Julie looked out the side window and whispered, “I think it’s wrong the way everyone caters to your grandfather. It’s wrong, I tell you.”
“I heard that,” Kent growled. “No one is catering to me, especially you.”
“Don’t you remember …”
“Julie has the memory of an elephant,” Kent said, leaning toward Oliver. “She brings up stuff from forty years ago as if it happened yesterday.”
“I think we’re going to have lovely weather for the vow renewal,” Annie piped in before the two broke out into a full-blown argument.
“Who said anything about renewing our vows?” her grandfather asked, twisting around to look at Annie. “At the rate your grandmother and I are going, this marriage won’t last another week.”
“You’ve been threatening to leave me for fifty years. One would think you’d have done it before now.”
“Children, children,” Oliver said, chuckling softly.
“Oh, look at that cute restaurant,” Julie said, pointing to a pink Victorian-style building as they drove past.
“That’s the tearoom I mentioned when I first started looking for someplace to hold the reception,” Annie said. “Unfortunately, the restaurant isn’t set up for receptions.”
“It looks just perfect,” her grandmother mused aloud. “I bet they serve incredible lunches.”
“You couldn’t get me within ten feet of that place,” Kent muttered. “You won’t see me in a tearoom with my pinkie in the air, sipping tea.”
“I wouldn’t want to go there with you anyway.”
“Ah, here we are,” Oliver said, cutting off their argument. He made a right-hand turn into the restaurant parking lot. “This looks to be every bit as good as Jo Marie promised.” He parked directly in front of the Taco Shack.
After listening to her grandparents bicker for the entire ride, Annie’s stomach was tied into one giant knot. All her memories of her beloved grandma and grandpa had been those of a loving couple. Not once could she recall a cross word between them. Here they were about to celebrate fifty years of marriage and it was almost as if they couldn’t stand the sight of each other.
When did this happen? Annie didn’t have a clue how she was going to pull off this event with them constantly picking at each other. Hopefully it was nerves and everything would go back to normal in short order.
As if he was a true gentleman, Oliver opened the back passenger door and helped her grandmother out. Kent didn’t wait and was already halfway across the parking lot. Julie hurried to catch up with him.
“Everything will work itself out,” Oliver assured her.
“How can you say that?” Annie whispered, ready to weep. “This is a disaster.”
“It’s not so bad,” he said, discounting her fears. “They’re just a little stressed out with all this fuss over their anniversary.”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t have gone to the trouble to plan this party?” she flared. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I’m saying don’t worry; it’s going to turn out just fine.”
Annie sighed, hoping he was right. She wiped a hand across her face. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little stressed out myself.”
“I could help you relax,” Oliver offered, and pressed his hand to the small of her back.
“Yeah, right.”
“I could always kiss you … again.”
“You don’t want to go there, Oliver Sutton,” Annie murmured, and slapped his hand aside.
“Ah, but I enjoyed it so much the first time.”
Chapter 10
At the sound of George’s voice coming over her cell phone, Mary’s knees shook so badly that she needed to find a place to sit down. Thankfully, the Adirondack chair on the veranda was close by. She sank into the wooden seat while pressing the cell phone hard against her ear.
“Where are you?” George asked with a sense of urgency as though she were in desperate need of help.
“Washington.”
“State?”
“Yes.” Her own voice sounded breathless, as if she’d raced up several flights of stairs.
“Are you all right?” His voice became less frantic. “Do you need anything?”
To her horror, tears flooded her eyes and she found it impossible to speak.
“Mary? Talk to me.”
“I … I have can … cer.” She hiccupped the words.
Her announcement was followed by a long pause, as though he was as shocked by the diagnosis as she’d been when she first heard the word. He recovered quickly, though. “When can I see you?”
By the sheer force of her will, Mary managed to gain control of her emotions. She grabbed a tissue from inside her purse and held it to her nose. When next she spoke her voice was steady and strong. “Seeing me isn’t such a good idea.”
“I beg to differ.”
George, sweet George, always so polite and caring. How he ever convinced himself he was in love with her was beyond Mary’s comprehension.
“I need to see you,” he said.
Clearly the fact that she had cancer had hit him hard. Blurting it out like that had been a mistake. As big a mistake as contacting his office had been.
Mary struggled within herself.
“Tell me where you are,” he insisted, “and I’ll come right away.”
Mary refused to let him even consider leaving. “You’re supposed to be in court,” she reminded him.
“Screw that.”
“George, no.”
“Then promise me you’ll let me see you.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Mary battled down the nearly overwhelming desire to agree, but she couldn’t. Even now she didn’t understand what craziness had taken hold of her to seek him out. In any other circumstances she would never have given in to this weakness.
The threat of her own mortality made her weak in areas where she’d always been strong. Nineteen years ago she’d walked away from George. She’d never intended to see or talk to him again and here she was craving his touch, craving his gentleness and caring. It would make everything worthwhile if she could see him again. One last time.
