Window on the Bay

by Debbie Macomber

  “That suits me just fine.”

  He attacked his dinner, enjoying his food. “I was afraid I’d mess up everything else, which is why I asked Misty for help.”

  I took another bite.

  “It was a mistake to ask her. I should have known she’d turn it into a reason to cross-examine you.”

  “Stop. I truly enjoyed meeting her.” In fact, I had been thinking that it was time I introduced him to Tori and her husband. Logan and I were getting more serious, and it all seemed to be happening at a fast clip. I could understand why Jenna had felt the need to slow things down with Rowan. I probably should have done the same but couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  “Misty’s going to be bugging me now, wanting to know every tiny detail of what’s happened between you and me. I like to keep some things to myself, you know?”

  I understood. Tori knew that I’d gone out with Logan a few times, but that was all. I hadn’t mentioned that he’d come to the house last Sunday for the game.

  “Dinner was wonderful, Logan,” I said, after I’d eaten all I could.

  “Thanks.”

  “What prompted you to invite me?” I asked. It was a dangerous question, seeing that our relationship remained undefined. We were both on foreign soil, unfamiliar with how this would play out.

  He picked up his plate and carried it to the sink and set it inside. His back was to me, as if he didn’t want me to read his expression.

  “I wanted to let you know how much you mean to me, and this was the only way I could think of doing that.”

  Sucking in a small breath, I tried to calm my heart down, certain it was about to pound straight out of my chest.

  “While I was working in Moses Lake, I couldn’t believe how much I missed you,” he continued. “It’s not like I see or speak to you every day while I’m here, but at the game…at the Seahawks game when we kissed that first time…”

  “Yes?” I prompted in a whisper, which was all my vocal cords would allow. He still had his back to me, as though speaking to the window above the sink.

  “Maureen, that kiss was great. Special…I don’t know how else to describe it. I felt this connection with you, this excitement and happiness that I haven’t experienced in so long that I hardly knew how to react.”

  The kiss also had a powerful impact on me. We’d kissed again last Sunday before he’d left my house, but nothing would ever match that first kiss we’d shared at the football game.

  “It was hard for me, too, while you were working out of town.” Admitting this didn’t come easy. I felt like I was opening myself up and exposing places in my heart that I’d kept under wraps for years.

  He turned around, his gaze holding mine prisoner. “This dinner tonight.” He hesitated, as if he was unsure he should say more.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s my way of telling you that I’m glad to have met you, that you’re important to me. The truth is, I don’t know where this relationship is going. The last time I was on a date, I was in my early twenties. Things sure have changed.”

  “They have,” I agreed.

  “I guess what I’m trying to say is that wherever this is taking us, I’m along for the ride.”

  Logan wasn’t a smooth-talking man with a lot of romantic words. This was probably about as romantic as he got. It was enough for me.

  More than enough.

  CHAPTER 25

  Jenna

  Rowan and I had been spending a lot of time together, making up for when he’d been away. Following the play, we next decided to take an afternoon to wander through Pike Place Market. We’d stopped at the fish market and watched the vendor toss a hefty king salmon ten feet across a display of seafood bedded on crushed ice, much to the delight of the crowd that had gathered around the booth. Although it was early November, the tourists continued to flock to the market.

  Our plan was to purchase our dinner and cook it ourselves at my home, rather than eat out. We picked up a fresh Dungeness crab, along with a nice wine, corn on the cob, some lemons, bay leaves, and a crab-boil spice mix, as well as ingredients for a salad, a variety of fresh vegetables: small bell peppers, jícama, radishes, green onions, lettuce, and cherry tomatoes.

  Afterward, we stood in line for a latte at the original Starbucks directly across the street from the market. The day had been cloudy with breaks of sunshine, a picture-perfect early November afternoon. I wrapped a wool scarf around my neck and was grateful I had on a warm sweater under my raincoat. Mom had knit me that red scarf for Christmas one year, and it was one of my favorites.

  I enjoyed Rowan’s company. He was beginning to open up to me, becoming freer about the details of his life. Getting him to talk about himself was a slow process, like peeling layers off an artichoke, looking to find the best part in the center. Eventually, he’d trust me enough to reveal his heart. I was patient.

  This afternoon had been wonderful. We’d laughed and joked. I found him to be good company, entertaining me with his dry wit. I linked my arm around his elbow and couldn’t remember a day when I’d been happier.

  Quite simply, Rowan was the epitome of what I’d been looking for in a man and a relationship. He was the green light I’d been waiting to find all these years. Since my divorce, I’d stayed away from men in the medical profession, and I realized now how foolish I’d been.

  After our lattes, we drove to my home. I knew I’d be most comfortable cooking in my own kitchen. Rowan opened the wine bottle and poured us each a glass while I unpacked the crab and the other foodstuffs.

  He tied an apron around his waist and searched until he found a cutting board and a big bowl for our salad. Rowan worked on assembling the salad while I put a large stockpot filled with water on the stove to boil the crab.

