Читать книгу Back on Blossom Street - Debbie Macomber - Страница 13

Colette Blake

Colette woke from a warm and comfortable sleep, dreaming of Christian Dempsey. Alarmed, she opened her eyes, trying to banish his image from her mind. She’d worked hard to avoid any thought of him. And yet she’d forever be reminded of him through their child. Again, she felt torn, wanting to tell him about the baby, and realizing she couldn’t….

Countless times, she’d gone over their last meeting, when he’d shocked her by coming to Susannah’s Garden. The day she walked away from Dempsey Imports, she was convinced she’d never see Christian again. She’d never wanted to see him again. She’d been appalled and angry at what he’d done. But the weeks since then had blunted her outrage; unaccountably she found herself making excuses for him, trying to invent reasons for such immoral, illegal activities. Maybe he had a misguided sense of compassion, she told herself hopefully; maybe his intentions were actually good. Maybe he was helping people find a better way of life….

She shook her head, dispelling that idea, and got ready for work, dressing in loose jeans and a red cable-knit sweater. With her morning tea, she knit another row of the prayer shawl. The knitting was going well, and Colette was beginning to look at yarn in a different way. After only one lesson, she was already thinking about patterns she might one day attempt. Her next project, she decided, would be a sweater for the baby.

The day before, Lydia had shown her a new shipment of alpaca wool as expensive as it was lovely. Recalling it now, Colette immediately pictured that yarn in a cardigan, a man’s sweater, and Christian Dempsey flashed into her mind. Irritated, she abruptly set aside her knitting. She had to stop thinking about him! He wasn’t the man she’d believed he was, and the sooner she accepted that, the better. Again and again, she mentally reviewed the computer file she’d read. There could be no other explanation.

Susannah was at the flower shop when Colette got in and they worked together until noon. March had arrived the day before, and typical of late winter in the Pacific Northwest, one rainstorm had followed another all week long. Then—a thrilling surprise—the clouds parted and the sun peeked out, bathing Puget Sound in golden, glorious light. All at once, Colette felt an urgent need to get outside and breathe fresh air.

“I think I’ll go for a walk,” she said when Susannah returned from her lunch break. After nothing but drizzle for two weeks, Colette craved the sun on her face.

Taking her jacket in case the weather turned nasty again, she headed down the hill to the Seattle waterfront and the Pike Place Market. She loved the market and often used to shop there with Derek, although he’d never found the same pleasure in being downtown as she did.

With the sun out, the city had surged to life. There was a new sense of energy, of well-being, and Colette felt invigorated. People seemed to move more quickly, laugh more loudly. She giggled at the antics of a troop of uniformed schoolkids, whose teachers merely smiled in resignation. Purchasing a decaf latte she sipped it while she wandered toward the market.

“Colette!”

At the sound of her name, she turned but didn’t see anyone familiar. After a moment, she gave up and continued into the market. Fishmongers tossed whole salmon back and forth, to the delight of tourists. She stopped to watch; it was a scene she’d witnessed any number of times but always enjoyed.

“Colette?”

Again she turned, and this time she caught sight of a man wearing a black overcoat. At first she didn’t recognize him. When she did, she came to a halt, an astonished smile on her face. “Steve?” she said as he hurried toward her. “Steve Grisham!”

He stood directly in front of her and for a minute or two, all they did was stare at each other.

“What are you—”

“You moved and—”

They started speaking at once, then paused and laughed.

Steve motioned to Colette. “You first.”

“Oh, my goodness, I can’t believe it’s you,” she said, hardly knowing where to begin. Steve had been a good friend of Derek’s, his first partner when Derek had joined the Seattle Police Department. The more experienced officer had been paired with her husband during Derek’s initial two years on the force. Then Steve had been assigned elsewhere and eventually he’d made detective. Derek and Colette had attended a party his wife, Jeanine, had organized to celebrate his promotion.

“How are you?” Steve asked, his eyes serious as he studied her. His hands rested lightly on her upper arms, as if he wanted to hug her but wasn’t sure how she’d respond.

“I’m fine,” she told him, and at that moment it was true.

“What are you doing here in the market … now?” he asked.

When they realized they were holding up foot traffic in the narrow passageway between the stalls, they started walking together, leaving the market entirely and wandering down Post Alley.

“I’m on my lunch break,” she explained, dumping her empty latte container in a trash can. “What about you?”

“Same thing. I came down to grab a quick bite. Join me,” he said. “I’d like the company.”

