Читать книгу Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection - Debbie Macomber - Страница 17

The March rains had arrived, and the last thing Justine Lockhart wanted was to sit in a stuffy room with a bunch of classmates, planning an event she probably wouldn’t even attend. But that was exactly what she’d have to do. As Justine had predicted, she’d been contacted by the reunion committee and asked if she’d be willing to help. In a moment of weakness, she’d agreed.

Unfortunately, Justine had made the mistake of mentioning the reunion to Warren. He’d refused to even consider going with her. After all the times she’d sat through dead boring meetings waiting for him or played hostess to a group of his business colleagues, she’d assumed he’d do this one small thing for her. She’d obviously assumed wrong.

He’d tried to smooth over their spat with a pretty sapphire necklace and an invitation to dinner. In the past, Justine had accepted his jewel-encrusted apologies, and they’d gone on as before. Justine was well acquainted with Warren’s faults; she usually chose to ignore them. He could be entertaining and he tended to indulge her in return for her company. That might sound calculating but it was an arrangement that suited them both. Besides, for all his money, he had few friends. And neither of them was in this relationship for the long haul. Expectations were clear.

The planning meeting was held at the home of Lana Sullivan, who’d married Jay Rothchild. In the ten years since she’d graduated, Justine hadn’t spoken to Lana once.

“Justine!” Lana greeted her enthusiastically, hugging her as though they were long-lost friends. “Come in! Seth’s here and so is Mary.”

Justine glanced into the living room and saw that Mary O’Donnell was several months pregnant. “Good to see you Mary,” Justine said, smiling, then nodded at Seth.

The school’s star athlete hadn’t changed much—physically, at least. He was just as tall and muscular, although he’d filled out and had a more mature look. He remained strikingly blond. She didn’t remember him being this handsome, but her high-school years were pretty much a blur.

“What are you doing these days?” Mary asked.

Justine shrugged. “I’m working at First National.” She’d graduated from college with a degree in history; unfortunately, this hadn’t translated into an employable skill.

“I hear you’re the manager,” Seth said.

“I am.” It surprised her he knew that. He wasn’t a customer.

Ill at ease, Justine claimed a chair across from Mary, tucked her hands under her thighs and made polite conversation with the small group, declining a cup of coffee. She wasn’t sure when the strained atmosphere shifted into comfortable exchange, but it did. Soon she found herself laughing with these people who were little more than familiar strangers.

Once the schedule of events had been decided and committees formed, the meeting was over. Justine left at the same time as Seth.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, to her astonishment. He dangled his car keys as he waited for her reply.

Justine realized this was more than a mere inquiry; it was an invitation. “No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t.” Warren had suggested she phone when she was finished with her meeting—he’d said he might be able to take her out for a drink—but she was in no hurry to do so. “Would you like some company?” she asked.

“Sure.”

As Justine had discovered early in the evening, Seth wasn’t at all the way she remembered him. It hadn’t taken her long to see that her view of him as an empty-headed jock was completely off-base. He had a sharp wit and the most wonderful, hearty laugh. She’d liked his ideas for the reunion, which revealed imagination combined with practicality.

They drove in separate cars to D.D.’s on the Cove, a fashionable seafood restaurant on the pier, close to the marina. The restaurant had opened that summer, and Justine had gone there for lunch but never dinner.

Since it was already past eight, they were seated right away. A prime table, too, by one of the windows overlooking the harbor, where they could see the lights from the Bremerton shipyard blinking across the cove. Justine glanced quickly at the menu and made her choice.

“It’s hard to believe we graduated ten years ago, isn’t it?” she said. “Nobody looks that different. Well, except for Mary…”

“I have mixed feelings about the reunion,” Seth confessed.

“Why?” she asked with some puzzlement.

“If I go at all, I’ll probably end up going alone. It kind of wrecks my image, you know?” He grinned, and Justine couldn’t keep from smiling.

“You certainly had girls buzzing around you while we were in school,” she told him.

“Except the one I really wanted.” His deep blue eyes held hers.

“Who are you kidding? You could’ve dated anyone.”

“Not you,” he said, still watching her.

“Me?” she said in shock. “You wanted to date me?”

