Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series

  So Jon was taking photographs of people now. For one unchecked second, she wondered about the woman who’d captured his attention so completely and felt an unexpected and unwelcome surge of jealousy.

  Wonder at his skill quickly overcame her ambivalent feelings as she studied the photograph. It wasn’t necessary to see the woman’s face to experience the simple joy she found in feeding the birds. Maryellen had thrown popcorn to the seagulls herself and knew how exhilarating it could be. She’d stood at the end of that very pier and—

  Wait a minute!

  That wasn’t just any woman—that was her. Jon had taken a picture of her on the pier. Hurrying on to the next picture, she realized, much to her relief, that there was only one photograph in which she was the subject.

  Instead of feeling uplifted, Maryellen found that her spirits were low as she boarded the ferry for the fifty-minute sailing into Bremerton. That single photograph told her more than she wanted to know. He’d seen her at the pier without her being aware of him. When? It’d obviously been after their meeting at Christmas—probably during March, judging by the coat she was wearing. She’d gone to feed the seagulls during her lunch hour a few times, and he’d obviously caught sight of her. The fact that he’d taken this picture—his one and only photograph of a person—suggested he’d had genuine feelings for her. Maybe still did. And yet, she couldn’t allow herself to respond to those feelings, nor could she act on her own deep attraction to him. She just couldn’t.

  Instead of driving directly home, Maryellen surprised herself and drove to her mother’s, instead. Grace was in the kitchen, doing her weekly cooking. She’d recently gotten into the habit of preparing, freezing and storing everything she’d need for the next six days—until the following Sunday, when she’d start the whole cycle again.

  “I’m trying a few new recipes,” she told Maryellen, busily arranging vegetables, cans and other ingredients on the counter. “Have you had dinner?”

  “Not yet. I’m still full from brunch.” Her appetite was gone, but it had more to do with her churning thoughts than an empty stomach.

  “What’s wrong?” her mother asked.

  “What makes you think anything’s wrong? It’s Mother’s Day, and I’d like to spend some extra time with my mother. That doesn’t mean anything’s wrong, does it?”

  Grace tore a strip of aluminum foil from the box and covered a small casserole dish she’d just withdrawn from the oven. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you sound defensive.”

  “Maybe I should just go home.” Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Her mother could read her far too well.

  “Did you see him?” Grace shocked her by asking.

  Maryellen didn’t bother to ask who she meant. That was obvious. “No,” she said. “No.” For emphasis, she shook her head.

  Setting the teakettle on the burner, Grace heated water. It seemed that every time they had something important to discuss, her mother made tea. It signaled that her mother considered whatever was to follow significant, something that required her daughter’s close attention.

  “Mom…”

  “Sit down and don’t argue with me,” her mother said briskly. She pulled out the kitchen chair and gave Maryellen a slight shove in its direction.

  All too soon, the tea was steeping, and the pot rested in the center of the table. “You already know I was pregnant with you when your father and I got married.”

  Maryellen knew this and wasn’t interested in learning whether her parents would have married had her mother not been pregnant.

  “Getting married was the thing to do in those days.”

  “Times have changed,” Maryellen felt obliged to remind her. Statistics said that a third of all children were now born outside wedlock. Other women had raised their children alone and so would she.

  “He’s an artist, isn’t he?”

  “Mom.” The questions exasperated her. “I’ve already told you I’m not answering any questions to do with the baby’s father, so please don’t ask.”

  “You’re right, you’re absolutely right.” Grace tapped the table, as though angry with herself for meddling. “I didn’t mean to do that…. Actually, I’d planned to talk about your father and me. We spent more than thirty-five years together and…well, I don’t know if I was the best wife for him. I think he might’ve been happier with another woman. For all we know, that could be the reason he left.”

