“I’ll wait to hear from you,” she said.
He nodded.
“Be safe, Nate.”
He nodded again, his expression somber.
Rachel lightly touched the side of his face and, unable to resist, brought her lips to his. Like him, she didn’t give the kiss a chance to become anything more than a quick farewell. She walked hurriedly inside.
Nate returned to his car and once she’d heard him pull away from the curb, Rachel opened the front door and stood looking down the street. The tears that burned her eyes shocked her a little. She hardly knew Nate Olsen. They’d gone out a grand total of three times, and at the end of every one of these dates, she’d had the impression she wouldn’t see him again.
Sniffling, Rachel went into the bathroom and grabbed a tissue. If she was going to fall in love, the least she could do was be smart about it. Oh, no, not her. She had to complicate everything and fall for a sailor who was as good as engaged to another woman.
Sitting in the dark with her bare feet on the coffee table, she continued to bemoan her pathetic love life. The light over her door shone dimly, but it didn’t really illuminate the room, despite the uncurtained windows. If she had any sense, she’d get up and turn on the lamp, but in her present frame of mind she preferred to sit in the dark.
Someone knocked on her door, and through her window she could see the shadowy shape of a man. Her breath caught in her throat as she ran to answer it. There, on the other side, stood Nate with his hands shoved in his back pockets.
At first all they did was stare at each other. Then, as if magnetically drawn to him, she stepped closer.
“I don’t know what’s happening to us,” he whispered, “but I couldn’t just leave you like this.”
Rachel felt the same way.
“For the first time since I joined the navy, I don’t want to go to sea.”
Rachel didn’t want him to leave, either.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Let’s sit on the beach and watch the stars.”
She wanted to shriek and sob with joy. “Are you going to kiss me?”
He grinned boyishly. “Probably. Are you going to let me?”
She smiled, too. “I’m thinking about it.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Don’t think too long.”
Forty-Eight
The alarm buzzed and with a frustrated groan, Ian rolled over and cuddled Cecilia close. Slipping his hand over her waist, he lightly pressed his palm to the ever-so-slight bulge.
“Hmm,” Cecilia purred softly as the radio played a Carly Simon tune. “Don’t tell me it’s time to get up.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Afraid so.”
She laid her hand over his. “Baby says good morning, too.”
“Morning, baby,” Ian whispered. The words nearly stalled in his throat. This was the last morning he’d be with Cecilia until after the baby was born. The George Washington was being deployed to the South Pacific for the next number of months. Six was what they’d been told, but it could be longer.
Cecilia rolled onto her back and looked up at him with her dark brown eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay. Stop worrying.”
Ian wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince him or herself.
“I’ll be fine. I have friends this time.” She rested her head against his bare shoulder.
“Does that mean you won’t miss me?” Ian attempted to make a joke out of it, but failed.
“Oh, honey, you know I will.”
“Some husbands and wives get into big fights about now. Makes it easier to leave.”
Kissing his jaw, she whispered, “I’d rather make love than argue.”
“Me, too.” He never was much good at arguing with her, anyway. He loved Cecilia beyond reason. And, in spite of his fears, he’d come to believe that if they continued to put off having another child until he felt “ready,” it would never happen.
“How much time do we have?” Cecilia whispered as she stroked his upper arms.
He nibbled on her ear. “Enough.”
Her smile was slow and sexy as she tucked one silky leg between his. Their lovemaking was hot and urgent. Afterward they held each other for a long time, neither willing to release the other. It meant they had to rush so he could make his quarters, but Ian didn’t care.
Cecilia hurriedly dressed to drive him to the shipyard. While he gathered up the remainder of his things, she walked out to the parking area to start the car. Although she’d tried to hide it, Ian had seen the tears in her eyes. She wasn’t the only one who felt emotionally shaky; in all the years he’d been with the navy, he’d never dreaded going to sea the way he did now. His attitude must have shown because the minute he slipped into the car, Cecilia offered him an encouraging smile.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” she assured him again, but he read through her bravado.
Ian desperately wanted to believe her. But he couldn’t quite overcome his doubts. Dread almost overwhelmed him as she backed out of the parking area.
“It really is all right, Ian.” She gently touched his knee.
“You know this, do you?” He didn’t mean to sound so sharp, but every fear caused by the death of their first child was staring him in the face with this second one. The knot in his stomach refused to go away and wouldn’t until he knew for a fact that she’d delivered a healthy baby girl.
“I’ll send you updates every time I go to the doctor.”
“Promise?” Mixed in with his fears was the suspicion that Cecilia would try to protect him from the truth. But he wanted to know every detail of her pregnancy. Needed to know.
“I promise,” she vowed.
They rode in silence for a short while. All the time Cecilia was driving, Ian worried that when the moment came to leave, he wouldn’t be able to do it. His gut told him this deployment was history repeating itself. They’d known Cecilia was pregnant with a girl when he’d left three years ago. She was pregnant again with a girl.
