As a single man, Jack Griffin didn’t make a habit of turning down dinner invitations, especially ones that came from Bob and Peggy Beldon. Peggy was an extraordinary cook, and meals at their bed-and-breakfast were the stuff of culinary legend.
Jack had been friends with Bob for more than ten years; Bob and Peggy had owned Thyme and Tide for seven. It was on Lighthouse Road, a mile or so from Olivia’s house. The two-story white structure with the black wrought-iron fence had been called the Mansion before Bob and Peggy bought it. A Navy Commander was said to have built it in the early 1900s. It had turrets, one at either end of the house, and the larger of the two had a widow’s walk.
The B and B had been successful from the outset, due in no small part to the Beldons’ skill as hosts—and of course, to Peggy’s cooking.
Jack arrived with a bouquet of flowers and a healthy appetite.
“Welcome,” Peggy said as she opened the door and kissed him on the cheek. “We don’t see nearly enough of you. Our guests aren’t scheduled to arrive until late, so we’re free to relax for a few hours.” Her eyes crinkled in a smile. “I always enjoy the opportunity to feed someone who appreciates my cooking as much as you do.”
“Invite me to dinner any time you like,” he said enthusiastically.
“Did I hear the doorbell?” Bob walked in and the two men exchanged handshakes.
“I’ll take care of these flowers,” Peggy said and left the room.
Jack followed his friend onto the patio behind the house. Its location granted a full view of the cove, with the Bremerton ferry in the distance.
“I’ve already got the cribbage board set up and ready to go,” Bob told him. “How about a glass of iced tea?”
“Sounds great.”
While Bob hurried into the kitchen for the tea, Jack inspected Peggy’s herb garden. It was lovely to behold, a delight for all the senses. Even Jack, who liked to say that he had “a green thumb—green with mold,” derived real pleasure from Peggy’s garden. Many of the fresh herbs were used in her prized recipes, and he wondered what she’d serve tonight.
Bob returned with two glasses of iced tea. “This retirement is for the birds,” he muttered. “It looks like the house is going to need painting this summer, and Peggy thinks I should be able to do it myself.”
“She’s joking, right?”
“I hope so.” Bob sank down on one of the lounge chairs. “Can you believe it’s the middle of June already?” He sat upright with a startled look.
“What’s wrong?”
Bob glanced away and seemed embarrassed, as though he’d said something he shouldn’t have. “Nothing,” he said, shaking off the question. “Just another one of life’s regrets. Let’s not discuss it.”
Jack frowned, but if there was anything he understood it was regrets.
“So—you’ve been here almost a year,” Bob said casually, reaching for his tea.
Jack nodded. A year. Well, it would be in October. Busy as he was with the newspaper, the months had flown by. It seemed only a few weeks ago that he’d sat in Olivia’s courtroom that first time…. He was shocked to realize that six months had passed.
“What do you think of Cedar Cove now?”
“Hey,” Jack said with a grin. “It’s my kind of town.” Bob and Peggy had been raised in Cedar Cove. They’d graduated from high school together, and then Bob had been drafted and gone off to fight in Vietnam. He’d come home haunted by demons—memories and experiences he could scarcely speak of, even now. Those demons had led him to look for oblivion in the bottom of a bottle. Jack had faced his own demons from Nam and they, too, had led him to the deceptive gratifications of alcohol. He’d met Bob in a rehab center, and they’d struck up a friendship that had grown over the years. Although he had ten years’ sobriety now, the consequences of those hard-drinking years still lingered. Only now had Eric begun to trust him.
“I thought we’d eat out on the patio tonight,” Peggy announced, joining the two men.
That suited Jack just fine. After a week of intermittent rainfall, the evening was clear and warm. A soft breeze came off the water, and with it the faint scent of the sea.
“So,” Peggy said, taking the wicker chair next to Bob. “How’s the paper doing?”
