Stan stood in the doorway, holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. “I’m not late, am I?” he asked as he breezed into the small house. “Happy birthday, Olivia,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.
“Dad?” From Justine’s blank look, Olivia could tell that Stan’s visit was a surprise to her daughter, too.
“I thought I’d crash the birthday party. You don’t mind, do you?” He smiled at Justine and Olivia.
“Of course not,” Justine said, recovering first. Seth quickly added another place setting.
“Hello, Stan.” Olivia’s response was polite and cool. She hadn’t talked to him since his less-than-subtle invitation to dinner in Seattle—dinner that included a night in a hotel room.
Justine took the flowers and arranged them artfully in a vase, which she set in the middle of the table. With Leif asleep, Olivia settled her grandson in his crib and joined everyone at the table.
Dinner—roast chicken and gravy, roasted root vegetables and salad—was wonderful, although Olivia felt slightly on edge. That passed, however, as the meal progressed. Perhaps the wine relaxed her. Whatever it was, she was soon laughing and joking with her family and it seemed…so natural. She could almost believe that she and Stan had never been divorced. Stan was his warm, ingratiating self. Funny, witty, clever in ways that Olivia had all but forgotten.
“So,” Stan said as Seth and Justine went into the kitchen to prepare coffee. “Are you going to forgive me?”
Olivia saw no point in pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
He shrugged. “I was a little too pushy, I think.”
“Your problem is that you need a woman who adores you.”
He chuckled and saluted her with his empty wineglass. “You once did, and I’m hoping you will again. I adore you, you know.”
It flattered her to hear it, but Olivia was older and wiser these days. She’d once loved Stan with all of her being, but their marriage hadn’t survived the loss of their son. The divorce had battered her emotionally, and it had taken her years to recover. Even now, she couldn’t reflect on the summer of 1986 without sadness.
“I was wrong,” Stan said, lowering his voice. “I want to make it up to you.”
Make it up to her? Olivia nearly laughed but held on to her composure. “There are other women for you out there.”
“Don’t tell me you’re interested in that…that newspaper guy. Olivia, no! Anyone can see Griffin’s all wrong for you.”
“I think I’m the best judge of that.”
Stan sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. Slowly he shook his head, intimating that he just couldn’t imagine her with Jack. “He’s a loose cannon,” Stan muttered. “You realize that, don’t you?”
Olivia disagreed, but she had no intention of arguing with Stan over her relationship with another man. So she said nothing. Thankfully Seth and Justine returned with the coffee and birthday cake, and the matter was dropped.
Later that evening, when she got home after a full day of celebrating, she discovered two messages on her machine. One was from James and Selina, his wife, who’d phoned with birthday greetings. The second message was from Jack.
Olivia returned his call first. He answered immediately, as though he’d been sitting by the phone waiting for her. It was a pleasant thought.
“Hi,” he said, and he sounded thrilled to hear from her. “Where were you all day?”
“Out.”
“Yes, I know. I called six times and drove by once.”
“Jack!”
“I wanted to see you. I don’t suppose it’s proper etiquette to tell you that, but I did…. I still do.”
“It’s too late now.”
“I know.” He groaned the words. “Where were you?”
“If you must know, it’s my birthday, and I was at dinner with Justine and Seth.”
“Your birthday! Damn, Olivia, I forgot. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”
“As long as you don’t ask me how old I am.”
He chuckled. “Don’t ask, don’t tell?”
“You got it.”
“Anybody else there?” The question was a blatant request regarding her ex-husband.
Olivia had the option of lying and avoiding any chance of another dragged-out misunderstanding. She hated to risk upsetting him just when they’d reconciled, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t deceive him. “Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. “Stan showed up. Unexpectedly.”
“Bearing gifts, no doubt?”
“A few.”
“Flowers?”
“Not as pretty as the ones you sent a while back.” Olivia had left Stan’s bouquet with her daughter.
“Candy, too?”
“No candy.”
“Wine, then?”
“Wine,” she confirmed.
He growled something under his breath. “You still want me to put on a pair of boxing gloves and fight him?”
Olivia smiled. “I never wanted you to get into a fistfight,” she said. “I just wanted you to prove you cared about me.”
“Okay,” he said. “Should I call him or do you want to do it?”
“Call Stan?” Jack wasn’t making any sense.
“I think we should duke it out, just the two of us. Man to man.”
“Jack Griffin, that’s ridiculous! Tell me you’re not serious.”
He paused, and she thought she could hear him shadowboxing in the background. He was definitely moving around.
“You could simply declare me the winner,” Jack suggested hopefully.
“I could,” she agreed, “but first you’d have to win my favor.”
Jack groaned again. “And exactly how am I supposed to do that?”
“You don’t know?” She feigned surprise.
“Apparently not, but I’ll study on it.”
“You do that.” Olivia gave a full-throated laugh. “I have a feeling you’ll find a way.”
Oh, yes, it was good to have him back in her life.
Ten
Maryellen was going back to work. She dropped her ten-week-old daughter off at her sister’s on Monday morning, the last week of October. She’d resumed a nine-to-five schedule at the gallery.
