“Why? She’s guiltier than you are.”
Jack shrugged. “You don’t know Olivia the way I do.”
“She’s my daughter—if I don’t end up disowning her over this.” Charlotte had trouble accepting what her daughter had done. “Who put her up to it?” She leaned forward and glared fiercely at her son-in-law. “You, Jack? Was it you?”
He shook his head, raising his hand in a gesture of surrender. “Not me. Will.”
This was even worse than she could’ve imagined. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Jack cast Ben an apologetic look.
That just made Charlotte angrier. “How dare he?” she sputtered.
“Now, Charlotte,” Ben said in a soothing voice. “Let’s talk about this calmly.”
But Charlotte was in no mood to be mollified. “You tell my daughter that I’m in love with Ben Rhodes and I have every intention of marrying him.”
Head down, Jack nodded like a repentant child.
“On second thought, I’ll tell her myself.”
Jack raised his index finger. “When you do speak to Olivia, I’d appreciate if you gave me a few minutes’ notice first.”
Ben chuckled, but Charlotte found nothing humorous in the situation. “Then consider yourself warned.”
Jack clearly felt terrible, but she didn’t blame him for her daughter’s actions. No, she knew exactly who was responsible for this…this insult.
Despite his protest, Charlotte left Ben to deal with the groceries while she marched over to the courthouse. It was a good three-block walk and uphill at that, but Charlotte’s indignation drove her all three of those blocks without a single pause. By the time she got there, however, she was winded. Charlotte leaned against one of the courthouse pillars and placed her hand over her pounding heart, taking slow, deep breaths.
Her expression must have conveyed her mood because no one stopped her or delayed her with conversation. After clearing security, she plowed through the crowded hallway to her daughter’s courtroom. She shoved open the door decisively and…
Wouldn’t you know it, the room was empty. All the better. Charlotte didn’t need any witnesses to this confrontation. She went directly to Olivia’s chambers. The mahogany door was closed; she knocked once and opened it without waiting for permission.
Olivia sat at her desk and glanced up, a look of curiosity on her face. “Mother?”
“How dare you, Olivia Lockhart Griffin! How dare you!” Fresh tears welled in her eyes.
Olivia set down her pen and gestured for her mother to take a seat. Charlotte hesitated, then collapsed into the visitor’s chair. She reached for her lace handkerchief, tucked in the sleeve of her blouse, and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I’m utterly ashamed that my own children would do anything so underhanded and deceitful. How could you do this to me—and to Ben? What’s he ever done to you?”
Olivia sighed heavily. “Mom, I can tell you’re upset.”
“Upset? You don’t know the half of it!”
Olivia raised her hand. “I don’t blame you. I’m sorry, but Will and I felt that in this day and age one can’t be too careful.”
“You don’t think I’m capable of judging a man’s character? Ben is decent and kind and…and honorable.”
“I wanted to believe that too, but he has no family in the area.”
“No family in the area?” Charlotte repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, what brought him to Cedar Cove?” Olivia briefly closed her eyes, as if she were embarrassed and ashamed, as well she should be. “Will felt, and I agree, that we needed some verification of the things Ben told you.”
“Like what?”
“That he’s who he says he is, for one thing.”
“He is!” Charlotte insisted.
“I know that now, but until I asked Roy to check into Ben’s background, we only had his word for it that he’s a retired admiral. He just seemed…too good to be true.”
Charlotte continued to dab at her eyes and sniffle as the anger was replaced by tears. “I’m so embarrassed. I love Ben.”
“Oh, Mother…”
“Don’t you Oh, Mother me! I’m old enough to know my own feelings and I refuse to listen to a lecture from you.” Using the edge of the desk to support herself, she rose to her feet. “Save those condescending little speeches for the courtroom.” Having delivered her own insult—though minor in comparison—Charlotte started out of the room.
“Mom, please.”
Charlotte stopped in front of the closed door, her back to her daughter.
“I’m sorry,” Olivia whispered. “You’re right. I should never have done this.”
“It’s a bit late for sorry, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” Again Olivia sighed. “I know how you feel about Ben.”
“I sincerely doubt that, but go on.” She turned to face Olivia now, her expression blank. “His sons aren’t having me investigated.”
Olivia let the comment slide.
“Ben’s a companion and a friend and—”
Charlotte didn’t know why she bothered. She shook her head, astonished by her own daughter’s insensitivity. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from someone who was so recently married. Look at me, Olivia,” she commanded, “and listen well. I’m in love. For the first time since your father died, I feel truly alive again. I wake up every morning with a sense of joy because I know that at some point during the day I’ll be with Ben.”
Olivia closed her eyes again, as if gathering her thoughts. “Mom, I understand what you’re saying. It’s the same with Jack and me.” She opened her eyes, gazing straight at Charlotte.
“How would you feel if I’d had him investigated?”
Olivia leaned forward and braced her hands on her desk. “It wouldn’t have mattered. I love Jack, and he’s got nothing to hide from me.”
“And you think Ben has?”
“That’s just it—I didn’t know.”
“And now you do?”