This had to be a joke, and not a funny one. She was about to say so when it suddenly occurred to her that he might be serious.

“What do you mean?” she asked in a weak voice.

“I had the biggest crush on you.”

“Not once did you ask me out,” she reminded him.

“Would you have gone with me if I had?”

Justine didn’t know.

“You saw me as a big dunce, and I don’t blame you. Whenever I was around you, I got so flustered I couldn’t speak. Anytime you were in the vicinity, I was in trouble. I couldn’t say or do anything right. Then I’d feel like such an idiot I’d beat myself up about it for weeks afterward.”

“I didn’t have a clue,” Justine said faintly, shaking her head.

“Thank God,” he said with a chuckle. He returned his attention to the menu, as if he intended to say nothing more on this subject.

The waitress came with a basket of warm bread, promptly took their order and left. Justine reached for a slice of sourdough. Apparently Seth’s “crush” had long since faded.

“I’ll probably be attending the reunion alone, too,” she murmured.

“You?” He made that sound entirely implausible. “I thought you and that Saget fellow were an item.”

“We are…sort of.” She wasn’t sure how to explain her relationship with Warren and decided it was best not to try.

“You’re dating other guys?”

Justine didn’t think she wanted Seth to know she was available. His confession had a curious effect on her—it left her with the almost overwhelming urge to laugh. All through high school, she’d felt tall and awkward, on the very fringes of the popular crowd. She’d been too smart and serious for social success as defined in high school.

Seth tore off a piece of bread and smiled sadly. “It’s all right. You don’t need to answer that. I’ve made you uncomfortable, haven’t I?”

“That’s not it,” she reassured him. “I don’t know what to say. I never dreamed… You could’ve gone out with any girl you wanted!” She shook her head again. “I didn’t date much in high school. It was a bad time for me.”

“Because of Jordan?”

So few people mentioned her twin’s name that it stunned her to hear it spoken. She waited for the shock to dissipate before answering. “Partly. We were close, you know, and well, nothing was the same after he died.”

“For me, either.”

Naturally Justine knew Seth and Jordan had been good friends, but she hadn’t anticipated that her brother’s death would’ve made such a lasting impression on him.

“I used to think if I’d been with him that day, he wouldn’t have drowned.”

Until Seth said the words, Justine had forgotten that this very thought had passed through her mind the day of the accident. She felt tears stinging her eyes and looked away, blinking furiously.

“Perhaps it would be best if we didn’t discuss Jordan,” she finally said, still staring out the window, although the lights of Bremerton were an indistinct haze. “The accident was a long time ago.” It had been the turning point in her life. She’d lost not only her twin brother but her family, her security, her entire sense of self. Since the age of thirteen, she’d staggered through life looking for purpose—for something that would root her once again.

They were both quiet, as if caught in the memories of the past, then made a determined effort to move forward. By the time their meal arrived, they were chatting again, their conversation light and relaxed. They lingered over coffee, and he seemed as reluctant to leave as she was. When D.D.’s closed at ten, Seth offered to show her his boat, the Silver Belle. Justine agreed.

“It’s not much.”

Justine didn’t expect that it would be; still, she was curious. They walked toward the marina. She hunched her shoulders against the cold drizzle that had begun while they sat in the restaurant. They stepped onto the floating concrete dock, which was slick with rain. The lights reflecting off the black water guided her as Seth skillfully led the way. He moved easily along the rocking walkway, and was several feet ahead of her before he realized that she lagged behind. When he noticed, he offered her his hand. She was amazed by the strength she felt in his fingers. His hands were those of a man who knew the value of physical work. This observation reminded her of what her mother had said. He’s a hard worker, Justine, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

During their dinner discussion, she’d learned that Seth not only lived at the marina, but helped manage it in the winter months. In the summers, he flew to Alaska and fished on one of the huge commercial vessels there. His father and grandfather had been fishermen before him. As Seth put it, fishing was in his blood.

He stepped onto the twenty-two-foot sailboat and helped Justine onboard. As soon as she was secure, he led her belowdecks. His quarters were cramped but tidy.

“Coffee?” he asked, as he reached for the kettle.

“No, I’ve had enough, thanks.” She didn’t want him to go to the trouble, especially since she didn’t plan on staying long.