“I’d love to.” He led her to a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant where the ambiance left much to be desired but the food was known to be exceptional. It was a police favorite, a place Colette had occasionally met Derek for lunch. Once or twice, Jeanine had come, too. Colette felt the predictable twinge of nostalgia but resolutely ignored it.

The last time she’d seen Steve was at Derek’s funeral. With so many people in attendance, she hadn’t been able to acknowledge and speak to everyone. She’d seen Steve and Jeanine but hadn’t done anything more than thank them for their love and support.

“I tried to call you,” Steve said after the waiter had taken their order. “You changed your phone number?”

“I moved and … well, there didn’t seem to be any reason to get a phone. All I really need is my cell.”

“You sold the house?” Steve asked in surprise.

“The very first day it was on the market. It went so fast I didn’t have time for second thoughts.” She suspected Steve had tried to contact her on the one-year anniversary of Derek’s death.

He nodded as if he understood her need to move on.

“I tried to reach you at work, too,” he said next.

“You did?” She was astonished he’d gone to such lengths to search for her.

But before she could question him further, their food arrived. Colette had ordered soup and Steve a hamburger and fries.

“I wanted to see how things were going,” he said, squeezing a liberal amount of ketchup on the side of his plate. “It’s been a year now, right?”

She didn’t answer the question. “I’m doing okay,” she assured him a second time.

He raised his head. “You look great,” he said with an appreciative grin.

His scrutiny unsettled her and in an effort to hide her uneasiness, she picked up her spoon. The beef soup was homemade and full of vegetables and pieces of seasoned meat. It was so hot, steam rose from the bowl.

His expression sobered. “I didn’t know if you’d heard about me and Jeanine,” he said, grabbing the burger with both hands.

Colette hoped he wasn’t about to tell her they’d split up. Colette had always liked Steve’s wife and saw them as a good match, with Steve’s practical nature balanced by Jeanine’s whimsy and sense of humor.

“Jeanine filed for divorce,” he said abruptly. “She moved to Yakima before Christmas.”

Saddened at the news, Colette set her spoon aside. “Oh, Steve, I’m so sorry.” The couple had two little girls who were going to grow up without their dad.

His eyes revealed a depth of sadness as he finished chewing. “We both tried, but it didn’t work out.”

“How are the girls holding up?”

“They seem to be doing well—very well, considering,” he said. After a brief hesitation he shrugged. “They’re so young and with the crazy hours I work, I was hardly ever around anyway.”

When he’d been with Derek, they’d worked swing shift, but she supposed a detective had to be available around the clock. Still, family should always come first. In her view, anyway. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, thinking she might be able to help but with no idea how.

That sad look returned and he lowered his gaze. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

“Too late?”

“The divorce is final this week. And like I said, Jeanine moved to Yakima—to be closer to her parents.”

“But the girls?”

“I hated to see them leave Seattle but in the end it’s probably for the best. Our parenting plan spells out my visitation rights and I have them for two weeks every summer, spring break and a week at Christmas. Jeanine’s family really loves the girls, and all in all, it’s a workable solution. Although I miss my family….”

Reaching across the booth, Colette touched his forearm. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

Steve nodded. “So am I. Being a cop’s wife isn’t easy. You know that. I always admired the open, honest relationship you had with Derek. That’s one reason I was hoping to talk to you.”

Not sure what to say, Colette glanced down. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“You were a good wife.”

Her throat thickened with grief—and guilt, because it was Christian who dominated her thoughts these days, not Derek.

“Colette?”

“Sorry,” she said, plucking a napkin from the canister on the table.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” She lifted her head in surprise.

“I know this must come out of the blue, but would it be all right if I phoned you sometime?” Steve said quickly.

“I …” Colette felt flustered and uncertain. “Sure, I … guess.” This wasn’t what she’d expected him to ask. It’d been years since she’d dated. That was obviously true for Steve, as well; he looked as uncomfortable as she did. If they were to start seeing each other, she’d have to tell him about the pregnancy. And yet, it seemed wrong for Steve to know and not Christian.

Suddenly he smiled and she saw him as the attractive man he was—not just Derek’s friend and one of a social foursome. His features were classic with a square jaw that suggested he could be stubborn, as well as determined. His dark brown eyes were perhaps a bit small and slightly close together, but that didn’t bother her. His hair was thick and well-groomed. He’d always looked good in a uniform and even more so in a suit. He exuded an authority that people instinctively respected. She remembered Derek’s saying that Steve had spent time in the marines.

