Dan had loved her; she didn’t doubt his deep affection, but he’d had so little to give her. He’d struggled with such grief and guilt and misery, it was all he could do to get from one day to the next. There’d been almost no room for tenderness and joy in his life. Grace desperately needed both.
And Cliff—he was a friend. Their relationship had been about companionship more than love, at least on her part.
Now she finally had the opportunity to know real love.
There was a problem, however, and to Grace, it was a major one.
Will was married.
“What about your wife?” she typed back. She couldn’t promise to meet him, couldn’t allow this relationship to continue if he remained committed to his marriage.
“I told you it was over,” Will typed.
“Georgia’s moved out?”
“Yes. I’ve already seen an attorney. The divorce is amicable. We should never have married. She understands.”
“She knows about us?” Grace’s fingers flew over the keys.
“I told her there was someone else. I didn’t say who it is.”
Grace had kept her relationship with Will a secret, too. They spoke via e-mail every day, often more than once, and occasionally they managed a phone call. It never ceased to astonish her how much they had to talk about.
The doorbell chimed and Grace glanced irritably over her shoulder. Buttercup ambled to the door, tail wagging.
“Say you’ll meet me,” Will urged, the words flashing across the screen. “I need to know as soon as possible. Promise me you’ll do everything you can.”
“I will, I promise,” Grace assured him, and with regret, dragged herself away from the computer when the bell rang a second time. Determined to get rid of whoever was there, she opened her door and stared at Cliff. She had to make an effort not to groan aloud.
“Cliff,” she said, unlatching the screen and holding the door open. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
“Surprise?” he repeated slowly. “I called last week. We made plans to spend the afternoon together.”
Grace vaguely remembered the conversation, but all that lingered in her mind was her eagerness to get off the phone so she could get back on the computer and talk to Will.
“Of course. It just slipped my mind. I’ll be ready in a minute.”
Cliff came into the living room and sat down on the sofa, frowning slightly.
“I was on the computer,” Grace explained. “Give me a moment while I get off-line.” She pulled out her desk chair and sat down. Her fingers went to the keyboard and she quickly typed out a message to Will, telling him she’d request vacation time. She wouldn’t know for another week or two if she’d get those days off, but with all her heart she hoped it would happen. Then she explained that she had company and needed to end their conversation.
When she’d finished, Grace whirled around in her chair and smiled warmly at Cliff. “You must think I’m an empty-headed dunce,” she said brightly, hoping to disguise the fact that she’d forgotten their date.
“Not at all,” he assured her evenly. But his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Buttercup rested contentedly at Cliff’s side, and as he ran his fingers through her fur, he frowned again.
“I’ll get my coat and be back in a moment,” Grace promised.
It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to grab her coat, brush her hair and apply fresh lipstick.
Cliff was still petting Buttercup when she returned. He glanced up. “When was the last time you had Buttercup at the vet?” he asked.
Grace couldn’t recall, other than the first week after she’d gotten the golden retriever. “It’s been a year or so,” she said.
“I think it might be a good idea to schedule an appointment.”
“Why?” Grace was immediately concerned. Buttercup was her constant companion and friend.
“No obvious reason, other than that she seems a bit lethargic,” Cliff said, but his brow was creased. “There might be something wrong—she doesn’t seem herself. You haven’t noticed any changes in her behavior, have you?”
“None.” Grace tried to think, but nothing came to mind. The truth was, she hurried home from work every night to leap onto the computer. She realized guiltily that she hadn’t paid much attention to the dog since her correspondence with Will had begun. Often she didn’t bother to eat dinner until eight o’clock or later. Her time at home was precious because that was her only opportunity to connect with Will.
“Are you ready?” Grace asked, reaching for her purse.
“In a minute,” Cliff said. He continued to stroke Buttercup’s back, but Grace suspected he was gathering his thoughts rather than assessing her dog’s health. After a moment he stood.
“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” she said, unable to read his mood. This was the role she’d played far too often with Dan, doing whatever she could to put him in better spirits. So many times she’d failed. Seeing the same humorless expression on Cliff’s face depressed her. It brought back memories of her life with Dan.
“I need to ask you something,” Cliff said after a long pause.
“Anything.” Well, almost anything, she amended silently.
Cliff walked over to the window and stared outside. “We haven’t seen much of each other lately.”
“You’ve been busy,” she said with a shrug.
“True, and I suppose that’s the reason I didn’t notice earlier.”
“Notice what?” she asked.
“How emotionally distant you’ve become.”
Grace shook her head, denying it. “You’re imagining things.”
Cliff rubbed the back of his neck and turned to face her. “Funny you should use those words. That’s exactly what Susan used to say to me.”
Susan was his ex-wife. Grace raised her hands in a confused, helpless gesture. “What’s this all about? I thought we were going to spend the afternoon together.”
“So did I,” Cliff murmured. He straightened, and his face was austere. “I can’t play this game, Grace.”
“What game?” She was losing patience with him.
“There’s someone else. You think I don’t know, but it’s clear to me. I can tell what’s happening—I’ve been there before.”