He stood with his hands tucked in his back pockets, looking indecisive. The tour of his home had taken all of about one minute.

“I’ll escort you back to your car,” he offered.

Justine was grateful; she didn’t relish walking back along the floating dock on her own. Once again Seth took her hand, and neither spoke until they reached her vehicle. Before unlocking the door, she turned to him. “Thanks,” she said lightly. “I enjoyed dinner and seeing your boat.”

“I enjoyed spending the evening with you.” He retreated a step. “Are you going to any more of the planning meetings?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I think so. What about you?”

“I will as long as I’m in town.”

“Oh, right.” Seth would be in Alaska fishing at the time of the reunion. Suddenly the thought of his not being there dejected her. When she’d first arrived at Lana’s, she was so certain she had nothing in common with any of these people. She’d been delighted to discover that she did. With one of them, anyway…

“I’ll miss you,” she said.

“Do you mean that?” Seth stared down at her.

Justine nodded.

“I’m glad.” Then, without giving her a chance to guess his intention, he drew her into his arms and slowly lowered his mouth to hers.

Very much aware of what she was doing, Justine closed her eyes and raised her face to meet his kiss. His lips settled warm and moist over hers. Wrapped in his embrace, she was astonished to realize that she wanted this. Wanted it badly…

There was excitement in his kiss, and gentleness. She hadn’t expected a man of his size to be so…tender, but then Seth Gunderson had been full of surprises all evening.

The John F. Reynolds was gone and without a word from Ian. The fact that he’d left without notifying her was perfectly okay, Cecilia told herself bitterly. Their last meeting had been so horrible she didn’t care if she ever saw her soon-to-be ex-husband again.

“You all right, kiddo?” her father asked Saturday morning when Cecilia dropped in at the restaurant to pick up her paycheck.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” she snapped.

“No reason,” he said, and held up his hands as though warding off trouble.

She hadn’t meant to growl at him, but lately her father had developed this irritating habit of trying to be her friend, her confidante, and she rejected both roles.

“How’s school?” he asked, obviously attempting to make conversation.

“Why the concern all of a sudden?” she wanted to know. When she’d first mentioned it, all the encouragement she’d gotten was some offhand comment about how cool that was.

“No reason,” he said again. He turned away as if he regretted even asking.

Cecilia sighed, hardly understanding herself. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

Bobby stared at her. “What’s bothering you, kid? You’ve been in kind of a bad mood the last couple of weeks.”

“That’s not true.”

He frowned, seemed about to protest, then shrugged. “Whatever.”

“It’s just that I’ve been working late, then getting up early for school.” A feeble explanation, but the most she was willing to give. Lack of sleep explained a lot, but not everything.

“So you’re still taking all those classes?” He seemed to think she would’ve lost interest by now.

“Yeah, I’m still in school.” And loving the challenge, despite the drain on her time and energy.

“Ian around these days?” her father asked cautiously.

“Apparently not,” she said, speaking in a nonchalant manner. “The John F. Reynolds left earlier this week.” It wasn’t as though she could ignore the fact. The media—both the local paper and the Seattle dailies, plus the TV news—had made a big issue of the repaired aircraft carrier departing for the second time within a month. Not only that, Cedar Cove had been full of talk about it.

“You speak to him lately?”

Cecilia noticed that Bobby stood several feet away from her. He seemed prepared to make a quick getaway if she snapped at him again.

“Ian and I are getting a divorce,” she reminded him.

“I know,” he said, “but I thought, you know, that you might be reconciling.”

Cecilia had started to believe the very same thing. After the night they’d gone to dinner, and the lovemaking, she’d been hopeful. Excited. It was similar to the way she’d felt when they’d first begun seeing each other. Then, when he’d left her apartment that night, everything had changed, and she couldn’t understand why.

“I wish you’d work it out,” Bobby told her, “you and him.”

Resentment swelled up inside Cecilia. “I wish you and Mom had tried harder, too, but wishing doesn’t do me a damn bit of good, does it?” With that, she grabbed her paycheck and slammed out the door.

