Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2

by Debbie Macomber

  “Were you always this involved?”

  “Except for the last few years, yes.” He took her hand. “I should tell you that Dad and I’ve been talking.”

  Rachel didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, although of his parents, she preferred his father. Nathaniel Olsen was a consummate politician and had a way of making everyone he met feel like his best friend. Still, as much as she hoped the congressman approved of her relationship with Nate, Rachel couldn’t be sure.

  Nate’s mother, on the other hand, hadn’t bothered to disguise her objections. This time Rachel was prepared for that. No matter what Patrice said or did, she refused to let the other woman upset her.

  “Dad wants me to work for him when I get out of the navy,” Nate said. He clearly thought she’d be pleased.

  She wasn’t; it was exactly what she’d always feared. When they’d first met, Nate claimed he had no political aspirations of his own. She was beginning to seriously doubt that. Nate loved campaigning, loved the challenge and the excitement. He was used to privilege and to the advantages conferred by wealth and power. Wherever they went, as long as he was with his father, he was a guest of honor.

  “I thought you hadn’t made a decision about reenlisting in the navy?” They’d discussed this a number of times.

  “I haven’t,” Nate was quick to tell her.

  His flippant response gave her the distinct feeling that he actually had.

  The driver delivered them to the Olsen residence outside the city. The huge, two-story house seemed more like a palace to Rachel; it was even grander than she’d expected. There were fifteen acres of beautifully landscaped grounds, and the house itself looked as if it belonged in a glossy architectural magazine.

  “Come on,” Nate said, taking her hand.

  Rachel managed to close her mouth and gulp in a deep breath before Patrice Olsen, Nate’s mother, came hurrying out the front door, arms wide. Nate released Rachel’s hand long enough to hug his mother, lifting Patrice off the ground in his exuberance.

  Inside the Olsen residence, everything seemed to be made of Italian marble or polished mahogany, and every piece of furniture looked like a priceless antique. Rachel was afraid to touch any surface for fear of smudging it, afraid to walk anywhere for fear of leaving footprints in the deep, soft carpeting.

  She’d been escorted to a guest room that felt more like a hotel room, but far nicer than any she’d ever stayed at. Dinner was just an hour after their arrival so Rachel didn’t have time to do more than admire her room, change her clothes and freshen her makeup before they had to leave.

  The next morning, there was a breakfast at which Nate and Rachel were required to mingle. With Nate at her side, she found it wasn’t as difficult as she’d assumed. Afterward he complimented her, and that went a long way toward soothing her nerves.

  “You’re doing really well,” he assured her as they hurried from the breakfast to a factory and then a huge assisted-living complex. Naturally, the local press showed up everywhere. Rachel prayed no one would address any questions to her or ask about her role.

  She marveled at both Nate and his father. At each stop, each occasion, she saw how effectively they spoke, how inspiring they were. The rally the next afternoon was the main event, followed by a formal dinner.

  Saturday was another long day of appearances until finally they entered the auditorium where the rally would be held. Rachel sat with rapt attention through all the speeches and applauded at all the appropriate places. At the end of Nathaniel’s speech, during which he declared his candidacy, she joined the crowd in giving him a standing ovation.

  When the applause died down, the congressman brought Nate onto the stage and introduced him, telling his constituents how proud he was to have a son serving in the military. With tears in her eyes, Rachel clapped wildly.

  To the sound of cheering, Nate stood next to his father and raised both arms. Then father and son embraced in what was truly a touching moment.

  Patrice Olsen moved down one seat in order to sit beside Rachel.

  “He looks good with his father, doesn’t he?” she said, leaning close.

  “Very good.” Rachel smiled over at Nate’s mother and continued applauding.

  “Nathaniel has political ambitions for our son.”

  Rachel had already assumed as much. “I can see he’d do a wonderful job.” After watching Nate with his father, it seemed inevitable that he’d follow in the older man’s footsteps.

  “Nate gets out of the navy in less than a year.”