“She’ll be fine,” Kelly assured her, as Maryellen lingered anxiously at the front door.
“You’ll phone if there’s a problem?” Leaving her daughter was harder than Maryellen had dreamed possible. It was difficult enough to let Jon take Katie for his regular visitation. She’d assumed that leaving Katie with her own sister would be easier than this. Tears filled her eyes at the prospect of being away from her baby for more than eight hours a day.
“Every new mother goes through this,” Kelly assured her. “It’s hard leaving our babies, even when we know they’re getting the best care in the world.”
“She usually needs to be fed around ten,” Maryellen said, although she’d gone over Katie’s schedule twice already. She’d expressed the milk earlier and had filled several bottles.
“I know, I know. Now, get out of here before you’re late for work.”
Her sister was right, but still Maryellen hovered there in the doorway. Then, before she could change her mind about the whole thing, she turned and hurried to her car. Within a few days, dropping the baby off would become part of her daily routine. She’d considered bringing Katie to the gallery with her, but an infant would be distracting. While not openly forbidding it, the owners had been discouraging.
She hated being away from her baby for a large part of every day, hated the sick sensation it left in the pit of her stomach. Doubts haunted her, fears that she was a bad mother. She couldn’t help feeling that while Kelly was Katie’s aunt, she couldn’t possibly love her as much as Maryellen did. Despite her regrets, she knew this was necessary, and she had to face these demons sooner or later.
By ten that morning, Maryellen had phoned her sister no less than three times. Katie had slept for most of the mornin
g, just as she normally did. During her last phone call, Kelly had told her she was warming Katie’s bottle and would be feeding her right on schedule. Maryellen trusted her sister, but she worried that Kelly might not hold the baby the same way Maryellen did. Worried that the strange environment might disrupt her routine. Worried that Katie would intuitively know she wasn’t in her own home, her own bed.
The bell chimed above the gallery door just as Maryellen replaced the receiver. Taking a moment to calm her pounding heart, she made an effort to look friendly and professional. As she stepped into the gallery’s main room to meet her first customer of the day, she managed to smile.
Her business facade crumbled the instant she saw it was Jon. She was so pleased to see him, so glad to have someone to talk to about Katie.
He took one look at her and frowned. “I thought so.”
“Thought what?” Her hackles immediately rose. Her pleasure at seeing him vanished. The last thing she needed was a lecture.
“I figured I should check up on you your first day back to work. It was hard to leave Katie, wasn’t it?”
She wanted to pretend he’d completely misread her, but she wasn’t sure she could pull it off. She found it increasingly difficult to disguise her feelings from Jon. Before Katie, she’d been adept at fooling her mother and sister about her thoughts and emotions. But Jon had the innate ability to see straight through her.
“It was awful,” she admitted.
“Did she put up a fuss?”
Maryellen shook her head, and to her horror, tears sprang to her eyes. This was mortifying.
With his hand at her elbow, Jon led her to the back room. Turning her so she faced him, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Katie will be perfectly fine with your sister.”
Maryellen nodded. “It’s just that I hate not being with her.”
Jon expelled a sigh, and slowly, as if against his will, he drew Maryellen into his embrace. “I know…”
“How can you possibly know?” she challenged, needing his comfort and yet resenting the fact that she did. She closed her eyes and welcomed the feel of his arms, savored his warmth, his masculine scent. She didn’t want him to realize how weak his nearness made her. The only way she could combat these feelings was to react defensively.
“I know, Maryellen,” he said evenly, “because every week I have to leave my daughter with you and then walk away.”
“Oh.” It couldn’t possibly be this hard on him, she reasoned. He couldn’t suffer the same regrets and doubts she did. Could he?
“I…I must be a terrible mother.” Being this close to Jon was intoxicating; there was no other word for it. She needed to escape that intoxication, to ease away from him, and she needed to do it now.
This emotional hold was exactly what she’d been afraid of ever since the day they’d kissed. He made it far too easy to rely on him. If she didn’t break away now, he’d become a permanent part of her life. And that was something she couldn’t risk. That wasn’t part of the deal. He was Katie’s father—not Maryellen’s husband.
“You’re not a bad mother, you’re just a new mother,” Jon told her confidently. “You have a lot to learn. We both do.” He stroked her hair with such tenderness that she could hardly move out of his arms.
With a wrenching effort, she put some distance between them. Crossing her arms, she leaned her hip against the desk. “I’ll be fine now.”
“You sure?”
Not making eye contact, she gave a slight nod. “I…it’s just the first day. It’s bound to be the most difficult.”
“That’s what the books say.”
She managed a weak smile. “It was…thoughtful of you to stop by.”
Jon slipped his hands in his pockets. He did that, she’d noticed, whenever he was unsure of himself. She sensed that he didn’t want to be here and at the same time couldn’t stay away. She understood perfectly. She’d prefer to keep Jon out of her life—she couldn’t keep him out of Katie’s—but he was there. And wonderful. The day Katie was born, they’d formed a bond, as parents and as friends, and neither of them knew how to deal with emotions beyond that. Kissing him a few weeks ago had only complicated matters.