“It’s thriving.” Jack was proud of that. He’d made a lot of changes in the last eight months, added a second edition each week and followed his instincts. One of his most popular innovations had come from Charlotte Jefferson. Her Seniors’ Page had become a huge hit with the community. Olivia’s mother was a natural. Her chatty column every Wednesday was full of tidbits about local happenings. If Mrs. Samuel’s grandson was visiting, Charlotte reported the news. If the Robertsons’ dog had puppies, she wrote about them, guaranteeing the litter good homes. She passed on recipes and some great old-fashioned household hints. Who would’ve guessed vinegar had so many uses? She wrote about the past, discussing local history, especially events that took place around World War II. And she threw in bits and pieces of her own wisdom.
“What about you?” Peggy asked. “Are you thriving, too?”
“Me?”
“Are you happy?”
“I’m sane and sober, and that’s about as good as it gets for me.”
“What about Olivia?” Bob asked.
His buddy would ask the one question he didn’t want to answer. Jack shrugged.
“What kind of answer is that?” Peggy scolded. “A few weeks ago, you had lots to say about the judge.”
“She’s in love with her ex-husband,” he said bleakly. He’d seen it the day Olivia returned home from her trip to California. Since then he’d only heard from her once, when she called to break their date for the following Wednesday. There’d been no contact between them after that. He sighed, remembering how she’d come back from the airport with her ex, the top down on a fancy red convertible, music blaring. They’d had eyes only for each other. Anyone looking at them would think they were lovers. Jack wasn’t a man who walked away from a challenge, but he was smart enough to avoid a losing proposition—like falling for a woman still involved with her ex.
“I thought Stan remarried,” Bob said, turning to Peggy.
“He did.”
“That doesn’t change the way Olivia feels about him,” Jack insisted.
“Did you ask her about it?”
Jack shook his head. More than willing to move on to another subject, he said, “What do you hear from the kids?” Bob and Peggy had two children; Hollie, their oldest, lived in Seattle and their youngest, Marc, was in Kansas.
“They’re both fine,” Peggy told him. “What do you hear from Eric?”
His son didn’t make any effort to keep in touch with Jack, which he supposed was fair. For a good portion of Eric’s life, Jack had been absent, if not in body, then in spirit.
“Not much,” Jack confessed.
“When was the last time you talked to him?”
Jack had to think about that. After their dinner with Olivia, he’d phoned to invite Eric to Cedar Cove, but his son had refused, offering a convenient excuse. He had a date. This wasn’t the first time Eric had mentioned the girl he was seeing. Shirley or Shelly—her name was something along those lines. It seemed Eric might be serious about this one, and Jack had made the mistake of saying so. He’d suggested it was time Eric thought about marrying and settling down. His son had nearly snapped his head off.
There was a reason for Eric’s reactions. He couldn’t father children, due to the massive doses of drugs he’d been given as a child, and had never gotten around to telling Shirley…or Shelly, who apparently wanted a family. The conversation had ended on that sour note, and Jack hadn’t called him since.
He would soon enough, but he needed to give Eric time to forgive him for his careless remark. He longed to forge a path to his son, not destroy the fragile groundwork that had painstakingly been laid.
“Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” Peggy said, leaving the two of them. She returne
d a moment later, carrying out a large salad.
“Let me help,” Jack said.
“Nonsense.” Peggy waved aside his offer. “You two play cribbage. Bob’s been looking forward to it all day.”
Jack was more than willing to comply. Bob had the cribbage board set up on the table, and Jack sat down opposite him, his back to the sea. He didn’t want to be distracted. Bob was a good player, quick and decisive, and Jack needed all his wits about him.
“Is Peggy all right?” Jack asked after Bob had dealt the first hand.
Bob put aside the deck and reached for the seven cards. “What makes you ask?”
Jack wasn’t sure. Peggy was as warm and welcoming as ever, but he sensed that something was troubling her.
Although he appeared to be studying his cards, Bob had the look of a man deep in thought.
“That bad?” Jack teased.
Bob frowned in confusion.
“The cards,” Jack explained.
“No, no.” His smile seemed forced.
