1105 Yakima Street

by Debbie Macomber

  “Not that I recall. I was only there once and liked it tremendously. It’s the first place I thought of for a honeymoon.”

  Shirley nestled in the plush leather seat. She was exhausted and the warm air from the car’s heater made her feel sleepy.

  “Go ahead and rest,” Larry said. “I plan on keeping you up for most of the night.”

  Shirley sighed contentedly. “Then you should be aware that I plan on wearing you out.”

  He chuckled. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

  The next morning, Shirley had to admit they were both right. They’d arrived at the cabin around eleven the previous night. While Larry lit a fire and opened a bottle of champagne, she’d unpacked their suitcases and changed into her silk nightgown and robe.

  He was a gentle, caring lover. Afterward, they slept for a while and then made love again. In the morning, Shirley woke to sunshine. She sat up and stretched contentedly before she snuggled against Larry’s side.

  “Mmm.” He rolled over, throwing one arm around her. “I like waking up with you beside me.”

  “Me, too,” she whispered. Tossing aside the covers a few minutes later, she shivered in the morning chill and hurriedly reached for her flimsy robe, although it offered little warmth.

  The coffee was brewing by the time Larry joined her. He’d dressed and immediately set about building another fire.

  Not until she’d poured them each a cup did Shirley look outside. “Larry!” she cried, pulling open the drapes. “It snowed.”

  “We are in the mountains, love.”

  “Yes, I know, but it’s still October, and I wasn’t expecting this. It’s so beautiful.”

  “Yes, it is,” he said, coming to stand behind her, folding his arms around her. She loved being this close to her husband, loved feeling his embrace. All too soon she’d be back in the real world, alone once again.

  They spent one glorious day together, riding snow-mobiles, laughing, enjoying each other’s company. Larry took her to a wonderful restaurant for dinner and they spent much of that night discovering each other in new and exciting ways. Then, early Sunday morning, Larry drove them back to Cedar Cove.

  Since he had to return the rental car to the airport, he took her home first. When they got there, he carried her small suitcase into the house, then held her close. “I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered.

  Shirley didn’t want him to go, either. In fact, she felt like weeping.

  Larry hid his face in her hair. “The weeks will fly by,” he said.

  “No, they won’t,” she protested. “Every minute’s going to seem like an hour.” She felt his smile against her skin when he kissed her neck.

  “I agree,” he said. “I’m doing my best to think positive here. How about a little help?”

  “I’m positive,” she muttered. “Positive I’m going to be lonely and miserable.”

  He glanced at his watch. “I have to go.”

  “I know.” If he got delayed in traffic or at the rental return, he’d miss his flight. Shirley dared not keep him there any longer.

  They kissed one last time, and she walked him out to the car and waved, forcing herself to smile, refusing to send him off with tears in her eyes. Standing by the fence she waited until the car disappeared from sight.

  With a sigh, she went into the house and found Tanni’s scribbled note on the kitchen chalkboard. “With Kristen. Home before six.”

  It was only three now. Her arms around her middle, she sank into a chair, feeling sorry for herself.

  “This is ridiculous,” she said aloud. She’d met and married a good man—an artist like herself, whose work she admired. Instead of brooding about the empty weeks ahead, she should be counting her blessings.

  She picked up the phone and called Miranda. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Cleaning house,” Miranda said. “Somebody stop me.”

  “Okay, stop. I need your help.”

  “Larry’s gone?”

  “Yup. I’m fighting off depression. I can’t do it alone. Want to come over and eat ice cream and watch a bunch of romantic movies with me?”

  “I’d love to.” Her friend didn’t hesitate. “Do you have butter pecan or do I need to go to the store on my way?”

  “Let me check.” Shirley walked to the fridge and opened the freezer section. “I’ve got vanilla and…” She shuffled aside two frozen halibut filets, a microwave dinner and a box of peas. “Nope, that’s it.”

  “I’ll make an ice cream run,” Miranda said. “It’ll take me…forty minutes. Can you survive that long?”