  Rachel nodded. She and Nate had discussed that very subject shortly after she’d landed in Pittsburgh. Until that point, Rachel had been under the misconception that he hadn’t decided whether or not to reenlist. She’d guessed then that Nate wasn’t going to.

  “Dirk Hagerman is a friend of Nathaniel’s. Dirk’s retiring as a state representative, and they’ve been talking about getting him to endorse Nate as a candidate for his seat. Nate’s military background and the fact that he went in as an enlisted man—it all bodes well. We have every belief that he could win his first time out.”

  Rachel’s heart took a direct hit. “Is…is that what Nate wants?”

  Patrice eyed her coolly. “Look at him up there with his father, Rachel. What do you think?”

  Rachel couldn’t deny it. Never had she seen Nate more in his element; like his father, he was a natural politician.

  “He was born for this,” Patrice said.

  Rachel couldn’t deny that, either. She half expected Patrice to point out her flaws, her inadequacies as the potential wife of a politician. Rachel bristled, waiting for some dig or slight, but to her surprise Nate’s mother said nothing else. What Rachel discovered was that Patrice’s silence was more reproachful, more uncomfortable, than anything she might have said.

  Rachel had been riddled with doubts before. She’d given this weekend everything she had. Nate had been with her almost every minute and while living in the public eye certainly wasn’t her forte, it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

  Early on Sunday, Nate and Rachel left for the airport together. Both his parents hugged her farewell and repeatedly thanked her for being part of this important event.

  Because their flights were going to different cities, she and Nate went their separate ways at the airport. Rachel’s one regret was that they’d had practically no time alone.

  Nate kissed her as they prepared to go to their departure gates. “You were terrific,” he said, smiling down on her. “Absolutely terrific.”

  “So were you.”

  “I didn’t realize how much I missed all of this,” Nate confessed. “Being with the constituents who support our position is invigorating.”

  Rachel murmured her agreement.

  They talked for a few more minutes and kissed again. By the time she made it to her gate, the flight had already started to board. Settling back with a couple of new magazines, Rachel took a deep breath and tried to relax.

  After spending these days with Nate, she was more certain than ever that he’d enter politics. He hadn’t told her of his decision, though, and now she understood why. He’d wanted to see how this visit went. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

  On her arrival in Seattle hours later, Rachel found Bruce and Jolene waiting for her in baggage claim. The second Jolene saw her she skipped over to Rachel’s side.

  “Rachel!” she cried as if they hadn’t seen each other in years.

  Rachel hugged her, twirling her around, although Jolene was almost too big for that now. Hard to believe she’d be in junior high next September.

  “So,” Bruce said, hands in his pockets. “How’d it go?”

  “Really well.”

  He didn’t seem happy to hear it. If anything, he looked irritated and out of sorts. Rachel wanted to confront him, ask what was wrong, but Jolene acted like a playful puppy, demanding attention as they walked toward the parking garage, making serious conversation impossible.

 
; “So how was Lover Boy?” Bruce asked as he set her bag in the car trunk.

  Rachel glared at him. “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “Sailor Man, then.”

  “He has a name, you know,” she said sharply.

  “All right, how’s Nate?” Bruce opened the passenger door for her.

  “Very well, thank you.”

  “Can we go out to eat?” Jolene asked, clambering into the backseat and searching for her seat belt. “I want to hear about the rally.”

  “No,” Bruce said. “We’re not going out to eat.”

  A little shocked by the vehemence of his response, Rachel turned around and looked at his daughter.

  “He’s been in a bad mood all day,” the girl told her.

  “I have not,” Bruce barked. “Didn’t you say you have homework to finish?”

  “I do, but it’s no big deal.”

  Rachel snapped her own seat belt into place. “We’ll go out another time, okay?” she suggested in an effort to keep the peace.

  “Okay,” Jolene said, easily mollified.

  Judging by his dark, brooding expression, Bruce had no interest in spending time with Rachel. After those kisses, this was precisely what she’d been afraid of.

