“No, I haven’t,” she said swiftly. “You were the one who didn’t want anything to do with me. You stopped coming over as soon as we got engaged!”
They could argue about it all night and it wouldn’t settle anything. “If I gave you that impression, then I apologize,” Mack said.
She offered him the merest hint of a smile. “I guess we’ve both been silly, haven’t we?”
That was an understatement if he’d ever heard one.
“I know you weren’t happy when I insisted on a six-month engagement.”
“I can live with that,” Mack said. “It was the fact that you didn’t want me to touch you at all during that time.”
Doubt flickered in her eyes. “I didn’t say you couldn’t touch me…. I just don’t feel it’s wise for us to be…intimate.”
“Oh.” Mack wondered if he’d misread the situation. But if she was interested in, say, a kiss or a hug, she might have given him some indication earlier.
The shyness was back. Mary Jo started to turn away and he caught her hand, stopping her. His fingers curled around hers. When she turned toward him, Mary Jo slid effortlessly into his embrace as if she’d been waiting her entire life for exactly this moment.
They kissed—two or three lengthy kisses. Not until they’d exchanged another heated kiss did he find the strength to ease his mouth from hers.
Mary Jo looked up at him, eyes wide. Slowly, ever so slowly, she smiled. “That was very nice.”
“Yes, it was,” Mack said. “Are you sure you want a six-month engagement?”
Staring up at him, she blinked, and then nodded. “I still think that would be best.”
Mack could see it was going to be a very long six months.
Thirty-Two
Olivia warily eyed the horse, which was saddled and ready to ride. “I don’t know about this,” she said.
They stood just outside the barn. Grace walked over to the mare Cliff had chosen for her friend and ran her hand down the animal’s long, sleek nose. “You don’t have a thing to worry about,” she assured Olivia.
Olivia tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “In case you weren’t aware, I’m not a horse-riding type of person. I prefer picking wildflowers and sewing quilts. Riding never interested me. I didn’t read The Black Stallion and all those horsey books when I was twelve.”
“Me, neither, although I have since—when I took a course in children’s literature. But that’s not the point. I didn’t think I was interested at first.” Grace refused to listen to excuses. “It’ll do us both good to get out in the fresh air.”
“Grace, really, you and me horseback riding?” Olivia turned longingly toward the house.
“Yes—you and me.” It was a mild, sunny Saturday afternoon and she wasn’t going to let Olivia talk herself out of this. “There’s a lovely path that meanders down to the beach. Trust me, you’ll regret it if you don’t at least try.”
Olivia still didn’t seem convinced. She cast a pleading glance in Grace’s direction. “This horse has an evil look about her. How do you know she won’t take the first opportunity to buck me off?”
“Sugarplum?”
“Her name is Sugarplum?”
Grace nodded.
“What does that prove? The camel that bit you was called Sleeping Beauty,” Olivia said, referring to an unfortunate incident with one of the animals they’d housed for the church nativity scene.
“That’s irrelevant. Anyway, you promised you’d do this.”
Groaning in defeat, Olivia slowly edged her way back to Grace. “Oh, all right.”
“You’ll be glad,” Grace said with an encouraging smile. She remembered the first time Cliff had talked her into getting on a horse. Like her friend, she’d balked and made up a bevy of excuses—really good ones, too. When she’d finally run out of ways to avoid the inevitable, she gave in. The short ride along their property line to the beach had been…wonderful. Afterward, Grace had no idea why it’d taken her so long to agree. She enjoyed horseback riding now and, given the opportunity, Olivia would, as well.
“You’re used to this,” Olivia said as she raised her leg and set her foot in the stirrup. She grabbed the pommel of the Western-style saddle, hanging on with both hands.
“Not at first, I wasn’t. We all have to begin somewhere,” Grace said, boosting her up.
“I don’t understand why you’re so insistent on this.” It took Olivia three tries to heave herself into the saddle, even with Grace’s help, but she managed. Olivia was breathless by the time she was firmly settled on the docile mare. “I hope you’re happy.”