  “Forty I can do. Forty-five would be a stretch.”

  “I’ll tell the grocery clerk this is an emergency and I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  Before she hung up, Shirley managed a smile. Miranda was a good friend and she was grateful for her willingness to drop everything and come to her rescue.

  When Miranda arrived with three flavors of ice cream, Shirley had unpacked her suitcase, started a load of laundry and set out bowls and spoons. A selection of DVDs was stacked and ready. After sorting through her favorite romantic movies, she’d chosen The African Queen, French Kiss, Romancing the Stone and The Princess Bride.

  Miranda decided they should watch French Kiss first. Shirley slipped it into the DVD player while her friend dished up their treats. They both sat on the sofa, eating slowly. “I love this movie,” Shirley mumbled through a mouthful of melting ice cream.

  “Me, too,” Miranda said dreamily.

  Given Miranda’s often brusque manner, few would guess she was such a romantic. Shirley knew otherwise. The contrast between her no-nonsense exterior and her warm, sensitive heart was one of the interesting things about her.

  Shirley didn’t know anyone, not even Olivia, who could cut Will Jefferson down to size as effectively as her friend. She’d been observing the bickering and one-upsmanship between the two of them for months. They argued like a long-married couple, and Shirley was convinced they both enjoyed it. That style of interaction wasn’t for her, but it worked for some couples.

  “Guess what I got in the mail,” Shirley said.

  “Anything good? A prize from Publishers Clearing House?”

  “Better. A card from your employer.”

  Miranda put her bowl of ice cream on the coffee table, sat up straight and paused the movie. “Will sent you a wedding card?”

  “He sure did.”

  “Will? Will Jefferson? Are you joking?”

  “He isn’t so bad, you know,” Shirley said. “Beneath all that bravado, he’s a nice guy.”

  Miranda frowned, shaking her head. “He’s completely wrapped up in himself. His ego is so big I can’t imagine how he fits it through the door.”

  Shirley laughed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Aren’t you exaggerating?”

  “You don’t work with him. I do. I’ve seen him at his worst.”

  “And his best,” Shirley added.

  Miranda wasn’t giving in that easily. “You go ahead and believe what you like, but I know the real Will Jefferson.”

  Shirley got up from the sofa and retrieved the wedding card, which she handed to her friend.

  Miranda read Will’s message, then closed the card and looked up at Shirley.

  “Well?”

  “He’s good with words,” Miranda reluctantly admitted. “He even sounds gracious.”

  “Don’t act so surprised.” The congratulatory note had felt authentic to Shirley. Will had wished her and Larry happiness and claimed he was proud to have played a role in bringing them together.

  “He can be sincere,” Miranda said, still with some reluctance.

  Shirley agreed. Despite her initial doubts, she’d sensed his good qualities—his kindness, his commitment to the artists of Cedar Cove, his generosity. Granted, he’d tried too hard to impress her and had come across as excessively sure of himself. “He’s genuinely pleased that Larry and I found happiness together.”

>   “Genuinely?” Miranda snickered.

  Shirley studied her friend. “I had no idea you disliked him so much.” In reality she knew the opposite was true; Miranda was falling for Will, and fighting it every step of the way.

  “I don’t dislike him,” Miranda said. “In fact…” She closed her eyes.

  “What?” Shirley pressed, although she was well aware of what Miranda was about to divulge.

  “If you laugh, I swear to you I will get up and walk out of this house and never return.”

  “I won’t laugh,” Shirley promised, her expression sober. “Cross my heart.”

  Miranda frowned at her, as if to gauge the truth of her words. “All right, I’ll tell you. I’m afraid…actually, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

  “You think I didn’t already know that?” Shirley broke into a big grin. Miranda’s confession pleased her. Maybe something would finally happen between Will and her friend.

  “You knew?”

  “Oh, sweetie, we’ve been friends far too long for me not to see how you feel about Will.”

