“Andrew says they’re putting into port soon.”
“Australia?”
Cathy gave an exaggerated sigh and propped her chin on one knee. “I’ve always wanted to visit the South Pacific.”
“Me, too.”
“In his last letter, Andrew wrote about the night sky,” Cathy said in a soft voice.
Cecilia stopped rereading the directions to listen. Ian loved the stars and was actually quite knowledgeable about the planets and constellations. She remembered the clear summer night he’d pointed out Cassiopeia and recounted the ancient Greek legend about its formation. Cecilia had been enthralled—and she’d learned something new about her husband.
“Andrew said there are a billion stars out at night,” Cathy was saying. “At first he was disappointed because there seemed to be a thin cloud cover that obscured his view.” She paused and laughed softly. “Then Ian told him the cloud cover he was complaining about was actually the Milky Way.”
“Wow.”
She nodded. “Andrew said he’d never seen anything like it.”
Cecilia looked at her friend and was surprised to find tears in her eyes. “You miss him, don’t you?”
Cathy bit her lip and nodded. “Cecilia,” she whispered and reached for her hand, gripping it hard. “I’m pregnant again.”
The again was what threw Cecilia. Andrew and Cathy didn’t have children.
“I miscarried the first two pregnancies,” Cathy explained in a voice that trembled with emotion. “I…don’t know if I can go through that agony a third time.”
Cecilia glanced toward her bedroom and the single photograph she had of Allison. It was a dreadful photo taken shortly after her daughter’s birth. Allison had been so small, her skin so pallid. The hospital had stuck a tiny pink bow in her hair and someone had snapped the shot. It proved to be the only one she would ever have, and Cecilia treasured it.
Looking embarrassed, Cathy wiped her eyes and said, “I knew you’d understand.”
“Oh, I do.”
Impulsively they hugged. The damp towel slipped to the floor, and Cathy buried her face in Cecilia’s shoulder.
“I figure it happened when the George Washington returned for repairs.”
Cecilia was fortunate not to be in the same predicament herself. “You aren’t going to tell Andrew?”
Cathy frowned. “He’ll just worry. He’s half a world away, and there isn’t a thing he can do.”
“You want children?”
Cathy nodded, but the admission seemed to cause her pain. “More than anything. Andrew, too. When I miscarried the first time, we were upset, but when I lost the second pregnancy, it devastated us both. I can’t imagine what’ll happen if I miscarry this time….”
“What do the doctors say?”
“That everything looks normal and healthy, but we were told the same thing before.”
“Was there a medical reason for the miscarriages?”
“No. That’s what makes it so frustrating. They couldn’t find anything wrong.”
“Oh, Cathy…” Cecilia didn’t know what to say that would ease her friend’s fears.
“No one can figure it out. Twice now, and I can’t seem to stay pregnant for more than three months.” She gnawed on her lower lip. “I’m about nine weeks along and I’m so scared.” As if she were suddenly cold, Cathy folded her arms tightly. “I know this sounds crazy, but when I first found out, I actually considered terminating the pregnancy.”
Cecilia said nothing. Cathy needed to confide in her, and this was not the time to be judgmental or to argue with her friend.
“I kept thinking I’d rather lose the baby early than build my hopes up. Now I realize how ludicrous that kind of thinking is.” She drew in a deep breath. “No one else knows I’m pregnant, not even my parents. I didn’t want to say anything until I’m in my fourth month…if I make it that far.”
Cecilia could understand the fear and the doubt. It wasn’t only her own hopes Cathy didn’t want to dash. She was considering those of her husband and her family, as well. Cecilia knew what a difficult burden that was. And she knew that such a burden only grew heavier if you couldn’t share it.
“I can’t promise you that this pregnancy is going to be different from the first two,” she said solemnly, holding Cathy’s gaze. “No one knows what the future will bring. But I can promise that whatever happens, I’ll be there for you.”
“Oh, Cecilia, you don’t know how much that means to me.” Cathy wiped her cheeks with her fingers. “I’m so emotional when I’m pregnant.”
