Читать книгу 44 Cranberry Point - Debbie Macomber - Страница 13

Maryellen felt overwhelmed by everything she needed to do before the wedding. The last two weeks had passed in a whirlwind of activity and joyous craziness.

“Just look at these nails,” Rachel, her nail tech, said as she picked up a cotton ball to remove the old polish. “What have you been up to?”

“Moving,” Maryellen muttered, knowing that would explain everything. Her rental house was completely empty now and her belongings were all at Jon’s place, but almost everything remained in boxes. With the wedding preparations demanding all her extra time, she had yet to unpack.

“So when’s the big day?”

“Monday,” Maryellen said.

“Memorial Day?”

She nodded.

“That’s one way to help your husband keep track of your anniversary,” Rachel said with a laugh. Apparently she’d forgotten that the actual date changed from year to year. “In my case, however, the first thing I’ve got to do is find a husband.” The exasperation in her sigh said it all. For as long as Maryellen could remember, Rachel had wanted to get married. All the women at Get Nailed were single and, during each appointment, Maryellen could count on the main topic of conversation revolving around the lack of decent husband material in Cedar Cove.

“Did you hear the big news?” Rachel asked, rubbing furiously at the old polish.

Maryellen shook her head.

“The animal shelter’s holding a dog and bachelor auction.”

“With some men, it’s one and the same,” Terri shouted from the other side of the room. “The men I’ve dated have been real dogs.” She laughed at her own joke, then returned her attention to her client.

Even before Maryellen’s engagement, such an event would never have interested her, but she knew the girls at Get Nailed would leap at the opportunity to meet eligible men.

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard about the auction. Everyone in town’s talking about it.”

“Just as long as everyone knows Jon is out of circulation,” Maryellen teased.

“Honey, from the moment Jon Bowman looked at you, he was a goner.”

Maryellen grinned. At one point-during her avoidance phase-she’d attempted to match Jon up with one of the nail techs. Her plan had backfired and as a result, Maryellen had come to realize how strong the attraction between them was. Then, a few months ago, she’d managed to convince herself that Jon was involved with someone else. The thought of him with another woman had nearly destroyed her. Only later did she learn that he was completely committed to her and Katie.

“Are you excited about the wedding?”

Right now, Maryellen was too tired to be excited. With their jobs, they’d both been working twenty-hour days in an effort to have the house and yard ready for the ceremony. Jon had spent countless hours doing yardwork and planning the reception. Thankfully the guest list was small, under thirty.

Friday was his last day at The Lighthouse restaurant, where he worked nights as a chef. He was ready to make the transition and dedicate all his time to photography. Maryellen would continue working at the art gallery until the end of the year-or until she became pregnant again. After that, she’d serve as Jon’s agent, marketing his pictures and negotiating with galleries around the country.

The thought of a second baby made her feel weak with longing. They’d managed to avoid physical lovemaking, but it had been a strain on both of them. Still, she felt that waiting until they were married was the right decision-for emotional reasons rather than rational ones-although she’d never guessed it would be this difficult.

As soon as Rachel was finished with her nails, Maryellen drove to her mother’s house to pick up Katie.

“Leave her with me,” Grace insisted. “You’ve got enough on your mind.”

“You’re sure?”

“I love having her.”

Maryellen and Katie were staying with Grace for the next two nights. “Then I think I should drive out to Jon’s and see what I can do to help him get things ready.”

“You go ahead.”

Maryellen left, grateful her mother had been so understanding. Just as she suspected, Jon was working in the yard, spreading beauty bark around the base of the rhododendrons and azaleas. Both were in full bloom and shockingly vibrant in color. Jon had counted over a hundred blooming rhododendrons on his property. Of them all, Maryellen’s favorites were the bright red ones.

When she pulled in the long gravel driveway, Jon walked over to the car and opened her door. “I came to help,” she said and although she was tempted, she resisted wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing him.

“I thought you were getting your nails done?”

“I already did.” She held out her hands for his inspection. The pale rose polish sparkled in the sunlight. “What can I do?”

“Nothing out here. I wouldn’t want you to risk damaging one of those fingernails.” He leaned on the shovel. “Why don’t you unpack? I’ve got boxes shoved in every conceivable corner.”

“Out of sight, out of mind?”

“Not exactly,” he said with a chuckle.

Maryellen took his advice and decided to start in the master bedroom. The kitchen could wait; besides, that area was Jon’s domain. He was the cook in the family, although she was willing to do her share of meal preparation. Marriage to her was a partnership, and Maryellen had every intention of being a good wife. If that meant chopping pounds of onions, well…she’d do it. In fact, she’d do anything to make her marriage as strong and healthy as possible.

She climbed the stairs to the bedroom, then paused in the doorway, hands on her hips, as she surveyed the room where she’d soon be sleeping. The photograph Jon had taken of her months earlier hung on the wall by the bed. It showed her in a rocking chair nursing Katie when their daughter was a newborn. He’d managed to capture the wonder and awe and love she felt, holding this tiny being in her arms. She’d hardly been conscious of Jon’s presence at the time, so absorbed was she by Katie.

It gave her immeasurable joy to place her clothes in the closet next to Jon’s. She carefully pushed his shirts aside and her hand lingered there. In two days’ time, she would be Jon Bowman’s wife. She felt a renewed sense of anticipation-and a surge of love for the man who’d fathered her child.

