“How do you mean?”
“In the four weeks Ian’s been home, we’ve barely made love.” She was embarrassed to be talking about the intimate details of her marriage, even to Cathy, but she could no longer hide her unhappiness. Ian made excuses to stay away from her and it was killing her.
Cecilia looked up to see her friend frowning.
“What’s wrong?”
Cecilia bit her lip to keep from crying. “I assumed Ian would want to start our family, but he doesn’t. He wants me back on birth control before we make love on a regular basis.”
“Are you?”
“Not yet, but my period’s due soon. We’ve used protection, but Ian is adamant—I’m supposed to go back on the pill. Until then it’s like I’m his sister. He won’t even look at me and I hate it.”
“He doesn’t want a baby?”
Cecilia shook her head. “Every time I try to mention it, he changes the subject.”
Cathy nodded sympathetically.
“Last week, when I refused to let him sidetrack me, he blew up and said he wasn’t ready to be a father yet. I asked him when he would be ready and do you know what he said?” She didn’t wait for her friend to respond. “Ian said he didn’t think he’d ever be ready.” Cecilia covered her face with both hands, distraught and weepy.
Cathy placed her hand on Cecilia’s forearm. “Do you remember when I told you that I miscarried twice before Andy?”
Cecilia lowered her hands and nodded. She hated being so emotional, but she couldn’t help it. She’d created a million romantic fantasies centered on their reunion and everything had gone wrong. Nothing she said or did seemed to work.
“After I miscarried the second time, I was afraid it was the end of my love life. It was as if Andrew had completely lost interest in me as his wife.”
Cecilia had trouble believing it. “Andrew?”
Cathy’s eyes filled with tears. “The miscarriages affected my husband in ways I didn’t understand. I was so wrapped up in me that I didn’t see what losing the pregnancies had done to Andrew. He was afraid to make love to me, afraid I’d get pregnant again—afraid I’d suffer again. I was convinced he didn’t want me because I couldn’t carry his child. And that wasn’t it at all.” Cathy paused and swallowed visibly. “Our minds play crazy games with us, don’t they?”
Cecilia wasn’t sure that applied to her situation. Ian was far more vocal about his feelings than Andrew had been, from the sound of it. Ian and Cecilia had worked hard on their communication skills and had learned to be more straightforward in expressing their needs and feelings.
Now this.
“What about that little outfit you bought from the Victoria’s Secret catalog?” Cathy asked, lowering her voice to a whisper. “The one you sent him…”
Cecilia shrugged uncomfortably. “I haven’t even put it on. Ian was in too much of a hurry the first night and then, well…he just hasn’t been all that interested since.”
Cathy laughed. “Oh, he’s interested, all right, but he’s also afraid. If he’s in a bad temper…”
“He is,” Cecilia confirmed. She couldn’t remember her husband ever being as moody as he’d been this last month.
“You know why, don’t you,” Cathy said, smiling now. “He’s frustrated.”
“There’s no reason for him to be frustrated. I’m ready, willing and able,” Cecilia muttered irritably.
“Then let him know that.”
“You think?” She hated to feel this hopeful after being disappointed again and again.
Cathy smiled. “Why don’t you give that sexy little outfit a try and find out for yourself?”
The question stayed with Cecilia as she drove home, the truck filled with groceries. Her husband was working in the garage attached to their duplex when she returned. He was messing around with an old motorcycle a friend had given him, the engine disassembled and various parts laid out on a tarp. Cecilia had forgotten they even had the thing. Wordlessly he helped her unload the groceries and then went back to whatever he was doing that involved so much of his concentration. She didn’t disturb him.
At six, she called Ian inside for dinner. She’d made lasagna, one of his favorite dishes, and he praised her efforts. Cecilia glowed at his approval and waited until Ian was in bed reading before she took a long, hot shower. Heart pounding, she donned the sexy black outfit.
As well as she could, she checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. With steam from her shower fogging up the view, it was hard to tell if she looked sexy. To be on the safe side, she liberally doused perfume on her wrists and behind both ears.
If her heart was beating hard earlier, it didn’t compare with the frantic explosion going on inside her chest when she opened the bathroom door and posed there, one arm raised and resting against the doorframe.
Ian sat in bed reading. His bedside lamp cast a warm glow about the room. He seemed to be deeply involved in his novel and for a moment didn’t pay her any heed. When he did happen to glance up to see her standing in the doorway, his mouth fell open.
Her husband stared at her long and hard. Seconds later the book fell out of his hands and toppled onto the carpet. He didn’t bother to pick it up. “Cecilia?”
“Yes?” she whispered.
“What exactly are you doing?”
“What do you think?”
“This isn’t amusing.” He sat up straighter, sliding as far against the headboard as possible, as if he wanted to escape her. Yet at the same time, his gaze didn’t waver from hers. His eyes seemed twice their normal size and that encouraged her.
Taking two steps toward her husband, she slowly removed the sheer black dressing gown. It took her a bit of time and she loved the way her husband swallowed convulsively as he watched.
“You like it?” She kept her voice low and sexy.
Ian didn’t answer.