“Ecstatic,” Grace joked. “As to why I won’t let you out of this, the truth is, I want you to feel alive again.” After the chemotherapy and radiation treatments, Olivia had been spending her days holed up inside the house, with only rare treks into town. She ventured out to Justine’s new restaurant once a week or so, and occasionally visited her brother’s gallery, but that was about it. Even Charlotte had grown concerned.
Grace slid into the saddle with a bit more finesse, but then, as Olivia had said, she’d had more practice.
Now that she was on Sugarplum, Olivia glanced anxiously around. “Are we there yet?” she muttered in a weak attempt at a joke.
“We haven’t started,” Grace replied.
“I was afraid of that.”
Olivia looked down, which was a mistake Grace had made early on herself.
“Just how high off the ground am I?” Olivia asked, her brow creased. “If Jack finds out about this…”
“He knows.”
“Jack knows and he agreed I should do this?”
“Yes. Now let me show you the basics.” She reviewed the lessons Cliff had given her in the beginning. When she’d finished speaking and demonstrating how to use the reins, Grace took the lead.
With a few grumbling words, Olivia followed. To Grace’s surprise, once they were under way, her friend didn’t seem to have the problems Grace had experienced as a beginner. For one thing, Sugarplum used to stop and graze whenever she felt like it, completely ignoring Grace’s commands. She wasn’t doing that now.
“Hey, you’re a natural,” she exclaimed, turning to look at Olivia.
Olivia didn’t respond, concentrating on every move.
“You ready to go down the trail?”
“Sure.” Olivia grinned sheepishly. “I guess Sugarplum isn’t so evil, after all.”
“Told you,” Grace teased as she led the way at a slow, steady pace. She started toward the evergreen-lined path. Towering pines stretched up into the blue sky.
After a few hundred yards, Grace twisted around to look behind her again. “How’re you doing, Calamity Jane?”
“So far, so good. Doesn’t the sun feel nice? Especially on your head.” Olivia wore a bandanna, tied gypsy-style at the nape.
“It feels great.”
“Oh, look!” Olivia called a moment later, her voice animated. “There’s an eagle. No, two of them!”
Shading her eyes, Grace peered up at the sky. The eagles were soaring high above them. Fascinated, she watched as they engaged in an elaborate mating ritual. One of the birds fell several hundred feet, and the second eagle swooped after it.
Eagles often landed on the beach off Lighthouse Road, so she knew Olivia saw them frequently. But this was different. More intimate somehow.
“I don’t think I realized how fresh and green it smells in the woods,” Olivia said after a short silence. “In fact, I didn’t realize green was actually a smell.”
“It reminds you of Christmas, doesn’t it?”
“It does.”
They continued to clop along, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the forest. Soon they entered a clearing and the beach lay before them, scattered with driftwood. They could see Blake Island in the distance like an emerald set on an expanse of glittering blue.
“It’s so peaceful,” Olivia said quietly.
That had struck Grace on
her first ride with Cliff. She remembered sitting with her husband on the pebbled beach, their backs against a piece of driftwood. She’d closed her eyes, and the sun had warmed her face as the sounds of nature hummed all around her. Grace had heard the gentle lapping of the water against the shore, birds chirping and the crunch of pebbles as the horses shifted their weight. The experience never failed to move her. It was what she wanted for her friend—this peace, this solace. The discovery of what it meant to be close to nature.
“Let’s get down and walk for a while,” Grace suggested. “If you feel up to it.”
“I do,” Olivia assured her. She slid down off Sugarplum and dropped to the ground, landing in pebbles. “Now all I have to do is figure out how to get back up there.”
Holding the mares’ reins, they strolled side by side. For a long time they didn’t speak, content simply to be together. After fifty years—a half century!—of friendship, they were attuned to each other’s moods and feelings.
