1105 Yakima Street

by Debbie Macomber

  He had no idea how long he’d been there when he heard a knock on the door.

  “What?” he snapped.

  Jolene opened the door and stood framed in the hallway light, holding her cell. “Rachel is on the phone. Do you want to talk to her?”

  “You called her?”

  “Yeah. You shouldn’t be moping around on Thanksgiving. I knew you’d want to talk to her. You do, don’t you?”

  Bruce swallowed painfully and nodded. “Very much.” The words were thick with emotion.

  Jolene handed him the phone and then left, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Bruce waited until the door had clicked shut. “Happy Thanksgiving,” he said, doing his utmost to sound upbeat and positive.

  “Same to you. Jolene said the two of you are about ready to eat.”

  Eat? Bruce had no appetite. He’d be lucky to manage a roll, let alone an entire meal. “I bought us one of those prepared turkey dinners from Albertson’s. They’re supposed to be halfway decent.” But nothing compared to the home-cooked meal they would’ve enjoyed if Rachel was with them.

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “What about you?” he asked, wondering if she’d be joining Teri Polgar or one of her other friends.

  She hesitated. “I’m cooking today.”

  “Turkey and all the fixings?”

  “Yes…for my roommate and some friends.”

  “That’s nice,” he said dully.

  “They’re away from home and family, so we pooled our resources and decided to have our own Thanksgiving celebration.”

  “So you’re living with a female navy—what?—officer?” Bremerton was filled with navy personnel.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Navy, though, right?” He didn’t mean to turn this call into an inquisition, but he couldn’t help being curious. Rachel had told him so little about her living arrangements.

  “Yes, navy.”

  “A man?” he pressed, and could tell right away that she didn’t appreciate his questioning her.

  “It doesn’t really matter, does it, Bruce?”

  “No, I suppose not.” He did his best to pretend it didn’t. Then he suddenly realized where she was staying and it nearly destroyed him. His hand almost crushed his daughter’s cell phone. “You’re living with Nate Olsen, aren’t you?” he asked starkly.

  “I thought you said it didn’t matter.”

  “It matters if it’s Nate.” He clenched his jaw.

  Rachel was completely silent.

  “Rachel?”

  More silence.

  He inhaled and slowly released his breath. “Either I trust you or I don’t. I choose to trust you. If you’d wanted to marry Nate, you could have. He wanted you and so did I. You chose me. Whether that was the right decision or not, you’re my wife… .”

  “Yes, I am. I trust you, Bruce, and I expect you to trust me.”

  “I do.”

  “Good.” A moment later, she added, “He’s been a friend to me. That’s all. A friend.”

  It wasn’t easy, but he had to believe she was telling him the truth.

  “You talked to Jolene?” he asked.

  “Yes, when she called me just now. I told her when we met at the library that she could phone me anytime, day or night.”

  “Were you surprised she called you today?”

  “A little, but she didn’t call me for her sake. She did it because of you.”

  “It’s a start.”

  “A small one.”

  Bruce couldn’t disagree. “Can I see you again?”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  He could argue, but decided against it. “Jolene said you’re thinking of moving to Portland.”

  “I’m considering it.” She didn’t add any further information.

  “Wherever you are, I’d like to be with you when the baby’s born.” That shouldn’t be asking too much. As the baby’s father, he had the right. All he could do was hope she agreed.

  “We can talk about that later, okay?”

  “Okay.” But he wasn’t willing to drop it.

  Bruce could tell she wanted to end the conversation. “It’s Thanksgiving, Rachel, and before we hang up I want you to know that, despite everything, I’m grateful you’re in my life. I will always love you.”

  “Thank you, Bruce.”

  “Goodbye.”

  “Bye.”

  He noticed she hadn’t told him she loved him. Not that he’d blame her if she’d given up on their marriage…

  He walked back into the living room, where Jolene sat in front of the television. He handed her the cell phone. “Thanks.”

  She looked up at him. “I’ve been kind of a brat, haven’t I?”

