“What’s going on here?” he asked, obviously surprised to find Olivia and Troy in his home.
“Dan!” Grace’s relief at seeing him was so great, she started to weep. “Oh, Dan. Dear God in heaven, where were you? I’ve been out of my mind with worry.”
He ignored her. “Is there a problem here, Troy?” he asked stiffly.
“No.” The sheriff stood, tore the report free from his clipboard and folded it in half. He handed it to Grace and, without a word of farewell, headed out the front door.
“I’d better get ready for court,” Olivia said. She glared fiercely in Dan’s direction and quickly left.
“You called Troy?” Dan said as soon as they were alone. He glowered at her as though she’d done something wrong.
“Where were you?” Grace cried again, unable to hold back her anger or her tears. “Don’t you realize what you put me through?”
“It’s none of your damn business where I was.”
“Like hell!” she shouted. “You’re my husband.”
Dan scowled darkly. “I refuse to allow this marriage to be a ball and chain around my neck.”
Grace was so shocked, she couldn’t restrain herself. “You go out and spend the entire night God-knows-where,” she screamed, “and then casually come home as if nothing happened? You expect me to pretend everything’s all right?” She couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t.
“Where I was and what I was doing are my own damn business.” He marched into the bedroom. Grace followed him.
“You were with another woman, weren’t you?” Her heart ached as she asked the question.
“Yeah, Gracie, I was with someone else.”
“Who is she?”
Dan’s responding laugh lacked humor.
“I have a right to know that much.”
Dan refused to answer her question. Then he went to his drawer and took out a fresh change of underwear. “I haven’t got time for this.”
“You don’t have time,” she repeated. How dared he, after all the anguish he’d caused? For a moment she thought she was going to be physically ill.
He stomped into the bathroom. Grace went in the opposite direction and slammed the bedroom door so hard their daughters’ graduation pictures flew off the wall. They crashed onto the hardwood floor of the hallway, shattering the glass.
Horrified by what she’d done, Grace stared at the beautiful faces of her children and wanted to grind her teeth with frustration.
“Go to hell!” she yelled at her husband.
The bedroom door opened and Dan stood there. He wore a hard, unyielding look. “Been there, Gracie. What else would you call the last thirty-five years?”
Grace didn’t show up for their next exercise class. Olivia knew that relations with Dan had been rocky since his disappearing act. Grace hadn’t explained Dan’s disappearance or where he’d been, and Olivia didn’t pry. If there was another woman involved, then the matter was best settled between husband and wife. Still, Olivia couldn’t help worrying.
In addition to that, she had other concerns. At the top of her list just now was Justine.
Her daughter had been avoiding her again, despite Olivia’s efforts to build a bridge between them. She longed for them to be close, the way she was with her own mother. Perhaps it was too late for that; she hoped not and would willingly make any overtures. She vowed that under no circumstances would she bring up the subject of Warren Saget. Olivia’s one wish was that she and Justine simply enjoy each other’s company.
Olivia had invited Justine for lunch on Saturday, and Justine had accepted. Using one of her mother’s favorite recipes, she prepared a main-dish chicken salad. Personally, Olivia would have preferred a restaurant meal, which would’ve been easier all around. Having lunch here, however, would allow for a more relaxed, casual atmosphere—and greater privacy. At a restaurant there was always the chance they’d run into someone they knew and get sidetracked.
Justine showed up right on time. She brought a small bouquet of yellow daffodils and gave Olivia a perfunctory kiss on the cheek as she walked into the house.
“How thoughtful,” Olivia said, touched by the gesture. She found a vase for the flowers and set them in the middle of the kitchen table.
“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten together for lunch,” Justine commented, grabbing a breadstick from the table.
“Too long.” Olivia removed the salad from the refrigerator, filled two plates, and carried them to the table. A kettle of water waited on the stove for tea later on.
Her beautiful daughter sat across from her, and Olivia had the sudden urge to speak from her heart. “I don’t think I tell you often enough how much I love you.”
Justine stared at her as if she didn’t know how to react, then smiled. “This has to do with James, doesn’t it?”
Nothing could be further from the truth. Still, she asked, “How do you mean?”
“I know it was a shock, his suddenly getting married like that, without any of the family even knowing or being there.”
“This has nothing to do with your brother, and everything to do with us.” Olivia found herself growing irritated with both Justine and herself. It shouldn’t be so difficult to tell your child she was deeply loved.
“Oh, Mother, don’t start.”
“Start what?”
“You’re worried about the fact that I’m seeing Warren and—”
“This has nothing to do with your boyfriend, either.”
Her daughter laughed. “Boyfriend? You make me sound sixteen.”
“Justine,” Olivia said, trying to control her irritation. “As I told you, this isn’t about your brother, your boyfriend, your job or anything else. I’m your mother, and I want us to be able to talk, to share, to laugh together, and I’m hoping you want that, too. I’ve felt…I don’t know, that we’re somewhat estranged these days. Distant. I don’t know why it’s happened, but I don’t like it. I love you.”
If Justine rolled her eyes, Olivia swore she’d…well, she didn’t know what she’d do. Weep, maybe.