Cecilia’s laugh was poignant. “You and me both.” The first few months she was pregnant with Allison, she’d wept at the flimsiest excuses. A sentimental television commercial could reduce her to a sniveling, tissue-packing blob. The bouts sometimes lasted for hours.
Cathy touched Cecilia’s arm. “Are you afraid to have another baby, too?”
The mere thought resulted in stark terror. “I…won’t. Ian knows how I feel.” Cecilia stopped just short of confessing that this was one of the reasons she felt compelled to follow through with the divorce.
“Give it time,” Cathy advised, and they hugged once more. “Good grief,” she said, forcing a laugh. “My hair’s dry already.”
Grabbing the plastic hook, Cecilia held it up. “I’m ready to torture you.”
“Just remember I get my turn later.”
The afternoon passed in a whirl of giggles, chatter and popcorn, and by the time Cathy left, Cecilia was tired but exhilarated. The blond streaks were a success. But far more important, their friendship had become stronger and deeper because of what Cathy had shared. Cecilia understood why she’d confided in her. Cathy knew that, of all the women in their small group, Cecilia was the only one who could identify with the trauma and the recriminations that followed the loss of a child. It didn’t matter that Cathy was only a few months pregnant when she miscarried. Her unborn children had laid claim to her heart.
As she readied for bed that evening, Cecilia stared at the one picture she had of Allison. The dried bouquet from her wedding had been fashioned into a heart-shaped frame.
“They’re from your daddy,” she whispered to her daughter.
Then, because she was weak and because her heart ached, Cecilia reached for a pad and pen.
May 16th
Dear Ian,
I wasn’t going to write you again. I probably shouldn’t now. Nothing has changed. Nothing will. Still, I find that you’re on my mind and I hope we can at least be friendly toward each other.
I spent the day with Cathy Lackey. Don’t tell Andrew, but his wife is partially blond now, thanks to me. While she was here, Cathy mentioned that the George Washington would be docking in Sydney Harbour this week. You always said you’d see the Southern Cross. Is it as incredible as you hoped? I imagine it is.
I was going to drop out of school. Really, I couldn’t see the point of sticking it out. At the rate of two classes a quarter, it’ll take me a hundred years to get a degree, but then I decided that it didn’t matter if I ever got one. I like school, and as Mr. Cavanaugh said, knowledge is never wasted. I really like Mr. Cavanaugh. He’s the kind of person I wish my father was, although I have to admit Bobby tries. He does. When the flowers arrived for our anniversary and I started to cry, he patted my back—and then walked away. Oh, well…But later he confessed that every year on the anniversary of his divorce, he gets drunk. I think that was supposed to comfort me. In some odd way, it did.
This isn’t a very long letter and I’m not even sure I’ll mail it. Basically, I wanted to thank you for the flowers and tell you Happy Anniversary, too.
All my best,
Cecilia
May 26th
My dearest Cecilia,
I’ve hardly ever been as excited as I was this morning at mail call. I’d given up on hearing from you. Andrew said my shout was heard three decks below. Thank you, thank you and thank you again for mailing that letter. You have no idea
how badly I needed to hear from you.
I’m glad you got the flowers. Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart. It’s been one hell of a first year, hasn’t it? From here on out, it’ll be better. You feel it, too, don’t you?
I did see the Southern Cross, and it was even more exciting than I’d dreamed. That experience could only have been improved in one way—having you beside me when I found it.
I can’t write much. I’m on duty in five minutes and I want to mail this as soon as I can. There’s only one more thing I want to say. You mentioned that your father gets drunk on the anniversary of his divorce. He obviously has more than a few regrets. Don’t make the same mistake he did, Cecilia. We need each other. I love you. There’s nothing we can’t work through. Not one damn thing. Remember that, all right?
Ian
“Anything?” Kelly asked hopefully as she slid into the booth at the Pancake Palace. The restaurant was a local favorite, where the food was good and the portions hearty. Sunday mornings, the lineup to get a table often stretched out the door.
