Mack gave a slight nod of his head. “I was never that interested in history, but these letters have opened my eyes to how exciting it can be. These were real people who put their lives on the line. Jacob didn’t want to die—I mean, no one does. He said in one of his letters that he didn’t see himself as any sort of hero.”
“But he was. They all were,” Mary Jo said. “And I’m sure Joan must have told him that. Unfortunately, we only have the letters Jacob wrote, not hers.”
“But we have Joan’s diary, which is filled with little details about everyday life during that time period,” Mack went on to say. “I think they’re fascinating. She has just a few lines for each day and agonizes when she hasn’t heard from Jacob.”
“She talks about saving her sugar coupons to make a cake and walking for miles to save on gas.”
“Nearly everything was rationed during the war years,” Roy said. “I remember my parents talking about that.”
Mary Jo nodded. “And there are abbreviations for things, but we can’t always figure them out.”
Corrie felt their enthusiasm and, despite herself, was becoming intrigued.
“If and when you decide you need help,” Roy said, “you let me know and I’ll see what I can find.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Mack said.
“Yes, thank you so much, Mr. McAfee.”
“Call me Roy.”
Or Dad, Corrie wanted to say, but didn’t; she’d annoy Mack, not to mention Roy, and embarrass Mary Jo, if she did. But she knew her son and every indication she saw said that Mack was in love with this girl.
The baby began to whimper, and Mary Jo immediately pushed back her chair. “Noelle’s teething. She’s had a difficult week.”
“I’ll take her,” Mack offered, getting up.
While they discussed who should comfort the baby, Corrie leaned toward her husband. “Look at them,” she whispered. “They act just like a married couple.”
“Corrie,” Roy said in a warning voice. “Keep out of this.”
“I think they need help. You know, to realize how they feel about each other.”
“If so, it shouldn’t come from us.”
Corrie didn’t agree, but there wasn’t much she could do. Roy obviously felt she’d interfered enough.
When Mack and Mary Jo returned to the table, he held Noelle in his arms while Mary Jo rubbed a numbing gel over the baby’s gums.
“She’s usually a happy baby,” Mary Jo said apologetically.
“Of course she is,” Corrie said. “Listen, would you two like me to watch her so you could go out for the rest of the evening?” Perhaps if she gave them some time alone, they’d reach the same conclusion she had. Roy might not think the young couple needed her assistance, but in Corrie’s view they did.
Mack glanced at Mary Jo. “What do you think?”
Mary Jo thanked Corrie with a smile. “I don’t want to leave Noelle when she’s this fussy, but I appreciate the offer.”
Corrie’s spirits sank.
Mack got to his feet and started to clear the table. “Any dessert?” he asked, peering into the kitchen.
“Ah…”
“I thought you baked a cake,” Roy said. “Didn’t you tell me that earlier?”
“Yes, well—it didn’t turn out.”
“It’s inedible?” Roy asked, looking disappointed. Thanks to his sweet tooth, he didn’t understand what she was trying to hint.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Corrie, just bring out the cake,” Roy said.
“Mom, who cares what it looks like? It’s what it tastes like that matters.”
“It tastes fabulous,” she told them. Fine. They’d asked for this, so she wasn’t going to deny them dessert.
She left the table and returned with the dessert plates and silverware, then went back into the kitchen to carry out the four-layer coconut cake. Charlotte had given her the recipe and it had become a family favorite. Corrie set the cake in the center of the table for all to admire.
Roy stared at it and his eyes veered back to her. The lettering on the cake, written in bright red frosting, said, Congratulations, Mack and Mary Jo.
“Shall I cut the first slice?” she asked.
Mack nodded politely. “Please.”
“I’ll cut through the part that says congratulations,” she teased. “I guess this is what I get for being such a know-it-all.”
“Oh, Corrie, it was such a sweet thing to do,” Mary Jo told her.
“I wish we were at the point that we could tell you we had wedding plans,” Mack said. He looked at Mary Jo, who stared uncomfortably down at the table. “But we, uh, have a few things we need to work through.”
“I…I—” Mary Jo started, then stopped, as if she felt she needed to say something but wasn’t sure what.
“You don’t owe us any explanations,” Roy assured Mary Jo. “If you decide to become part of our family, we want you to know we’ll welcome you with open arms.”
“And Noelle, too,” Corrie said.
Mary Jo looked up, and Corrie was surprised to see the glint of tears in her eyes. “Thank you both,” Mary Jo whispered. “It means a great deal to me.”
“Can we drop the subject now?” Mack asked pointedly.
Corrie nodded. She’d been so positive this dinner had one specific purpose, only to discover she’d been way off base. Instead of celebrating with Mary Jo and her son, as she’d expected to, she’d embarrassed them. Fortunately, they were gracious about it. She regretted causing them any discomfort, but maybe she’d given them something to think about…. She hoped so, anyway.
They stayed for another hour after dinner. Mary Jo helped her clean up, and they chatted in a companionable fashion about the letters and the diary. Corrie packed up the leftovers to send home with them.