“What?” she exploded in a fit of self-righteousness. “How can you say that? Even if it was true,” she continued, undaunted, “it’s my business. You don’t have any claim on me.”
Cliff’s smile was sad. “You’re right, of course.”
“Don’t be like this,” she pleaded. Now that he was here, she was looking forward to going out with him, enjoying his company.
He shook his head as if to say he should have seen it earlier. “At first I assumed you were pulling away from me because of Dan. I gave you time to grieve for your husband, just like you asked.”
“Cliff, please, you’re making a crisis out of nothing.”
“Am I?” he asked.
He sounded resigned, and she briefly had the urge to walk into his arms, but Grace didn’t like the way this conversation was going.
“You say there isn’t anyone else in your life?” Cliff challenged.
She looked him straight in the eye and lied. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” No one knew about her and Will. Not even Olivia, Will’s sister and her best friend. She couldn’t let word get out, especially now, when Will and Georgia were in the middle of their divorce.
“I was sure I was going to love you the first time we met,” Cliff said. “My admiration for you grew every time we talked. You handled the situation with your missing husband honorably, refusing to get involved with me until the divorce was final. I assumed…I believed in you.”
“You don’t now?”
“You’re forgetting something, Grace. My wife cheated on me for years. I know all the signs—the cheerful greeting, the denial, the outrage. I lived with it and tried to ignore it. I won’t again.”
Grace crossed her arms. This wa
s getting tiresome. “You’re being ridiculous,” she said irritably.
“Am I?” he asked.
“Of course you are.”
“He’s married, isn’t he?”
“What are you talking about?”
Cliff stared hard at her. “You’re protecting him.”
“I can’t believe you’d say such a thing!”
Cliff started for the door.
“Can we leave now?” she asked, relieved this inquisition was over.
His hand was on the doorknob. “I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other again.”
Grace stared at him. “You don’t mean that.” Her heart sank and she realized how deeply her lies had offended Cliff. As he walked out the door, Grace stood where she was, too paralyzed by shock to react.
She recovered quickly and hurried after him. “Cliff,” she shouted. “Please, let’s talk about this.”
Either he didn’t hear her or he chose not to listen. Without looking back, he climbed into his vehicle and started the engine, then drove down the street and out of her life.
Twenty
Katie’s weak, mewling cry woke Maryellen abruptly. It was only quarter after one; she’d been asleep for barely an hour. Her eyes flew open and she got shakily out of bed. Gently lifting Katie from her crib, Maryellen held the infant over her shoulder and was instantly alarmed. Katie had been sick and fussy for two days and two tortured, sleepless nights. Now, if anything, she seemed worse.
Maryellen had stayed home from work with her the day before. The pediatrician had put Katie on antibiotics, but she was still miserable. Although she’d taken her nighttime feeding, she’d promptly vomited up the milk. Now she was burning with fever, restless and irritable.
Her eyes gritty from lack of sleep, Maryellen walked the floor, but couldn’t seem to comfort Katie. With effort she managed to get the six-month-old to swallow some liquid Tylenol; even that didn’t seem to lower her temperature.
By 2:00 a.m. Maryellen was exhausted and frantic. She’d already talked to the consulting nurse on the twenty-four-hour hot line, but she needed more than reassurance. She needed help. It was just too hard to do this alone. She hated to call Jon at this ungodly hour, but she simply couldn’t cope by herself.
The phone rang five long rings, and disheartened, she was ready to replace the receiver. Clearly Jon wasn’t home, which meant he was spending the night elsewhere. The thought so depressed her that she found tears springing to her eyes.
“Don’t,” she whispered to herself. “Forget about him.” She refused to speculate about where he was—or with whom. That would only add to her misery.
Just as she was lowering the receiver, a groggy Jon answered the phone.
“This better be good,” he grumbled.
“Jon? It’s Maryellen. I’m so sorry…but I didn’t know where else to turn.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Katie. She’s got quite a high fever, and is terribly congested. I took her to the pediatrician’s this morning. She has bronchitis and an ear infection.”
“Is she on medication?”
“Yes, but I don’t like the sound of her breathing. I already talked to the nurse on the hot line, but I’m still worried. And I’m so tired.” Her voice trembled with emotion. With only an hour’s sleep, she was at the point of exhaustion and felt incapable of making the simplest decision.
“How high is the fever?”
“A hundred and three, but the nurse said that’s not uncommon in infants. It’s her breathing that’s got me worried. She coughs so much that she starts to throw up and she can’t sleep and…and consequently neither can I.” Maryellen fought back her tears. Two nights without rest, and she was an emotional wreck. “I just don’t know how much longer I can do this….”
“I’m on my way.”
“But what about work?”
“Maryellen, Katie’s my daughter as well as yours.”
“Do you think I should take her into the emergency room?” That was all she really wanted him to tell her.
“Let’s decide that together.”
He sounded so calm and reasonable. Sniffling, Maryellen agreed, relieved not to be shouldering the entire responsibility for Katie’s care.