“Mary, did you hear me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He hesitated, and then softly, ever so softly, he added, “Please.”
A sob rose in her throat and escaped, sounding like the cry of a small injured animal.
“Mary, are you crying?”
Even at the very end of their affair, she hadn’t shed a tear, and now here she was blubbering like a newborn, swallowing back tears.
George spoke again. “I can take anything but the sound of your tears.”
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she insisted. Dealing with weakness in any form was foreign to her. Drawing in deep breaths, she struggled for composure for several seconds. Straightening, she squared her shoulders. “I’m fairly certain your wife wouldn’t take kindly to the two of us meeting, and—”
“I’m divorced.” George said, cutting her off.
The news rocked Mary. Divorced? “When?”
“Years ago now. What about you?”
For the first time since she’d answered her cell, Mary relaxed. “I never married.”
“Never?”
If she had been interested in sharing her life with anyone, it would have been George.
“I never loved Kathleen completely,” he elaborated. “She knew my heart belonged to you going into the marriage.”
Mary didn’t want to hear this, and at the same time she hungered for every word.
“For a while it didn’t matter,” George went on to say. “We were content with each other, but then, after a few years, we weren’t. I wasn’t surprised when she asked for a divorce.”
“Children?” The word nearly stuck in her throat.
“No.”
“If anyone deserved to be a father, it was you.”
The line went quiet as he digested her words.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispe
red. She’d robbed him of that opportunity along with everything else.
It went without saying that he knew what she was telling him.
“I know,” he whispered back.
They both took a moment to reflect on the past. Mary wasn’t willing to break the silence. From the first there’d been a strong connection between them. In the beginning it had manifested itself physically, but this cord, this tie, this link between them, was also spiritual and by far stronger than anything she’d experienced with any other person, even family. Just hearing his voice, it was as if nearly twenty years had evaporated into thin air. Whoosh, and the years disappeared. It felt as if they had never been apart.
“How long have you had cancer?” he asked, his words low, concerned, and fearful.
“I was diagnosed several months ago.”
“Where?” was his next question.
She hesitated and then decided he might as well know the worst of it. “My breasts. I had a double mastectomy.”
He didn’t comment about her breasts being gone.
Mary had anguished over the decision when really there had been only one sensible choice: her life. In retrospect it should have been an easy decision. It hadn’t been. It felt as if she’d been stripped of her femininity.
“What stage?” This was asked with a hitch in his breath, as if he was afraid to ask but yet had to know.
“Four.”
“The prognosis?”
“Undecided.” The one word explained everything, she supposed.
“So that’s why you’re here. You’ve come because you want to make your peace with me?”
Had she? Earlier, standing at the waterfront, watching the water lap against the shore, Mary had admitted she’d flown across the country because of George. If she were about to meet her Maker, then she intended to stand before God with the sure knowledge that she had done everything within her power to right her wrongs. She’d lied and misled George and had lived with that guilt all these years. At the time it had seemed the best thing to do under the circumstances. She couldn’t be the woman he wanted, the wife or mother he needed her to be. Their bicoastal relationship was doomed from the beginning; if he hadn’t recognized it, she did. Because she was the stronger of the two, she’d ended it, and in the process, among everything else, she’d badly hurt George.
“Yes, I suppose I did come to make peace,” she admitted softly.
“Then you’ll agree to see me.” He wasn’t about to let up on the subject, she realized.
“Oh, George, is that really necessary?” She wanted to be with him again so badly, but she didn’t want him to see her like this.
Her hand automatically went to her head.
Her bald head.
All that remained of her once-thick, dark hair was stubble. She did what she could to disguise it with a silk scarf, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. Wigs were a disaster on her. She’d given up on them after the first week.
“I want to see you,” George insisted. “You owe me that much.”
The truth was, she owed him far more, but still she hesitated. Closing her eyes, her heart heavy with reluctance, she whispered, “I’ll see you.”
“Thank you.”
“But before we meet, there are a few things you should know.”
He hesitated. “All right.”
“First off, I don’t look anything like I did twenty years ago.” Those days were long gone.
He laughed. “And you think I do?”
In her mind, he’d never changed. She continued to hold a mental picture of him from the first time they’d met. He’d been young and dashing—in her eyes, anyway. While the years had taken their toll on her, she couldn’t picture George any differently than he had been the last time they were together.
“You probably won’t recognize me.”
He laughed ever so softly and contradicted her: “I’ll recognize you, Mary,”
“Okay, whatever you say. It’s time for you to go. I shouldn’t need to remind you that you have court today.”
“I’m coming to see you this afternoon; just tell me where and when.” He was so eager, so ready to do whatever was necessary.
“I’ll come to you,” she offered, and really that was the most practical solution.
“No. You’ve been sick. Tell me the name of your hotel. You’re in a hotel, aren’t you?”
This was getting complicated. “No, I’m not.”