Justine didn’t make a scornful face or flip remark; in fact she seemed to have difficulty taking in the words. She went still and after a moment, she met Olivia’s gaze and whispered, “I love you, too, Mom.”
Olivia swallowed the lump in her throat and picked up her fork. Perhaps there was hope of reaching her daughter, after all.
“What would you like to discuss?” Justine asked.
Olivia wasn’t sure. She quickly reviewed a number of topics and remembered a notice in Wednesday’s paper. Not wanting to mention the source for fear of diverting the conversation to her relationship with Jack Griffin, she spoke in an offhand manner. “It’s your ten-year class reunion this year, isn’t it?”
Justine set down her fork and sighed. “Yes, I know.”
Ten years? It hardly seemed possible. “You’ll be attending, of course.”
To Olivia’s surprise, her daughter hesitated. “Actually, I’m not sure.”
“Why not?” But Olivia knew. Warren. It might embarrass Justine to show up with a man old enough to be her father. More likely, Warren would simply decline.
“I’d probably have to go alone. It’s bad enough that I’m still single, but to come without a date—I don’t know if my ego can stand it.”
“You have several single friends who’ll probably be there.”
“I suppose,” Justine said doubtfully.
This was exactly the sort of event that might open her daughter’s eyes. Olivia hoped that if Justine saw her high-school friends, she’d recognize how completely wrong Warren was for her.
“There’s a meeting later in the week,” Justine said.
Olivia remembered that her daughter had been a senior class officer. Surely she’d be involved in planning the reunion. Since Justine was the local bank manager, the reunion committee would likely welcome her expertise with finances.
“Will you be helping?” Olivia pressed.
J
ustine sighed. “Probably,” she said in a resigned voice. Then she brightened. “Do you remember Julie Wyatt and Annie Willoughby? I haven’t seen either of them in years and they both live right here in Cedar Cove.”
Olivia remembered both families well.
“Seth Gunderson still lives in town, too,” Justine murmured.
Olivia remembered Seth because he’d been Jordan’s best friend. He’d been fishing with his father in Alaska at the time of her son’s accident. Olivia had never forgotten the letter the thirteen-year-old boy had written her and Stan after he’d learned of Jordan’s death. The few short lines, a simple expression of grief and condolence, had touched her heart.
“I always liked Seth,” Olivia said thoughtfully. “Whatever became of him?”
Justine shrugged. “I’m not sure. I know he still fishes in Alaska every summer, which means he probably won’t be home for the reunion.”
That saddened her. If Olivia were to handpick a husband for her daughter, she’d choose a man like Seth.
“Oh, no, you don’t, Mom.” Justine good-naturedly waved her finger. “I can see the wheels turning in your head. You want to link me up with Seth, but I’m not interested.”
“What’s wrong with Seth?”
“Well, first of all, he hasn’t got a brain in his head.”
“Oh, Justine, that’s not true!”
“All that ever interested him was sports.”
“Ah, yes, he was good at sports.” Seth had been the star football and basketball player through all four years of high school.
“He’s a fisherman, for crying out loud!”
Olivia frowned; she hadn’t raised her daughter to be a snob. “He’s a hard worker, Justine, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“As opposed to Warren?”
“No!” Olivia refused to get drawn into that argument. “We’re talking about Seth.”
“Mother, he lives on his boat at the marina. I like Seth, don’t get me wrong, but he’s a big oaf. I haven’t talked to him once since we graduated and I sincerely doubt we have anything more in common than we did in high school.”
Olivia sighed inwardly. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to suggest that Seth is the right man for you.” Well, yes, she did, but she could hardly admit it. “Someday you’ll find the one, and in fact you may have already.” She had to grit her teeth to say it, but if Justine married Warren, Olivia would somehow manage to welcome him into the family.
Her daughter looked away. “When James first called to tell me he and Selina were married—and that she’s pregnant—I was so relieved.”
“Relieved?” That was a curious reaction.
“It took the pressure off me. I know you want grandchildren and I want you to have them.” She straightened and met Olivia’s gaze. “But unfortunately, you won’t get them from me.”
“Justine—”
“Listen to me, Mom, please, just this once. I have no intention of ever marrying or having children. I realize you’re concerned about my relationship with Warren, but you don’t need to be. He treats me well and I enjoy his company most of the time, but I’m not serious about him.”
“You don’t want to get married?”
She shook her head. “I know I’m a disappointment to you and I’m sorry, but please accept that I’m just not interested in being a wife or a mother.”
Olivia let the words sink into her heart, then nodded. “I said it earlier and I meant it. I love you, Justine, not for what you do but for who you are.”
Her daughter blinked back tears and lowered her head in order to hide the emotion from Olivia, but it was too late. She saw.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Then as if nothing noteworthy had transpired between them, they went back to eating their salads.
Every afternoon as Cecilia arrived for work, she looked across Cedar Cove to the Bremerton shipyard, where the George Washington was still berthed. It’d been more than a week since her dinner with Ian and she hadn’t heard a word from him. Before he’d left her that night, he’d promised to get in touch prior to sailing. Apparently the aircraft carrier was still undergoing repairs.