He’d been at sea when Allison was born.
He’d be at sea when their second child was born, too.
Cecilia’s ultrasound had looked perfectly normal the first time.
This ultrasound revealed nothing abnormal, either.
Now he was leaving, and the weight on his chest was almost more than he could bear.
Forty-Nine
Maryellen sat on the balcony outside the master bedroom and stared out over the calm waters of Puget Sound. She could see Mount Rainier clearly in the distance. It seemed close enough to touch.
Katie slept peacefully, curled up on Maryellen’s lap. The little girl’s hand clutched her favorite blanket, her other thumb in her mouth.
Closing her eyes, she breathed in the briny scent of the sea and listened to the muted sounds of late afternoon. It’d been nine days since she’d miscarried her baby. Nine days since she’d slept a whole night, and nine days since her heart was torn to shreds.
Jon had been attentive and thoughtful, anticipating her every need. Yet they lived as polite strangers. He was worried about her, and Maryellen suspected he’d talked to her mother because Grace had been by to visit nearly every day.
At the sound of her husband’s footsteps behind her, Maryellen glanced over her shoulder.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Do you want something to drink?”
She declined with another shake of her head.
Jon sat down in the rocking chair beside the swing. “We haven’t talked in a while.”
Maryellen cradled her sleeping daughter. “There hasn’t been anything to say.”
“I’m sorry about the baby.” Jon’s words were hoarse with emotion. He said it so often, and each time it made her want to weep all over again.
“Do you mind if we don’t discuss the miscarriage? There is no baby.”
Jon wiped a hand over his face. “I
blame myself for this.”
“You did nothing, Jon. You have nothing to feel guilty about. These things happen.” She repeated what the physician had said, but his words had been of little comfort then and were of less comfort now. However, that was all she had to offer her husband.
“I was angry and stupid.”
Maryellen didn’t respond.
“You didn’t even tell me you were pregnant. You couldn’t—because I wouldn’t let you.”
“Jon, don’t. Please don’t.” She was too depressed to hear him punish himself over this.
“It’s because of the pregnancy that you decided to stay with your mother, isn’t it?”
Maryellen refused to answer. So many things had gone through her mind the day of Charlotte and Ben’s wedding. Jon had been so angry with her and so unforgiving. He’d refused to even talk about it. When she’d left for her mother’s, he’d let her go without uttering a single word to stop her. The only reason she was at the house now was that he’d brought her here from the hospital.
Jon got out of the chair and started pacing back and forth. “Maryellen, please just say something.”
She looked up at him, puzzled by his outburst. “What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Just don’t sit there staring off into the distance. I can’t stand to see you like this.”
“I’m grieving…”
“For the baby?”
She nodded. “And for us.”
Jon leaned against the support column, as if he didn’t have the strength to stay upright.
“Less than two weeks ago, you were willing to let Katie and me walk away. Remember?”
Jon didn’t answer.
“I know what I did in contacting your parents was wrong,” Maryellen whispered, “but I never set out to hurt you. All I wanted to do was help.”
“I didn’t want your help,” he shouted, startling Katie who jumped and began to fuss until she found her thumb again.
With Maryellen’s steady hand on her back, Katie quickly returned to sleep. “Let’s talk about this another time.”
“No.” Jon was pacing again, back and forth, like a man possessed. His mouth thinned. “I told you before I don’t need my parents, don’t want them in my life. You and Katie are the only family I have.”
If what he said was true, then he wouldn’t have let her drive away that Saturday afternoon.
He held out his hands in silent pleading.
As she continued to watch him, he plowed his fingers through his hair, then straightened and seemed to come to some resolution. “Do you want a divorce?” he asked suddenly.
“No, but I wonder how long our marriage will last.”
Her remark obviously shocked him, and Maryellen felt she had to explain herself. “You so easily cast aside people who love you. If you can cut yourself off from your father and stepmother, then you can do it with Katie and me. In time you probably will.”
“That isn’t true.” He fell to his knees in front of her, clasping her hands and gazing up at her intently. “Look at me, Maryellen. You and Katie are everything to me.”
“Until I do something that upsets you.”
He stood and put distance between them. “That’s not true.”
Maryellen didn’t have the will to argue. She knew otherwise.
“Do you want me to tell you I’m willing to forget what my father did? Is that what you want me to say?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I want you to have peace,” she whispered.
“Peace?” He repeated the word as if he’d never heard it before. “You want me to have peace or you want me to make peace with my parents?”
“Both,” she said, “but until you find peace within yourself, you won’t be able to deal with your parents.”
“I was perfectly happy with my life until you came along.”
Despite herself, Maryellen grinned. “You only thought you were.”
“I don’t need them.”
“You kept their letters,” she said softly.
“I meant to throw them away.”
“But you didn’t. It must’ve given you some kind of emotional gratification when they wrote letter after letter, and you never answered.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps not.”