Olivia nodded. “Roy mailed me the report last week. I sent off a copy to Will, telling him we can both rest assured that Ben Rhodes is everything he said he was.”
There was a knock at the door. Olivia checked her watch and frowned. “Come in.”
To Charlotte’s complete shock, Ben opened the door and stepped into the chamber. Both women stared at him, although neither seemed to know what to say. For her part, Charlotte was mortified. She wanted to apologize, to ask his forgiveness on her children’s behalf, but her throat closed up at the sight of him.
Olivia recovered first. “Please come in, Ben,” she said. “I believe there’s been a slight misunderstanding.”
“That’s what you’re calling this?” Charlotte cried.
Olivia threw her mother a silencing look. “Would you care to sit down?”
“Unfortunately,” Charlotte said, standing up and entwining her arm with Ben’s, “we have to be going.”
“Now, Charlotte,” Ben countered. “I think it would be best if we talked this out.”
“I agree,” Olivia said quickly. She focused her attention on Ben. “If I’ve offended you, Ben, I apologize.”
“If?” Charlotte shook her head. She’d always been so proud of Olivia, her daughter the judge. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she had the urge to send Olivia to her room without dinner.
“I love your mother, Olivia,” Ben said boldly. “I know you do, too. We have more in common than you realize.”
Olivia offered him a tentative smile. “I can see that you’re good company for each other.”
“Olivia, you’re not listening. Ben and I are in love.”
Her daughter stared at her.
“What I think your mother is trying to tell you,” Ben said, “is that I’ve asked Charlotte to be my wife and she’s agreed.”
Olivia’s gaze veered from Charlotte to Ben. “You’re asking my permission to marry my mother?”
“No,�
�� Charlotte said, looking up at Ben. “We’re getting married with or without your approval.”
“I see,” Olivia managed. She sank back into her fancy leather chair and apparently had nothing more to say.
Thirty-Two
The alarm buzzed and Cecilia opened one eye, peering at the clock radio on her nightstand. The digital readout told her it was six o’clock and time to get up. She groaned inwardly. It couldn’t be six already. She felt as if she’d just gotten to sleep.
It’d been like this when she was pregnant with Allison, too. She’d felt as if she could’ve slept for days at a time. What made it worse now was that Ian didn’t go on duty until the afternoon, so she was the only one who had to get up this early.
The minute she lifted her head from the pillow waves of nausea battered her. Moaning, she laid her head down again and closed her eyes, praying this would pass. Bolting up, covering her mouth, she raced into the bathroom just in time to empty her stomach into the toilet bowl. Still gagging, she closed her eyes again, hoping the worst of it was over.
Blindly she reached for a washcloth draped over the edge of the sink.
“I’ll get that for you.” Ian rinsed the cloth, wrung it out then handed it to Cecilia.
She patted the cool cloth against her face, straightened and tried to smile.
“Good morning,” her husband said softly.
“Hi,” she managed to respond as she wiped her mouth.
“Were you sick like this with Allison, too?”
Cecilia nodded. It was the first time he’d asked. They hadn’t been married during the initial months of her pregnancy, and she’d never mentioned her problems with morning sickness. By the time they were married, the nausea had passed.
“Was it this bad?”
She nodded again. “Every morning. Until my third month.”
Ian sank onto the edge of the bathtub. “Is there anything I can do?” He sounded almost guilty, as if he were personally responsible for her discomfort.
Cecilia moved to his side. “Love me,” she whispered. Their relationship had been so strained since he’d learned about the pregnancy, and even before, when he knew she wanted to get pregnant. He was trying to accept this baby, but he treated her with a kind of wariness, as though he was afraid to touch her.
“I do love you,” Ian said.
She turned away, and Ian put his arms around her and touched his forehead against her back. “You never told me, you know?” he protested.
“Never told you I was so sick every morning with Allison?” Cecilia asked. “Is that what you mean?” She pressed her hand over his and moved his palm to her flat stomach and held it there. “Would it have made any difference if you’d known?”
“I hear you every morning,” he whispered. “You run in here and heave your guts out.”
“The doctor says I should eat a soda cracker when I first wake up.”
He kissed her neck, his lips lingering for a moment. “Then why don’t you?”
“No time. I open my eyes and it’s all I can do to make it to the bathroom.”
“They can’t give you a drug?”
“I won’t take anything.” She had with Allison, and although the physicians had repeatedly assured her that Allison’s heart defect had nothing to do with the pills she’d taken for morning sickness, Cecilia couldn’t completely believe it. True or not, she wasn’t taking any chances with this pregnancy.
Ian sighed as if he’d give anything for her not to be pregnant. It broke her heart, but she refused to show her pain. She knew that when the baby came, Ian would love his son or daughter with the same intensity that he already loved Allison. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Until then she’d be patient.
“Stay home today,” he urged.
“And waste a sick day?” She couldn’t do that. In the months to come she might need them. Besides, with Ian leaving for work in a few hours, it didn’t make sense.
“Take a vacation day then.”
“Why?” She turned to face him.
“Because I can’t stand the thought of you going to work sick.”