Cecilia knew she had no right to feel disappointed that he hadn’t called. He didn’t have any reason to contact her, other than to leave her the keys to his car.
The dinner and movie had been wonderful; the lovemaking, too. Until he’d abruptly left, Cecilia had begun to feel that they’d made a breakthrough in their relationship. Now she wasn’t sure what to think. And she was horrified that they’d done something as foolish as having unprotected sex. Granted, the likelihood of her being pregnant was very slight, but anyone might figure she’d learned her lesson the first time. Apparently not. When she was in his arms, she’d felt desired—and reassured. Safe. Then he’d dressed and run out as if he couldn’t get away fast enough.
Now this silence. She didn’t understand any of it.
Perhaps Ian was waiting for her to call him. She couldn’t remember exactly what they’d said before he walked out the door. Nothing of importance. Nothing she could even remember. All she could think at the time was that she didn’t want him to leave, but couldn’t ask him to stay, either.
The more she thought about phoning him, the more appealing the idea became. By the end of her shift on Monday night, she’d decided to call Ian first thing after her classes on Tuesday.
All morning Cecilia found herself eyeing the time. She had no idea what Ian’s work schedule was. She hoped he’d be available, but if not, she could always leave him a message.
She knew he was living on base and had a cell phone; she’d written the number in her address book more than a year ago. She called from a pay phone on the community college campus. The phone rang four times and then she got his voice mail, inviting her to leave a message.
“Ian,” she said, worried now that she might be doing the wrong thing. “It’s Cecilia…I hadn’t heard from you and was wondering if you’d changed your mind about the car…which is fine. I mean, I don’t need it or anything. My car’s running great. I’ll talk to you later—that is, if you still want to talk to me.” The last part came out sounding defensive. He’d wanted her badly enough earlier, but apparently sex was all he’d been after. She quickly hung up the receiver and felt foolish, wishing now that she hadn’t given in to the impulse.
Wednesday afternoon when she showed up for work, Cecilia was convinced that Ian wanted nothing more to do with her. Just as the dinner hour was picking up and she was at her busiest, her father appeared.
“There’s a call for you.”
Her heart raced. “Me?” It had to be Ian. No one else would think to contact her here.
“You can take it at the bar,” he told her, glancing around for their boss.
Cecilia quickly abandoned her duties and hurried in. Her hands were moist, her mouth dry with anticipation.
“This is Cecilia Randall,” she said into the mouthpiece, eagerly anticipating Ian’s voice.
Only it wasn’t her husband on the other end of the line. Instead, Andrew Lackey answered.
“We met not long ago, remember?”
“Of course. Where’s Ian?” He might have been transferred again. The Navy did that, often without rhyme or reason—at least in her opinion.
“Listen, I thought you should know. Ian’s in the hospital.”
She gasped. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing too serious. He took a tumble and wrenched his back. Apparently he hit his head, too, because he has a concussion. They’re keeping him for observation.”
“When did it happen?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Oh.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. I just thought you’d like to know.”
“Yes, thank you.”
As soon as they’d finished the conversation, Cecilia walked over to her father. “Ian’s been hurt…I’m going to the hospital. Find someone to cover for me, would you?”
“Sure thing.
You go, and I’ll hold down the fort.”
Grateful, she smiled at her father and impulsively hugged him. “Thanks, Dad.” The tears sprang to her eyes.
“Hey, none of that. Now, give Ian my best and let me know if you need anything.”
“I will,” she said and hurriedly reached for her coat and purse.
The drive to the Navy Hospital in Bremerton seemed to take forever. Her car belched thick smoke as she turned off the freeway and headed for the extensive parking lot outside the hospital.
She quickly found out where she needed to go. Breathless, Cecilia charged into the elevator. Once she’d located his room, she paused in the hallway for a moment, just long enough to brush a hand through her hair and draw in a deep breath. Then she knocked at the door.
No one answered, so she opened it and stepped inside. At her first sight of her husband, Cecilia couldn’t prevent an exclamation of shock. Andrew had led her to believe that Ian had suffered a minor fall, that the only reason he’d been hospitalized was as a precaution. One quick look told her his injuries were far worse than she’d expected.
Ian lifted his bandaged head and when he saw who it was, he groaned.
“What happened?” she asked, moving fully into the room.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, and it was plain she was the last person he wanted to see.
“I-I…Andrew called me, and…”
He frowned, and winced; no wonder, she thought. One side of his face was swollen and badly bruised. His left eye was completely shut and there was a bandage around his left arm.
“What’s the other guy look like?” she asked, hoping a light approach would relax him.
He ignored the question.
“Ian…what’s wrong?”
“I didn’t ask you to come here,” he returned gruffly.
“I know. I came because I wanted to make sure you were all right.” She didn’t mention that she’d risked her job to do so. Her father had said he’d cover for her, but in her rush, she hadn’t spoken to her boss and had left without permission.
“As you can see, I’m just hunky-dory, so you can leave now.”
His words stung. “That’s rude.”
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