Someday Soon

by Debbie Macomber

  Janet walked out of the kitchen, smiling broadly. “My dear, you are lovelier every time I see you.” She kissed Linette’s cheek and then leaned back as if to get a better look at her. “You’re looking a little pale.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Your timing couldn’t be better. I’ve just finished setting the table.”

  A look at the three place settings told Linette her sister-in-law and family wouldn’t be joining them. Now that Linette thought about it, she wasn’t sure Nancy had spent Christmas with her parents, either.

  When the meal was ready the three of them gathered around the table. “Nancy and I had lunch right before Christmas,” Linette said conversationally. “She told me her good news. You must be thrilled.”

  “Of course we’re are,” Janet said in a way that caused Linette to glance at her mother-in-law.

  “They were here for Christmas, weren’t they?” Linette asked. She’d made the assumption that Nancy would be joining her parents as she had in years passed.

  “No,” Jake answered, his eyes revealing his hurt.

  “Unfortunately Nancy and I had a bit of a misunderstanding,” Janet said, busying herself by buttering a roll. She took inordinate care in doing so, Linette noticed, spreading the butter evenly over the surface of the roll.

  “It’s nothing serious,” her father-in-law said quickly. “Of course we couldn’t be more pleased about having another grandchild.”

  All at once it was as if a thick fog had cleared in Linette’s mind. “The misunderstanding was over Michael, wasn’t it?” Nancy hadn’t said anything to Linette about a disagreement with her mother, nor would she. But her sister-in-law’s eagerness to match her up with another man told Linette everything she needed to know.

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about Nancy,” Jake said hurriedly. “I swear this is the best ham we’ve had since last Easter.” He directed the comment to his wife in a blatant effort to change the subject.

  “How was Christmas?” Linette asked, seeking a way to put the conversation back on an even keel while she digested what she’d learned.

  “Lonely,” Janet supplied with a beleaguered look. “We missed you. I have to tell you, Linette, both Jake and I were worried sick about you. When we learned that you barely knew this young man…why, anything could have become of you.”

  “I met Cain through Rob and Nancy.”

  “As I understand it, this man was a high school friend of Rob’s, and the two of them haven’t seen each other in several years. There’s no saying what kind of person he is now.”

  “You were angry with Nancy because she introduced me to Cain.” Knowing she had been the reason for the rift between mother and daughter greatly saddened Linette.

  “And when we didn’t hear from you right after Christmas, we didn’t know what to think.”

  This was an additional serving of guilt, dished up with a look meant to instill shame.

  “I have a thriving business, you know,” Linette said in explanation, although that had little or nothing to do with the reasons she hadn’t contacted her in-laws.

  “We understand how busy you’ve been.” Jake had always been the peacemaker in the family. Linette noticed that he seemed to be growing uncomfortable with the nuances of their dinner conversation.

  “I only hope you won’t be seeing this young man again,” Janet said without emotion as she reached for the molded gelatin salad.

  Linette frowned. “Why would you wish for that?”

  Janet blinked. “Because of Michael, of course.”

  “Michael has been dead for over two years.”

  Her mother-in-law paled slightly. “I realize that, dear, but by the same token, you’re vulnerable just yet. Two years is no time whatsoever to grieve over the loss of a husband. Anyone could step in and take advantage of your tender heart. Jacob and I feel strongly that there should be someone to look out for your best interests. Someone who loves you and can guide you during these difficult days.”

  To hear her mother-in-law speak, it sounded as if Michael had passed on only recently and Linette had been a child bride.

  “It’s been two years,” she said a second time. “I’m perfectly capable of looking out for my own life and my own interests. I appreciate your kindness and your concern, but I prefer to make my own decisions.”

  Jake nodded, but Janet’s gaze clashed with Linette’s. “How do you think Michael feels, knowing you took off with a man you barely know?”

  “Michael doesn’t feel,” Linette responded, and her voice trembled.