  At least she recognized her role in all this.

  “Something like that.”

  The timer on the stove indicated that the turkey was done. “Are you ready for dinner?” he asked.

  She regarded him skeptically. “Are you?”

  “Sure.” He’d make an effort; Jolene deserved that much. “After dinner, do you want to work on a jigsaw puzzle? Or we can play Yahtzee if you prefer.”

  “Let’s do a puzzle. The one with the dogs playing poker.”

  “Why not?” They’d worked on a different puzzle last Thanksgiving. Rachel had been with them then, and it was the best Thanksgiving in recent memory. Jolene and Rachel had cooked the meal together.

  Bruce and Jolene sat at the table with their purchased meal. Neither of them ate much, although they made a pretense of being happy. They’d just finished putting the leftovers in the refrigerator when the house phone rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Jolene said, leaping on the one in the kitchen as if she thought it might jump up and run away.

  Bruce smiled, observing that his daughter was almost back to the way she’d been a year earlier, before he’d married Rachel.

  Rachel. His heart sank. He could pretend all he wanted, but he missed his wife.

  “Dad,” Jolene said, holding the phone against her shoulder. Her dark brown eyes seemed twice their normal size. “It’s…Rachel. She wants to know if it would be all right if she came over for a little while.”

  His heart rate automatically doubled. “Of course it would be all right. She doesn’t need to ask.”

  “She’s asking me. She tried my cell, but I left it in my bedroom and didn’t hear it ring.”

  “If she’s asking you, then you need to answer.” He gripped the back of his chair, waiting to see how his daughter responded.

  “What if I say no?”

  He closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  She studied him, then returned the phone to her ear. “Dad and I were just about to start a jigsaw puzzle.”

  He nearly grabbed the phone away from her, wanting to tell Rachel that this was her home and she could come anytime she wanted, no matter what he and Jolene were doing.

  “We did one together last Thanksgiving, remember?” Jolene went on.

  Rachel must have said something, because his daughter was silent for a moment.

  “No, not yet. Dad got a pumpkin pie with the turkey.” A short silence and then, “It was all right, I guess, for turkey, but last year’s was way better. The stuffing was pretty bland. I like yours a lot more.”

  Bruce relaxed. They were having a normal conversation. “I like pecan pie and so does Dad,” she said next. “Sure. I’ll tell him. Bye.”

  She replaced the phone. “That was Rachel,” she said, as if he didn’t already know.

  “So, is she coming by?” He tried to sound casual. Nonchalant.

  “Yeah, in about an hour. She said we should get started on the puzzle and get all the border pieces in and then she’d help us with the rest. Oh, and she’s bringing a pecan pie. We have whipped topping, don’t we? Because I told her we did.”

  “I think so. If not, there’s ice cream.”

  “Dad,” his daughter said in an exasperated voice. “We ha
ve strawberry ice cream. That would be awful with pecan pie.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

  Jolene rolled her eyes, but she was smiling and so was he. Really smiling for the first time that day, and it felt darn good.

  Thirty

  “It’s so good to get back into our regular schedule,” Grace said as she slid into the booth at the Pancake Palace. She and Olivia had finished their aerobic workout—a Wednesday-night tradition for years—and stopped for coffee and coconut cream pie. Another tradition.

  Their schedule had been disrupted for months after Olivia’s surgery for breast cancer and the chemotherapy and radiation treatments that followed. She’d lost weight and grown so weak that for a time Grace had feared her best friend might not survive. If there were lessons to be learned from this experience—and there were—one of the most profound was how dear Olivia was to her. How important their friendship was. Grace treasured her and their special times together. Every week they made a point of catching up with each other. They’d shared so much through the years. Grace relied on Olivia to sympathize when necessary, to tell her the truth and to laugh with her. And Olivia expected the same from Grace. They’d seen each other through births and deaths, marriage and divorce, triumphs and disappointments.

  “Coffee, girls?” Goldie asked as she sidled up to the booth.