She was angry, without justification. Her father irritated her, her coworkers annoyed her—everyone did lately—and that wasn’t like her. Bobby only wanted to be helpful and she’d immediately found fault with him. Not since her pregnancy had Cecilia been so out of sorts. She didn’t have that excuse this time; her period had showed up right on schedule—thank God. Her bad mood was simply…a bad mood, she decided.

After depositing her paycheck, she went to the grocery store and picked up the few items she’d need to see her through the week. Although it was an extravagance she couldn’t afford, she purchased a bouquet of spring flowers—for Allison. She hadn’t visited her baby’s grave in almost a month. Staying away was difficult for her. She’d had to make a real effort not to visit the cemetery every day. In the beginning she had.

She’d wanted to be more than a good mother; she’d wanted to give her daughter everything she herself had never had. Not material things, but attention and love and security. As it happened, she couldn’t give Allison the most fundamental thing of all. Life itself. Her baby had been cheated from the first, and Cecilia, with all her good intentions, had failed. Rationally she knew she wasn’t to blame, but emotionally… She couldn’t get over the feeling that there must have been something she’d neglected to do. Something she should’ve done. The doctor had said that was a common reaction in such cases and had urged her to seek counselling. Cecilia hadn’t been able to face it.

She didn’t head for the cemetery until midafternoon. With tears in her eyes, she strolled along the pathway that led to the section of the cemetery with Allison’s grave site. She stopped now and again to brush leaves or grass from a headstone, checking names and dates, wondering about each lost life.

When she arrived at Allison’s grave, Cecilia noticed the bouquet of fresh flowers. Yellow daisies, which just happened to be Cecilia’s favorite.

Ian. It could only be Ian.

He hadn’t called to tell her he was being deployed, but he’d been to visit their daughter. Cecilia crouched down and placed her own bouquet next to the one her husband had left. She touched the daisies with one fingertip, wondering if this was a message to her.

No, she decided, steeling herself against any lingering emotion. Ian had made it plain that he didn’t want her in his life. He’d wanted her body but not her. That message had come through loud and clear. He’d asked her to leave his hospital room in terms she couldn’t possibly misunderstand. And he hadn’t phoned to apologize. Fine, dammit! She didn’t need his car, anyway.

The more Cecilia insisted she didn’t care about Ian, the less she convinced herself. Not that she wanted to care. This depression and anger was all his fault. Once again she’d allowed him into her bed…and her heart. And now she was suffering the consequences.

It hurt that he’d left Bremerton without so much as a word to her. Not goodbye, not I’m sorry, nothing. He’d been rude and unreasonable, and this wasn’t the first time, either.

Back at her small apartment, Cecilia tried to do her English homework but her mind repeatedly wandered away from the English Romantic poets and down paths she’d prefer to avoid.

When the phone rang, she was jolted by the sudden noise. With an exaggerated sigh, she picked up the receiver.

“Hello,” she said dully.

“Hi,” came a cheerful woman’s voice. “You don’t know me, but I figured it was time I introduced myself. I’m Cathy Lackey.”

“Who?”

“Cathy Lackey, Andrew’s wife.”

Ian’s friend. “They’re deployed, aren’t they?”

“Three days ago. Ian didn’t phone?”

“No.” She tried to sound unconcerned, despite the pain it’d caused her.

“That coward! I’d like to give him a swift kick in the behind,” Cathy muttered.

For the first time all day, Cecilia grinned. “You and me both.”

“Listen, I realize we aren’t even acquainted yet, but I’d like it if we could be friends. Andrew and Ian are such good buddies and…well, we were only stationed here a few weeks ago, and I haven’t met very many people.”

“I don’t know a lot of people my age, either.” Not unless she counted the women she worked with, and Cecilia had never truly fit in with the group at The Captain’s Galley. Because she tended to be quiet and withdrawn, and her childhood had been so chaotic, she’d always had trouble making friends. “But sure,” she added, “let’s get together sometime.”

Cathy would be able to tell her about Ian, too; that thought didn’t escape her.

“Great!” Cathy seemed pleased. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

It was one of those rare Saturday nights that Cecilia didn’t have to work. “What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking we could rent a movie and make popcorn.”

That was about all Cecilia could afford. “I’d like that. Do you want to come here or should I drive over to your place?”

“I’ll join you, if that’s all right?”

