When I needed to clear my head - like now, with a bar full of problems, and no good solutions - I often went to the beach to read. I think I enjoyed the beach even more on windy, overcast days than I did on sunny ones; there were fewer people around, for a start, and wrapped up in my big overcoat, I wasn’t cold at all.

Propped up against one of the big boulders on the seashore, book in hand, I let myself dive into a story, forgetting my own problems for a moment.

Heroes and heroines in fiction always had sensible reasons for doing things, and they always had a character arc; they always learned something as a result of what happened to them. My life didn’t seem to be progressing like that; I didn’t feel like I’d learned anything, except ‘don’t kiss strange guys at your place of work, because they might end up wanting to bulldoze it and then have to stay in your spare room’.

Which was a reasonable life lesson, sure, but not very satisfying, or very generally applicable.

As I read, my book-daydreams were interrupted by a large wet nose pushed into my ear, and a joyful snuffling sound coming directly from my left. “Ugh..what the h—”

I turned my head and was confronted by Sultan’s grinning face. No-one can smile as broadly as a dog, and with one as lopsidedly goofy as Sultan, it was hard to stay annoyed.

“Ah, it’s you, is it?” I scratched Sultan’s head, and the dog dribbled happily. “Where’s your master then, huh?” From across the sand, I saw Ross’ mountainous figure approaching. He raised a massive arm above his head in greeting.

“Gidday, Cat. Bit cold for it, eh?” When he wasn’t at the bar, Ross worked as a casual laborer; there was usually physical work that needed doing around town most seasons of the year, and despite his bulk he was a fit and active worker, pitching in to any kind of activity with enthusiasm, and more than earning his wage. On the weekends, he was usually walking on the beach, picking up driftwood and trash, and exercising Sultan.

“Oh, I don’t know, Ross. I always like it, to be honest.” I smiled at him, not minding the interruption. “Gives me a chance to get out of the bar and get some fresh air.”

“Hey, you’ve got that open mic night on Saturday, haven’t you?”

In an effort to bring in more out-of-town custom, I’d been running a number of events in the bar over the past month; I had more than enough space, and they each brought in a different crowd. The live poetry reading hadn’t been a great success—the farmers viewed poetry with some suspicion, and the poets who had arrived for it all looked a bit Byronic, which didn’t help. I’d been hoping for some salt-of-the-earth nature verse about the change of the seasons, and the bounty of the land, and so on, and instead I got sixteen stanzas on the falsehoods of digital love. By the end, even I was on the farmers’ side. It was the kind of thing that needed to be built up steadily, though, and I hadn’t given up hope yet.

The music nights, on the other hand, were a hit right from the start; there were a couple of talented local musicians who’d turned up, and the jam session I’d organized on a whim one Wednesday had been so popular I was thinking about making it a regular thing. This weekend we had another open mic event, and I was anticipating a bigger crowd than before.

“Yep. Should be a good one. You coming in that night, Ross?”

He scratched his head. “I was going to be out of town with my cousins, but I can be there if you want backup. Security sort of thing.” Ross’ large physical presence often acted as a calming influence on busy Friday and Saturday nights, although no-one was ever really aggressive, and the worst that had ever happened was me having to politely tell a few over-exuberant rugby guys that they’d had enough beer. I’d never even so much as had to nod in Ross’ direction, much less actually get him to help.

“No, honestly, it’ll be fine. Pretty quiet crowd, and I can handle them.”

His large face creased with doubt. “You sure? It’s no trouble, Cat.”

I smiled again. “Thanks, Ross, that’s really kind of you, and I’ll definitely call on you when I do need help. You go and have a good time with your cousins.”

“Well, okay. I guess. Just making sure things are okay. It’s a good place, your bar, and I’d hate to see anything happen to it.”

“Thanks, Ross. Yeah, me too.”

“What about this archaeologist guy, then?” Ross gestured vaguely back toward the town, while Sultan snuffled happily in the dunes by my feet. “Is he actually going to demolish the place?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. It’s only a possibility, and it won’t happen if I’ve got anything to do with it.”

Ross nodded gloomily. “Yeah, well. You can’t argue with the Government, eh? Never worked for me.” Sultan, catching sight of a seagull further down the beach, tore off with a bark, and Ross looked up. “Hey, come back!” He turned back to me for a moment. “I’d better go after the dog. Catch you later, okay? Stay cool, sister.”

I waved him goodbye, and watched as he trundled down the sand dunes onto the beach after Sultan. He seems like he’s happy with his life here. No expectations, just doing what suits him. How come, with all my advantages, I can’t figure out how to do that?

I went back to my book; the next time I looked up, I could see a figure jogging down the beach, a tiny speck against the grey clouds.

As I watched, the figure got closer, and from the square shoulders and mop of dark hair, I realized it was Andy. With a guilty start, I realized I’d never responded to him about his offer to go and see the bird colony. Was he asking me on a date? It was hard to tell, but Bea certainly seemed to think her brother was keen on me.

Andy was a great guy, but right now I just didn’t have time for that kind of thing, and I needed Bea on my side if I was ever going to get the oven fixed.

And then there’s Ryan. I got a sudden flash of Ryan’s amused smile the night we met in the bar, the feeling of his strong arms on my waist, pulling me into him. His unashamed admiring of my rear the day before, which made me annoyed and—if I was being honest—a little bit pleased at the same time. If going out on a date with Andy was a bad decision, then having anything more to do with Dr. Ryan Sanders, wandering bar-threatener, was a terrible decision.

Andy saw me, and even from this distance I could see his face light up. He changed course, jogging toward me at an easy pace, his t-shirt and broad shoulders slick with sweat.