  Rowan continued to work with his back to me. “I can’t remember a day I’ve enjoyed more,” he said, chopping up the jícama.

  “I can’t, either.” I reached for my glass of sauvignon blanc and took the first sip. It was chilled perfectly and delicious. “You know a lot about wine, don’t you?” I’d been impressed with the questions he’d asked the proprietor in the wine shop.

  “A little. I enjoy wine.”

  I did, too, and every so often had a glass before bed to help me sleep. Mostly I drank red wine, but after listening to Rowan discuss the different varietals of white wine, I was willing to venture out and sample more of the whites, especially the ones Rowan had recommended. The bottle he’d bought was a Washington State wine from Yakima Valley, where my parents were raised. My first sip told me it was an excellent wine.

  A ding rang on my phone, and I saw that it was Allie.

  You home?

  I dried my hands on a dish towel, excused myself, and answered.

  Yup. Need anything?

  I’m coming by for my black boots. Mackensie is bringing me.

  Stop on by. I have company.

  The same guy you were making out with earlier?

  I rolled my eyes and answered.

  Yup.

  Setting aside my phone, I looked at Rowan. “Allie is stopping by with a friend later.”

  Rowan nodded and continued to work on chopping the vegetables for the salad.

  He’d rarely mentioned anything about his own daughter. Well, other than recently, when he’d told me about her asking for a new vehicle. I didn’t remember him saying anything about a resolution.

  “Did everything turn out all right with your daughter’s request for a new car?”

  He shrugged. “There wasn’t much to discuss. She has a perfectly good vehicle. End of story.”

  “What is it with kids?” I asked rhetorically.

  “Allie giving you problems?” He turned to face me.

  I shrugged, unsure of how to answer. “Yes and no. She freaked out recently over me putt
ing a few of my clothes in her closet. It was thoughtless of me, I suppose. Allie never hesitates to let me know what’s on her mind. I wish that was the same case with my son.”

  “What’s going on with Paul?” Rowan asked.

  It impressed me that he remembered my son’s name. In retrospect, I realized I’d talked a great deal about my two children and knew next to nothing about his daughter.

  Rowan looked expectantly toward me, and I saw that he was waiting for me to answer his question about Paul.

  “That’s just it. I don’t know what’s going on with him. I rarely hear from Paul. It used to be that he called at least once or twice a week. Now it seems I’m lucky if I hear from him once or twice a month. We’ve always had a good relationship. Something is going on with him, but I don’t know what.”

  Now that I’d started talking about Paul, more concerns bobbed to the surface. “I feel like he’s hiding from me.” Keeping secrets wasn’t like my son, which led me to believe that whatever it was could be serious. When we talked about his classes, his responses were vague. A couple times he’d abruptly changed the subject. I was afraid he was working too many hours and his grades had slipped. He’d always maintained a high grade point average, so I didn’t feel the need to complain or to demand that he quit and concentrate on his studies.

  Rowan asked the logical question. “Have you asked him about it?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t, but I know I should. I’ve been close to my children their entire lives. Paul has always been mature for his age. After Kyle and I split, he became the man of the house. He took out the garbage, changed the burned-out lightbulbs, and when something needed to be repaired, he worked with my dad to see that it was done. And he always looked out for his little sister. They are tight.”

  “Could there be a girl in his life?” Rowan asked. “That might explain the lack of contact. She could be taking up all his free time.”

  That was a logical guess. “If so, he hasn’t mentioned her. Most of our conversations lately have centered on his job. He works in a restaurant and seems to enjoy it. I’m worried that it’s interfering with his studies, but he’s assured me it hasn’t.”

  “He sounds like he’s a levelheaded young man.”

  “He is. Paul’s the kind of kid who will be a success in whatever he decides to do in life. He has a strong work ethic and stellar character.”

  “It could be that he doesn’t want to burden you because of your mother’s situation.”

  Rowan was likely right.

  “For a while I thought I was imagining things.”

  “I’d never second-guess a mother’s intuition,” Rowan said, smiling.

  My heart swelled with gratitude at his understanding. “I can always tell when something is wrong with Paul or Allie, or if they are trying to hide something from me. They used to joke that I could read their minds, which isn’t far from the truth. That’s just how close the three of us became over the years.”

  “You say that Allie and Paul are close.”

  “They are.”

  “Then Allie might know what’s up. You could ask her. She wouldn’t need to break her brother’s confidence, but she might be able to reassure you.”

  Talking to Allie wasn’t something I’d considered. Knowing my daughter, she’d be unable to keep a secret from me, especially if she was worried about her big brother. Now that I thought about it, the fact that she hadn’t discussed anything having to do with Paul should probably reassure me that everything was okay.

  The front door banged opened and Allie blew into the house. That’s the only way I could describe it. When my daughter was on a mission, there was no stopping her.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said as she raced up the stairwell.

  “Hey, Allie…”

  My words were met with a rush of wind as my daughter flew past me. No more than a few seconds later she came back down the staircase, her knee-high boots in hand.