“Sure.” Cecilia glanced around the apartment to be sure it was clean. She’d run the vacuum and straighten her books and papers; other than that, it was acceptable.

“Can you drive me back later?”

“No problem,” Cecilia said. “Do you need a ride over here, too?”

“No, I’ve got Ian’s car.”

The words struck her like a lightning bolt. Before she could react, Cathy was asking, “Is six too early?”

“It’s fine,” she managed. “But—”

“I’ll give you the keys and the insurance papers and everything then,” Cathy continued.

“The…what?”

“For Ian’s car. He was supposed to call you, but when I didn’t hear from you, I figured he’d lost his nerve. Men!” Cathy giggled and Cecilia found herself frowning, hardly making sense of all this.

“You mean he said I should use his car?”

“He insisted on it,” Cathy assured her.

Cecilia wanted to believe it, but wondered if she should. He’d sucker-punched her once already and she wasn’t up to another round. “Was this before or after he went into the hospital?” she asked.

“After,” Cathy said. “He gave me the keys himself and asked me to make sure you got the car.”

“Oh,” Cecilia said softly, and exhaled a long, slow breath. Despite her refusal to accept the use of his vehicle, he wanted her to drive it anyway. He did care. He did.

“I’ll see you at six. And I’ll get a video on the way—a comedy all right? What about Notting Hill? Have you seen it?”

“No, I haven’t,” Cecilia said. “And I’d love to.”

This latest recipe Charlotte had picked up—chocolate-chip pecan pie—was the best. She’d got it at the funeral for her next-door neighbor’s elderly father. There’d been a good turnout, but that wasn’t surprising since Herbert had lived in Cedar Cove for eighty-one years. The pie would make a perfect Easter dinner dessert. She’d bake her usual coconut cake, too. Her family would demand that, although she was certain Olivia and Justine didn’t really understand how much work went into that darn cake.

Charlotte believed in doing things the old-fashioned way. She wouldn’t use a cake mix if her life depended on it. Oh no, she baked from scratch, just like her mother had. And her grandmother. The coconut cake took three days and started with fresh coconut, but the result was worth all the effort. Tradition had a strong hold on her.

Thursday morning, as was her habit, she went to the Senior Center and visited with her knitting group. Her dearest friends sat around the large table, each working on her current project. Some knitted for their grandchildren, and others worked on projects for foster children or for charity. There was nothing more comforting than a sweater or blanket created with loving hands and a loving heart.

“Hello, Charlotte,” Evelyn greeted her. She was almost finished with the afghan she was knitting for her daughter. The pattern was a lovely one and it had already been completed by several others in the group.

“Have you seen Jack Griffin lately?” Evelyn asked. Despite reassurances, she continued to have her suspicions regarding the Chronicle’s editor. Evelyn was like that—especially after she’d learned how to log on to the Internet. She had doubts about practically everyone, and for the most part Charlotte chose to overlook her friend’s lack of faith in others.

“Yesterday afternoon,” Charlotte said conversationally. She’d been putting in a lot of extra hours on the Seniors’ Page and was pleased with her efforts. Jack had liked her ideas and suggested she write a weekly column for the paper. At first Charlotte had balked. She wasn’t much of a writer, and she hadn’t thought she’d find enough news or ideas to fill a weekly column. But Jack had such confidence in her she’d decided to give it a try. Her first column had appeared on the Seniors’ Page the week before and had included a recipe, some local history and a few recommendations, gleaned from Olivia’s friend Grace, of new books available from the library.

“I tried your recipe,” Helen told her, needles flying. She was working on a sweater for her fifteen-year-old granddaughter.

“The cheddar biscuits?” When it came to recipes, Charlotte was already three months ahead. Never lacking for new ones, she’d found it difficult to decide which to print first. “Oh, ladies, just wait until I tell you about the chocolate-chip pecan pie I tasted this week.”

“Herbert Monk’s funeral?” Bess asked.

“I heard about it,” Helen said. “Word spreads when something really good is served at one of the wakes.”

“All I ask is that someone make that broccoli lasagna for my wake,” Evelyn tossed in. “Then everyone will know I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Charlotte chuckled.

“How’s your friend Tom?” Helen put in.

