Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series

by Debbie Macomber

  Katie, being far more interested in her toys, quickly returned to the wooden puzzle Jon and Maryellen had purchased for her. She seemed intent on getting all the pieces back into their proper slots.

  “I’ll open mine,” Maryellen said. Her gift was homemade, too—a knit poncho in a soft beige wool. “Oh, Jon, look what Ellen made for me.”

  He didn’t comment. When Maryellen tried it on and modeled it for him, he nodded once, then moved away. Apparently something in the kitchen demanded his immediate attention.

  Maryellen left his gift sitting on the coffee table. She wouldn’t urge him to open it. That was his choice. The gift sat there through dinner, and it was only as she was readying for bed that she noticed Jon hadn’t come upstairs yet. Katie was asleep and Maryellen had to work in the morning.

  Looking down the stairway, she saw her husband sitting on the sofa, staring at the gift. After a while he seized the large package with its red-and-green wrap and tore it open. This was a step forward. So far, every gesture made by his family had been met with brutal rejection. Recognizing the significance of the moment, Maryellen covered her mouth. She didn’t wait to see what Jon’s parents had chosen for him. Afraid of giving herself away, she went quietly to bed and waited for him to join her.

  A long time passed before he did. She’d turned off the light and was lying on her side, half-asleep, when Jon climbed into the bed. He moved close to her and draped his arm over her waist, flattening his hand against her stomach.

  Maryellen rested her hand on his.

  “You awake?” he whispered.

  She sighed sleepily in response. Because he was so still, she asked, “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know,” came his hoarse reply. “My father’s a bastard. Knowing I was innocent, he sent me to rot in a jail cell. And now…now he gives me a fishing pole for Christmas.”

  Maryellen rolled onto her back so she could look into her husband’s face and discovered Jon’s eyes bright with unshed tears. Cradling his cheek with one hand, she kissed him, not sure how else to comfort him.

  “He used to take me fishing when I was a kid, before my mother died. Those were the happiest memories of my childhood—fishing with my dad.”

  Closing her eyes, Maryellen wrapped both arms around him. She suspected Joseph Bowman had found the one way in which he could reach his son.

  Twenty-Five

  Cecilia knew Christmas Day without Ian was going to be difficult. She woke feeling melancholy, but was determined to have as merry a Christmas as possible. “Next year your daddy will be with us,” she assured her unborn son, rubbing her swollen belly.

  As soon as she was dressed, she logged on to the computer and left her husband a long, detailed message. She sent him all her love on this most special of days and did her best to sound happy and confident. Achieving the right tone required careful thought. If she sounded too cheerful, Ian might think she didn’t miss him. If she seemed depressed and miserable, he’d worry. As a result, she spent almost an hour composing her message. She ended by mentioning the small get-together she was having with Cathy and Carol and added that they’d invited Rachel Pendergast to join them.

  A small Christmas tree sat in the window of her duplex, a smattering of gifts beneath. Ian had asked his mother to mail her a lovely gold locket; she’d opened that the minute it arrived. Her in-laws had added a gift of their own—a Pashmina shawl in a lovely shade of soft green. Her own mother had mailed a small box of gifts, mostly baby things, which Cecilia opened that morning. Sandra Merrick had recently married for the third time. Cecilia phoned to wish her a merry Christmas and was given the disappointing news that her mother wouldn’t be able to visit her when the baby was due. She’d used all her vacation time on her honeymoon. They talked for about thirty minutes and Cecilia hung up the phone with mixed feelings. Her mother was happy; Cecilia couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way after a conversation with her. She was genuinely delighted for Sandra and hoped to meet her new husband soon. Besides, she’d do fine by herself when she was ready to deliver her baby; Cecilia had her friends.

  At noon, she drove over to Cathy Lackey’s for Christmas dinner. She saw Carol Greendale’s vehicle parked outside Cathy’s place—Carol and her daughter, Amanda, had already arrived. Amanda had been born the same month as Allison. For a long time, Cecilia could barely look at the little girl without feeling overwhelmed by grief. But now, Cecilia felt only a twinge of pain when she saw Amanda.

