He had no idea how Vicki would accept this news; however, he didn’t expect her to lash out with her fist and clobber him in the chest. “Don’t you dare say that to me, Cal Washburn! Don’t you dare!” She punctuated each word with another solid punch.
“Ouch.” Cal backed away and rubbed his chest, confounded by the vehemence of her attack. “Ow, dammit. What did you do that for?”
“Don’t you touch me again, either.”
“I thought—I hoped you shared my f-feelings.”
“I do,” she muttered, “but that doesn’t change the fact that Linnette’s in Cedar Cove patiently waiting for your return. What about her? She loves you, too.”
Cal felt the color drain from his face. Vicki was right. He had no business declaring his feelings until he’d resolved the situation with Linnette. The problem was, he had no idea how to do that.
Twenty-Seven
Memorial Day, Cecilia got up early, even before Aaron woke her for his feeding. Not wanting to disturb Ian, she got quietly out of bed and pulled on her robe. Then she tiptoed into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. The clock on the microwave told her it was barely five. Nevertheless she was wide awake.
A quick check on the baby assured her that Aaron was sound asleep. Taking these few moments to herself, savoring the silence, Cecilia poured a mug of coffee and sat in her favorite chair in the living room. She was happy, she realized, truly content with her life. Memorial Day was a little less sad this year, mostly because she had Aaron. For the past few years she’d visited the cemetery on this holiday, so it had come to remind her of the most profound loss she’d ever experienced—the death of her daughter, Allison. All this time, her arms and her heart had ached for the baby she’d held so briefly. Her son would never replace Allison, but she loved him just as much. Her grief no longer seemed as raw, as overwhelming.
A year ago on Memorial Day, when Cecilia was still pregnant with Aaron, and Ian had been at sea, she’d driven out to the cemetery and placed flowers on Allison’s gravesite. The loss of her little girl still affected her, and Ian, too, although he wasn’t as willing to discuss the subject as she was. Every now and then in the middle of the night, he’d reach for her and they’d talk about Allison. She could never doubt Ian’s love for the daughter he’d never seen or held.
“Cecilia?” Ian said groggily. He stood in the hall doorway wearing his pajama bottoms. “What are you doing up so early?”
“I was awake and it’s such a lovely morning, I decided to get up.” She was hoping to do a bit of yard work later, after they’d been out to the cemetery. She’d started tending the garden and hoped to coax Grace’s rosebushes and perennials back to vibrant life. She longed to show the Hardings how well she and Ian were caring for the house and yard.
“It’s only about five,” Ian said.
“I know. Why don’t you go back to bed?” She had plans for him later and didn’t want him telling her he was too tired.
“Are you all right?” he asked, sounding worried.
“Yes,” she told him.
He didn’t look as if he believed her.
“Ian,” she said, smiling softly. “I couldn’t be happier. I love you and our babies so much, and Aaron is healthy and thriving. We live in a lovely home. My life’s never been better.”
“Babies,” Ian repeated carefully.
“Yes, babies.” Allison would always live in Cecilia’s heart, would always be her daughter.
“So we’re going to the cemetery today,” he said.
Cecilia had already purchased a small bouquet of flowers. She nodded. “I have every year. I couldn’t imagine not going.”
“Me, neither,” Ian concurred sadly. He yawned and turned away, then walked into the room with slow, measured steps. To her surprise, he sat down on the nearby ottoman, his shoulders slumped.
Cecilia leaned forward and placed her hand on his bare back, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Long enough for her to recognize that he had something on his mind. Something that weighed on him.
“Ian?” she said. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer; instead, he stared down at the floor.
“Ian?”
“I’ve been transferred.”
The words hung in the air. Ian transferred?
Cecilia swallowed hard, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. Ian had been stationed at the same base for nearly six years, two more years than the usual four-year assignment. Those two extra years could be attributed to the fact that he’d moved from a submarine to an aircraft carrier.
After Allison’s death, the navy had given him a new duty assignment. Because Ian had been under the polar ice cap at the time of Allison’s birth, he hadn’t even known until his return that his daughter had been born, had died and already been buried. He’d suffered severe emotional trauma as a result.
“We have to move?” Cecilia asked, choking off an automatic protest. The day they’d come to view the house, Ian had said they couldn’t sign a full year’s lease. He’d said there was a rumor they might be transferred. Cecilia had known it was a possibility, only she’d convinced herself it wouldn’t really happen.
Ian had told her when they were first married that the navy might require frequent moves. But Cedar Cove was their home. It was where they’d met, where they’d fallen in love and married, and where they—
No. Bile rose in the back of her throat. Their daughter was buried here. A transfer meant they’d be leaving Allison behind.
“I put off telling you as long as I could,” he mumbled. “I was afraid one of the other wives would say something, and I didn’t want you hearing this from anyone else. The John F. Reynolds’s new home base is San Diego.”
“Just like that, we have to pack up and leave?” she said in a small voice.