Little did he know that she had to pull off the road nearly every morning to vomit. “I go to work sick most days.” Today wouldn’t be any different. “Mr. Cox relies on me, and besides, Allison is coming by this afternoon.”
Ian stiffened.
“Mr. Cox’s teenage daughter,” Cecilia reminded him.
“I know who you meant.”
“She’s a good kid, and now that her parents are back together, she’s doing really well in school.”
Ian’s shoulders rose as he expelled a breath. “I wonder if the Coxes knew the hell their daughter would put them through when they decided to have a baby.”
Despite her upset stomach, Cecilia laughed and stroked her husband’s thick hair. “Babies don’t come with guarantees. They grow up and turn into teenagers. When the time comes, we’ll deal with it.” Bending forward she kissed him on the lips. “I’m sorry, honey, but I have to get ready for work.”
He grumbled for form’s sake, then went back to bed while she dressed.
Cecilia put on her makeup and packed a lunch, although the sight of food made her stomach lurch. But by noon she’d be fine and her appetite would return and she’d need that lunch.
Ian appeared to be sound asleep when she left the duplex. Munching on soda crackers as she drove, Cecilia made it all the way to the office without a single emergency stop. This was progress.
According to the navy doctor, her due date was the first week of May. May fifth. Allison had been born in June. Cecilia had gone into labor on a beautiful summer afternoon, but the perfection of the day hadn’t augured a happy event. Being alone had been terrifying, even more so after her baby’s birth.
Forcefully Cecilia turned her thoughts away from her first pregnancy. This time everything would be different. This time Ian would be with her and their baby would be born healthy.
Mr. Cox was already in the office when Cecilia arrived. After a few minutes of their usual easy chat, she settled at her desk and immediately began her work. The nausea almost always abated by nine. The first hour of the morning was the worst and odd though it seemed, she felt sick some afternoons once she got home. The second bout was always less intense than the first.
At noon Mary Lou, the receptionist, came into her office. “You have a visitor,” she announced.
“I do?” This was unexpected. “Who is it?”
Mary Lou grinned. “Why don’t you come and see?”
Cecilia walked to the front of the office and there stood Ian with a small bouquet of flowers. “Ian!” she cried. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought we’d go to lunch, if that’s okay?”
“Of course it’s okay. Don’t you have to work this afternoon?”
“I do, but I’ve got time to take my wife to lunch.”
She was so pleased to see him, it didn’t matter one little bit that she’d brought her lunch.
They got sandwiches and drinks at the Pot Belly Deli and walked to the Waterfront Park, where they chose a relatively secluded picnic table.
“I have something for you,” he said as she unpacked their lunch.
Ian reached inside his pocket and brought out a plain gold cross on a chain. “I want you to wear this, all right?”
Cecilia was stunned. “Ian, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”
He walked over to where she was sitting and placed it around her neck and secured the clasp.
“I haven’t forgotten our anniversary or anything, have I?” she teased.
“Nope.”
“Any special reason you’re giving me a gift?”
He shrugged and tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. He sat back on the picnic bench and unwrapped his veggie-and-cream-cheese croissant. “You’re having my baby. Isn’t that reason enough?”
Tears rose in Cecilia’s eyes. Because of the pregnancy, all her hormones were out of control; the smallest thing set
her off. Not that this was small. No, his gift, his acknowledgement of her pregnancy, was the most moving and important moment they’d shared in months. She waved her hand in front of her face, blinking rapidly.
“You’re crying?” Ian sounded surprised. “I thought this would make you happy.”
“I am happy.”
“So why are you crying?”
Then she was laughing, almost hysterically—weeping and laughing at the same time. “Because I’m having a baby, silly.”
“Oh.” Ian took a bite of his sandwich.
“And I love my husband.”
He grinned. “Who loves his wife and his baby.”
Cecilia cried all the harder then.
“Honey, don’t cry. Please.”
“It’s just that I was so afraid you didn’t. Love us, I mean.” She sobbed, hiccupped and curled her fingers around the small cross. “Everything’s going to be just fine this time, Ian.”
His smile slowly disappeared. “I’m trying to believe that.”
“I know you are. I’ll do everything I can—and I feel it will be fine, but there are no guarantees.”
That was one thing Cecilia understood.
Thirty-Three
Bob Beldon glanced at the menu in the bowling alley’s small restaurant, although it wasn’t necessary. He knew what he wanted. Two eggs over easy, bacon, cooked crisp, and two pieces of sourdough toast with strawberry jam if they had it. For two-fifty it was the best buy in town.
The waitress strolled past and without asking, filled his coffee cup. “You waiting on someone, hon?”
Bob nodded. The instant he did, Roy McAfee stepped into the crowded restaurant.
“Right on time,” Bob commented as Roy slid into the booth across from him.
“Have you ordered?”
“Not yet.”
Pad in hand, the waitress returned, filled Roy’s mug and stood waiting for their order. Bob went first. Roy asked for a short stack of pancakes. The woman sauntered off and barked the order to the cook.
“What’s up?” Roy asked. Bob had called him last night to arrange this meeting.
“Peggy told me something interesting the other day. I’ve spoken to Troy Davis, but I wanted to get your opinion, too.”
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