“You want me to make peace with them and I can’t. I won’t. I’m sorry, Maryellen, but even for you I can’t do it.”
Such a lack of forgiveness was frightening to Maryellen. “I don’t expect you to forget what they did, but forgiving is something else,” she said.
He shook his head vehemently.
“You must feel a real sense of justification and righteousness knowing how badly they wronged you—and knowing that you’re punishing them now.”
His eyes blazed, but he held his tongue.
“I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand the full extent of your pain. Your family betrayed you. They chose your brother over you and you’re angry.”
“You’re damned straight I am.”
“You have every right to be. Perhaps they don’t deserve your forgiveness, but don’t you see what this bitterness has done to you? Don’t you understand that until you can let go of this pain, you’re incapable of experiencing real joy?”
She could tell he wanted to argue with her, but she didn’t give him the opportunity.
“Now you’re angry with me,” she said, “and I admit it was wrong to go behind your back. But you let me walk away because that sense of righteous indignation was more valuable to you than your love for me.”
He opened his mouth to challenge her, but apparently changed his mind. He paced, his steps speeding up, then slowing as he went through some internal argument. “What should I do?”
“Look in your heart. Work on your attitude, your unwillingness to release all this pain.”
Jon shook his head, hopelessly this time, as if she was asking the impossible. “You make it sound so easy.”
“I know it can’t be.”
He sighed deeply and his shoulders sagged in defeat. “You’re welcome to keep in touch with them if you want.”
“What about you?”
His jaw tightened. “I’ll wait a while, but I’ll try, Maryellen. For you and Katie, I’ll try.”
In that moment, the cloud of depression that had hung over her since the miscarriage lifted. She held open her arms to Jon and was quickly engulfed in his embrace, with Katie between them.
“I can’t ask for more than that,” she whispered.
Fifty
Bob had been prepared to dislike Stewart Samuels, but in the days since he’d arrived in Cedar Cove, he’d had ample opportunity to gain a healthy respect for the other man.
Because of a meeting with some old friends from the police academy, Roy had been out of town. As soon as Corrie notified him that Samuels was in Cedar Cove, Roy had altered his travel plans and was due to get back late Monday morning.
By unspoken agreement, Stewart Samuels and Bob didn’t discuss Maxwell Russell. For the most part, Hannah had stayed out of sight during Stewart’s visits to the house. When Bob asked Peggy about it, his wife was eager to make excuses for her. For some reason, Samuels frightened the girl, but that didn’t really surprise Bob. He supposed it was because of Hannah’s wariness around men. She preferred her own company and often stayed in her room, where she read or watched television. Peggy was the only one with whom she seemed to feel comfortable.
Roy arrived a little after one on Monday afternoon, and to Bob’s surprise Troy Davis, the local sheriff, showed up with him. Stewart Samuels was already at the house when Bob answered the door. He led the two other men into the living room.
“Sit down,” Bob instructed everyone when the introductions had been made. Peggy quickly distributed coffee, then sat down next to Bob. He took her hand and they entwined their fingers.
Roy re
ached inside his pocket, pulling out a small notebook. “I have a couple of questions, if you don’t mind?” He looked at the sheriff as if seeking his approval.
“I’ll answer them if I can,” Samuels assured him, leaning forward slightly.
Roy nodded, his pen poised. “Tell me about the first time you met Russell after his accident.”
“We didn’t meet. Everything was handled over the phone.”
“That can’t be,” Peggy said and then instantly shrank back as if she wanted to retrieve the words. “I’m sorry. Go on.”
Samuels shrugged, obviously a little puzzled at the outburst. “I’m sure I’m right about this, Peggy. Max had the physician contact me to ask for my assistance in getting him into a veterans’facility. He needed extensive plastic surgery. Apparently he had only limited health insurance.”
“You never went out to California to see him following the surgery?”
“Never.” Samuels was adamant. “I did speak to him a few times, however.”
“When was that?” Troy asked.
“I can’t recall the exact dates, but it was after he’d undergone surgery, which I understand was successful.”
“What did he want to know when he phoned?”
“Actually I was the one who called him,” the colonel explained. “The hospital social worker reported on his progress and suggested Max get some counseling. He suffered from post-traumatic stress syndrome. I urged him to sign up for the sessions.”
“Did he agree?”
“Yes. The doctor told me later that Max had a number of appointments and they seemed to be going well. I was encouraged the next time I talked to Max himself. I only spoke with his counselor once, but she seemed pleased with his progress.”
“Do you know of any reason he’d want to visit Cedar Cove?”
“None, except…” He hesitated and gazed down at his folded hands. “It might’ve had something to do with the therapy sessions—some desire to reconcile himself to what happened in Nam.” Samuels paused. “As I recall, he was tight with Dan Sherman back then.”
“Did he mention that he intended to visit Dan?” Roy asked.
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