  “But Michael knows. Don’t think he doesn’t know what you did.” Janet’s voice elevated with disapproval.

  “And what did I do?” Linette asked calmly.

  “It’s done and over with now,” Jake inserted, glancing from one woman to the other. “Let’s put it all behind us. Janet tells me she made pecan pie for dessert.” This remark was directed to Linette.

  “Michael’s favorite,” Linette whispered. Janet would bake pecan pie for Linette until her dying day and not know her daughter-in-law didn’t like pecans.

  “We all love pecan pie,” Janet said stiffly.

  “It isn’t one of my favorites.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Janet flared, her eyes flashing with resentment. “You love pecan pie.”

  “If I eat the pie and tell you how good it is, then it’s almost like Michael being here, isn’t it?” Linette suggested softly.

  Janet ignored her and looked across the table at her husband. “All these years and never once does she tell me she doesn’t like pecan pie. You’d think she’d have said something before now.” Janet slid her knife across the sliced ham with enough force to mark the plate.

  “What you’re really angry about is that I spent Christmas with Cain McClellan.” Her appetite gone, Linette set her napkin beside her plate.

  “I’ll tell you this much,” Janet said in arctic tones, “I would never have believed you were the kind of young woman who’d travel with a man you’d only met once. Heaven only knows what went on between you two.”

  “Janet, please,” her husband warned softly. “Linette is with us now. Let’s forget all about Christmas.”

  “God knows what she did to disgrace Michael’s memory.”

  “Janet,” her father-in-law pleaded once more, “drop it, please.”

  “No,” the older woman snapped. “Let’s clear the air once and for all.” She turned her attention to Linette. “If you’re going to remain our daughter-in-law, if you’re going to honor the memory of our son, your husband, then we simply can’t have you behaving in such an undignified, tasteless manner.”

  “I see,” Linette said. The vehemence of her mother-in-law’s words felt like a cold slap. “In other words, you don’t want me to see other men.”

  “Of course we want you to date again,” Jake insisted in a hurried effort to smooth the waters.

  “But only after the appropriate time for mourning,” Janet added, her voice not as impassioned as it had been earlier. “Michael has only been gone two short years.”

  “I’m ready to date again,” she said. It would be a disservice to mislead them, especially now. Scooting back her chair, Linette stood. “I love you both so much,” she said, pressing her hands against the side of the table. “It hurts to know that I’ve disappointed you. I loved Michael with everything there was in me to love. And he loved me. I know that he wouldn’t have wanted me to spend the rest of my life as a living memorial to him.”

  “All we’re asking—”

  “All you’re asking,” Linette said, cutting off her mother-in-law, “is for me to pretend Michael isn’t really gone. I can’t do that anymore. I won’t be involved in this charade any longer.”

  “I think you’ve said enough.” Janet slapped her linen napkin down beside her plate.

  “Maybe it would be better if we discussed this at another time,” Jake suggested with a pained expression. “We certainly didn’t wan
t for our time together to—”

  “Can’t you see what Linette’s done?” Janet demanded of her husband. “If you look at her, you can see it in her eyes. She’s disgraced Michael’s memory. She’s pushed him out of her life. It makes me wonder if she ever really loved him.”

  Linette knew she couldn’t stand to listen to much more of this. She hurriedly found her jacket and moved toward the front door. Looking back, she found Jake standing behind his wife, who remained sitting at the dining room table.

  His hands were on Janet’s shoulders as he attempted to comfort her. He glanced up, and Linette saw that his tired eyes had filled with tears. Her own were fast welling with emotion.

  “Good-bye,” Linette said sadly. Unless matters changed, she doubted that she’d ever be back.

  Cain was beginning to feel the faint stirring of faith that Louis St. Cyr might be alive. His family had recently received a photograph of the youth. He didn’t look to be in good shape, but it was proof that he was alive. Or had been within the last week.