  Rowan joined me and placed his arm around my shoulders as we stood side by side at the bottom of the stairs.

  “You remember Rowan, don’t you?” I said, unwilling to have her rush out the door without greeting Rowan.

  Allie smiled. “Sure. Good to see you again.”

  “You, too.”

  “Where are you off to in such a rush?” I asked; I could almost see her groan at the delay. “Be—”

  “To a party. Don’t worry,” she said, cutting me off. “I know the rules.”

  “Good girl.” I leaned forward to kiss her cheek when her friend came rushing through the front door.

  “Allie, can I borrow—Dad?” She froze when she saw me and Rowan standing together.

  “Mackensie?” Rowan said, in apparent shock.

  I knew he hadn’t seen his daughter in person for years. He dropped his arm from around me, stunned that she was in front of him. “What are you doing here?” Rowan shook his head as though unable to believe what he was seeing. “Why aren’t you in California?”

  “I’m attending school here now. If you cared the least bit about me, you’d know that.” Her words were like snake venom as she struck out at Rowan. Her shoulders were straight and stiff, and her eyes hardened with every word.

  “When did you transfer?” he demanded.

  “Wait,” I said, taken aback, unsure what was happening. I raised my hands to my head and looked to Rowan. “This is your daughter? Mackensie, Allie’s friend, is your daughter?” I was more confused than ever.

  “Yes. I had no idea she was living here.”

  “No idea?” I repeated it back, to be certain I’d heard him clearly. “You told me she was at school in California.”

  His jaw tightened. “The last I heard, she was.”

  The last he heard. He didn’t know where his own daughter was living?

  Allie seemed as perplexed as me. “I don’t understand, either.” Allie turned to Mackensie. “I thought you said your dad was nothing more than a sperm donor.”

  Rowan stiffened at the comment.

  So did I. In our discussions about family, Rowan had talked little about his divorce and even less about his daughter. I hadn’t realized how little until now.

  “You didn’t know Mackensie had transferred to the University of Washington?” I asked, wanting to be sure I had the details right.

  “Mom. He doesn’t know anything about Mackensie because he’s like dad. He doesn’t care about her, or anyone else.”

  A lead weight dropped in my stomach, and for a moment I found it impossible to breathe.

  “Rowan?” I asked, my voice sounding nothing like my normal self.

  In response, he continued to stare at his daughter.

  “All those text messages you sent were from right here in Seattle?”

  Mackensie shrugged.

  “Not once did you let me know you were in town. Not once.” His words were hard, laced with hurt and pain.

  “Why should I?” she demanded. “You don’t care about me. You never have.”

  “You know that’s not true,” Rowan said.

  Mackensie grabbed ahold of the sleeve of Allie’s jacket. “Let’s go. We’ve got a party to get to.”

  The girls rushed out the door, closing it behind them.

  I remained rooted to the spot, unable to move, hardly able to breathe. Rowan had abandoned his daughter the same way Kyle had conveniently forgotten he had two children.

  “Jenna.” He said my name softly. “Let me explain.”

  A sad, sick feeling stole over me. “What can you possibly say that would explain this?” I asked. More than once Allie had mentioned that Mackensie and she had a lot in common, beginning with the fact that they had both grown up without a father.

  “I love my daughter,” Rowan insisted. “Her mother—”

  “So you’re blaming he
r mother?”

  “Yes,” he insisted.

  I imagined that was the same excuse Kyle used when his significant others had learned he had two children from a previous marriage. It was my fault. I’d taken his children away from him, prevented him from having any kind of relationship. One of his wives, I forget which one, had told me so. She didn’t know about Paul or Allie until after they had married. Kyle had conveniently forgotten to mention his children. The blame had all fallen on me.

  And now Rowan was making the same claim. His ex was at fault. She’d kept his daughter away from him. I was too smart to believe that.

  I refused to look at him. “I think you should go.”

  “If you’d let me explain,” he said in a consoling tone, as if being reasonable and gentle was going to win me over.

  Shaking my head, I refused. “I’ve heard everything I need to hear. No wonder you never wanted to talk about the past. You’d put your daughter in your past, right along with the end of your marriage.”

  “I’ve always supported my daughter.”

  “That doesn’t impress me, Rowan.” Kyle had done the same thing: He’d paid child support, but he gave nothing more of himself to his children. That Rowan had done the same with his daughter was unacceptable to me.

  “Please go.”

  For a minute, I thought he would argue with me, or at least put up some sort of defense. He must have recognized that it wouldn’t do any good to try to talk to me. I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. I could be reasonable and forgive a lot of things, but an absentee father wasn’t one of them.

  CHAPTER 26

  Allie

  Allie was concerned. Mackensie had been acting strangely ever since they’d left the house following the confrontation with her father. The party they’d both been looking forward to all week had turned out to be a bust.

  After putting in money for their share of the alcohol, the first thing Mackensie did was head into the kitchen for a shot of whiskey, abandoning Allie. She’d been drinking steadily ever since they arrived, with Allie keeping an eye out for her from afar.