Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series

by Debbie Macomber

  Her smile faded.

  Jon leaned his forehead against the edge of the mattress. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. But he knew the tiredness he felt didn’t compare to what Maryellen had endured during these twenty hours.

  She moaned slightly, and her grip on his hand was punishing. Trying to help her, he softly counted off the seconds. The pain lasted a full minute and a half, and her contractions came so quickly now, there was barely a moment between them. When this latest one had passed, a tear rolled from the corner of her eye.

  Dr. DeGroot arrived and nodded at Jon. “This seems like a good day to be born, don’t you think?” he said, as he took his position at the end of the birthing bed.

  Everyone suddenly seemed to get busy. Several nurses surrounded Maryellen and there was a noticeable surge of energy now that the birth was imminent.

  “Let’s see what we have here,” the physician murmured. “Okay, Maryellen, get ready to push.”

  Jon felt a little extraneous, as though he had no real role anymore. There was some problem, but he didn’t completely understand it. Apparently the baby was facing up instead of down, which had contributed to the lengthy labor.

  The pain that followed seemed to be the worst so far. Maryellen gritted her teeth and bore down with what appeared to be an excruciating effort. She half rose from the bed and groaned loudly.

  “Good, good,” Dr. DeGroot said encouragingly.

  Jon was mesmerized. He watched as the baby slipped free of Maryellen’s body and into the physician’s waiting hands with a lusty cry. The doctor smiled and turned to Jon. “Congratulations! You have a son.”

  Jon smiled at Maryellen. “It’s a boy,” he told her unnecessarily.

  “Is he all right?” she asked anxiously.

  “He’s perfect,” Jon announced, although he couldn’t really see anything through the tears that clouded his vision.

  “Welcome, little Drake,” Jon whispered. This was the name Maryellen had liked best. They’d discussed names a hundred different times, poring through baby-name books Grace had brought them from the library. Unreasonable as it seemed now, he’d assumed the baby would be another girl; if it was, they’d settled on Emily.

  “We don’t have a middle name,” Maryellen said, reminding Jon that he’d promised to choose a second name. “Drake Jonathon has a nice ring to it.” She smiled up at him and he leaned forward and kissed her, putting all his love, all his pride in her into that kiss.

  “There’s plenty of time to choose one,” he said, entwining his fingers with hers.

  When he straightened, the nurse handed Jon his son. Maryellen was right; little Drake found the world the most irritating of environments. The baby cried until Jon rocked him gently, then placed him in Maryellen’s arms.

  As if she needed to see for herself, she pulled back the receiving blanket and examined his fingers and toes. Drake gazed up at her and instantly settled down to sleep. Like Jon, his son had found his contentment in Maryellen’s arms.

  “I believe your family’s waiting for the news,” Stacy Eagleton told him after finishing with Maryellen.

  “Will you tell them?” Maryellen asked, her eyes imploring.

  It was decision time for Jon. A part of him wanted to ignore the fact that his father and stepmother were even at the hospital. He’d vowed not to let them back in his life. He’d fought to maintain this promise to himself. He didn’t want to care about his father. The man had turned his back on Jon when he’d counted on his family to come forward with the truth. He’d lied. Even knowing his oldest son was innocent, Joseph had sent him to prison.

  “Jon?” Maryellen whispered.

  Her soft voice drew him from his reverie. As he stared down at his sleeping son, Jon’s heart filled with such overwhelming love that he thought it might burst wide open. For the first time, he understood his father’s dilemma.

  Jon had two children now, too. Katie and Drake, and he loved them equally. If he had to choose to send one to prison over the other, which would it be? He didn’t ever want to find himself in such a horrible position—sacrificing one child to protect the other. Granted, Joseph had no legal or moral right to make such a choice, to play God in this way, but Jon could understand it now, at least a little. Yes, Jim had been guilty, but he was a weak and vulnerable man, easily broken. He’d lied about Jon’s culpability, and Joseph had backed him up. Joseph had chosen to sacrifice Jon because he was stronger than his brother. Prison would have destroyed Jim. In the end, of course, Jim had destroyed himself, despite Joseph’s attempts to save him with rehab and counseling and unstinting support.