He nodded. “I’m sorry, Cecilia.” He shrugged helplessly. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“What about Allison? Who’ll visit her grave? Who’ll make sure it’s properly taken care of if we’re not here?” Fears and denials crowded her mind but she quickly swallowed a cry of alarm. This had to be hard on Ian, too, and her dissolving into tears wouldn’t change anything.
“I don’t know what to tell you. All I can say is that the navy’s sending us to another duty station. When I signed my name on the enlistment agreement, I knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. You knew it, too.”
Cecilia did. Two weeks ago, her closest friend, Cathy Lackey, had revealed that her husband had received transfer papers that would send the small family to Scotland. Cecilia and Cathy had shed a lot of tears, but they’d vowed to keep in touch through e-mail and letters. Cecilia was determined to hold on to that precious friendship.
“What about the house?” she asked next. They’d only just settled in; the packing boxes were still in the garage. Cecilia loved this house, and so did Ian. “I thought we might own it one day.”
“I know.” Her husband sounded as miserable as she felt. “We are on a month-to-month agreement, though. I’ve already spoken to Mrs. Harding. She was disappointed, too, but she understood.”
Cecilia hardly knew what to say. She’d be walking away from the friends she’d made, the daughter she’d buried, the job she enjoyed and the teenage girl she’d befriended. Everything—her whole life—was here in Cedar Cove.
“You’ll like San Diego,” Ian said gamely.
“I’m sure I will,” she murmured with no particular enthusiasm.
When Ian spoke again, his voice was void of emotion. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I know how much you love it here.” He paused. “If you wanted, you could stay,” he suggested with obvious reluctance. “I could make the commute for a while. I’m at sea for six months—and, well, there are ways around this if you don’t feel you can uproot your life and leave Allison.”
“Oh, Ian.” That would be disastrous for their marriage. She needed to be with her husband, regardless of where he was ass
igned. They were a family.
“Is that what you’d like to do?” he asked, his eyes intense and sad as he studied her.
“I hate leaving Cedar Cove,” she said softly, rubbing her hand down his bare back. “But, Ian, don’t you see? I could never live apart from you.” She managed a shaky laugh. “At least, not any more than the navy already requires.”
He brought his arms around her then, and they clung to each other. Words weren’t necessary. He wanted her and Aaron with him, and yet he’d been willing to compromise, to give her what he felt would make her happy.
“I love you so much,” he whispered. “You have no idea how much I dreaded telling you this.”
She hadn’t made it easy, Cecilia realized. Every day she’d been full of joy about the house and working hard to make it comfortable and welcoming.
“We can start packing this afternoon,” she said, tears spilling from her eyes.
“We’ll go visit Allison first.”
Yes, and while she was there, Cecilia would tell her baby girl goodbye.
Twenty-Eight
Justine glanced at her watch, surprised it was almost noon. With a staff meeting and back-to-back appointments, the morning had gotten away from her. She grabbed her purse and hurried out from behind her desk. She should’ve left ten minutes ago. She was meeting Seth and their insurance agent at The Lighthouse, or rather where The Lighthouse used to be. The site had been cleared now, and decisions needed to be made.
As Justine headed out, she nearly collided with Warren Saget, who was just entering the bank.
“Justine,” he said catching her by the shoulders. “I almost bowled you over.”
“Warren,” she said, nearly breathless. “Oh, my goodness, I’m sorry. I’m in a rush—I’m supposed to meet Seth and our insurance agent.”
“Oh.” His face fell, his disappointment obvious. “I was hoping to convince you to have lunch with me.”
“I can’t,” she told him. “I have to run. I’m already late.”
“Will the meeting take long? I could wait.”
She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but Seth had asked her not to see Warren again. Her mother had been critical of her, too, for that one lunch meeting. Olivia didn’t know the nature of her relationship with Warren, although Seth, of course, did. Warren was impotent, and they’d been friends who’d provided each other with certain mutual benefits, including company in social or business situations.
“I’m going to be at D.D.’s on the Cove,” Warren told her as she started backing away from him. “They do marvelous crab cakes. That was your favorite entrée, wasn’t it?”
“You go on ahead,” she told him, eager to get away. She realized she hadn’t explicitly turned him down.
“Meet me if you can,” he said.
Justine nodded and, because she was late, decided to drive rather than walk. She rushed across the parking lot where she’d left her car. Seth had been so busy at the boatyard lately that they hadn’t had a chance to discuss their plans for the restaurant. She still had mixed feelings about rebuilding. The restaurant was too demanding; it took too much time away from their family life.
Tragic and distressing as the arson had been, she loved the freedom the last few months had given her. Seth was doing so well in sales, and each commission he collected was more than they’d cleared in any single month at the restaurant. In her heart of hearts, she hoped Seth would see that rebuilding The Lighthouse would be too hard on them. At the same time, she understood what he was saying about not wasting all the effort of the last five years. Besides, she had an idea, one she’d come up with during a recent visit at her mother’s and briefly discussed with Seth. He seemed to listen but she wasn’t convinced that he’d truly grasped her vision.
Seth and Robert Beckman, their insurance agent, were already at the site. Justine parked and hurried across the street to join them. The view of the cove was dramatic and beautiful, part of the reason this was such a valuable piece of real estate.