  “Merry Christmas,” she sang out, letting herself into the apartment. She carried a special chicken pasta salad her mother made every Christmas. It had always been Cecilia’s favorite. She also had a bag filled with small gifts; they’d decided to exchange presents, setting a ten-dollar limit.

  “Merry Christmas,” Cathy called from the kitchen. She wore a felt reindeer antler headpiece with bells that jingled as she walked. Cathy’s son, Andy, was playing with Amanda in the living room. “I’ve got the bird in the oven and we should be eating in three hours—if this oven holds up.”

  “Problems?” Carol asked. She had on a bright red sweater with three Christmas-tree bulbs in black, yellow and green decorating the front.

  “Problems with the cook,” Cathy answered, poking her head out of the kitchen. “I should’ve cleaned the oven after Thanksgiving and didn’t, and then the minute I turned it on to preheat for the turkey, smoke started billowing out.”

  “Mom set off the smoke alarm!” Andy shouted.

  Carol’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

  “What could I do?” Cathy joked. “I shoved the bird inside and closed the door, hoping the alarm would stop—which eventually it did.”

  Cecilia laughed. “That’s exactly what I would have done.”

  “No,” Cathy objected. “You would’ve had a spotless oven, so this sort of disaster would never have happened. I, on the other hand, only cook when necessary and on holidays.”

  What Cathy had said about her was true, but Cecilia wasn’t going to admit it. She did like a clean house and took pride in her homemaking skills.

  “Rachel Pendergast is joining us for sure,” Cecilia said, delighted that her new friend had agreed to come. Both Carol and Cathy had met Rachel at different times, and Cecilia had gotten to know her fairly well. Cathy and Carol were perfectly willing to invite her to their Christmas party, even if she wasn’t officially a Navy wife. Nate Olsen was a friend of their husbands.

  “Great,” Cathy said, “the more the merrier.”

  The doorbell chimed just as Cathy finished speaking. Carol answered, and Rachel walked in, her nose red from the cold, bearing a sweet potato casserole and a canvas bag with a few wrapped presents peaking out. “Merry Christmas,” she said. “I’m not late, am I?”

  “No, no, not at all,” Cathy assured her. She took the casserole dish and set it on the kitchen counter.

  “Welcome,” Cecilia said and they hugged. Rachel shrugged off her coat and hung it on the rack by the front door, then arranged her gifts by the tree.

  “I got delayed at Bruce’s,” she explained, glancing at her watch.

  At first Cecilia assumed that Bruce was Rachel’s brother or some other relation, until she remembered he was her widower friend.

  “Jolene didn’t want me to leave,” Rachel was saying.

  Cathy brought out eggnog and they all sat down in the living room to open gifts. Cecilia had bought each of the other women a tube of luxurious hand cream, and puzzles for the kids; in return she received nail polish from Rachel, in a color called “Santa’s New Suit,” a paperback from Carol, and, from Cathy, a pewter picture frame engraved with booties and other baby images. She suspected Cathy had gone over their price limit and felt tears well up as she caught her friend’s eye and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Soon after that, the two kids moved into the bedroom, where Amanda had convinced Andy to play house with her.

  “I’ll make you dinner,” the four-year-old said smartly.

 
Andy looked skeptical. “Will the smoke alarm go off again?”

  “Who are Bruce and Jolene?” Carol asked Rachel. “I think I missed something here.”

  “Well, Bruce is a…friend. A widower. His daughter, Jolene, is nine now. Her mother died when she was five. A while ago, she said she wants me to marry her dad.”

  “How did Bruce react to that?” Carol asked.

  “Forget her father, how did you handle it?” Cathy wanted to know.

  Rachel grimaced slightly. “It was awkward for both of us. Bruce and I see each other on occasion. Mostly for companionship. For example, Bruce asked me to go Christmas shopping with him and I did.”

  Cathy exchanged a glance with Cecilia. “Does Nate know about this other guy?”

  Rachel nodded. “Bruce is just a friend. Nate knows that. Technically I—I’ve only gone out with Nate twice, and we’ve stayed in touch.”