“I’ve taken so much for granted in my life,” Olivia said after a while.
“Don’t we all?” Grace didn’t think her friend should be hard on herself. She was just as guilty as Olivia of racing from one day to the next, barely taking time to appreciate what a gift life really was.
This second chance at happiness with Cliff had changed her. Her marriage to Dan had been good in its way; after all those years together, the two of them had grown comfortable, although Dan’s troubles, the pain of war, had never left him. As much as possible, they’d adjusted and she’d done her best to deal with his mood swings. In the end, it’d all been too much for him.
Cliff had brought his own problems from his first marriage. They’d been patient with each other, though, and had survived misunderstandings and mistakes. Now she was happier than she’d ever expected to be.
“I’m thinking of retiring,” Olivia announced out of the blue.
Grace had half suspected this was coming. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
“No,” Olivia admitted. “But I’m enjoying these months at home. In the beginning I dreaded it. I was so certain I’d be bored.”
“But you haven’t been, have you?”
“Not at all. I didn’t know how much I’d like quilting. Mom’s always been the crafty one. I don’t think there’s anything domestic that my mother can’t do and do well.”
Grace nodded. Everything Charlotte attempted—from her special desserts to her knitting and sewing projects—was of the highest quality.
“Haven’t you thought about retiring?” Olivia asked, looking steadily at Grace.
Grace had given it fleeting consideration. “I suppose I have,” she said, “and yet I love what I do.”
“I feel the same,” Olivia murmured. “That’s what makes this decision so difficult.”
Slowly Grace shook her head. “I don’t think I can yet. I have a lot I still want to accomplish at work. We’re starting a new program at the library that excites me. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it.”
“Teaching literacy by having kids read to dogs?”
“Yes,” Grace said. “We’ve invited a local trainer to come in and work with us.” She smiled. “I already have my first volunteers. Tanni Bliss is one of them.”
“Tanni Bliss,” Olivia repeated. “Why is that name familiar?”
“Tanni and her boyfriend discovered those remains in the cave. Remember?”
“Oh, yes.” Olivia frowned slightly. “What an unusual case. I’m so glad it’s been resolved.”
“The press sure had a field day with that one, didn’t they? That Seattle reporter made it sound as though Cedar Cove was a hotbed of criminal activity.” She laughed. “Who would’ve guessed our sheriff was so good at spin? That press release said very little but somehow satisfied everyone.”
“Nevertheless, it was a tragic story. That poor boy, frightened and all alone. I don’t think we’ll ever know what really happened.” Grace had been touched that Cedar Cove’s mayor had arranged for a proper burial. There’d been talk around town about his DUI, but that was over now. Jack had written an excellent article about it, with the mayor’s full cooperation, which had no doubt subdued the gossip. Thankfully the sensationalism about those poor, forgotten bones had worn off, too.
“Tanni is Shirley Bliss’s daughter,” Olivia said as if the connection had suddenly clicked. “Will is dating Shirley.”
“How’s that going?”
“I don’t know. My brother doesn’t talk to me about his relationships.”
Grace was naturally curious. She wanted to warn Shirley but didn’t feel it was her place to speak to the other woman. If Will had changed—and there was reason to believe he had—she didn’t want to do anything to ruin his chances. “I had my doubts when I learned Will was returning to Cedar Cove,” she said.
Olivia gave her an assessing look. “I did, too. After that…situation with you, I didn’t feel I could trust my own brother.” She slowed her steps. “I’m just relieved it didn’t do any lasting damage.”
She meant damage to Grace’s relationship with Cliff. Ultimately it hadn’t, but Will’s interference—and Cliff’s reaction to it—was one of the problems they’d needed to resolve.
Changing the subject, Grace asked, “What does Jack have to say about you stepping down from the bench?”
Olivia grinned. “Not much. He says he’s fine with whatever I decide. But I feel that if I retired, he’d start thinking along those lines himself, and I’m not sure that’s a good idea for Jack.”