“I think you do,” she purred seductively, unfastening the bra-style top—which revealed more than it concealed.
Ian groaned and closed his eyes. Knowing she was about to succeed she leaned over him and turned off the light. The instant she was close, he reached for her and pulled her down onto the bed.
Cecilia slipped her arms around his neck and their mouths joined in an urgent kiss. They were twisting against each other, unable to give enough or take enough. It was as though Ian had held back every bit of passion he felt for her until that moment. Their kisses grew even wilder, even fiercer. Cecilia relished his passion, which fed her own.
Moaning, she showed him in every way she knew how that she loved him and needed him and had desperately missed his touch. Ian lowered himself onto her and after the necessary adjustments to his clothing, entered her quickly. Cecilia was ready, more than ready. At their joining, they both cried out at the pure sensation, the overwhelming pleasure.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms, sated and content. Once in the night, Ian woke her again and she turned willingly into his embrace. His need was as intense as it had been earlier. With their fingers locked together, he kissed Cecilia, then held her arms above her head as he sank into her. She whimpered at the beauty of their lovemaking, exulted in her husband and cried out when she reached her own fulfillment.
In the morning it was a different story. Cecilia woke to find Ian sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her. “You did that on purpose,” he said gruffly when he realized she was awake.
Cecilia sat up, clutching the sheet to her bare breasts. “Yes.” She wasn’t going to lie to him.
“You seduced me.”
“If you want to look at it like that. I wanted my husband to make love to me.” She leaned over and caressed his back with her fingertips. “I’ve missed you, Ian.”
He stood rather than endure her touch. “You want a baby and because I don’t, you took matters into your own hands.”
On that point he was wrong. “I didn’t stop you from using protection, Ian.”
“You didn’t remind me, either.�
�
“Is that my job or yours?” she asked, keeping her voice as level as she could make it.
Her husband whirled around and glared at her. “You made sure I forgot all about it!”
Despite the seriousness of their conversation, Cecilia smiled. “You’re right, I didn’t remind you. But at the time I had other things on my mind.”
“A baby,” he said angrily, accusing her with his eyes.
“Well, yes,” she admitted. “But you know that.”
Ian’s eyes narrowed. “I just hope to God you don’t get pregnant, Cecilia.”
“That’s n-not fair,” she stammered, shocked by his vehemence.
“Fair or not, I don’t know how I’m going to feel about any child conceived out of your deception.”
With that, he stormed out of the bedroom.
Fourteen
Roy McAfee waited until late afternoon to call Hannah Russell. He’d tried earlier and learned the young woman’s phone had been disconnected. When he mentioned that to Beldon, Bob had supplied him with Hannah’s cell number. Apparently, for whatever reason, she’d kept in touch with the Beldons.
He dialed, leaning back in his office chair.
“Hello?” a tentative voice answered.
“Hannah?”
“Yes, this is Hannah Russell.” Her response was a bit more confident now. “Who’s this?”
“Roy McAfee from Cedar Cove. We met at the Beldons’ Bed and Breakfast when you came to collect your father’s ashes.”
She hesitated again as if she was having trouble placing him.
“I’m sorry, I don’t recall meeting you.”
Roy could understand her lapse in memory. It had been a traumatic visit for the young woman. He didn’t envy her the task of dealing with her father’s death and, more than that, the mystery surrounding it.
“I’m a private detective. I was at the house during your visit,” he said.
“Oh, yes, I remember now. The Beldons hired you to find out what you could about my father’s murder.”
“That’s correct.”
Roy felt her warm up a bit. “What can I do for you?” she asked.
He straightened and glanced down at his list of questions. “Is this a convenient time to talk?”
“Yes, I’m not doing much of anything at the moment.”
“Where are you?”
“In Oregon. I suppose the Beldons told you I’ve sold everything. I decided to move. The problem is, I’m not sure where I’m moving. I suppose that sounds odd. I loaded my car with everything that was important to me and took off. I’m hoping to make a fresh start somewhere.”
“Bob did say something along those lines.” Roy sympathized with the girl’s need to escape the horrors of the past year or two. Briefly he wondered about friends and acquaintances but didn’t want to distract her with personal questions when there were other, more pressing ones.
“I’d like to ask you about your father.”
A short silence followed. “All right. I’m not sure what I can tell you, though.”
“You can help me verify some facts.”
“I’ll try, but I’m as much in the dark about this as everyone else. I didn’t even know he was going to Cedar Cove, let alone why. Then when he died like that…” She choked up for a moment. “That was a shock but learning he was murdered—that was so much worse. I don’t know anyone who’d want my father dead.”
“I appreciate your willingness to help. I promise I’ll do everything in my power to find out who did this.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice quavering with emotion.
While doing investigative work, Roy had discovered that family members often held crucial answers but were unaware of it. The key to solving a mystery was asking the right questions.
“What would you like to know?” Hannah murmured, recovering quickly.
“First, tell me about your father’s relationship with Stewart Samuels.”