“You’re on your way to work?” she asked, eager now for him to go.
Jon took the hint. “Yeah. I should be off.”
They both seemed to relax at that. “Well, thank you for coming.”
He headed for the door, then abruptly, without warning, turned back. He grasped her by the shoulders and kissed her. A quick, urgent kiss.
The bell chimed as he walked out. Something had to be done and quickly. Jon was becoming far too important to her.
Wednesday night, both Allison and Eddie were in their bedrooms doing homework, or so Rosie assumed. There was nothing she could stand to watch on television, so she threw a load of wash in the machine. She preferred to do her laundry at the house. The washer in the apartment was at least twenty years old and had already ruined one good blouse. With money so tight, she didn’t want to risk destroying any more of her limited professional wardrobe.
The phone rang, but Rosie knew better than to answer it. Allison considered it her right to grab all calls. Not only that, she couldn’t let the phone go unanswered, as Rosie was often inclined to do these days, especially in the evenings.
Five seconds after the first ring, her daughter stuck her head out the bedroom door. “It’s for you,” she said in an incredulous tone. “It’s Dad.”
Wonderful! Rosie could only imagine what Zach had to complain about this time.
“Don’t be long,” Allison said tartly. “I’m expecting a call.”
This was a less-than-subtle reminder that the eccentric judge who’d set up this joint custody arrangement had more or less awarded the house to Allison and Eddie. So the phone belonged to the children—or that was the way Allison seemed to look at it.
“I can’t imagine we’ll talk long,” Rosie assured her.
Allison closed her bedroom door without comment.
Rosie took the call in the kitchen, thinking this was the room where they were least likely to be overheard. She took a deep breath before lifting the receiver. “Hello,” she said cheerfully. She wanted to give the impression that she’d been having the time of her life and his call was an interruption.
“It’s Zach,” he said stiffly. “I thought you’d want to know your boyfriend phoned.”
Her boyfriend? It was news to Rosie that she even had a boyfriend. Oh, he must mean Bruce. Good grief, she’d only seen him that one night. One date was all it’d taken for both of them to realize that the only thing they had in common was loss. They were friendly, and they chatted now and then, but that was it.
“I thought you should know,” he said again.
“I’m sorry if the call disturbed you,” Rosie said, forcing a light tone into her voice. “I’m sure he forgot which nights I’m at the house.” She purposely allowed Zach to think she was seeing Bruce a lot.
“Does he phone often?” Zach demanded, then paused. “Never mind, I don’t have any right to ask that.”
“No, you don’t.” It felt good to tell him that. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll get back to Bruce right away.”
“Before we hang up, can we talk,” he asked, “just for a moment?”
“Okay, but I promised Allison I wouldn’t tie up the phone. She’s expecting a call.”
“She’s always expecting a call,” Zach muttered. “Speaking of Allison, how are the two of you getting along these days?”
“Really well. Why?” As long as Rosie stayed in one part of the house and Allison in another, they could cope, but there was no need to tell Zach that.
“She’s got nothing but attitude with me,” he confessed reluctantly.
Rosie realized this must be hard on him. Zach and Allison had always been close. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“What time are you getting home from work these days?” he asked.
“Same as alway
s—around five, sometimes five-thirty. Depends on where I’m subbing. What makes you ask?”
“Allison is home when? Two-thirty?”
“Around then.” Their daughter’s interest in after-school activities had ceased following the divorce. She’d recently dropped out of volleyball, a sport she’d once loved. Allison had decided against trying out for drama club, too. That disappointed Rosie, who believed Allison had a real flair for it, but no amount of discussion could persuade her daughter to reconsider.
“I think Allison’s got too much time on her hands.”
“I agree.” Rosie abandoned all pretense. She was desperately worried about her daughter and particularly about whatever might be happening with the boyfriend. Thankfully, there’d been no sign of Ryan’s presence in the house during the past two weeks, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been there. Since Eddie’s school wasn’t dismissed until almost four, Allison had ample opportunity to see Ryan without anyone knowing where she was or with whom. The thought terrified Rosie.
“What should we do?” she asked Zach.
“Any suggestions?”
“None,” she admitted.
“Me, neither.”
“I guess we need to talk more about this,” Rosie said. “Figure something out.”
Zach agreed. “Listen,” he said next. “Do you and this Bruce guy get along?”
She was about to remind him that her dating life was none of his concern, but changed her mind. “We get along all right.”
“What do the kids think of him?”
“I haven’t introduced him yet.” She had no intention of doing so, since it was unlikely she’d go out with him a second time.
“Oh.” Zach exhaled slowly. “Rosie, I want you to know I wish you and Bruce well. I sincerely mean that.”
Rosie felt like weeping and she struggled to hang on to her pride. “Thank you,” she murmured. “If Janice makes you happy, then that’s what I want for you, too.”
They were silent for half a minute or so.
“My most important job now is to be a good father to my children,” Zach said.
“The children are what’s most important to me, too,” she told him, but as she replaced the receiver, Rosie wondered if her failure as a wife and mother was what had gotten her into this predicament in the first place.
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series Page 72