Grace’s daughter had phoned earlier in the week, and they’d agreed to meet Friday after work. With no reason to hurry home, Grace was free to have dinner out. Yet she felt an unaccountable urge to rush back to the house on Rosewood Lane. It was just habit, she decided. Thirty-five years of habit.
“No news,” Grace answered.
“Mom, he can’t have dropped off the face of the earth. Someone must know something.”
If that was the case, no one had bothered to tell her. One thing Grace did know was that she could no longer afford Roy McAfee’s services. He’d made some suggestions to help her track down her missing husband, but Grace had run into a solid row of dead ends. Discouraged and defeated, she’d given up trying. Even if she did manage to locate Dan, what could she possibly say? It wasn’t as though she intended to beg him to come home.
The waitress brought them menus and Grace chose a chef’s salad and coffee, while Kelly ordered a chicken sandwich and a glass of milk.
“Why would Daddy do something like this?” Kelly asked—as she’d already asked dozens of times.
If Grace knew the answer to that, she could stop listening to the voices in her head. Besides her own emotions, she had those of her children to consider. Maryellen had reacted with outrage and anger. Kelly was more hurt. The younger of the two girls, she’d always been closest to her father. Even as a child, Kelly had followed Dan around; while she was a teenager, she and Grace had constantly been at odds. Yet even through the worst of her rebellion, Kelly had steered clear of any major confrontation with her father.
Grace waited until they’d finished their meals before she broached the subject she wanted to discuss. “Your father’s been gone six weeks now.”
“I know,” Kelly said, sounding exasperated. “Mom, I’m so worried about him.”
“I am, too.” Although she was more worried about what she’d do once she found him. “I want you to know I’ve seen an attorney.”
Kelly stared at her as if she didn’t understand. “An attorney can help you find Dad?”
“No. I’ve decided to file for divorce.”
Kelly reached for her water glass. She took a sip and Grace could see that her daughter was struggling to hold on to her composure. “Mom, don’t! Please don’t. Dad’s coming back. I know he is—and when he does, we’ll discover what this is all about. There’s a logical reason he had to leave the way he did.”
“I’m not doing this to punish your father. It’s for legal reasons.”
“Legal reasons,” Kelly repeated, frowning.
She told her about the need to cancel all their credit cards and her responsibility for half of any debts he assumed. What she didn’t mention was that Dan had used the VISA to purchase a ring for another woman. Every time she thought about her husband doing such a thing, knowing full well that she’d investigate the charge, she nearly broke down and wept.
“You still think Daddy’s got a girlfriend, don’t you?”
Grace heard the challenge in her daughter’s voice. She wanted to protect her children, hide the truth from them, but the charade had become too much for her. Dan wasn’t concerned about protecting her. He’d left her open to ridicule, speculation and embarrassment.
“You can’t honestly think he’d do that,” Kelly insisted.
“That’s exactly what I think,” Grace said without apology. “Everything leads me to believe he’s involved with someone else.”
Kelly shook her head so hard her earring flew across the table. “Not Dad.”
“I don’t want to believe it, either,” Grace said quietly as Kelly retrieved the earring. “Do you think it gives me any pleasure to tell you I’m seeking a divorce? Your father and I have been married for thirty-five years. This isn’t a decision I’ve made lightly.”
“Wait,” Kelly pleaded.
“For what?” Financial ruin? Dan could accumulate all kinds of expenses and as she’d explained, she’d be legally responsible for half the debt. A divorce would protect her from that.
“Wait until after the baby’s born,” Kelly whispered, her voice cracking.
“Oh, Kelly.”
“Does Maryellen know you want to divorce Dad?”
“I talked to her last week.” She’d delayed mentioning it to Kelly for exactly this reason. No matter what Dan was guilty of doing, Kelly would find an excuse for him.
“The baby doesn’t have anything to do with the divorce,” Grace said firmly. “Nothing at all.”