Thirty minutes later, Jon rang her doorbell. He took one look at Maryellen and frowned. “You should’ve called me sooner.”
Knowing she must look a sight, she handed Katie to him and self-consciously ran her fingers through her hair. It’d been a month since she’d seen Jon, other than in passing. He seemed to be avoiding her, and after the New Year’s Day dinner, she’d stayed clear of him, too. Seeing him now, while she felt and looked so dreadful, worsened her dismay. But with Katie this sick, Maryellen had no choice.
“She’s already on antibiotics,” she explained again as Jon lovingly attempted to comfort the baby. “The doctor said it might be a day or two before she starts feeling better, but she’s still got a fever and she can’t sleep.”
Jon gently brushed his lips over Katie’s brow. “I think her fever’s down a bit.”
“Thank God.”
Maryellen gauged the baby’s temperature by touch, using the back of her hand. He was right; Katie’s forehead felt less feverish after the Tylenol.
“What do you think? Should we take her to the emergency room?” Maryellen asked. She hated the thought of dragging Katie out in the cold and exposing her to God only knew what else, especially if it wasn’t necessary. But she didn’t feel confident enough to decide that on her own.
“Let’s give it an hour and see,” Jon suggested.
Maryellen nodded. If Katie’s fever had broken, maybe she’d be able to sleep.
“I’ll stay with you,” Jon said.
Maryellen hadn’t wanted to ask, but was so grateful she couldn’t speak, afraid she’d burst into tears, and merely nodded.
They shuffled Katie between them while he removed his coat, then sat down in the rocking chair with his daughter.
“She breathes more easily when someone holds her,” Maryellen said, swaying with exhaustion.
“Go to bed,” Jon told her. “There’s no reason for us both to be up.”
“But…” Maryellen didn’t know why she was arguing. “You’ll come and get me in an hour?”
Jon glanced up. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re too stubborn for your own good?”
She stared at him.
“Go,” he said, pointing toward her bedroom.
Maryellen was too exhausted—and too grateful—to do anything other than nod obediently and trudge off. Being a single mother was so much more difficult than she’d thought possible. She could never have imagined what it was like to walk the floors with a sick baby, to make important decisions—decisions that affected her child’s life and health—by herself. She didn’t know what she would’ve done tonight without Jon.
Maryellen collapsed onto her bed, weak with a tiredness that attacked her very bones. Her head was spinning, and she was convinced she wouldn’t be able to sleep.
She closed her eyes—and the next time she looked at the digital readout on her clock-radio, three hours had passed. Tossing aside the covers, she hurried into the living room and discovered Katie sound asleep in Jon’s arms.
He opened his eyes when she walked in.
“She’s asleep,” Maryellen whispered, hardly able to believe it. His arms must be aching from holding Katie so long. She reached for the infant, and as soon as she held her, Maryellen realized Katie was in a deep sleep.
“She seems to be over the worst of it,” Jon said, following Maryellen into the baby’s room.
“I hope so.” Ever so gently, she placed her in the crib. When Katie turned onto her side, Maryellen pressed one hand to her daughter’s back. Heat no longer radiated from the small body. “The fever’s broken,” she whispered, covering her with a light blanket.
“What time is it?” Jon asked outside Katie’s room.
“Five-thirty,” she t
old him. “Stay,” she urged. He looked as tired as she’d felt a few hours earlier.
Jon rubbed his face with both hands and yawned. “I’ll take the sofa.”
“That thing is short and lumpy. You’ll be miserable.”
His eyes held hers.
“We can share my bed,” she said in an offhand manner, as though his spending the night was a normal occurrence. She might have sounded calm and casual, but her heart was pounding.
Jon continued to gaze at her, apparently not sure he’d heard her correctly.
“I’ll stay on my side of the bed and you stay on yours,” she added matter-of-factly. She wasn’t asking him to make love to her, if that was what he thought. Without waiting for an answer, she moved silently into the darkened room.
Jon still hesitated.
“Those three hours are the most sleep I’ve had in two nights,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You make your own decision, but I’m going back to sleep.” She lay down and kept her back to him. Eyes closed, she pulled the covers around her shoulders.
A minute later, the mattress on the other side of the bed shifted under his weight. “I’ll sleep on top of the covers,” he whispered. “So you won’t worry about me touching you.”
As if she’d mind! Maryellen didn’t respond, pretending she was already asleep. It wasn’t long before she heard the steady rhythm of his breathing and knew he’d drifted off.
Sometime later, when Maryellen woke, her bedroom was filled with light. Jon blocked her view of the clock-radio so she couldn’t see the time. She lifted her head from the pillow in order to look past him. The clock told her it was almost eight. At her movement, Jon’s eyes slowly opened.
“Sorry,” she whispered, and laid her head back on the pillow. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I slept,” he said incredulously.
“So did Katie.” They stared at each other; neither seemed capable of moving. They’d only spent one night together, the night she’d conceived Katie, and that seemed a lifetime ago now. Maryellen had made so many mistakes in this relationship. But he’d proved to be a wonderful father to Katie and an invaluable help to Maryellen.
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series Page 83