It didn’t escape her notice that Mack was deep in conversation with his father when she and Mary Jo joined them in the living room.
The young couple left soon afterward. Corrie watched as her son backed out of the driveway and headed down Harbor Street.
“So?” Corrie asked, turning away from the window to look at her husband. “What did Mack tell you?”
“What makes you think he told me anything?”
“Roy McAfee, don’t you dare do this to me! I have every right to know what’s going on between Mack and Mary Jo.”
“And you think I know?”
“Yes. I saw the way you and Mack had your heads together, so tell me what he said.”
Roy sighed. “He loves Mary Jo.”
“Of course he does! I think he fell in love with her the night she had Noelle.”
“And he loves the baby.”
“That goes without saying. He’s practically her dad.”
Roy nodded. “But Mary Jo has a few issues she needs to work out and until she does Mack doesn’t feel he can propose.”
She recalled that Mack made some remark along these same lines. “Issues? What kind of issues?” she asked.
Roy picked up the television remote. “I’m afraid they have to do with David Rhodes.”
“That jerk has a lot to answer for,” Corrie muttered, crossing her arms. Every time she heard the man’s name she felt irritated. How anyone as decent and honest as Ben Rhodes could have fathered such a…a creep was beyond her.
“Mary Jo’s afraid of what might happen if David gets involved in Noelle’s life.”
“She has reason to be.”
“So she’s doing nothing, which only perpetuates the problem.”
“What does Mack suggest?” Corrie asked, then answered her own question. “Mary Jo has to find the courage to stand up to David.”
“Yes,” Roy agreed, “and until she does, their lives aren’t going to move forward.”
“Oh, dear,” Corrie whispered. “I am right, though. He does love her.”
“He does.” Roy gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll all resolve itself in time.”
Corrie’
s fear was that this process might take much longer than it should.
Eighteen
“Da-ad, I need your help.” Holding her math book, Jolene sat on the sofa arm.
“Algebra? You think I know this stuff?” Bruce asked with a short laugh.
“I would hope so,” Jolene said. “You’re the adult.”
“Yes, but it’s been a lot of years since I was in school.”
“Just look, okay?”
Rachel had finished the dinner dishes—by herself, since it was easier that way—and was enjoying the exchange between Bruce and his daughter. If Jolene was counting on his mathematical skills, then the girl was in trouble.
“I don’t understand why I have to do this,” she lamented.
“You’re going to need it in life,” Bruce argued, not sounding convinced.
“Why? You don’t,” Jolene said.
Bruce ignored that. He reached for his glasses, a recent acquisition, and opened the textbook she’d handed him to the page she’d marked. Next, he appeared to be studying the problem as if staring at it long enough would miraculously produce the answer.
“Get me a pencil and paper,” he commanded with the urgency of a surgeon requesting a scalpel.
“Just a minute.” Jolene hurried back to her room.
As soon as she was gone, Bruce turned to Rachel, who hovered in the doorway. “You’d be much better at helping her than me.”
“She asked you.”
“I’m going to look like a dope when I can’t figure this out.”
Rachel snickered softly. “Well, you know what they say about the shoe fitting.”
He scowled but didn’t get a chance to comment before Jolene returned with a pencil and yellow pad.
“I still don’t get why this stuff is so important,” she muttered.
“You need to solve for x,” Bruce said.
“I know that, but why?”
“Not y, x.”
“Daddy, you’re confusing me.”
“Good, because I’m confused, too.” He sent Rachel a look that pleaded for mercy.
As much as she wanted to step in, Rachel didn’t dare. The request had to come from Jolene; otherwise, the girl would reject Rachel’s offer and resent her for having made it.
After several minutes, Bruce threw in the towel. “Sorry, kiddo, I can’t do this.”
“I have the final at the end of the week and I’m going to flunk,” Jolene cried, as if leaving this one problem unsolved would ruin her entire academic career. “I’ll never get into college if I can’t pass Algebra I.”
“You’ve got years and years before you need to worry about college,” Bruce said, but if he hoped to reassure his daughter, his words fell flat.
“How can you say that?” Jolene wailed. “I have to get this right, I have to.”
“Ask Rachel,” Bruce suggested.
Jolene glanced in her direction. Pretending not to notice, Rachel began to wipe down the kitchen counters, which she’d already done once.
“Rachel,” Jolene said hesitantly, “do you think you could figure this out?”
“Would you like me to try?”
“Please.” This was not a word she was used to hearing from Jolene—and it gave her hope.
Pulling out a kitchen chair Rachel motioned for Jolene to join her at the table. “Let’s look at this together.” She had no intention of doing the work for Rachel. Her goal was to help the girl understand the concept so she’d be able to solve algebra problems logically.
“The teacher said we’d learn the quadratic formula next year. Do you know what they use it for?”
Rachel remembered learning it, but not its purpose. “Sorry, no.”
“I know,” Bruce said, sounding superior.
“Really?” Rachel was impressed—but wary.