  Miranda looked stricken. “Do you think Will knows?” she asked anxiously.

  “Will Jefferson?” Shirley asked. “The poor man doesn’t have a clue.” Although she secretly thought he did…and that he felt exactly the same way.

  Seventeen

  When Gloria had first discovered she was pregnant with Chad Timmons’s baby, it had felt like the end of the world. In the months since, she’d come to think differently. She loved her unborn child with a fierce protectiveness and the kind of intensity she’d never experienced before.

  Her obstetrician had ordered a routine ultrasound for Tuesday morning. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Gloria closed her eyes, silently debating what to do. She hadn’t seen or heard from Chad since they’d talked in the hospital parking lot, the day he’d been with that other woman.

  The blonde had looked beautiful, petite, delicate. Unlike Gloria, who considered herself moderately attractive and took pride in her strength and toughness. As a cop, she had to be strong, mentally and physically.

  Chad knew about the baby. For reasons of his own, Roy McAfee had told him. She’d been upset that Roy had gone against her express wishes, but she’d forgiven him in time and even found a measure of relief in knowing that this uncomfortable task had been taken from her. After he’d learned the news, though, Chad hadn’t made any effort to contact her. That shouldn’t surprise her, though. Oh, he’d had Mack deliver those books, which showed he was concerned. But he hadn’t reached out to her—nor, for that matter, had she approached him.

  It occurred to her that he might want to know about the ultrasound. The nurse who’d scheduled it had told Gloria that she could bring someone with her.

  She’d considered asking her birth mother, but Corrie was in North Dakota with Linnette and her new grandson. Otherwise, Corrie would certainly have accompanied her.

  But she had to acknowledge that the one person who should be there was Chad. Fingers shaking, she picked up her cell phone and punched the button that would connect her to Chad. A dozen times she’d been tempted to delete his number. She never had. Perhaps she’d secretly wanted to maintain this link.

  He answered immediately. “Dr. Timmons.”

  “It’s Gloria.” Her throat was so dry, she could barely get her name out.

  Silence.

  “I understand Roy told you…”

  “That you’re pregnant,” he finished.

  “Yes…almost five months.”

  Silence again, a tense silence that gnawed at her stomach. “I tried to tell you,” she blurted out. “That day I showed up at the hospital. But you were with this woman and—”

  “I remember,” he said, cutting her off.

  “How is your…friend?” That was a less than subtle way of asking if he was involved with the other woman.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Gloria clenched her fist. “Right.”

  “Is everything okay with the baby?” His voice remained cool, detached.

  He hadn’t inquired about her. “Everything is normal so far… . I’m having an ultrasound tomorrow at nine.”

  “And you’re telling me this because…?”

  “I thought you should know.” She regretted calling him. Chad’s attitude—indifference verging on hostility—was making this nearly impossible.

  “Why?”

  “The nurse said I could bring someone,” she muttered, feeling foolish.

  “You want me with you?” His voice softened.

  “If possible. I…I realize I didn’t give you much notice.”

  “I work the early shift on Tuesdays.”

  “Oh.” She should’ve phoned right away… .

  “I’ll do what I can. But I’m not making any promises.”

  Her heart rate accelerated. Chad was saying he’d join her if he could—that he wanted to be with her.

  “Okay,” she said, and recited the pertinent information.

  “At nine,” he repeated.

  “Yes, and, Chad, thank you for the books.” She wanted him to know that she was aware those had come from him. He might not care about her, but he cared about his baby, and that gave her courage. She wondered if she would’ve had the nerve to call him if not for that one small sign.

  “Mack told you the books were from me?”

  “Not at first. I confronted him about it after Roy admitted he’d talked to you.” Once she’d found out, her emotions had been chaotic for days afterward.

  “I have a right to know I’m about to become a father.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “You do.”

  “You should never have hidden it from me.” She heard the resentment in his voice; clearly he hadn’t yet forgiven her.