  “I doubt it,” Maryellen said, grateful for the chance to speak honestly about her father. She couldn’t do that with Kelly, who viewed him as virtually a saint, without fault. Kelly refused to recognize the truth about their father; for some reason, she was incapable of seeing him in any other way. “You know, I can hardly remember a time when Dad was happy. He went into those dark moods, and both Kelly and I knew to avoid him.”

  Grace nodded.

  “He seemed to get so self-involved.” Maryellen’s memories of her father weren’t all bad, but in the months since his disappearance, those were the ones that drifted to the surface. “You can’t blame yourself, Mom.”

  “I don’t,” Grace said, looking flustered. “What I’m trying to say, and doing a poor job of, is this.” She released a deep breath. “When it comes to the father of your baby, my advice is to follow your instincts. Don’t do what everyone else thinks is best, do what your own heart tells you.”

  “I am, Mom, I am.”

  “Then that’s all I can ask.”

  Maryellen smiled and leaned over to clasp her mother’s hand. “Thanks, Mom—I needed to hear that. Now, how about some of that pasta casserole over there? I suddenly feel hungry.”

  Almost a week later, on Friday afternoon, Grace was still thinking about her conversation with Maryellen. She prayed she’d said the right things. If Maryellen had decided to keep the father out of her life, there had to be a reason. At times she sensed an uncertainty in her daughter—as if she doubted her own decision—but if so, Maryellen didn’t discuss it with her. After the baby was born, Maryellen might well have a change of heart.

  Her assistant, Loretta Bailey, got to the library early so Grace could leave for what she’d vaguely termed an “appointment.” As soon as Loretta showed up, Grace grabbed her sweater, eager to depart before she was barraged with unnecessary questions.

  “Thanks, Loretta,” she called back as she headed out the door.

  “Oh, no problem. Are you seeing that nice man friend of yours?”

  She must have something taped to her forehead, Grace thought with a sigh, because Maryellen had asked her the same thing earlier, when they’d met for lunch.

  “Cliff asked me to drive him to the airport.” After everything he’d done for her over the past months, it was a small thing to request. “He’s taking some of the memorabilia from his grandfather’s estate to a museum in Arizona.”

  “Oh, that’s right, his grandfather was a famous Hollywood cowboy, wasn’t he?”

  “The Yodeling Cowboy, Tom Houston himself.”

  “I’m too young to remember his television show, but I certainly remember hearing about the Yodeling Cowboy,” Loretta said. “My brothers used to try yodeling, and all it did was frighten the neighborhood cats.”

  Grace laughed and went out to the parking lot reserved for library employees.

  By the time she arrived at Cliff’s place, he was packed and ready. The neighbors would be taking care of his horses and Cliff returned the favor for them when they were away.

  She was a few minutes early, so Grace walked out to the paddock where several of his quarter horses grazed. As she stood by the fence, a lovely tan-colored mare trotted toward her. “Hello, Brownie,” she said, stroking the mare’s long sleek neck.

  “You could have her eating out of your hand if you wanted,” Cliff said from behind Grace. “Just the same as you have me.”

  He said things like that just to make her blush; Grace was convinced of it. “Ready to go?” she asked, turning away from Brownie. It was easier to
ignore the comment than respond to it.

  “Anytime you are.”

  He loaded his suitcase into the back of her car, then got in on the passenger side. Grace pulled out of the yard, a trail of dust behind her. Two geldings raced along the fence line with her, and she admired their speed and beauty. Grace understood why Cliff chose to live this far outside town. She felt a serenity whenever she visited his small ranch. She suddenly realized that after all the years she’d spent living in town, she wouldn’t mind life in the country. She’d never expected to even consider such a thing.

  “Thanks for doing this,” Cliff said as she turned onto the road.

  “It’s the least I can do. You’ve done so much for me.”

  Without missing a beat, Cliff said, “If you feel obligated, then I suggest you think seriously about our relationship—about where we could go.”

  He said it in a joking way and she replied in a similar fashion. “Where we’re going is the airport. Now, would you cut it out?”

  “Probably not. Would you like it if I did?”