  The drive back to Cedar Cove seemed to take twice as long as usual. Rachel managed to carry on a somewhat disjointed conversation with Jolene, mostly about sixth-grade gossip, who liked whom and so forth. Bruce ignored them both. When he pulled up in front of her house, he stomped out of the car to remove her suitcase from the trunk.

  “See you soon,” Rachel promised Jolene.

  “Okay.”

  Bruce had already dropped her suitcase on the front step and started back toward the car, head down, his gaze averted.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said.

  “It was nothing,” Bruce mumbled as he stepped past her. Her key was barely in the lock when he roared away.

  Thirty-Three

  Grace couldn’t stop worrying about Olivia and the upcoming biopsy results.

  Her friend minimized her fears, but Grace wasn’t fooled. Olivia was afraid. Jack, too. The biopsy had been done and the lab required two days to do an analysis. This was the second day.

  Just as she was about to go for lunch, the phone on her desk rang. “Grace Harding,” she answered. “How can I help you?”

  “Grace.”

  It was Olivia, and she didn’t need to say another word. The tone of her voice said it all. Cancer. “Where are you?” she asked.

  “At home. I didn’t go the courthouse today.” She paused. “My doctor called a few minutes ago.”

  “Listen, don’t move, I’m on my way.” Grace forgot about lunch. Her appetite had vanished the second she heard Olivia’s voice. For two days she’d eaten practically nothing; all she could think about was her best friend and what she might be facing. “I’m leaving right now.”

  Grace arranged to take the rest of the day off, then rushed out the door, almost forgetting her coat and purse. She was outside before she’d even slipped her arms into the sleeves.

  Thankfully, the drive down Lighthouse Road was just long enough to allow Grace to gather her thoughts. When she arrived, Olivia was standing on the porch waiting for her. Wearing only a sweater, she seemed thin and frail, buffeted by the cold autumn wind. Her arms were wrapped around her middle and her face was set in that determined expression Grace knew so well. It was the same look she’d worn the afternoon she announced that Stan, her ex-husband, had decided to move out. The look that said life was hard but you couldn’t give up—that you had to be equal to the pain and the grief.

  The sight of Olivia, her lifelong friend, standing alone brought stinging tears to Grace’s eyes. Everything started to blur as she pulled the car to the side of the road and parked carelessly.

  The wind whipped her coat around her as she got out. Dashing the tears from her cheeks, she didn’t bother to hide the fact that she was crying. She rushed up the sidewalk and to the porch steps where Olivia stood. She stopped abruptly. They hugged, and the tears in her friend’s eyes brought a sob to her own throat.

  “Tell me…”

  “It’s cancer.”

  Grace tried not to cry. Crying wouldn’t help Olivia. “How…how bad?” she asked.

  “We don’t know what stage it is yet. I have an appointment with the surgeon next week. We’ll find out more then.”

  Grace swallowed in an effort to control her emotions. Fear sent a chill down her spine. Her friend, her dearest friend, had cancer.

  “Grace,” Olivia whispered. “I’m afraid.”

  Through the years, Grace had seen Olivia face every tragedy with grit and faith. When Jordan died it was Olivia who held the family together. A few months later, when Stan moved out, she’d dealt with that, too. Never once, through all the grief, had Olivia ever admitted she was afraid.

  It took a diagnosis of cancer to do that.

  “Let’s have tea,” Grace said and, with her arm around Olivia’s waist, led her back into the house.

  While Grace put the kettle on, Olivia sat at the kitchen table looking like a child, lost and lonely in her own home.

  “Where’s Jack?” Grace asked, wondering why he wasn’t here when Olivia needed him so badly.

  “He…he didn’t take the news well,” Olivia murmured. “I suggested he go and talk to Bob.”

  “He shouldn’t have left you.” Grace bit back her anger at Jack, knowing it was really anger at the unfairness of life.

  “It’s okay,” Olivia said. “I told him you were coming.”

  “Well, I’m here now.”