He waited for her to elaborate, and when she didn’t, he asked, “Where are you staying?”
“Ever heard of Cedar Cove?” All Mary could do was hope that she wasn’t making a big mistake giving him this much information regarding her whereabouts.
“Of course I know Cedar Cove; it’s across Puget Sound from Seattle. For the love of heaven, what made you decide to stay there?”
“I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“Oh, George, I was afraid. I flew all the way across the country on a wild-goose chase. It was a crazy idea.”
“To see me.” He sounded both pleased by and proud of the gesture.
“Yes, I’m willing to admit I came because of you.” But there were other reasons as well, reasons he knew nothing about.
“But you were afraid of being too close.” He supplied her reason for staying on the other side of Puget Sound.
“Yes … I suppose. As far as I knew, you were still married to Kathleen. I didn’t want to disrupt your life.”
“I’ll be done in court by two-thirty, three at the latest; if not, I’ll have my associate take first chair.”
Mary glanced at her watch. It was just after noon. He must have collected his messages and phoned on his lunch break.
“I’ll check the ferry schedule, but if it’s inconvenient, then I’ll drive around through Tacoma.”
“Okay.” Mary could only pray that she’d made the right decision in agreeing to this meeting.
“I’ll come directly to your hotel.”
“No.” Her response was quick and immediate. Letting him know she was in Cedar Cove was a stretch, and one she already regretted.
“Then you tell me where you want me to go.”
The problem was Mary didn’t really know any place other than the Java Joint. That location would be less than ideal for a variety of reasons. Then she remembered the lovely Victorian-style building she’d seen on her ride into town. The building had been pink and feminine-looking, with dainty lace curtains in the windows and flower beds in bloom. A blossoming cherry tree, filled with small pink flowers, made for a postcard-perfect picture.
Mary had been automatically drawn to it. As little as two years ago, nothing about this tearoom would have attracted her notice. But two years ago she’d had her breasts. Two years ago her femininity hadn’t been in question, at least in her own mind. She’d worn pencil-thin skirts and stiletto heels. These days she battled lymphedema and other adverse side affects as a result of several bouts of chemotherapy.
“There’s a tearoom in town.”
“A tearoom?”
She smiled at the surprise in his voice. “That doesn’t sound like me, does it?”
“Not at all.”
“You’ll know it right away—it’s pink.”
“A pink tearoom,” he echoed, and it sounded like he was holding back a laugh. The woman he knew twenty years ago would have shunned such a place for fear of being stereotyped.
“I’m not the woman you remember, George. Keep that in mind; otherwise, you’re about to be bitterly disappointed.”
“Then I’ll look forward to meeting the woman you’ve become.”
His gentle understanding made this all the more difficult.
“I’ll be at the pink tearoom as close to four as I can make it,” he told her.
“Okay,” she agreed.
“Good-bye.”
“Good-bye.” But she didn’t disconnect the line, wanting to hold on to him for as long as possible. After a coup
le of moments she realized George hadn’t hung up on his end, either.
After several more moments, he whispered, “I never stopped loving you.”
A lone tear rolled down her cheek. “Don’t love me, George.”
“It’s too late to stop now. Did you really think time would change the way I feel about you?”
She had no answer for him.
“Hang up,” she insisted, although her voice trembled with emotion. “You’ll be late for court.”
“You hang up first,” he whispered back.
“I’m not the one due in court.”
“Hang up, Mary.”
Because he gave her no choice, she ended the call, but she clenched her phone in her hand, her grip on it as strong as she could make it.
Oh, my, what had she done? How could she have been so foolish and weak as to contact George? What did she think would come of this?
Nothing. Nothing could.
It was too late for her, and far too late for the two of them.
Chapter 11
Mary was busy on the phone. My other guests had all left for lunch at the Taco Shack, which left me pretty much free, so I grabbed my garden scissors and headed outside to gather some flowers.
Rhododendrons are the Washington state flower and come in a variety of amazing colors. Several bushes dotted the property. The pink blossoms on the one growing along the side of the inn were huge, so I was able to cut enough for several arrangements. I’ve always loved flowers, and I enjoy having them around the house.
Peggy Beldon warned me that I would need to be sensitive to any guests who might have allergies, so I limited the amount I brought inside. But the rhodies were so beautiful and I was afraid I might have gone just a bit overboard.
I arranged the blossoms and set a few of them about the breakfast area and placed a second equally large vase in the living room, too. A smaller bouquet went in the hallway on a credenza I had on the second floor, and then I took yet another up to the third level. The flowers added color and left a sweet fragrance.
I was coming down the stairs when Mary entered the house. She looked a bit shaken. Although concerned, I hesitated to say anything. Mary seemed to want her privacy, and I honored that, but nevertheless I was worried about her. I noticed how quickly she tired and how hard she tried to hide any weakness. I hoped to make her as comfortable as possible without being overbearing or intrusive.
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