the kitchen carrying a tray of coffee.

"Maybe there is, Dad," her sister offered as she handed each of them a mug. "Joey, Pacey's still looking for a manager, isn't he?"

"Y…yeah,"

And Dad, you're still looking for a job?" Bessie asked, sitting down in the adjacent rocker and putting the tray on the coffee table.

Joey raised her brow, "Dad, what happened to your job at the diner." The Wesley's' Diner in Falmouth had hired him about three years ago as a waiter. Then six months ago he was promoted to manager. Joey knew that her father didn't see it as a big accomplishment, but she was proud of him. And happy to know that he found some peace and contentment.

"Went under," he replied, almost sheepishly before taking a gulp of coffee.

"It's not his fault, Joey," Bessie jumped in defensively. "The diner went bankrupt."

"I didn't mean anything by it, Bess," she argued, "It's just that nobody told me." She looked at her sister pointedly.

"It's all right, guys," their father cut in, "I will find something in no time. I already have feelers out there."

"Who needs feelers," Bessie responded, "The Icehouse needs somebody." She gazed at Joey as if expecting her agreement. When it didn't come, Bessie prompted, "Joey, don't you think Dad would be perfect for the position?"

There was nothing like being put on the spot. "I…I…"

"It's okay, Joey," he gave an understanding smile before addressing his other daughter. "Bess, I don't think Pacey wants the ex-con who's responsible for getting the original restaurant burnt down to run things."

"Nonsense," Bessie shook her head. "You really don't know Pacey. He's not the type of guy to hold prior offenses against you, right Jo?"

Just then, the front door opened and Joey smiled in relief, watching the man in question walk into the room. "Let's just ask Pacey."

"Ask Pacey What?" he grinned at her and then gave her father a nod in greeting.

"Bessie wants you to hire Dad as manager."

Pacey looked at the three of them and laughed, "You're an hour late. I just hired my father. Care to be partner, Mr. Potter."

…

Several hours later, Joey walked through the threshold into her old bedroom, wearing old, gray drawstring pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. As luck would have it, this room wasn't supposed to be occupied by nosey tourists for the next few days. For that, Joey was grateful. She wanted the comfort of familiar surroundings; maybe they'd entice her into much needed sleep.

She heard Pacey before she saw him, "Pop, I know that." When she turned her head to the right, she observed Pacey in his favorite Bruins t-shirt lounging on her bed, his cell to his ear, mild aggravation laced his voice. "No, I'm not making a tremendous mistake. Mike Potter knows the business and can help you, Pop," he paused; rubbing his closed lids with his thumb and forefinger, pinching the bridge of his nose, and then suddenly blinked them wide open. "The Icehouse won't return to ashes," he sighed as his free hand began to fly wildly as he spoke, "Why can't you give the guy the benefit of the doubt? What? I'm not getting back at you for my lousy childhood, Pop."

Joey rolled her eyes at that, but she wasn't surprised at John Witter's less than thrilled reaction to Pacey's newly constructed managing plan. At first, Joey, herself, was cautious Hell, even her father tried to reassure Pacey that he shouldn't feel indebted to him due to his relationship with Joey. Translated, her father would rather jump off a cliff than work with the former sheriff. But after an hour long discussion, it was Pacey's cleverness and wit that had Mike Potter nodding in agreement and shaking his hand.

A partnership was made.

Mike Potter had the restaurant experience while John Witter had the respectability in the town. They would make a profitable team, according to Pacey and Joey had to concur. Tourists and residents of Capeside alike would flock to the Icehouse to see the ex-con and retired cop working side-by-side, and they'd stay for the delectable grilled salmon or chicken parmesan.

If only the two men would get along.

As Joey moved closer to the bed, Pacey turned his head, his eyes meeting hers instantly softening his strained features. He smiled at her as he concluded his call, "Pop, I gotta go. We'll talk more tomorrow. Goodnight," he clicked off his cell and put it on the nightstand.

"Don't rush on my account," Joey smirked removing the extra pillows before sinking down onto the mattress.

"Believe me, I wasn't," Pacey responded dryly, "That call couldn't have ended a moment too soon."

She rolled onto her side to face him, bracing her elbow on a pillow and resting her cheek upon her upturned palm. "So how opposed is your dad?"

"Let me put it this way," he replied, folding his hands under the back of his head, "he refuses to quit. He doesn't want to give me the satisfaction and he wants to catch your father red handed. The good ol' sheriff's convinced that he's up to his ear in illegal activities and he's gonna drain me dry."

"And you aren't a little cautious about it, given my dad's track record?"

"No," Pacey said simply, narrowing his eyes, "are you?"

Joey shrugged, "Not really, but the past isn't easy to forget. This could very well be a potential nightmare, you do know that, right Pace?"

"That's why," he said amusingly, "I have Gretchen as referee."

"You don't mind leaving your sister with two men who could possibly kill each other and her in the process?"

"She can handle it; after all she was born into the Witter clan."

Joey's lips curved up slightly, "You have a point." But then she became sober, "Pacey, you know you don't have to go back with me Sunday."

His smile receded, "What do you mean?"

She hesitated, "It's…It's just that you don't have to stay by my side at every second of every day. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not going to break without you holding my hand, Pacey. Whatever the results say, life needs to go on. I still need to work. You still need to make a living."

"I know all that, Jo," he replied gently, bringing his hand to her cheek. "I just want us to be in the same city. I love you, Jo."

"I love you too," Joey said softly, moving into his opened arms. She kissed him lightly on his lips before resting her head on his chest and looked up at him with a smile. "Despite what I said, I'm glad you will be in the same city."

"I'm glad," Pacey whispered, brushing his lips over her forehead. She shut her eyes and started drifting off to sleep, pushing the days ahead out of her mind.