The next day he was back, hoping to see her again. If she happened to be there on two consecutive days, he decided, he’d consider it fate.
Sure enough, at the same time as the day before, he saw her outside the library, walking with another girl. It took courage to follow her inside, to call out her name. Roy wondered if she’d ever realized what it had cost him. He’d put every bit of his remaining pride on the line that day. But whatever the price, it was nothing compared to the value she’d given his life.
Roy recognized that he wasn’t an easy man to love. He tended to be stubborn; admitting he was wrong didn’t come easy. Not then and not now.
He’d never forget the day Corrie told him about the baby. He’d wanted to rant at her for withholding the information; he’d had a right to know she was having his child. But he soon acknowledged that he hadn’t given her much choice—and that he wouldn’t have had the maturity to deal with the situation.
Still, he hated the fact that she’d been left to make these life-altering decisions on her own. When he thought about what Corrie and her family must have endured, it made him ashamed. The girl he’d loved and used had given birth to his child alone because she knew, even if he didn’t, that he couldn’t cope with a pregnancy.
Having the baby had changed Corrie. She was as beautiful as before, perhaps more so. However, the changes had come about not in her appearance but in other subtle ways. She’d matured. Already miles ahead of him in that area, she’d developed a dignity and a gentle wisdom that made him yearn to be with her even more.
She didn’t tell him about the baby until they were engaged. He used to wonder why she’d waited. But now he understood that if she’d told him before, she’d never be sure whether his proposal had been offered out of love—or guilt and regret. Waiting until she was utterly convinced of his love might have saved their marriage.
Roy leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. His best detective work was done in this old chair, a relic from his police days. The department had wanted to toss it, but Roy had saved it from a junkyard death, rolled it out to his car and brought it home. He’d been sitting in this chair ever since. Corrie hated it, pleaded with him to get rid of it. He wouldn’t.
The office door opened and then closed. “Dad?”
Roy let his feet fall to the floor. “In here,” he called out to his daughter.
Linnette walked into his office and threw herself onto the chair opposite his desk. “Where’s Mom?”
Roy had exactly the same question. “Apparently she took an extended lunch hour. I guess that’s what I get for hiring family,” he joked.
“Oh.” Linnette looked as if she wanted to weep.
“You need to talk to her?”
His daughter nodded. “Dad,” she said, straightening, “did you always love Mom? I mean, was there ever a time you had questions about the way you felt?”
“Sure,” he admitted, a little taken aback by the question, so close to his own recent thoughts. “Just the other day,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood. He wasn’t much good at giving advice. That was Corrie’s specialty.
“Dad, I’m serious.”
“I know you are,” he said, somber now. “Relationship problems?”
Linnette shrugged. “I screwed up.”
Roy hated to turn his daughter away, but he wasn’t comfortable with this heart-to-heart stuff. “You’d better talk to your mother.”
“She isn’t here. You are.”
“In other words, it’s any port in a storm?”
She gave him a half smile. “You could say that.”
“All right.” He tried not to sigh. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Pulling off her gloves, Linnette stood up for a moment and removed her coat.
“I did something I regret,” she said bluntly.
“What?”
“Mom bought me a date with this guy in that Dog and Bachelor Auction last summer. Cal, his name is, and he’s a horse trainer. We went out, mainly because Mom pressured me into it. I didn’t want to, but I finally agreed.”
“Was it so bad?”
“Not at all. I enjoyed dinner and later, I went out with him again. I had an even better time, and then he kissed me and—”
“Hold on a minute.” Roy raised one hand. “I don’t want to hear any of that. Otherwise, I might be tempted to bash his teeth in.”
Linnette looked up and smiled. “You’re such a father.”
“Sorry, can’t help it. You’re my baby girl.”
“I am not a baby.”
“All I can say is wait until you have your own children and then decide.” He gestured for her to continue.
“I liked the way Cal kissed me—don’t worry, I’m not going to say any more about it, except that when he kissed me I got scared.”
This got Roy’s attention. “Did he try any funny stuff?”
“No, nothing like that. He didn’t scare me—I’m explaining this badly. What I mean is, I knew that if he kept on kissing me, I’d want to see him again, and I couldn’t because there was someone else I liked better.”
“Hmm?” That was about as profound a comment as he could make. He was finding all this a bit difficult to follow. So she liked this horse guy but she didn’t? And who was the “someone else”?
“I wanted to be available for Chad,” she elaborated, “and I didn’t want to get sidetracked.”
Okay, now he got it. Sort of. “This is that doctor fellow?”
Linnette nodded. “The problem is, it didn’t work.”
“You mean the doctor fellow isn’t interested? Or you’ve been thinking about Cal?”
“Both. But I was incredibly rude to Cal, and I keep wondering, you know, what would’ve happened if we’d continued dating. I wonder if I might’ve let a wonderful man slip through my fingers—and all for nothing.”