“Why not?”
Olivia was thoughtful for a moment. “Sometimes I think he’s got ink running in his veins. Jack’s a completely different person at the newspaper office. He comes alive when he’s working to a deadline, and he has great instincts about stories. He might be tempted to hand over the reins, but I suspect he’d regret it after a few months.”
Olivia had always had such empathy for others and such an unerring sense of what motivated them; it was one of the reasons she was so effective—and highly respected—as a judge.
“Look at Goldie,” Grace said, smiling as she pictured their favorite waitress at the Pancake Palace. Goldie had been waiting tables at their longtime hangout from the first year Olivia and Grace were in high school. She had to be in her seventies and still worked three or four days a week.
“I doubt anyone would dare mention the word retirement to Goldie,” Olivia said.
“Who’d serve us our coconut cream pie?”
“Exactly.”
They strolled a little longer, and then Grace noticed that Olivia was slowing down. “Shall we sit for a while?” she said.
Olivia nodded, and they found a big log, tied the horses to a nearby tree and sat gazing out over Puget Sound. The Fauntleroy ferry, tiny in the distance, was steaming toward Vashon Island.
“I miss our aerobics class,” Olivia said.
“What you miss is the coconut cream pie afterward.”
Olivia chortled. “Perhaps you’re right.” Suddenly she slugged Grace in the shoulder.
“Hey, what was that for?” she said, rubbing her upper arm.
“Because you quit going.”
“I need an exercise buddy,” Grace protested. “You don’t expect me to trudge down to the gym all by myself, do you?”
“I guess not. But we’re going back, so don’t get soft on me.”
“Me?” Grace yelped. “I can run circles around you any day of the week.”
“Wanna bet?”
Grace shook her head. “Maybe not.”
At that they both smiled and lapsed into a companionable silence.
The year before, Grace had been terribly afraid she’d lose Olivia to cancer. She hadn’t, and Olivia’s prognosis was good. Her bout with cancer had taught both of them many lessons, but none as profound as the knowledge that nothing would ever stand between them. Their friendship was for life, in every sense of those words.
Thirty-Three
Megan was beginni
ng to look pregnant, Troy thought. He’d stopped by the house after work on Wednesday afternoon because he had an important favor to ask.
“It won’t be much longer before you’ll need to wear maternity tops,” he said when she let him into the house.
A sweet smile lit up her face. “Do you think so, Daddy?”
“I do.” He felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of his first grandchild’s birth.
“I noticed this morning that it’s getting difficult to zip up my pants. Look.” She turned sideways and placed one hand beneath the barely discernible roundness of her belly.
“Yup, you’re pregnant, all right.” How Troy wished Sandy had lived to hold this baby…
“I have a favor to ask you,” he said, all business now.
“Anything, Daddy, you know that.”
He followed Megan into the kitchen, where she’d just started dinner preparations. Craig, who worked as an engineer at the navy shipyard, wasn’t home yet, but he would be soon. “I want Faith to spend the night with you.”
His daughter didn’t hesitate. “Of course. I love Faith.” Then, frowning slightly, Megan said, “She can’t stay with her son?”
“Scott’s kids are on spring break and he took the family to Disneyland.”
“Oh, heavens, you know Faith’s always welcome.”
This would be more than a simple visit. “Is the bed in your spare room made up?”
Megan nodded. “I hope you don’t mind me asking why.”
“I want her safe.”
His daughter, who’d been stirring spaghetti sauce, instantly looked up. “Safe from what?”
Safe from whom was more accurate. “I’m going to spend the night at her house. I have cause to believe the intruder may come back tonight—if it’s the person I think it is.” He’d been giving the pattern of the break-ins a lot of thought. The man he’d become convinced was the intruder had been spotted in town by one of his deputies that afternoon. On at least one other occasion—the day Faith’s tires were slashed—he’d been sighted at the biker bar on the edge of town.
“It’s a long story.”
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2 Page 88