Kelly’s beautiful blue eyes clouded with tears. “Give him more time. It’s only been six weeks.”
Six hellish weeks. The six longest weeks of Grace’s life. Her daughter apparently didn’t understand what Dan’s disappearance had done to her. It was difficult to hold up her head in public. Difficult to meet library patrons with a smile when it felt as though her life had been ripped in half. Grace saw the pitying looks in their eyes. She heard the whispers and knew they were talking about her.
“This baby deserves to be brought into a whole family,” Kelly said stubbornly.
Grace wondered if it’d do any good to point out that she wasn’t the one who’d splintered the family unit. Dan had walked out on her, not the other way around.
Then, as if she’d been waiting to deliver the final punch, Kelly reached for her purse and removed a shiny piece of rolled paper.
“What’s that?” Grace asked.
“A picture of your grandchild.”
Grace’s heart started to pound faster. “You had your ultrasound?”
Kelly nodded. “Here’s your grandbaby, Mother.”
This technology hadn’t been available when Grace was pregnant with the girls. She studied the circular array of lines and squinted, barely able to make out the baby’s form.
“Oh, my goodness,” Grace whispered, awed by the sight.
“That’s Dad’s grandbaby, too,” Kelly said.
Grace’s heart sank.
“Tell me you’ll wait before you file for divorce.”
“Kelly…”
“Please?”
Grace sighed. “All right, but just until after the baby’s born. Deal?”
Kelly gave her a relieved smile. “Deal.”
Thirteen
Olivia Lockhart left the Boeing 767 and stepped off the jetway. She was just returning from San Diego and a one-week visit with her son, his wife and their new baby. Isabella Dolores Lockhart was born in the wee hours of May eighteenth. The following morning, unable to stay away a moment longer, Olivia had boarded a plane for California. In seven short days, she’d fallen completely in love with her first grandchild.
Collecting her luggage, Olivia glanced around, wondering if Justine was late. Her daughter had volunteered to pick her up at Sea-Tac Airport and was normally punctual. Her suitcase in hand, unsure what to do, Olivia walked over to the bank of phones.
“Looking for a familiar face?” a man asked from behind her.
Olivia knew t
he sound of her ex-husband’s voice as well as she knew her own. “Stan! What are you doing here?”
“What else? I came to collect you.”
“But Justine—”
“I asked her to let me do the honors.”
Olivia couldn’t help feeling surprised. She rarely saw Stan and they didn’t speak all that often. At fifty-six, he was still vital and handsome, and she smiled as he kissed her cheek, then relieved her of her bag. She’d vowed to love this man all her life—and despite the divorce, still did. It was a love that continued to this day because of everything they’d once meant to each other. Because of what they’d had—and what they’d lost.
“I thought this would give you an opportunity to tell me about the baby. How’s James?”
After her visit, Olivia felt reassured. “I don’t think we need to worry about James.”
“You like his wife?”
“Very much,” she told him. “I have pictures of the baby. Oh, Stan, she’s adorable.”
“Don’t tell me you’re turning into one of those silly grandmas with a purse full of pictures.”
“In a heartbeat. I’ve waited a long time for this.” Most of the friends they’d once shared were grandparents several times over by now.
Together they headed toward the short-term parking on Sea-Tac’s lower level. Olivia told him about the baby as they went, barely paying attention as Stan paid for parking and led the way down the escalator. They walked along the row of parked cars until he suddenly stopped in front of a red convertible.
Olivia did a double take. Stan in a BMW? A convertible, no less. Leave it to her ex-husband to buy a convertible in a city that had three solid months of rain every year!
“When did you get this?” she asked, not even trying to disguise her amusement.
“Do you like it?”
“I absolutely love it! You’ll put the top down, won’t you?”
“If that’s what you want.”
He was smiling as he slid into the front seat. He started the engine and made a real production of lowering the top. When he’d finished, they were both laughing. “This reminds me of that beat-up old convertible you had in college,” Olivia said between giggles. “Remember when the top got stuck halfway up?”
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