She opened the dresser drawers and started rearranging his things and making room for her own. That was when she found the letters. Tucked in with old receipts, maps and loose change were a number of envelopes. Most had been opened but a few remained sealed. Curiosity got the better of her and she pulled out a sheet, but then she paused. She refused to begin her marriage with an act of deception-snooping through letters that were addressed to Jon, not to her. Unsure what to do, she stacked them in a neat pile and set them to one side.

She heard the front door open and Jon calling up the stairs. “I’m ready for a break. How about you?”

She walked out of the bedroom to stand at the railing and looked down. “Be with you in a minute. I’m just finishing up here.”

“Okay.”

“I found a bunch of letters in a drawer. Is there any place you want me to put them?”

He frowned, hesitated and then shrugged. “Toss ’em.”

“In the garbage?”

Nodding, he turned and walked into the kitchen.

“Who are they from?”

“No one important,” he shouted back.

“An old girlfriend?” she pressed.

He snickered loudly enough for her to hear him all the way up the stairs. “Hardly. Just get rid of the whole bunch.”

Maryellen dumped the letters into the plastic garbage bag, but then she couldn’t resist. She plucked out the top one and looked at the return address. It was from the small coastal town of Seal Beach, Oregon. Years ago Maryellen had driven through it along Highway 1. She’d stopped for gas and lunch, and for some reason she’d never forgotten the town.

“Who do you know in Seal Beach?” she called down, reluctant to drop the matter. She began to descend the stairs, still clutching the letters.

Jon stepped out of the kitchen. “You aren’t going to let this rest, are you?”

She slid her hand down the smooth oak banister as she walked. “I can’t help being curious. You’d feel the same if it was me.”

Jon shook his head, scowling. “I should’ve ditched those a long time ago. They’re from my parents.”

“Some of them haven’t even been opened.”

He stared up at her. “My father and stepmother are out of my life, Maryellen. They made their choice and I made mine. I want nothing more to do with either of them. Now, please just get rid of those letters, and don’t mention them again.”

“But-”

“Maryellen, please.”

“If you insist.” And this time she buried the letters in the bottom of the bag.

An hour later, her clothes hung next to Jon’s in the big closet. The dresser drawers were full. At first glance it seemed as if she’d always lived with Jon, always been part of his home and his life. That gave her a feeling of contentment and somehow made their coming marriage even more real.

They ate dinner together, and sipped wine on the upstairs balcony that overlooked the water. Completely at ease, Maryellen laid her head against his shoulder. Jon’s arm was around her, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The moment was so tranquil, she didn’t immediately realize Jon had fallen asleep.

It was just as well. She needed to get back to her mother’s house, spend some time with Katie. By now her daughter would be cranky, and Maryellen didn’t want to take advantage of her mother’s generosity.

Kissing Jon on the cheek, she slipped out of his arms and sneaked down the stairs, making as little noise as possible. She hated to leave, but in two days she’d be with Jon forever…

Just as she’d predicted, Katie was difficult and unreasonable that night, and her mother was exhausted. As soon as Maryellen reached for Katie, the baby settled against her shoulder, put her thumb in her mouth and promptly fell asleep. Maryellen rocked her for a few minutes, gently rubbing Katie’s back.

“I can’t believe one tiny baby could have so much energy.” Grace sat down in her favorite chair, head thrown back, eyes closed. Opening them again, she said, “You look at peace.”

“I am at peace, and so much in love.”

Grace’s eyes grew moist. “I hope you’ll always be as happy as you are now.”

Maryellen lowered her gaze.

Her mother understood her perfectly. “What is it?”

“Jon. I found a stack of letters, several of which he hadn’t even bothered to open.”

“Letters? From whom?”

“His parents. I badly wanted to read them but I didn’t. Jon told me to throw them out.” Her mother knew about Jon’s situation and the way his parents had betrayed him.

“Did you?”

Maryellen nodded. “I didn’t want to start our marriage off by being dishonest.”

“It seems to me that if Jon has no feelings for his family, he wouldn’t have saved those letters.”

“I felt the same thing.” Maryellen gnawed on her lower lip. “I didn’t need to read them to know what they said. Jon’s their only family now and they want his forgiveness. They want their son back.”

“They have a granddaughter they don’t know anything about.”

“Yes…”

“And you, Maryellen. They’ll be your in-laws.”

It hurt her to think of Jon rejecting his parents’ attempts at reconciliation-less for their sake than for his. Jon would never be free of the past until he could find a way to forgive his parents.

Her mother seemed deep in thought. “I couldn’t bear the idea of anyone keeping me from my grandchildren,” she said softly.

That was another point she should consider. Jon might not want anything to do with his family, but his parents had a right to know about Katie. And Katie had a right to know her grandparents.

That evening, Maryellen wrote Jon’s family. The letter was brief. She’d memorized the post office box number and the zip code, and that was all she needed. She included a picture of Katie and a short message about how well Jon’s career was going. Wanting to be sensitive to her husband’s feelings, she stated that it would be best if they didn’t contact her. She did promise, however, to send them occasional photographs of their granddaughter.

The next morning as Maryellen drove to the post office, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. On the one hand, she knew Jon would disapprove; on the other, she felt his parents deserved some compassion. And what about Katie? What about her future happiness?

The letter slid into the mailbox slot, and whether she was right or wrong remained undecided. Either way, it was too late.