  “I hope to see you tomorrow,” she said, and before their conversation could deteriorate into a verbal battle, she ended the call. She did understand his reaction to her keeping the pregnancy a secret. The ironic thing was, she’d done it for him. Chad was seeing someone else—still might be, for all she knew. At this point their only bond was the baby, and she didn’t feel that an unplanned responsibility, one he hadn’t asked for, should interfere with his future or his new relationship.

  The next morning Gloria arrived at the ultrasound clinic fifteen minutes early. The waiting area held six chairs, four of which were occupied. Gloria took the fifth one, sat down and picked up a magazine. The couple across from her held hands, while the other couple whispered excitedly.

  The two holding hands were called in first. Gloria glanced at the wall clock, figuring Chad probably hadn’t been able to get the time off.

  Ten minutes later, the assistant called her name. Gloria put down the magazine, which she’d hardly looked at, and stood. She followed the woman out of the waiting area and into an examination room. She was on the table, with her pants unzipped and pulled down and her top raised, when there was a knock on the door. The technician was explaining the procedure and what Gloria could expect to see and not see in the ultrasound. She listened intently but found herself distracted by a feeling of aloneness. A feeling of abandonment, of not mattering enough to anyone. The lump in her throat seemed about to choke her—and then the assistant opened the door.

  “Dr. Chad Timmons is here. Would it be all right if I sent him in?”

  “Yes, please,” Gloria said. To her embarrassment tears filled her eyes and slid down her face. She desperately wanted to wipe them away but was afraid it would only call attention to the emotion that racked her.

  “Come on in,” the technician said. She smiled, greeting Chad. “Pull up a chair and sit down. We’re about to get started.”

  Chad arranged his chair so he’d have a full view of the screen. The technician spread a cold gel on Gloria’s stomach and placed a wandlike device over the small round protrusion that was her baby.

  Gloria stared at the screen. She didn’t dare look at Chad.

  “Did you want to know t
he sex?” the technician asked.

  “Sure,” Gloria answered for them both, then turned to Chad.

  “That would be fine,” he said.

  “Okay, do you see him?”

  “Him?” Chad asked.

  “Oh, it’s definitely a him.”

  Despite her determination not to look at Chad again, Gloria shifted her head—and saw his broad smile. He glanced at her and she smiled tentatively.

  “A girl would make me just as happy,” he murmured.

  “Me, too,” she whispered.

  The technician continued. “We have ten fingers and ten toes.”

  “You’re sure that’s not another finger you’re seeing?” Chad teased.

  “Trust me, Daddy, that’s no finger.”

  Chad laughed, and Gloria relaxed. To her surprise, he reached for her hand in a simple gesture of comfort and sharing. It helped ease the tension between them.

  The ultrasound only took a few minutes. The physician would be reviewing it for any abnormalities, but Chad—as a doctor himself—assured Gloria that all looked well.

  The technician cleaned the sticky substance off Gloria’s abdomen and left the room.

  “Have you thought about names?” he asked as she sat up.

  “A little…I thought if it was a boy, I’d choose Roy for the middle name.”

  Chad nodded.

  “Do you have a suggestion for a first name?” she asked, adjusting her clothes.

  “DiMaggio.”

  “What?” Gloria asked. She couldn’t have heard him correctly.

  “DiMaggio. After Joe DiMaggio. I’m a big baseball fan.”

  “Couldn’t we just call him Joe?”

  Chad shook his head. “Too boring.”

  “I am not subjecting our son to a name like DiMaggio. He’ll grow up hating us for that. What’s your dad’s name?” It suddenly occurred to her how little she knew of his life before Cedar Cove, his family, his childhood….

  “Robert.”

  “Rob Roy. Oh, no.”

  “My granddad’s name was Simon,” Chad said.

  “Simon Roy,” she repeated. “Well, let’s think about it.”

  “Okay, we’ll do that.” They walked out of the office together. “I can hardly believe we actually agree on something.” Chad smiled. “Or almost agree, anyway.”