I cursed inwardly. I was going to have to have one of those conversations; I hadn’t done this with a guy for several years, long before I’d met Kirk, and I never enjoyed it. It wasn’t like I’d had many boyfriends anyway; between medical school exams, and social events with my parents, there was never time.

When Kirk had come along, he’d seemed like the answer to an important-but-not urgent problem, rather than a thunderbolt of love. I’d been satisfied when I was with him, but it was the satisfaction of having ticked something important off a list, like starting a retirement fund.

Now, no retirement fund, no boyfriend, and maybe pretty soon no bar. Tell everyone about how your life is going fine, Cat.

“Hey, Cat. It’s really good to see you again.” Andy’s smile was warm and unfeigned, and I felt slightly annoyed for not being attracted to him. There were definitely girls who would like him; big, handsome, honest. I just wasn’t one of them. Why did it always work like that? The guys who like you are fine, they’re just not your thing, and the guys you like—I stopped as Ryan’s infuriating smirk came to mind again, and I closed my eyes to try and block it out. Dammit. Not him.

“Cat? You okay?” I opened my eyes, and Andy was standing in front of me, looking worried.

“Oh, hey Andy. Yeah, sorry, I’m fine. Just…thinking. How are you doing?”

Andy paused. “Yeah, I’m…good. Hey, there was something I’ve been wanting to ask you about.” He looked at the ground, hands on hips in a gesture I realized was unconsciously identical to the one his big sister Bea adopted. “It’s kind of personal.”

Uh—oh. Here it comes. I wish I’d rehearsed this. “Andy, I—” I stopped. Better to let him say what he wanted to, and then respond. Cutting him off would be unfair to the guy, and he hadn’t done anything wrong. “Sure, man. What’s up?” I tried to keep my tone as chatty as possible.

“So,” he began, looking at his hands, “I heard you were a doctor.”

I blinked. I’d never hidden the fact that I’d qualified as a doctor, and in fact had talked to people about it occasionally over the bar, when they asked about how I’d come to town, and about my background. But the questions had become less frequent as the months passed, and now I guessed most people just thought of me as Cat the bartender. “Yes, I was, but that was back home in the USA, Andy. I’m not licensed to practice here, and I never really wanted to be. You have to take a lot of exams, and it’s really expensive.”

“Right, okay. I understand, but—” again, the pause. “I’ve had something happening a bit, and I need someone to ask about it. Someone who knows something about being a doctor.”

I shook my head. “Andy, you should go and make an appointment with a qualified physician. I’m really not supposed to give medical advice, even informally.”

Andy’s face was a study. “But…look, Cat.” He wrung his large hands. “I’ve been getting these…patches of numbness and tingling in my legs, like about here—” pulling up one of the legs of his shorts alarmingly high for a public beach, “and here. It’s been happening for about a year now, and to start with I just ignored it; it would come and go, you know?”

I nodded. Even though I wasn’t supposed to give medical advice, I couldn’t ignore Andy’s concern.

“But about a week ago, it started again, and it hasn’t stopped. So this whole patch here,” he pressed a thumb into his muscled thigh, “is basically numb all the time.”

“Right. Obvious question: have you told your sister?”

He shook his head vigorously. “Shit, no. Bea would freak out. She’s always looked out for me, and any time something happens to me, she takes it really hard. She doesn’t like doctors much either, because of…well, she just doesn’t.”

Great. Another reason for her to dislike me. Awesome.

“One time I got hit bad playing rugby, and got knocked cold for a bit. When I woke up, the game had stopped and Bea was kneeling over me; she got there faster than the medics. I honestly thought she was going to punch the guy who did it.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me.” I looked at him and closed my book. “She really cares about you.”

Andy shrugged. “She’s looked out for me since I was a kid, and dumping this on her right now…I just want to find out whether to be worried or not, you know? Like, if it’s a problem, then fine, but maybe it’s just some bullshit that will go away.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I was hoping that maybe you could, I don’t know, check me out and tell me if it’s bad or not.”

I wasn’t sure what to think. Potentially, this was a pretty serious crime, and ethically hard to excuse. But Andy needed help, and I wasn’t the kind of girl to let someone down when they were in need. Maybe that’s one thing I did learn after all.

Andy interrupted my thoughts. “Please, Cat. I’ll try and convince Bea that you need a good deal on the oven. I know she can come across difficult at times, but she’s got a heart, you know? She doesn’t want to see you out of here, any more than I do.”

Dammit. “Okay, Andy. From what you’ve said to me, this could be a number of things. Intermittent peripheral numbness and tingling like that could be something very minor, or it could potentially indicate something more serious. Come past the bar, tomorrow, and I’ll examine you as best I can.” I held up a hand. “But, you have to promise me that if I say so, you have to go to a licensed physician immediately, and you have to tell your sister. Okay?”

Andy nodded, relieved. “Yeah, sure. Absolutely. Thanks, Cat.” He sighed. “Man, this is a load off my mind. I didn’t know what I was going to do about this, but talking to you has made it a hell of a lot better.”

I tried to reassure him. “I understand it can be frightening when you think there’s something wrong, and you don’t know who to turn to, Andy. For the moment, just try not to worry about it, and we’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”

He smiled. “Thanks again, Doc. I’ll leave you to your book, eh? See you tomorrow.” Turning, he jogged back down onto the beach, and soon was a speck in the distance.

I stared out to sea for a few minutes, and then smacked myself gently in the forehead with my book. Sure, Andy needed my help. But practicing medicine without a license, and keeping secrets from Beatrice, were both extremely bad ideas.

Why did I feel the need to go for the double?