  Cecilia knew they’d been in daily contact ever since she’d shown Rachel how to log onto the Internet and send e-mail messages. Ian had recently mentioned how much happier Nate seemed to be now that he was able to communicate with Rachel on-line.

  “Nate gave me a computer for Christmas,” Rachel said shyly. “I told him it was too much, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Wow,” Cathy murmured.

  “He’s got the bucks,” Carol said matter-of-factly. “Or rather, his family does.”

  Cecilia, Cathy and Rachel all stared at her.

  “What do you mean?” Cecilia asked when no one else did.

  “Nate Olsen, right?” Carol said, turning to Rachel, who nodded. “That’s the guy I thought you were talking about. His daddy’s Nathaniel Olsen.”

  The name wasn’t familiar to Cecilia, and she noticed the others looked just as blank.

  “Who?” Cathy asked.

  “Nathaniel Olsen, as in Congressman Nathaniel Olsen from Pennsylvania.” She glanced from one woman to the next. “You mean you didn’t know?”

  Rachel looked shocked, then confused. “N-no, Nate never mentioned anything about his family being in politics.”

  “We’re talking money. Big money,” Carol continued, clearly enjoying the role of expert. “I’m not sure where it all came from in the beginning—probably coal—but there’s lots of it now and Daddy doesn’t mind letting everyone know.”

  “Nate’s an enlisted man,” Cecilia said. It stood to reason that because of his father’s name, he could’ve gone into the Navy as an officer.

  “True,” Carol agreed, sipping her eggnog. “But Nate and his father had a falling out a few years back. Then I heard that Nate dropped out of college and joined the Navy.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I’m from Pennsylvania,” she told them. “It was big news back home, and of course his daddy put a positive spin on it. He played up his family’s patriotism for all it was worth at election time.”

  “I’ll bet Nate hated that,” Rachel said quietly.

  “I’ll bet he did, too,” Carol concurred. “I don’t think he has much to do with his father these days.”

  “Oh.” Rachel had gone pale. “I can just imagine what Nate’s father would say if he found out his son was dating a hairdresser.”

  That was met with a moment’s silence. “It seems to me Nate’s his own person,” Cecilia felt obliged to comment. “He’s the one who sought you out, isn’t he?”

  “Actually, I bid on him at the Dog and Bachelor Auction, remember?”

  “Yes, but you two hit it off,” Carol said.

  “Nate doesn’t have a problem with you working in a salon,” Cathy added. “What’s wrong with that, anyway? As soon as Carol and I found out you did hair, we were overjoyed. We’ve been looking for a good hairdresser ever since we moved to Cedar Cove. The fact that you do nails too is a bonus.”

  Rachel relaxed a bit. “I just wish Nate had said something—about his background, I mean.”

  “Maybe he was waiting for the right time,” Cecilia offered, wishing Carol hadn’t said anything now. Rachel seemed so uncomfortable.

  Carol must have regretted it herself, judging by her next words. “Come to think of it, I’m sure Nate wouldn’t use family money to purchase your gift,” she said. “You obviously mean a lot to him.”

  Rachel smiled and the color rose in her cheeks. “He means a lot to me.” Her smile grew wider. “I don’t know anything about his family, but I will tell you that Nate’s one fine kisser.”

  Cathy shook her head. “Well, I don’t know about Nate, but I’ll bet you hands down that Andrew can out-kiss him any day of the week.”

  “If we’re going to get into comparisons,” Cecilia began.

  “Girls, girls,” Carol broke in, waving her arms. “This is a discussion we don’t want to have.”

  “Why not?” Cecilia asked.

  Carol looked at each one and then lowered her voice. “Exactly how long has it been since any of us had sex?”

  Cecilia and Cathy both giggled.

  “Too long,” Cecilia said. “Way too long.”

  Twenty-Six

  Corrie loved shopping at all the after-Christmas sales. Next to the Thanksgiving sales, this was her favorite shopping experience. She was delighted that Peggy Beldon had agreed to join her. They’d gotten to know each other in the last year, while Roy worked on solving the murder that had taken place at Thyme and Tide, the bed-and-breakfast owned by Bob and Peggy.