Jack set his cards aside. “Everything’s all right with you and Peg, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice worried.
“After thirty-two years, it should be, don’t you think?”
“You never know.” He desperately wanted evidence of one solid marriage, just to prove it was still possible in these days of easy divorce. One marriage that could survive a crisis…He thought of his ex-wife—and he thought of Olivia. He’d never wanted a woman with the intensity he wanted her. He—
“Jack?” Bob’s voice broke his concentration.
He glanced up.
“Are you going to stare at your cards all night or are you going to discard?”
“Discard.”
“Something on your mind?” Bob asked.
“Like what?” Jack said.
Bob grinned, obviously a man capable of reading all the signs. “Like Olivia.”
Jack gave an exaggerated shrug. “That readable, am I?”
Bob chuckled. “No more readable than Peg and me.”
“Nothing wrong, is there?” He didn’t mean to belabor the point, but the thought of problems between Bob and Peggy depressed him. They were the one couple he knew who’d found happiness and clung to it through all the years, both good and bad.
“We’re fine. What about you?”
“I’m okay, just a bit disappointed.”
“Olivia?”
Jack nodded, and nothing more was said.
They finished the first game, and by then Peggy had dinner dished up and ready to serve. Good food and good friends. It was the best meal he’d had in weeks, but Jack decided that the company was even more satisfying than the food.
The accident aboard the George Washington made headlines on the national news for several days. Cecilia was in daily contact with Ian. Some days she couldn’t get to a computer, so she wrote out her thoughts. These letters would take a week or longer to reach him, but Ian said he enjoyed hearing from her in any form.
With finals in only two classes, Cecilia had one day in which she didn’t have to be in school. Since she wasn’t scheduled to work until late afternoon, she decided to celebrate and made plans to spend the morning with Cathy.
After examining her at the Navy Hospital, the attending physician had told Cathy that the pregnancy was safe but suggested she quit her job as a cashier at the local grocery. Being on her feet for an eight-hour shift wasn’t good for her or the baby. Not wanting to take any chances, Cathy had immediately handed in her notice.
When Cecilia arrived at her friend’s duplex, she discovered that Carol Greendale had stopped by, too. Cecilia almost changed her mind and turned around. Almost. Carol’s little girl was just a day or two older than Allison would have been. Cecilia dreaded seeing the baby and was drawn to her in equal parts.
“Hello, Carol,” she said in a friendly voice, pretending she was at ease with the other woman. Little Amanda was toddling happily around the apartment, examining everything in sight, reaching for books, trying to grab knickknacks, pulling at the curtains.
“Come here, Amanda,” Carol urged, holding out her arms for her daughter. The child immediately lurched toward her mother, shrieking with pleasure.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Cathy said, gripping Cecilia’s hand tightly as if to let her know she understood.
“We were just talking about the George Washington,” Carol explained, bouncing the child on her lap.
“Carol came by with the latest news,” Cathy said.
“I just heard they’re heading back,” Carol squealed.
“The George Washington’s coming back to the shipyard in Bremerton?” Cecilia wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding. Where the aircraft carrier would go for repairs had been undecided.
“Yes!” No one could doubt Cathy’s excitement.
“When will they get here?” Sheer joy raised Cecilia’s voice.
“It shouldn’t be long.”
Cecilia felt hopeful about her marriage, especially after the last few weeks. Ian had communicated with her practically every day. In the beginning, most of what they’d exchanged had been ordinary, everyday information. Facts more than feelings. But as the weeks went on, they’d both felt ready to venture into more dangerous territory—their daughter and her death.
In the process, Cecilia realized that she’d heaped too much of the blame on Ian’s shoulders. She hadn’t meant to, but trapped in grief and pain, she’d lashed out at him. It wasn’t fair, she’d known that even at the time, but she hadn’t been able to prevent those reactions. Dealing with his own shock, Ian hadn’t been much help to Cecilia. Almost a year had passed now, giving each of them a new perspective on the role they’d played in nearly destroying their marriage.