  “Tea for me,” Olivia said, surprising both Grace and Goldie.

  “Tea?” Goldie echoed. “When did this happen?”

  Olivia shrugged. “Coffee leaves a bitter taste in my mouth these days. I don’t know if it’s because of the prescriptions I’m taking or what, but I prefer tea now.”

  Goldie snorted, shook her head and, after pouring Grace’s coffee, returned to the kitchen.

  “You usually order tea when there’s something on your mind,” Grace said, studying Olivia. Her friend had been unusually quiet all evening.

  “I guess so, but I really have gone off coffee.”

  “You’re the one who told me you’ve had the most important conversations of your life over tea, remember?”

  “Yes, I suppose I have. Most of them in the kitchen. My mother’s or mine.” She thought for a moment. “Conversations with my mother. With Stan. With Justine.” She smiled. “Jack and I have had some of the most intimate discussions of our marriage in the kitchen. Funny, isn’t it, that the kitchen and a cup of tea would play such a major role in my life?”

  “Maybe because it’s such a comfortable setting. So personal,” Grace said. “Anyway, what’s on your mind tonight?” She couldn’t see any reason not to be direct.

  Olivia leaned forward to reply, but didn’t have a chance before Goldie came back with a small white ceramic teapot and a tea bag on the side. “I thought I’d better ask if you’re ordering coconut cream pie or if that’s changed, too.”

  “I’ll have coconut cream pie,” Grace said. This was her one indulgence of the week and she wasn’t about to give it up.

  “What other kinds do you have?” Olivia asked.

  Grace had to bite her lip to keep from giggling at Goldie’s horrified reaction. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she burst out. “Now you’re quitting coconut cream pie, too? What are those drugs doing to you?”

  “I also like pumpkin pie,” Olivia said evenly, “and I think it would be a better choice health-wise.”

  “You’re not a pumpkin pie kind of woman,” Goldie argued. “If you order pumpkin, I swear you’ll have to get some other waitress to serve it. Fact is, I’m wondering what those doctors did to the Olivia I used to know.”

  “I’m right here. Okay, you win, I’ll have a piece of coconut cream pie.”

  Goldie’s face broke into a wide smile. “You were just playing with me, weren’t you?” Not waiting for a response, she turned sharply and marched back to the kitchen.

  “Okay,” Grace said. “Now you can tell me what’s on your mind.”

  Olivia reached for her fork and stared at it. “It’s because of Mom moving and everything else—things I never thought would affect me.”

  Grace knew that Olivia and Will had been concerned about Charlotte and Ben for some time.

  “Your mother’s memory problems are getting worse?” Grace asked, testing the waters.

  “No…actually, I think she’s a little better now that she’s back on familiar ground. Although…who can tell how long that’ll last? But since she and Ben decided to move into Stanford Suites, Mom’s been cleaning out the basement. She’s like a woman on a mission. You know my mother. Once she’d made a decision, there’s no stopping her. Ever since Thanksgiving she’s been sorting through sixty years of accumulated stuff. I know it’s necessary but I didn’t realize how hard it would be for me.”

  “Why? What kind of stuff?” Grace had been in that basement herself and tried to remember what was stored there.

  “A lot of it is unimportant—canning jars, old clothes and things Mom kept for one reason or another,” Olivia said. “But some of that stuff is part of my childhood. I know there’s no real reason to hang on to a perfect spelling test I did in the second grade. Mom kept it, she said, because she was so proud I could spell Mississippi.”

  “You got an A on every spelling test,” Grace reminded her. “So you could see this one as representative,” she said, pleased with her explanation.

  Olivia laughed. “I guess what I’m saying is that when Mom and Ben agreed to move into assisted living, I was so relieved I didn’t think about how all of this would affect me—about how it would feel.”

  Grace considered that for a moment. “You mean you’d be losing some of your personal history, as well.”

  Nodding, Olivia said, “Naturally Mom wants me to take all the files she’s saved. She held on to so much and it’s so neatly organized. On the one hand, I’m tempted. On the other…what use is it? It’s just a bunch of childhood memories.”