  “I’ll tell them,” he said.

  Maryellen clasped his hand. “Thank you.”

  “They’ve been here nearly twenty hours, too,” he reminded her.

  As he walked into the waiting area, Ellen and Joseph immediately stood. Two other people who sat at the far end glanced over, then returned to their conversation. His parents looked at him, their eyes wide with expectation. They were both tired and disheveled, especially his father. Only the day before, Joseph had frantically stumbled through knee-deep running water in a desperate attempt to save Katie. His father, with a weak heart, had nearly suffered a heart attack while rescuing his granddaughter.

  If he lived another hundred years, Jon would never forget the panic in his father’s eyes when Jon found him sitting on a fallen log, holding a sobbing Katie in his arms. He’d been panting with relief and physical exertion and was deathly pale. Seeing the embankment his father had clambered down in his struggle to reach Katie, Jon thought it was a miracle the old man hadn’t been swept away himself.

  “We have a son,” Jon told them.

  Ellen brought her hands to her mouth and tears streamed from her eyes.

  “A boy,” his father repeated, grinning proudly.

  “He’s perfect.”

  “Maryellen’s okay?” Joe asked.

  “She’s exhausted. I’m married to an incredible woman, you know that?”

  Joseph grinned again and nodded in obvious agreement.

  “How much does he weigh?” his stepmother asked.

  “Six pounds, thirteen ounces,” Jon said. “He measured twenty-one inches.”

  “He’s going to be lanky like his father,” Joseph commented.

  “And grandfather,” Ellen added, looping her arm around her husband’s waist. She leaned her head against his arm. “Have you and Maryellen chosen a name?”

  Jon looked at the two of them. “We decided on Drake,” he said.

  “Drake. Drake Bowman.” His father seemed to test the name, then nodded approvingly. “I like it.”

  “Drake Joseph Bowman,” Jon said, his gaze connecting with his father’s.

  Joseph stared at him, and then his eyes filled with tears that ran down his cheeks.

  “Oh, Jon.” Ellen was sobbing now. She held out her arms to him and after the briefest hesitation, Jon hugged his stepmother and then his father.

  He hadn’t known he was capable of forgiveness until that moment. What he’d discovered was that when a man found love, the kind of love and contentment he’d discovered with Maryellen, there wasn’t room in his life for hatred.

  Forty-One

  Teri stirred the boiling macaroni and tasted it to see if it was done. She sometimes overcooked it, and that would ruin everything. This dinner was special—she was cooking for Bobby.

  Although she’d been married for more than two weeks, it was the first meal she’d put together for her husband. Bobby was flying in from someplace in Russia following an important match. She’d had no idea the demands on his time would be this constant.

  Although he was faithful about phoning each and every day, and often more than that, Bobby hadn’t contacted her when he’d finished this match. As far as Teri could figure, Bobby was on a plane. He’d caught a flight immediately after the competition and was landing in Seattle at five. James was with him and would drive him from Sea-Tac to Cedar Cove—to thei
r home. Yes, they had a real home now, at 74 Seaside Avenue.

  Within days of her return from Las Vegas, Teri had purchased the house. Bobby insisted she move out of her apartment and into a place big enough for both of them. He’d written the check, and she’d moved in so quickly that her head was still spinning. She’d learned that when Bobby Polgar wanted something done, it got done.

  He’d given her a credit card, which she’d used to buy new furniture from a high-class Seattle shop, including a leather sofa, the price of which shocked her, and a solid-wood dining suite. And then there was the bed….

  Eager to show her husband the house and cook for him, Teri had decided to make one of her favorite meals. The macaroni-and-cheese dish was a hit whenever she brought it to the Christmas potluck at work. She had a couple of variations on it, too. Sometimes she added cooked taco meat, which was just hamburger and taco seasonings. Occasionally she threw in some chopped tomatoes.