  “I love it when I can buy Christmas wrap at seventy-five percent off,” Peggy said as she loaded up her cart with half a dozen colorful rolls. “Of course, Bob complains. He says I can’t save money by spending money.”

  Corrie nodded. “Roy says the same thing.” This was a ritual lament—the same conversation they’d had on previous shopping expeditions.

  “Men are so unreasonable.” Peggy added several strands of outdoor Christmas lights. “Look at these,” she said, holding up a box for Corrie to view. “Next year when Bob goes to put up the outdoor display, he’ll discover that a whole bunch of lights have burned out. Outdoor lights just aren’t made to last more than a year. I’m saving him the bother of racing down to the store for last-minute replacements. But will he thank me?”

  “You’re joking,” Corrie murmured. “Of course not.”

  “We’re underappreciated.”

  They both laughed. Corrie was grateful she had a friend to share this kind of humor with, these small, amusing insights from daily life. She’d missed that when she’d first moved to Cedar Cove. She didn’t make friends easily. Linnette was like that, too, and Corrie was glad her daughter had met Gloria. Linnette had made the transition from Seattle to small-town life much more smoothly, thanks to her neighbor.

  When her cart was full, Corrie steered toward the checkout stands in the front of the store, with Peggy following directly behind.

  After they’d delivered their bounty to the car, Peggy suggested lunch. “We should spend some of the money we just saved,” she said.

  “By all means,” Corrie agreed happily. “I haven’t been to D.D.’s on the Cove in months. How about you?”

  “Fine with me.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in a booth overlooking the marina. The Christmas decorations were still up but would be coming down after the first of January. When that happened, the town would look dull and drab, Corrie mused. Winter, the rainy season of the Pacific Northwest, was her least favorite time of year.

  They both ordered hot tea and crab-melt sandwiches.

  Once they were settled with their tea and waiting for their lunch, Peggy surprised her by asking, “Did you get a Christmas postcard?”

  The Beldons had been with Roy and Corrie the night the fruit basket arrived. Peggy also knew about the mysterious postcards. So did Linnette, but only because she’d accidentally found one. As far as Corrie knew, no one else in town was aware of the situation.

  “An anonymous Christmas card came on the twenty-fourth,” Corrie said reluctantly. This was
the last thing she wanted to discuss, and yet the need to confide in someone burned in her chest.

  “Any idea who they’re coming from?” Peggy asked.

  Corrie didn’t answer right away. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “I do have an idea,” she managed to whisper. It was all she’d thought about since discussing their unknown child with Roy. He was adamant; they’d vowed not to speak of it again and he was holding her to that.

  Peggy, who was a sensitive woman, gave her a concerned look. “If you’d rather not say anything…”

  “I…can’t. I talked to Roy about it, but he won’t listen. What I’m thinking of happened a long time ago, and he feels it’s best to leave it in the past.” Corrie realized she’d already said more than was advisable. “He’s probably right.”

  “Let’s drop the subject then.”

  Needing a diversion, Corrie reached for her tea. “Perhaps that would be best.”

  “Can you answer one question?” Peggy sounded mildly embarrassed. “I shouldn’t ask, but curiosity is getting the better of me. Was there a message on the Christmas card?”

  An involuntary smile came to Corrie. “Nothing cryptic, if that’s what you mean. All it said was Merry Christmas.”

  “None of these messages have been threatening, have they?” She held up her hand. “Don’t answer that. We’re changing the subject.”

  The waitress brought their lunch, a hot crab and cheese mixture spilling over both halves of the toasted English muffins. This was one of Corrie’s favorite meals, a specialty at D.D.’s. She wondered why she hadn’t been here in so long. Mostly, she decided, because of her daughter’s work schedule. They enjoyed meeting for lunch, but Linnette’s shift changed every week and—

  Corrie’s thoughts came to a grinding halt as she saw Linnette’s neighbor in a booth across the restaurant. Gloria was sitting there with Chad Timmons.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered, setting her fork down.

  “What?” Peggy asked, looking around for whatever had alarmed Corrie.