  “Happy memories,” Grace murmured.

  “Yes, but it’s ridiculous to save all this stuff.”

  “Then pass it on to your children and grandchildren.”

  Olivia appeared to be mulling over that thought as she stirred her tea. “I could, I suppose, but what good is an old spelling test to my family?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Justine and James.”

  “No need,” she said briskly. “I’m going to throw out most of those old files. My kids have their own clutter—they don’t need mine. But I have to tell you, Grace, it’s hard letting go of all that…evidence. Those tests and drawings and Valentine cards bring back so much of my childhood.”

  “What about Will?”

  Olivia raised her eyebrows. “Will? He tossed everything without a qualm. All of it went right in the garbage. He didn’t even have to think about it.”

  “I bet Cliff would do the same thing,” Grace said. “Men. I swear there isn’t a sentimental bone in their bodies.”

  “Some men,” Olivia agreed and then added, “Jack can be shockingly romantic at times.”

  “Yes, but you have to admit he’s the exception.”

  “Well, maybe. The problem is, most men don’t want us to know how sentimental they can be.”

  Goldie appeared with their coconut cream pie. “Enjoy,” she said, and it sounded like an order.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Olivia saluted smartly and exchanged a smile with Grace.

  After a sip of coffee, Grace picked up her fork. She’d looked forward to this all week. The library had been hectic, what with putting up Christmas decorations, creating displays of Christmas books, planning programs and events.

  “Your turn,” Olivia said, after taking her first bite. “What’s happening in your world?”

  Grace hardly knew where to start. “Well, I heard from Ian and Cecilia Randall. Remember them? Ian’s still in the navy. They have two kids now and Ian’s been transferred back to the Bremerton base.”

  “Of course I remember the Randalls. It’ll be good to see them again.”
/>   “They asked about the house on Rosewood Lane and my current renters are moving out this month. It was a short-term rental after Faith Beckwith—I mean, Davis—left.”

  “That should work out well, then.”

  “Yeah. I like them.”

  “Me, too,” Olivia said. Slicing off another bite of pie, she casually asked, “How’s Beau?”

  Grace frowned. The dog was the least welcome subject. “That puppy is a nuisance.”

  “Grace, he’s adorable!”

  “Sure, he’s cute but he’s a pain. I’m not keeping him.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Grace insisted. Everyone, right down to her two daughters and their kids, refused to believe her. But she wasn’t keeping him. She wasn’t! It was out of the question. Grace didn’t have the time or inclination for training a puppy. The fact that Beau followed her around like a pesky little shadow didn’t influence her one bit.

  “Does Beth have a home for him?”

  “Yes. Mine. She thinks she’s so clever,” Grace said, growing more animated as she spoke. “She came to me with this song and dance about being so busy shipping Christmas trees to Japan and Hawaii and wherever that she hasn’t had time to look for another home and could I just hang on to him. She assumed that because I agreed to help her with this puppy I’d want to keep him myself. Well, she’s wrong.”

  “What does Cliff say?”

  Grace narrowed her eyes as she stared intently across the table. “Olivia?” she murmured, her heart sinking. “Not you, too.”

  “Not me, what?”

  “You think I should keep Beau.”

  “Only if you love him.”

  “I don’t. He needs a good home and it isn’t with me. I refuse to become attached to that dog. Besides, he’s nothing but trouble. Did I tell you I found him chewing my new shoes the other day?”

  “I believe you might have mentioned that once or twice.”

  “My point exactly.” The more she thought about Beau, the more convinced she became that she didn’t want him.

  “Do you realize you talk about Beau quite a lot?”

  That was an exaggeration, but Grace was determined not to argue. “Mark my words, Olivia, I am not keeping that dog. If anything, I’ll give him to Maryellen and Jon for the kids. If they’ll agree… Katie and Drake are at the age where they’ll love having a puppy. Beau will be happy with them.”