  Teri wanted Bobby to like her cooking. When he’d taken her out for dinner, or—more frequently—ordered room service, they’d always had fancy food, lobster and such. She thought he’d enjoy some more basic fare. Her kind of food.

  It seemed strange but they’d been apart longer than they’d been married. She needed her husband, missed being with him and, yes, sleeping with him. Although the truth was, neither of them seemed too interested in sleep. She smiled, recalling how much Bobby seemed to enjoy the marriage bed. Well, it’d mostly been hotel beds, but that wasn’t the point.

  Peering out the window, she saw the stretch limo pull up in front of the house. Too excited to wait a second longer, Teri dashed out the door. Bobby hadn’t even taken two steps toward her when she hurled herself into his arms. The impact nearly knocked him off his feet. If not for the fact that the vehicle was directly behind him, Bobby would’ve keeled straight over.

  Teri spread eager kisses across his face, setting his glasses askew. She quickly realized he wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic as he normally was.

  “Bobby?” she asked, leaning back to get a good look at him. “What’s wrong?”

  He didn’t answer right away. In fact, it was James who explained in hushed tones. “You didn’t hear?” he asked. “Bobby lost.”

  Well, those things happened. He couldn’t possibly win every time. You win some and you lose some; that was her philosophy of life. In Bobby’s case, he won more often than he lost because he was so darned good at what he did.

  “He doesn’t like to lose, Miss Teri,” James explained further.

  “No one enjoys losing,” she said calmly. “Does this mean our entire visit is ruined?”

  “He doesn’t lose often,” James continued.

  Bobby didn’t even seem to be listening. James dragged his suitcase into the house and placed it just inside the living room.

  “I’m afraid he’s taken the defeat hard,” James said in a low voice as he walked past her on his return to the limo. “He needs a bit of TLC, and he’ll be fine. I’ll be back to pick him up in two days.”

  Pulling her husband gently by the hand, Teri led him into the house. “Let me give you a tour,” she said.

  He seemed to be in some kind of trance. “Bobby, are you listening?” She waved her fingers in front of his face with no result. Instead he walked over to the chessboard she’d set up on a small oak table and sat down. She’d studied a diagram to position the pieces correctly. Without a word, he started moving them around.

  Teri could see it would do no good to interrupt him with a little thing like…life. His concentration was so complete that he didn’t seem to be aware of where he was or that she was with him. Rather than pouting or making a fuss, Teri dished up a bowl of her specialty macaroni and cheese, squirted on some ketchup and sat cross-legged on the carpet beside him to wait.

  An hour later, Bobby glanced up, apparently shocked to find her there. “Teri?”

  “Hello, Bobby. Welcome home.”

  “I lost.”

  She sat down on the sofa next to him and brushed his hair aside. “I heard,” she said tenderly. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t like to lose.”

  No kidding. “Did you figure out what went wrong?” she asked, looking over the chessboard and the pieces he had scattered about.

  He nodded.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Her question resulted in a furrowed brow, as if he wasn’t sure how to answer.

  “Never mind, I’ll get you a dish.”

  “I could wait,” he said, and his eyes held hers for the longest moment.

  Teri might not have been married long but she knew that look. “Perhaps you’d like to see the rest of the house,” she suggested. “Shall we begin with the master bedroom?”

  For the first time since he’d arrived, Bobby smiled. He trotted down the hallway behind her and into the bedroom. Then he shut the door.

  An hour later, Teri lay next to him in bed, sighing with contentment. Bobby held her close. “Losing doesn’t seem so bad when I hold you,” he murmured.

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  “I’m hungry now,” he said and, as if to prove his point, his stomach growled.

  “You should be,” she said, kissing his jaw. “That was quite a workout I gave you.”

  Bobby smiled again, and Teri wondered how many people in this world had actually seen her husband do that. Not many, she suspected. She climbed out of bed and got her robe, slipping her arms into the sleeves.

  “Do you like the house?” she asked, tying her sash. She’d felt a bit anxious about that, since she’d made the decision without Bobby.