Charlotte was beginning to feel guilty about Tom Harding. “I haven’t seen him all week,” she confessed. She’d been so busy working on the Seniors’ Page, she hadn’t gone to the convalescent center.

On her last visit, Tom had been rather subdued. She’d attempted to lighten his spirits, without success, although he sat and listened and occasionally responded. As always, Charlotte had chatted about all kinds of things. She told him she had his key in a safe place and he seemed reassured by that.

“I don’t think he’s doing well,” Laura said.

Laura was a woman in the know. With seven children living in the community, she knew more about what was happening in Cedar Cove than the mayor.

“Really?” Charlotte hoped it wasn’t serious. If so, she supposed Janet Lester would have called her.

“You might want to check on him yourself.”

“I intend to do that this very afternoon,” Charlotte said, a bit annoyed that Laura had been the one to tell her about her friend. Really, though, Charlotte had no one to blame but herself. It was just that she’d been so busy lately.

She stayed for an hour, visiting and knitting, then packed up her needles and headed for the convalescent center. Not bothering to stop at Janet’s office, she went straight to Tom’s room.

She’d learned from Janet that Tom had originally chosen Cedar Cove. He’d never indicated why. The storage unit remained a mystery. He hadn’t explained that, and when she’d attempted to ask him about it, he’d pretended to fall asleep.

She’d brought her latest column to read aloud, plus a slice of the pecan pie she’d saved just for him. This would, she hoped, suffice as an apology for her lack of attention these last two weeks.

To her surprise, Charlotte found Tom’s room empty. There’d been talk about getting him into physical therapy and she suspected that was where he’d been taken.

Anxious about Tom’s condition, she hurried toward Janet’s office. Charlotte knocked politely at the half-open door.

“Charlotte.” Janet immediately stood, averting her gaze. “I should’ve phoned you earlier.”

“You certainly should have.” It was an embarrassment to find out from one of her friends that Tom wasn’t doing well.

“I do apologize.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“We believe it was another stroke.”

Charlotte gasped. Poor, poor Tom. Another stroke would certainly compound his health problems.

“How bad was it?”

“Bad?” Janet asked, sitting back down. “You don’t know,” she said slowly.

Charlotte shook her head, but she was beginning to get the feeling that this was worse than she’d imagined. Pulling out a chair, she sat down, too.

“Tom died late last night.”

“Died?” It shouldn’t come as a shock, considering his age and his poor health. Nevertheless, Charlotte felt she’d lost a good friend. “I…didn’t realize. I didn’t…” At this stage of her life, death was a common occurrence. She’d buried her husband years earlier, and every day, it seemed, there was an obituary for someone she knew. Still, the death of this man hit her hard.

“Are you all right?” Janet asked.

“Of course,” Charlotte insisted, but she wasn’t. Her hands trembled and she felt chilled.

“I know he appreciated your friendship.”

Charlotte nodded, scrabbling inside her purse for a handkerchief to dab her eyes.

“Your visits meant the world to him.”

“It’s been two weeks—I should’ve been here.”

“Charlotte, you couldn’t possibly have known,” Janet said gently.

Charlotte knew that was true, but she couldn’t squelch the feeling that she’d let Tom Harding down. Before her work with the newspaper, she’d stopped by at least once a week. Tom had been the first person to hear her initial column. She’d read it to him herself and he’d smiled and approved of her efforts. Jack Griffin, on the other hand, had taken his sharp red pencil to her work and cut away at it until she’d barely recognized it as her own. Granted, she knew she wasn’t an experienced writer, certainly not a professional, but it had wounded her pride. When she’d complained to Tom, he’d given her a sympathetic look, which was just what she’d needed.

That was the last time she’d seen him.

Janet reached for her phone and called down to the kitchen for tea. Five minutes later, one of the staff carried a tray into the office.

“He was a special man,” Charlotte said, grateful for the hot, comforting tea. It helped ease the lump in her throat.

“Yes, he was,” Janet agreed.

“What should I do now?” Charlotte asked.

Janet stared at her blankly.

“With the key? Remember he gave me the key to that storage unit?”

Janet frowned. “I guess the state will want it. You’d better return it as soon as you can.”