When she approached Seth and Robert, they were deep in conversation, pausing only to smile at her. Still speaking, her husband put his arm around her waist and brought her close.
“Robert was just saying he’s reviewed the architect’s plans,” he told Justine. “With a fresh start, we can make some necessary changes and update the old floor plan.”
Justine unsuccessfully hid her surprise. Construction plans? No one had mentioned any of this to her. “I have a few ideas of my own,” she inserted.
“Because of the fire,” Seth said, ignoring her comment, “we have the opportunity of a lifetime.” He grinned wryly. “Ironic, huh?”
She understood what he meant. They’d purchased the old Captain’s Galley restaurant and done extensive renovations before opening and renaming it The Lighthouse. Even with all the money they’d sunk into the business, they were stuck with the original floor plan and kitchen. Rebuilding from the ground up gave them the opportunity to change everything. “What about my idea?” she asked. “What about the tearoom I told you about?”
Seth frowned and went right on speaking. “Robert’s saying that in the rebuild, we can add a banquet room, which I’d already discussed with the architect. We can do the things we dreamed of doing. You could make the banquet room a tearoom, too, if that’s what you want,” he said, in an obvious concession to her. The longer he spoke the more animated he became.
“Not a restaurant like we had before,” she said, refusing to let go of the idea. “But a tearoom for women in the area. This has nothing to do with adding a banquet room,” she said slowly.
“For women?” Seth repeated. “That wouldn’t work. When we rebuild, it’ll be a whole new Lighthouse. Can’t you just see it?” he asked, smiling down at her. “We’ll have the banquet room we’ve always wanted.”
Again and again Seth had bemoaned the fact that The Lighthouse didn’t have an area large enough to hold private banquets. He’d made the most of the space they had. But the restaurant lacked the facilities for wedding receptions and when they’d hosted any big occasions—like the charity auction and her grandmother Charlotte’s wedding—they’d been required to close the restaurant.
“You know how badly we need a banquet room,” her husband said again, puzzled at her decided lack of enthusiasm.
Justine didn’t answer. In talking to Robert about rebuilding—and this was obviously not the first such conversation—Seth made it clear that he hadn’t heard a single thing she’d said in the last two and a half months.
“Justine?” Seth studied her, frowning slightly.
Pointedly she looked away from him. “Actually I can see I’m not needed here. You two appear to have everything under control. I was invited to lunch, so if you’ll both excuse me I’ll join my friend.” Before Seth could question her or object, she left. If she hadn’t been so angry, Justine would’ve burst into tears; as it was, she was fighting for her composure.
When she reached her car, she heard hard footsteps coming up behind her. She turned to find Seth.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“You aren’t even listening to me,” she said, unable to hide the hurt she felt. “I really think my idea would work, Seth.”
“I’m not letting the last five years go down the drain so you can build a tearoom for a bunch of bored women. If we’re going to rebuild, it needs to be something that involves me, too. I want to make The Lighthouse what it was always meant to be.”
“Then you go ahead and do that.” Her voice remained calm, belying her anger.
“You think a tearoom’s actually going to be some kind of improvement?”
“Yes, I do. Don’t you understand, Seth? I’ve seen more of you these last few months than I have in years. Leif is thriving. He loves having both his parents around for more than an hour a day.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Am I, Seth?”
He shook his head, as if he couldn’t make sense of what she was telling him.
“This is a golden opportunity for us. It’s not the time to consider doing something else. We have a chance to start over—”
“Then do it,” she broke in, glaring at him. “Just do it. If you want The Lighthouse back so badly, then rebuild.” She nearly choked on the words as she whirled around and opened her door.
Seth looked utterly perplexed as she slipped inside her car, thrust the key into the ignition and drove off. In her rearview mirror, she saw him standing at the side of the street, staring after her.
Her hands trembled and she bit her lip hard. She was hurt and angry and wanted to lash out at him. He objected to her seeing Warren? Well, too bad. Warren was her friend and at the moment he seemed to be a better one than her own husband.
She walked into the foyer at D.D’s on the Cove, then scanned the room. Warren sat at a table next to the window, facing the front of the restaurant. When he saw her, he brightened visibly. He stood, and came eagerly toward her.
“Justine,” he said meeting her at the entrance. “I hoped you’d come.” He kissed her on the cheek and steered her toward his table. Every eye in the room was on them.
This wasn’t a small, out-of-the-way café like the place they’d met before. Soon everyone in town would be talking about her and Warren. So be it.
The instant they reached the table, he pulled out her chair with a flourish. Next he got the waitress’s attention and asked for a menu. Justine felt a small shock as she recognized Diana, who’d worked as a waitress at The Lighthouse. They exchanged a few stilted words, and Justine hoped Diana wouldn’t mention her presence here—with Warren—to anyone who might know her mother. Crazy as it sounded, she worried more about Olivia finding out than Seth. Her husband could not have made it plainer that he didn’t care about her feelings, so she couldn’t see any reason to be too concerned about his.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Warren asked as she glanced over the menu.
“The way I feel right now, you can order an entire bottle.”
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