  The boy’s family had wept with joy at the sight of their son, despite his condition. It was the first bit of encouragement they’d been given following the ransom demand. Unfortunately there was no hope of fulfilling the requirements. If the kidnappers had asked for money, they might have been able to work out a deal, but the terrorists weren’t interested in cash. The ransom note had been delivered four days earlier, demanding the release of three political prisoners.

  What the kidnappers didn’t know was that the day of the kidnapping, the three prisoners had been extradited to the United States for a long list of offenses. A senator who was aware of the situation had recommended that Louis St. Cyr Sr. contact Cain. News of the extradition had been kept out of the media. If it were released, Louis junior would be as good as dead.

  The problem now was finding out where the terrorists were holding the teenager. The best information Cain had been given had led him to a series of dead ends. Once Deliverance Company knew St. Cyr’s whereabouts, the strategy for the rescue mission could be planned. But finding the youth was proving to be highly difficult.

  The boy’s parents were frantic with worry. From what Cain understood, the mother was on sedatives. Deliverance Company was doing what they could, but it seemed like damn little.

  Exhausted, Cain made his way into the back bedroom. He hadn’t slept in over twenty hours. He was past sleepy, past tired. He’d reached his limit of endurance and knew it.

  As he shrugged off his clothes and turned back the sheets, Cain knew with his resistance this low, he wouldn’t be able to keep thoughts of Linette out of his mind. He closed his eyes and waited for her to come.

  As his head settled against the thick pillow mattress, she appeared in his mind’s eye. It took him a moment to realize she was standing on the porch outside his Montana house.

  It was dusk, and she was dressed in moonbeams. Light shimmered around her, drawing his attention, causing his heart to swell with a longing so intense, it was painful.

  Silently he called out to her. In slow motion she whirled around, and when she saw it was Cain, she broke into a wide smile. With wings at her heels, her arms open, she raced down the steps and rushed toward him. Her arms were as wide as her heart. As wide as the love she had to offer him.

  Just before she reached him, she vanished.

  Cain knew this was because he’d vowed he wouldn’t be seeing her again. Nor would he allow her to mess up his mind while he was on a mission. Too many lives depended on his having a cool head and a steady hand. The potential to hurt others with a single slip, a single lapse, was all the warning he needed.

  So he dreamed of her, and even then certain restrictions applied. She would always remain out of his reach.

  Fantasizing about Linette was a compromise Cain had made with himself. He’d banished all thoughts of her from his daytime activities but lowered the mental gates of his resistance at night.

  She visited him often. Cain wondered if it were possible for any woman to be as beautiful as Linette was in his sleep-induced memories. He wondered if any woman could be as giving, as loving, or as charming as he remembered Linette. It didn’t seem possible.

  Caught between the lure of sleep and the cold reality of this world, Cain tried to think about the nineteen-year-old boy he was attempting to find and rescue. The photo image of the youth flashed in and out of his mind, refusing to stay.

  It was as if Linette had stepped forward and insisted this was her time with him. If he was going to dwell on business, then he could do it while he was awake. This time was hers, and she’d been waiting impatiently for him to join her.

  Rolling onto his side, Cain gave his mind free rein to take him where it would. After a moment he found Linette in her apartment. He scanned the room until he located the cardboard star he’d made for the top of their Christmas tree. She’d placed the aluminum-covered ornament on the fireplace mantel as if it were a valuable piece of artwork.

  A peace settled over Cain like a warm blanket in the coldest part of winter. A tranquillity he could give no name.

  Linette hadn’t forgotten him, either. It was a fantasy, he tried to tell himself, conscious enough to filter out what was real and what wasn’t.

  He hadn’t a clue of what had become of that ridiculous-looking star he’d crafted. Why he should feel the least bit of anything to think Linette had brought it back with her was beyond his comprehension.