  She smiled and kept her gaze focused on the road ahead. “Probably not.”

  Cliff chuckled. “How’s Maryellen?”

  “Wearing maternity clothes now. I wouldn’t have wished this on her, but I’m amazed by how happy she is. She’s very excited about the baby.” She paused, then thinking aloud, said, “I’m pretty sure the father is one of the artists she knows.” Initially she hadn’t intended to, but Grace told him about the conversation she’d had with Maryellen on Sunday.

  Cliff listened intently. “I admire the way you can be open and honest with your daughters.”

  “You aren’t with Lisa?”

  Cliff didn’t answer right away. “Not really. We avoid the subject of her mother. It’s as if Susan’s a phantom woman. I think Lisa’s afraid of saying something that’ll hurt me, although I doubt my ex-wife has that power anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” Although Grace didn’t want to pry, she was curious about his marriage. He’d made occasional remarks, but nothing that gave her a real picture of what his life had been like before the divorce. In a way, information about the marriages—and divorces—of others helped put her own marriage in perspective.

  “I think one of the reasons you attracted me is because of Susan.”

  This instantly alarmed Grace. “You mean I resemble her?”

  “Not in the least. You couldn’t be more different. Physically, for instance. She’s tall and thin, whereas you’re short and…pleasingly round.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Grace muttered under her breath. He hadn’t intended to be insulting, but then a man didn’t understand the effort it took to keep her weight down to “pleasingly round.” Glancing over, she found him studying her with an amused look. “It’s my thighs, isn’t it?”

  He laughed at that. “Too bad you’re driving, otherwise I’d find an excuse to kiss you right now.”

  “You most certainly will not!”

  “Not for lack of interest.” He shook his head. “Don’t you know how attractive I find you?”

  Her hands gripped the steering wheel a bit more firmly. “Just explain that comment about Susan.”

  “All I meant is that you and I have a great deal in common.”

  “What, exactly?”

  “Well, for one thing, I know what it is to have the person you love get involved with someone else. It’s an emotionally damaging experience—as if every inadequacy, every doubt, I’d ever had about myself was true. If Susan had an affair, it was because there was something lacking in me.”

  She merged with the traffic, heading over the Narrows Bridge. She lowered her speed as she drove onto the mile-long expansion bridge. “You mean a man thinks like that, too?” she asked, surprised by the revelation.

  “Of course—but then we do what we can to compensate in other areas.”

  “Such as?”

  He shrugged. “For me, I got involved with horses. I ignored what was going on behind my back, because that was the only way I could deal with it. A man isn’t supposed to feel pain, you know?” he added wryly.

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Yes, well, I learned that pain comes out one way or another. I think if Susan and I had gone on as we were, it would’ve eventually killed me. She was braver than I was and decided to end our marriage. The funny part is, I was actually grateful.”

  “What does any of this have to do with me?” Grace asked.

  “Oh, yeah—that was the point of this conversation, wasn’t it?” He grinned. “When we met that first time—”

  “You mean when you absconded with my credit card?”

  “You know, I’ve thought about the significance of that a hundred times since.”

  “Finish your original sentence,” she said with mock sternness.

  “That day I came by the library to exchange credit cards, I was strongly attracted to you. I’ll admit it shook me up because I’d been divorced for five years and I wasn’t interested in another relationship. And then, all at once, it was like a bomb went off and I saw the future in a totally new way.”

  It didn’t hurt Grace’s ego any to hear this, although his interest had unsettled her in the beginning. She found herself growing more and more comfortable with it, however. For a long time she’d needed answers regarding Dan, but as the months passed, a resolution seemed increasingly unlikely and she was growing accustomed to that reality.

  “I realize now what attracted me. Or, at least, part of it.”

  She sent him a questioning glance.

  “You believe Dan’s with another woman.”

  She nodded, swallowing down the hurt the words still evoked.