  He sat up and grinned. “Very much. Especially the bedroom.”

  Teri swatted his shoulder playfully. “Come on, husband of mine, and I’ll serve you my specialty.”

  He tilted his head to one side, and gazed up at her, his expression intense.

  “Bobby?” She wasn’t sure what he was thinking when he stared at her like that.

  A deep frown wrinkled his brow and the perplexed look gradually turned into one of pleasure—and wonderment. “I love you,” he said simply. “I really love you.”

  She leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. “I love you, too.”

  Their time together was brief, too brief to suit Teri. They had three nights and two full days. Every evening she cooked for him. He enjoyed her macaroni and cheese, and her chili pie, another dish she’d invented, and her broccoli quiche, which she’d made using a recipe she’d cut out from the Chronicle. They listened to music and she taught him how to play Yahtzee and strip poker. He preferred the poker.

  He liked the fact that he didn’t yet know anyone in Cedar Cove. She’d taken Saturday off, so they had the whole weekend, during which they saw only each other—no friends or neighbors. Teri didn’t even answer her phone.

  Except for the five days they’d spent on their honeymoon, they’d had almost no time together. Those days in Vegas weren’t a true indication of what life with Bobby would be like. Now that he was home, she’d been surprised by how little he actually slept. He’d told her once that he spent a lot of time thinking, and that had been no exaggeration. He required four hours or less of sleep a night. Often she found him sitting in the living room in front of the chessboard, studying it intently, working out moves in his mind.

  Sometimes he seemed to forget she was with him. Terri didn’t take offense at his lack of attention. Because when he did remember, he made her feel more cherished and loved than she’d ever felt in her life.

  When he said he loved her, he meant it. Loving someone seemed to be a new experience for Bobby, and it was important to him that she know how strong his feelings were. Every day they were together he bought her gifts, ordering them by phone or Internet, and no doubt paying a premium for quick delivery. These weren’t minor gifts, either. The first day it was a diamond tennis bracelet and a tennis racket to go with it. Teri had never played tennis in her life. Bobby, however, believed the two were supposed to go together and she
wasn’t about to disillusion him. The following day it was a wall-mounted plasma-screen television with satellite hookup.

  When James arrived, Teri had to swallow the words to ask her husband to stay a few extra days.

  Bobby held her and then kissed her. She kissed him back. “When will I see you again?” she asked, thinking any more than a few hours would be too long.

  He explained his travel schedule, the upcoming matches. His answer was lengthy, technical and confusing. She looked to James for a translation.

  “A week.”

  “I can last a week,” she whispered.

  Bobby smiled and hugged her a final time.

  “Take care of him,” she told James, her hand lingering on her husband’s arm.

  “I will.” He opened the car door for Bobby, who reluctantly climbed in the backseat.

  Folding her arms, Teri stepped away from the curb.

  “You did a great job,” the chauffeur said under his breath as he walked around the limo. “I’ve only known Bobby to lose one other match in all the years I’ve worked for him. Afterward, he sank into a depression that lasted for months.”

  “He’ll be all right now,” she assured the driver.

  James touched the rim of his cap. “You’re good for him, Miss Teri.”

  What she didn’t tell James was that Bobby was good for her, too.

  Forty-Two

  Linnette had waited for this moment ever since she’d heard Cal was back from Wyoming. After a week, he’d phoned and asked if they could meet.

  She had restrained herself from calling him, and the fact that he’d taken so long to get in touch only compounded the pain. Hoping to put them both at ease, she’d suggested the waterfront park. It was neutral territory, and in the early afternoon, there were few occupants besides the seagulls. On Thursday evenings during the summer, the park held Concerts on the Cove, with free entertainment ranging from rock-and-roll groups to folk singers and swing bands. Linnette hadn’t yet attended a single one, although she knew her parents enjoyed the outings. It didn’t strike her as something that would appeal to her father, but he went, primarily to please her mother. It was their once-a-week summer date. If it wasn’t so ironic, it would be laughable. Her married parents dated more often than she did.