  “Yes,” Olivia whispered and a tear slipped down the side of her face.

  “Does anyone else know?”

  “Not yet.”

  Grace understood. Olivia needed to find her own balance, to consider her own future, before she told her mother or her children.

  “I’ll be right here,” Grace promised.

  The hint of a smile came to Olivia then. “I knew I could count on you.” She stretched out her arm and they clasped hands.

  Olivia had been with Grace when Dan disappeared, and later, too, when her husband’s body was discovered and finally laid to rest. They were friends, would always be friends, no matter what the future held. For nearly all their lives, they’d shared their secrets, their hurts, their triumphs and joys.

  “The part I have a hard time accepting,” Olivia said after sipping her hot tea, “is that there’s an invader inside my body. A disease that wants to steal my life away. I keep thinking about it.” She placed one hand over her heart. “The enemy is inside me,” she repeated. “In the past I’ve had to deal with forces outside me. What I’m confronting now is in here.” Her hand formed a fist and she closed her eyes.

  Grace bit her lip.

  “I wish I could explain it better,” she said. “With everything else, I could close a door and retreat. Take a break from it, you know? I can’t with cancer. There’s no escaping my own body.”

  Grace merely nodded, having no comfort to offer except her presence.

  She spent an hour with Olivia, and they drank two pots of tea before Jack returned. Whatever his problem had been earlier, apparently it was now resolved. He seemed confident and matter-of-fact, answering Grace’s questions quickly and clearly.

  Olivia went to lie down, and Grace was grateful for the opportunity to speak to him privately.

  “Call me anytime, night or day,” she said.

  “I will,” he promised.

  “If you and Olivia need anything, call me.”

  He agreed. After a brief silence, he spoke again. “I don’t mind telling you, I wasn’t prepared for what this would do to me,” he admitted. “I thought I was. You might remember that my son had cancer years ago, and I assumed I knew what it’d be like to hear that verdict a second time. I wasn’t even close.”

  “Olivia’s a strong woman.”

  Jack’s eyes to
ok on a resolute look. “Olivia needs a strong husband who’ll stand at her side while she’s going through this. I’m here and I intend to stay.”

  Grace left soon after, first hugging him goodbye. He thanked her over and over for coming to the house, for giving them her support, for being Olivia’s friend.

  When she got home, Grace immediately went looking for Cliff. She found him talking to Cal in the barn, but he broke off whatever he was saying as soon as he caught sight of her.

  “I saw Olivia,” she rushed to tell him, fresh tears filling her eyes.

  Cliff put his arm around her shoulders and they walked slowly back to the house. Once inside, she turned to him. “It’s cancer,” she said starkly.

  He nodded grimly. “What’s the prognosis?”

  “We won’t know until she sees the surgeon, and that won’t be until next week. We’ll find out more then.” Grace paused for a moment, her voice threatening to break. “She hasn’t told Charlotte or her children.”

  Cliff urged her to sit down at the table and began preparing tea. Grace smiled, thanking him, and didn’t say that one more cup of tea was probably the last thing she needed.

  She saw the envelope with the returned rent check on the table and sighed. Another concern to deal with, another problem to solve. It felt trivial compared to what Olivia was going through, but still…

  Cliff glanced at the envelope, too. “Oh, I talked to Judy this afternoon.”

  Grace knew the rental agent couldn’t be blamed. She herself had insisted Judy accept the Smiths as tenants despite their unsatisfactory references.

  “Apparently, this isn’t the first time these people have done this.”

  That didn’t come as any surprise to Grace.

  “Judy talked to another agent from the Bremerton area,” Cliff continued. “She learned that this couple’s made quite the habit of bilking their landlords.”

  “Could Judy tell you how long it would take to evict them?”

  Cliff frowned. “People like this know how to work the system. She said it might take six months to get them out.”

  “Six months!” Grace cried. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I agree.” He shrugged. “It’s pretty hopeless. They’ll exploit their rights as tenants and drag everything out until the bitter end.”