“Sure,” Bruce said. Standing, he swaggered over to them. “The quadratic formula is used to solve for x.”
“Daddy!”
Rachel tried to conceal a smile but with little success. “You should go back to your online game,” she advised.
Glancing at the textbook, Bruce winced and said, “Gladly.”
Rachel read over the problem, then wrote it down on the pad Jolene had brought.
“Do you get this stuff?” Jolene asked.
Rachel nodded. “I do. I’ve always had an ability with numbers.”
“How come you work in a salon, then?”
“I use my mathematical skills there every single day, Jolene. Not everyone who’s good with math works in a bank or an accounting office. For example, I need to calculate how much coloring to put into the mix when I’m doing a dye job.”
“Oh.” This appeared to be a revelation.
They worked together for the next forty minutes, until Rachel thought Jolene had grasped the concept and could finish a series of problems without help.
Jolene stood and gave Rachel a tentative smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
The girl returned to her bedroom, and Rachel moved into the living room, just in time for her favorite cop drama on TV. Bruce came in a few minutes later. “That went well, don’t you think?” he said enthusiastically.
Rachel nodded. This was almost the way it’d been between her and Jolene before the wedding.
“School is out next Wednesday,” she said. She dreaded summer vacation and the changes it would bring into their lives. Jolene was too old for day care and too young to be left alone all day without supervision.
“I’ve got her signed up for that drama camp for the first two weeks,” Bruce reminded her.
Yes, but the expense would be a real challenge to their budget, especially if they had to continue this through the rest of the summer. What Bruce didn’t know was that in a few months she’d need to stop working, which would take a big bite out of their income.
“It’s expensive. And if we have to cover this cost all summer…”
“Yeah, but we don’t have any option, do we?” Bruce put his arm around her shoulders.
In previous summers Jolene had spent one or two days a week with Rachel, the rest of the time at municipal or church programs. But these days, the girl wasn’t interested in attending any summer camp that also catered to “little kids.”
“I…might have a solution.”
“What?” Bruce asked eagerly.
“I could do half days.” She’d been making excuses lately to explain why she was so often tired and lacking in energy. She also worried that it wasn’t good for the baby if she spent too much time around the chemicals in the salon.
If she was at home half days, she could at least keep an eye on Jolene….
He considered that. “But you keep saying Jolene would rather not be around you.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“Then you staying home with her might not be such a great idea.”
“In other circumstances I’d agree with you. But I’m making this suggestion as much for me as Jolene.”
Bruce studied her as if he had difficulty following her line of thought.
“Haven’t you noticed how tired I’ve been these past few months?” she asked.
“Well, yes, but I blame myself for that.” He slid his hand between her thighs. “That’s not why I need to cut back to half days.”
“You’re tired because of all the extra hours you had to put in after Teri quit,” he guessed.
“Well, yes, and…for other reasons.”
“Other reasons? Like what?”
“Bruce,” she said, exhaling softly. “I’m trying to tell you something important here.”
“I’m listening, I really am.”
“I know you are.” She took his hand. “But you’re not hearing me, are you?”
“I’m trying.”
The best way to say this was straight out, Rachel decided. “I’m pregnant,” she told him quietly.
Bruce blinked. When he apparently realized what she’d said, he leaped off the sofa and started
pacing. He shoved his hands through his hair. “Did you just tell me you’re…pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure? This isn’t a false alarm?”
“I’m sure.”
“Have you been to the doctor?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
“Last month?” He spewed out the words. “You’ve known this for a month?”
“I found out the night Teri had the triplets.”
Bruce stared at her. “But how—”
“This might be news to you,” she broke in, “but guess what? I didn’t get pregnant all by myself. This baby has a father.”
“Me.”
“No kidding!”
“I’m…not sure what to say.”
“How about—oh, I don’t know—‘Wow,’ or ‘That’s great,’ or ‘I couldn’t be happier,’ or—”
He knelt down in front of her and grabbed both her hands, smiling the goofiest, happiest smile she’d ever seen. “How about ‘Thank you’?”
Rachel swallowed back tears. “That works.”
He placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her. Rachel flung her arms around his neck and reveled in his love.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked.
“I was afraid,” she whispered.
“Afraid,” he repeated. “Of what? We both want a baby. We’ve talked about it. Okay, we’d planned to wait, but it happened—and frankly, I think it’s wonderful.”
She slipped her fingers through his hair. “I hoped you’d feel that way. The pregnancy came as a shock to me, a total surprise, and I was afraid it would to you, too.”
“This is the best kind of surprise. I can’t believe you kept it to yourself for so long.”
She looked away. “I had to. Because of Jolene.”
The instant she spoke, she saw doubt pass over his face.
“It was the one thing she asked us to do. To wait. Not to have a baby yet.”
“We can’t live by her dictates,” Bruce argued. He kissed her again with an adoration that made Rachel go weak in his arms.
“I know and I agree, but Jolene has had to deal with a number of significant changes this year. Adding my pregnancy to the mix complicates everything.”
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2 Page 107