“Let me get the baby a cracker,” Cathy said, moving into the kitchen.
“That’s not necessary,” Carol told her.
“Oh, I want to.”
Cathy looked pointedly in Cecilia’s direction. “Come and give me a hand,” she murmured.
Cecilia jumped up with alacrity.
Carol seemed confused and a little affronted. Cecilia felt bad about that, but Cathy obviously had something important to tell her.
“Andrew knows about the baby,” Cathy whispered the minute they entered the kitchen.
“How?”
“I told him. I had to. He wanted to know why I quit my job. I tried to edge around the truth, but we made a promise never to lie to each other and so I…I explained that I’m pregnant.”
“And?”
Cathy stared down at the floor. “He’s afraid, just like I am, and kind of hurt that I hadn’t told him sooner.”
“Under all of that I’m sure he’s thrilled.”
Cathy nodded. “I know he is. We both want this baby so much.”
Cathy seemed about to dissolve into tears and might have if little Amanda hadn’t let out a frustrated cry. Cathy hurriedly found a soda cracker and brought it into the living room.
Carol was busy picking up toys. “It’s time I went home,” she murmured.
“You just got here,” Cathy protested.
“I know…it’s just that…” She glanced at Cecilia, as if to say that now Cathy’s other friend had arrived, she was obviously less welcome.
Ever sensitive, Cathy shook her head. “I hope you’ll forgive me for being so rude, but I needed to tell Cecilia something. I didn’t mean to exclude you.”
“I understand,” Carol said. She reached for Amanda, who eluded her mother’s arms and waddled toward Cecilia. The baby stumbled and Cecilia instinctively thrust out her arms. Drooling as she smiled, Amanda gazed up at Cecilia, her eyes wide with interest. Cecilia froze, unable to stop looking at the baby girl who in other circumstances might have been her own.
Little Amanda returned her look, then smiled and raised her arms, wanting Cecilia to pick her up.
The decision was automatic. Cecilia leaned over and lifted the child. Then Amanda, as though she understood the significa
nce of the moment, wrapped both chubby arms around Cecilia’s neck. Cecilia knew she was being fanciful, but she felt that this child, this year-old baby, recognized all the love stored in her heart for Allison. The daughter she’d never hold again, or sing to, or kiss good-night.
Cathy and Carol paused for breathless seconds, watching Cecilia’s reaction to Amanda.
Tenderly Cecilia brushed the wispy hair from the child’s forehead, kissed her there, then set her back on the floor, where Amanda teetered, recovered herself and walked unsteadily to her mother’s side.
“Carol, I’m going to tell you, too,” Cathy said. “I…you know I recently quit working. Well, there’s a reason for that. I’m pregnant.”
Carol’s eyes lit up. “That’s great!” Her smile faded when she realized that neither Cathy nor Cecilia seemed completely delighted. “What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing from one to the other. “Aren’t you happy?”
Cathy was quick to assure Carol she was pleased. “It’s just that I miscarried the first two pregnancies, and I’m scared to death.”
“I would be, too.” Carol handed Amanda the soda cracker; the little girl was content to sit on the floor, gnawing it. “I’m so sorry, Cathy. I can’t even imagine…” She turned to Cecilia. “Weren’t you in the hospital about the same time as me?” Carol asked.
Cecilia nodded. “My little girl was named Allison.”
“I remember. I always wanted to tell you how bad I felt, but you…well, you didn’t seem to want to talk to anyone.”
“I regret that now,” she said. “I could’ve used a friend.”
“I could use one myself,” Carol said.
The military might have its heroes, but the wives were the backbone of the Navy, Cecilia reflected. These women—and she was now one of them—supported their husbands, their country and each other.
“I don’t know how this pregnancy will go,” Cathy told them, “but I do know that Andrew and I will be able to deal with it, no matter what happens.”
No matter what happens, Cecilia mused. If her friend could be this brave, then she could, too.
Hurry home, Ian, she prayed. Please be safe and hurry home.