Again there was a pause, as though she required time to formulate her thoughts. “Really, there’s not much to tell. I never heard my father mention his name until after the car accident. Dad was badly burned and was in the hospital for quite a while. His medical insurance was limited. When it became obvious that he was going to require extensive plastic surgery, he asked me to get in touch with Colonel Samuels. Dad said Colonel Samuels owed him, but he didn’t say why.”
Roy made a notation indicating when Russell had contacted Samuels. He’d assumed the two men had been in communication since Vietnam, but apparently not.
“What were you supposed to ask the colonel?”
“Dad seemed to think Colonel Samuels would be able to help him get into a veterans’ hospital. Which he did.”
“How responsive was Colonel Samuels to your call?”
“He was…helpful.” It seemed she was about to add something, but changed her mind. He’d question her later about her impression of Samuels; he had more important matters to discuss first.
“Was there anyone else your father asked you to contact?”
“No one. My father was a private person. I don’t think he would’ve gone to Colonel Samuels if there’d been any other way.”
“Did your father ever explain why he felt Colonel Samuels owed him?”
“No. He never said.”
Roy made another note.
“Did you ever personally meet Samuels?” Roy asked.
“No, but I spoke to him by telephone a number of times. He was able to get my father into the local veterans’ hospital. The sad part is that it was all for nothing….” She let the rest fade.
Roy was afraid she was about to dissolve into tears, but she managed to keep her composure.
“The thing is…”
“Yes,” Roy encouraged when she paused.
“I don’t think Colonel Samuels helped willingly. I probably shouldn’t even be saying this, but whenever Dad talked to the colonel, he was upset afterward. I remember once the nurse had to give him a sedative. I was just grateful Dad would receive the necessary medical treatment.”
This was interesting. Perhaps Samuels wasn’t everything Roy had been led to believe. Sheriff Davis felt that Samuels wasn’t involved in the murder, and Roy had confidence in his instincts, but things weren’t adding up the way they should.
“Anything else you can remember about Samuels and your father?” he asked.
“Not really…They only spoke a few times, which was probably for the best, seeing the effect he had on my father. I think—no, wait.” She stopped abruptly. “I do remember something. It was several months after Dad was released from the hospital. Colonel Samuels phoned the house late one afternoon. Dad took the call and immediately lowered his voice. I realized he didn’t want me listening in, so I made an excuse to leave the room.” She seemed to be reviewing her memories. “I went into the kitchen, but I could still hear part of the conversation.”
“What do you remember?”
“I found it all rather odd. I don’t know if this is any help, but as I remember it, Dad said to Colonel Samuels that he’d never told anyone. I’m not sure what he never told, but my father was very firm about this secret being safe with him.” She finished in a rush. “I’m just wondering if I heard him correctly,” she murmured. “I tried to forget it because it wasn’t for my ears, if you know what I mean.”
“I do.” And Roy also had a very good idea what Russell had been talking about. Apparently he hadn’t discussed the incident in Vietnam with his daughter. It wasn’t Roy’s job to enlighten her about her father’s past.
“Describe the last time you saw your father.”
“Alive, you mean?” Her voice rocked with emotion. “This is all so strange. Dad and I talked every day, and I was sure he’d tell me about any trips. He didn’t go out a lot after the accident, and when he did he always wore a hat. He said he didn’t want people staring at him, but really, it wasn’t necessary. The surgery was extremely successful. Anyway, for Dad just to
leave and not mention his plans was unusual.
“I happened to stop by the house to check on him and was surprised to see he had a suitcase packed. I asked him where he was going, but all he said was that he’d made arrangements to be away for a few days. I asked again, but…”
“He still wouldn’t tell you?”
“No. Anytime I had a question he didn’t want to answer, he pretended not to hear me.”
“Can you remember what he took with him?”
“I…I didn’t see him drive off, so I don’t. He had the one suitcase. That much I know. And his coat and hat, of course. Like I said, he was self-conscious about his scars.”
“I’m sure he must have been,” Roy concurred, although as she’d said, the plastic surgeon had done a masterful job. At first glance, one would hardly have known that Russell had undergone extensive surgery.
“That’s about it.”
Roy jotted down a few more notes.
“Is there anything else?” she asked.
He did have other questions, but Roy wanted to mull over what he’d learned. “Not now. Would it be all right if I called you again sometime?”
“Of course.” There was a silence. “I find it hard to accept that anyone would want my father dead. Even now, it’s difficult to believe he isn’t here.”
“I’m sorry, Hannah, for your loss,” he said, meaning it. “Thank you for your help.”
“If you need any further information, please call.”
“I will.”
The conversation over, Roy hung up the phone and tilted back in his chair, closing his eyes.
Something was still missing here.
Fifteen
“I swear this class is going to kill me one day,” Grace muttered breathlessly as Olivia led the way into the dressing room. Grace used the towel draped around her neck to wipe the sweat off her face. “I’m thinking,” she continued, slumping down on the locker-room bench, “that we could just meet for dinner on Wednesday nights and give up this whole aerobics nightmare.”
“Come on, Grace, you love our class.”
“Wrong, I love to have finished our aerobics class. It’s the jumping up and down part that’s a drag.”
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series Page 103