“What’s happening with Chad?” Roy needed all the facts, logically presented.
She shook her head. “No movement there. He’s handsome and sophisticated, and at one time I would’ve given my eyeteeth to go out with him, but he’s never asked. I doubt he ever will, and you know what? That’s fine. I’m pretty much over him. It’s Cal who interests me now. Except I’m not sure what I should do.”
Okay. Scratch the doctor. But Roy had no idea what he was supposed to say next. He was clean out of romantic advice.
“I wonder if I should phone Cal and apologize or just let it go.” She raised expectant eyes to him. “What do you think?”
That was the million-dollar question, all right. “What do I think?” he repeated slowly. “You may not know this,” he began, “but your mother and I dated for a while and then split up.” He paused. “After almost two years, we met again. I’ve always felt fate put her in my path that day.”
“In other words, if it’s meant to be, I’ll see Cal again?”
Roy nodded. “Something like that.”
Linnette seemed to be mulling over his words. She stood up, her expression thoughtful, and reached for her coat. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaned back in his chair and placed his feet on the desk once again, crossing his ankles. “Any other problems you want me to solve?”
“Not this afternoon. Tell Mom I came by, okay?”
“Will do.”
Linnette left and Roy was settling down to a short nap when the door opened and Corrie burst into his office. Roy took one look at his wife and dropped his feet to the carpet for the second time. “Corrie? What’s wrong?”
Tears shone in her eyes as she sat in the chair just vacated by their daughter. “I—” She swallowed hard, fidgeting with a tissue.
“What is it?”
“You refused to listen. You refused to consider what I said, so I took matters into my own hands.” She was so pale, he felt suddenly terrified.
“What did you do?” he asked, frowning.
“I—you aren’t the only one in this family capable of doing det
ective work. I have my own resources.”
“Corrie? What did you do?” he repeated.
She finally met his gaze. “We had a daughter, Roy. I gave birth to a little girl.”
Roy came around from his side of the desk and placed his hand on her shoulder. Bending down, he looked into his wife’s eyes, loving her so intensely he felt a physical pull toward her. “I know,” he whispered.
“You know?”
“I found out, too.”
Twenty-Nine
Rachel tried, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d learned from Carol Greendale on Christmas Day. Nate was the son of a powerful East Coast politician. She was living in a dream world if she had any hopes for this relationship. The sooner she cut her losses, the better. And she decided to do just that, sending Nate a terse but perfectly polite e-mail. She hadn’t turned on her computer since.
Friday night, Bruce phoned her at the salon and suggested they get together. Rachel’s first inclination was to decline. She wasn’t in the mood to be sociable, but on second thought, she didn’t go out that often. Bruce was usually good company.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I don’t know.” He didn’t seem full of enthusiasm, either.
Half the time Rachel figured the only reason he called her was that he didn’t know any other women. But that wasn’t true; he knew plenty of women. She suspected he had an irrational fear of unmarried females trying to trap him into marriage. That wasn’t an issue with her and he knew he was safe.
“Want to go to a movie?” she asked.
“We could.”
“Where’s Jolene going to be?” She tried to think of something that might appeal to both of them.
“Slumber party.”
“Dinner?” Rachel suggested.
They didn’t even talk in full sentences anymore. They were like an old married couple so attuned to each other that their communication was a form of shorthand.
“Sure.”
That was fine with Rachel, too. “Where?”
“You choose.”
“Taco Shack.”
“Meet you there?”
“Fine. Six?”
“Great.”
By the time she left the salon and drove out to the Taco Shack, Bruce had arrived and scouted out a table. The Taco Shack was a popular Friday-night spot. The food was good and plentiful and, best of all, cheap.
“I already ordered for you,” he said when she joined him.
“How’d you know what I wanted?”
“Cheese enchiladas. That’s what you order every time.”
“I do?” Rachel hadn’t realized that. As a matter of fact, she read the entire wall-mounted menu on each visit. Apparently she was even more predictable than she’d known.
She got herself a Diet Coke—Bruce had a bottle of water—and their dinner was delivered two minutes later. If she ordered the same thing every time, then so did Bruce. Without instructions, the server set the cheese plate in front of her and the chicken enchiladas in front of Bruce.
As though synchronized, they both reached for their forks. “Do you want to watch a DVD later?” Rachel asked between bites.
“What have you got?”
She named a few movies that had been going around the salon. The girls at Get Nailed had a better system than most rental places, and if a DVD didn’t get returned in a timely manner, the teasing was ruthless. Rachel had borrowed several for the weekend, a couple of comedies and an emotional drama, reputedly a tearjerker.
“I haven’t seen any of those.”
They decided on one of the comedies, then ate in silence for a few minutes.
“Have you heard from lover boy?” Bruce asked, picking up his water.
“If you mean Nate, then no, I haven’t.”
“No?” This seemed to surprise Bruce.
“I ended it.”