“Are you doing anything this evening?” he asked, then laughed gruffly. “I don’t mean to rush you. It’s just that I’ve been lonely, and I like the idea of having someone to talk to.”

“Sorry, I’ve got a book club meeting this evening.” She considered skipping it but Anne Marie, the bookstore manager, had asked her to attend. This was the first session, so Colette felt obliged to keep her word.

Steve seemed disappointed. “Okay, I understand.”

“You could join us if you’d like,” she added, not wanting to discourage him. “I doubt everyone’s read the book, anyway.”

“You think it’d be all right?”

“I’m sure it’d be fine,” she said, warming to the idea. This wouldn’t be a real date. They’d be around other people, and conversation would focus on the story, not on them.

“I don’t remember you as a reader,” he commented, going back to his burger. “Jeanine always had a book in her hand.”

“I used to read quite a bit. After Derek died I couldn’t for the longest time. No matter how gripping the story, my attention wandered. It was all I could do to scan the newspaper and do the crossword puzzle.” In an entire year, she hadn’t finished a single puzzle. “But now, thanks to this book, I’m reading again.”

“What’s different about it?”

“I guess the story strikes close to home for me. It’s about a widow adjusting to life without her husband. The title is Good Grief, and it’s by a writer named Lolly Winston. It’s very moving and surprisingly funny, and I really enjoyed it.”

Colette had met the bookstore manager, who’d recommended the book, by accident. Anne Marie had been walking Baxter, her Yorkshire terrier, and the tiny dog had gotten his leash wrapped around Colette’s ankles. When Anne Marie learned that Colette lived above the yarn store, she’d invited her over for tea. Her own apartment was above Blossom Street Books; in other words, they were neighbors. Colette liked Anne Marie and had agreed to join the discussion group, especially after she’d read the book.

“Good Grief,” Steve repeated.

“I identified with how the widow felt. At one point she goes to work in her pajamas and housecoat. I laughed out loud and at the same time I was weeping because … well, there were days like that for me, too, especially at first.”

Steve nodded and was about to speak when his cell phone rang. He automatically reached for it and snapped it open. “Grisham,” he said in a terse voice, instantly the professional.

Colette ate a little more of her soup but after the latte her appetite was gone. She really should be getting back to the shop; she was already five minutes late and still had a brisk walk ahead of her.

Steve closed the cell and clipped it back to his waistband. “I have to go.”

“Me, too.” She picked up her purse.

“Listen, I’d better take a rain check on tonight,” he said and slid out of the booth. “Work intrudes.” He scooped up the tab and headed over to the cashier.

Colette found a pen at the counter and wrote out her cell number on a napkin, then handed it to him.

He smiled and thanked her. Colette went back to Susannah’s Garden in a good mood. The clouds had lifted in more ways than one and she felt as if her life was finally taking shape.

That euphoric sensation didn’t last long, however. When she walked into the shop, the first person she saw was Christian Dempsey, drumming his fingers on the counter.

Colette felt her heart plummet. She could hear Susannah on the phone in the back room—which meant there was no one to rescue her. “What are you doing here?” she muttered.

“I’ve come to order flowers.”

“A special occasion?”

“Not really. They’re for a woman.”

Colette should’ve guessed. “You couldn’t do it by phone?”

“I prefer to order them in person.”

She understood his intent. He wanted her to know he was seeing someone else now. Fine. Message received. In her opinion, he was acting both vindictive and immature.

“And while I was here, I thought I’d see how you were doing.”

“I’m busy,” she returned stiffly. “Actually, I have a date myself.” She found herself stretching the truth, but Steve had asked her out, and even if it wasn’t possible that evening, she would eventually be seeing him.

Her blatant attempt to discourage Christian didn’t seem to be working. “With whom?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s an old friend of my husband’s.” She turned her back to him and removed her jacket.

His smile had vanished when she turned around. “Does this so-called friend have a name?”

“Of course he has a name. What’s the matter, don’t you believe me?”

“I believe you,” he said, and looked away as Susannah stepped up to the counter and gave him back his credit card.

“Thank you for your order, Mr. Dempsey. I’ll make sure the flowers are lovely.”

She spoke with a little more enthusiasm than Colette deemed strictly necessary.

“Thank you,” he said, and shot Colette an enigmatic smile that she puzzled over for days.