  “You’ve dealt with the emotions felt by someone who’s been betrayed in his or her marriage—what I felt about Susan’s affair.”

  He could be right. In her heart of hearts, Grace was indeed convinced that Dan was with someone else. A woman he’d loved so much that he was willing to walk away from his entire life. So many things about his disappearance didn’t add up, and she had no other answers.

  Grace exited the freeway in Tacoma and took the back road into the airport. The route Dan had taught her.

  “Can I tell you my theory about the mix-up with our credit cards?” he asked.

  She laughed out loud. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

  “Well, to my way of thinking, it was fate. Destiny. Call it what you will.”

  “The waitress at the Pancake Palace wasn’t responsible?”

  “She was merely the instrument of fate.”

  Grace was both amused and intrigued by his theory. “So, we were destined to meet.”

  “Without a doubt.” He sounded convinced of it. “I’ve come to think of our meeting as a gift. A sort of compensation for all the pain that came with the divorce.”

  Grace felt her throat constrict. “That’s very sweet, Cliff.”

  “I mean it. Someday, when you’re ready, I hope we can be more than sweethearts.”

  What an old-fashioned and rather endearing term, Grace mused. “I’d like that.”

  He grew quiet and looked out the window as they neared the terminal. “I know it’s important that you find Dan. Or at least find out what happened to him.”

  “I’d like closure, but I might never have it. I accept that now. I have to get on with my life.”

  “Do you mean that?” The expression in his eyes revealed a vulnerability that touched her deeply. “Because if you do, then I want you to consider us being together, Grace.”

  “Are you talking about—” She swallowed tightly and pulled to the curb to let Cliff out. “Are you talking about us getting…serious?”

  His hand was on the door handle. “Yes,” he said simply.

  Without another word he opened the car door; she stopped him by placing her hand on his arm. “Have a safe flight.”

  “Thanks.”

  Still, her hand lingered. She leaned toward him and he moved closer for a
kiss that lasted long enough for the car behind them to honk impatiently. Cliff glanced quickly over his shoulder, then turned back to her. “Is that your answer?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, but she smiled warmly. “I’ll think on it while you’re gone.”

  “Do that,” he said, his eyes smiling into hers.

  Olivia was too excited to sit still. Stan was due any minute and with him would be James, Selina and their granddaughter, Isadora Delores Lockhart.

  “What time is it?” Charlotte asked. Her mother was as excited about this visit as she was. “I don’t know why you agreed to let Stan pick them up from the airport.”

  “Mom, it made sense. Stan lives in Seattle.”

  “Yes, I know, but it seems to be taking him forever,” she murmured fretfully.

  “They’re here!” Justine cried from her perch near the front window. Stan opened the screen door, and both Olivia and Charlotte flew out to the porch. Olivia ran down the steps, her arms open to hug her son the instant he climbed out of the car. Within minutes, Olivia held a sleepy Isadora in her arms. The baby pressed her head against Olivia’s shoulder, and her heart melted with love for this first grandchild.

  “Grandma,” James said, hugging Charlotte. “You look terrific.”

  “Well, I’m not dead yet,” Charlotte assured him and stepped forward, waiting for an introduction to Selina. “Guess my number didn’t come up.”

  James slid his arm around his wife’s waist and introduced her. Selina’s dark eyes gleamed with happiness as she hugged Charlotte and then each family member in turn.

  Seth and Justine appeared as the excited greetings wound down.

  “Look at you, big sister,” James said, patting Justine’s stomach. “Almost a mom.”

  “I’ve got months to go,” she complained.

  “Oh, then you’re just fat.”

  “Be careful what you say,” Seth advised under his breath. The two men exchanged a brief hug.

  “Welcome to the family,” James said to Seth.

  “Thanks.”

  By the time Olivia shepherded everyone into the house, she felt weak with joy. It was so rare to have the entire family together. “Where’s Marge?” she asked her ex-husband. When they’d made plans for this reunion, Olivia had included his second wife.