Bruce set down his water and studied her. “This is news. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. You didn’t write this guy a Dear John letter for no reason. That’s not like you.”
“I e-mailed him.”
“Okay, a Dear John e-mail. Tell me what’s going on.”
Bruce was right; she hadn’t done this lightly. She’d thought about the situation for almost two weeks and concluded that it couldn’t work. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss it.”
“All right.”
Rachel’s appetite was gone, and she pushed her food around while Bruce finished his. He moved his empty plate aside. “This is bothering you, isn’t it?”
Bruce was stating the obvious, a typical male trait in her experience. Because she found it impossible to conceal her emotions, she simply nodded.
They left, and he followed her back to her rental house, parking at the curb. She unlocked the front door and let him inside. The first thing she noticed in the dark foyer was the red light flashing on her answering machine. Instead of listening to her messages, she turned on the house lights and drew the living room drapes, then brought out the DVD they’d selected.
While he put the disk in the slot, she poured them each a glass of wine. He liked the reds, especially merlot, and so did she. Tucking her legs under her, Rachel sat on the sofa. Bruce sat next to her.
The previews had just started when the phone rang. Unfolding her legs and setting her wineglass on the coffee table with a sigh, she hurried into the hallway to answer it. She wasn’t expecting any calls, but there was always the possibility that Jolene might be trying to get in touch with her father.
Using the remote, Bruce sped ahead to the movie portion and hit the pause button.
“Hello,” she said, slightly out of breath.
“Rachel, it’s Nate.”
“Nate?”
Bruce’s eyes flew to hers and she whirled around, unable to look at him while talking to another man. She instantly felt guilty, although she told herself there wasn’t a single reason she should.
“Thank heaven you’re home. I’ve been trying for the last half hour. Where were you? Damn, I wish you’d turn on your cell phone.”
“Did you call to yell at me?”
“No, no. I just want to know what the hell is going on.” His words were followed by a slight echo. “Why won’t you answer my e-mails?”
“I’ve already said everything I feel is necessary. I think we should end this right now.”
“Fine, whatever, but the least you can do is tell me why.”
Rachel didn’t want to talk about this now, especially with Bruce listening to every word.
“Is there someone else? It’s that Bruce guy, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“Did I do anything?”
“No.” She twisted the cord around her elbow.
“Do I have to play a guessing game with you?”
“No…I found out you’re Congressman Olsen’s son.”
Her announcement was met with a brief hesitation. “That’s a problem?”
“Yes!” she cried. “It’s a very big problem.” He needed to understand what that information had done to her. And if it wasn’t a problem, why hadn’t he told her himself, instead of leaving her to discover it on her own?
“Does this change who I am?”
“No,” she acknowledged reluctantly.
“Then I don’t see why it’s a problem.”
“I do,” she said. “You’re a congressman’s son and I work in a salon doing nails and hair.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“If you don’t know, then I can’t explain it.”
“I’m Nate Olsen, a Warrant Officer in the United States Navy. Why can’t you accept that and that alone?”
“Because.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything.”
“Why did you enlist?” she demanded.
Her question seemed to take him off guard. “I had something to prove.”
“It’s the same wi
th me, isn’t it? You’re using me in the same way.”
“No.”
“I’m just one more stone to throw at your father. I can just imagine what he’d think if he learned about me.”
“I don’t give a damn what he thinks.”
“Well, I do,” she said forcefully.
“Then you aren’t the woman I thought you were.”
She braced herself against the wall. “No, I guess I’m not.”
He didn’t have anything more to add, it seemed. She heard a soft goodbye, followed by a click. He’d disconnected. The phone droned in her ear, and a long moment passed before she replaced the receiver.
When she turned around, Bruce was standing in the doorway. “You okay?” he asked.
She was going to lie, to shrug it off, but couldn’t. “No, not really,” she finally said.
He slipped his arms around her for a gentle hug and she rested her head against his shoulder.
Thirty
“Jack!” Olivia complained, sitting on the end of their bed. “When are you going to start using that treadmill?” She hated to nag, but he’d been procrastinating ever since Christmas morning, when she’d unveiled her gift. Although he’d made an effort to look pleased, she’d seen the disappointment in his eyes.
“I will,” he said, sauntering out from the bathroom in his underwear. “Soon.”
“You promised to start last week.”
“I know, I know.” He had the resigned look of a convicted man on his way out of the courtroom and into jail. His eyes brightened. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Jack, you know darned well that I got you a pair of sweats. Don’t tell me you forgot, either.”
“I didn’t forget,” he admitted, “but I don’t feel right sweating in brand-new clothes.”
“Jack Griffin, that’s the most ridiculous excuse I’ve ever heard. Enough. Exercise.”
“Now?” he gasped.
“Now!”
“But I’ve got to get to the office.”
“Not until you’ve walked a mile, minimum.”
“A mile?”
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series Page 142