  Nevertheless, he could feel the pressing worries of the day leave him. His shoulders relaxed, and the tight muscles in his neck slackened. All at once he was free to walk into the waiting arms of slumber.

  At the knocking sound, he bolted upright out of a dead sleep. “Come in.” He wiped a hand down his face in an effort to clear his thoughts. Once asleep, he was a man who rarely dreamed. Over the course of his life, he recalled only a handful of times he’d remembered his dreams. But this night he remembered. All too well.

  “It’s Jack.” The communications expert for Deliverance Company walked into the bedroom. “You asked me to come for you if there was any news.”

  “Is there?”

  “We think so.”

  “Give me two minutes to get dressed.”

  “You got it.”

  Cain sat on the edge of the mattress and gathered his wits. The dream continued to plague him. Normally he would have shrugged off something like this, but this particular dream involved Linette. The details of it were as vivid as if he’d been living it. She was in a hospital waiting room, pacing and filled with nervous energy. He didn’t know whom she was there to see or what the problem was. All he’d felt was the overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and comfort her.

  He needed coffee. Needed to tuck the woman who dominated his dreams back into the locked mental compartment. Needed a clear head in order to deal with the problem of rescuing Louis St. Cyr. Before it was too late, if it wasn’t already.

  “Morning,” Murphy said when Cain appeared.

  “What have you got?”

  “Good news,” Murphy said, grinning widely. “We’ve located the house outside of Paris where they’re keeping the kid.”

  “And the bad news?” There was always the alternative to go along with anything positive.

  “It’s going to be a bitch to get him out.”

  “So what’s new?” Rescues rarely came easy, no matter how well planned.

  “His captors are a group of fanatics with plenty of sympathizers holed up with them. They’re armed to the teeth, and would welcome any excuse to kill the kid.”

  “Sounds like just the sort of mission we specialize in,” Cain said with a grin, and slapped Murphy across the back. “Call Bailey and Stan. We’ve got work to do. While you’re at it, get us the first available flight to Paris.”

  Already Cain could feel the adrenaline pumping. Deliverance Company was about to do what they did best. If good luck and the fates were with them, there was a chance they could save this poor kid’s ass.

/>   8

  Francine knew Tim was well past the point of being tired, and still he pushed himself. He insisted they stay in the pool and go through the series of exercises one last time, driving himself, and her, to the brink of exhaustion.

  Francine had been ready to get out of the swimming pool forty minutes earlier.

  “Enough,” she insisted. “If you work too hard, you’ll damage the muscles.” For a moment she feared Tim was going to ignore her.

  His shoulders heaved with the effort of his exertion. He swam to the far end of the pool, nodded and lowered his head as he caught his breath.

  “I’ll call for Greg,” she said, ready to walk up the steps and out of the pale blue water.

  “No.” Tim reached for her arms and stopped her. He was sitting on the third step from the top, the water lapping about his shoulders. “Not yet.”

  “But you’re exhausted.”

  “I know. I won’t do any more exercises today. Just stay with me a couple of minutes until I get my wind back.”

  “All right.” She sat on the step beside him. They’d been working for most of the afternoon. The progress her patient had made in the past two weeks astonished her.

  She hadn’t thought it possible for a man to make such a complete turnaround in attitude. Francine had the impression Tim still didn’t like her, still didn’t want her around. He tolerated her company, but most important, he respected her and acknowledged that it was through her efforts he would walk again.

  If there was one thing she’d accomplished with Tim Mallory, it had been hope. Somehow she’d managed to get it through that thick skull of his that he would walk again.

  When she arrived first thing in the morning, he generally acknowledged her cheerful greeting with a grunt. It didn’t trouble her. A grunt was worth a thousand demands that she leave him alone.

  Francine knew the workouts in the pool were the ones that drained her patient the most. But his energy level increased daily. His progress was nothing sort of phenomenal. The fact that he was taking an active role in his recovery thrilled her and gave her more hope than the physical improvements she witnessed.