Читать книгу Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection - Debbie Macomber - Страница 21

Charlotte believed with all her heart that Tom Harding had entrusted her with his most precious keepsakes for a reason. She was to find an heir or, failing that, make sure these things were properly displayed in a museum. It was a task she took seriously. Seriously enough to flirt with breaking the law.

For days she mulled over what to do. Because Tom had been a ward of the state, her biggest fear was that the saddle, guns, poster and television scripts would be confiscated and sold at auction in order to recoup the money spent on his care. According to Washington State law, Tom was only allowed two-thousand dollars’ worth of property. At least, that was how Olivia had explained it.

“Can the state take all this away?” she’d asked her daughter the day of their discovery.

“Well…”

Charlotte knew what that “well” signified and, despite the risk, took action behind her daughter’s back. And the state’s… If it meant she was about to be hauled off to the clinker, then so be it.

Since then, Olivia had been preoccupied with court issues, but Charlotte’s innate honesty made it impossible not to tell her daughter what she’d done. She decided to pay a visit to the judge’s chambers one Monday at noon. It wasn’t likely that Olivia would have her own mother arrested.

Charlotte peeked inside and was instantly welcomed by the smell of old books and lemon oil. Looking up from her desk, Olivia frowned. “Hello, Mother.”

“Do you have a minute?”

Deep in thought, Olivia took a moment to focus before answering.

“In case another time would be better, I want you to know I’ve been back to Tom’s storage unit and have taken some of his things. I couldn’t put it off any longer. Janet wanted that key.”

“Mother,” Olivia cried, covering her ears. Her daughter always did have a certain dramatic flair. “Don’t tell me that.”

“I have them in my safekeeping. We both know what’ll happen once Social Service discovers Tom had anything of value.” Charlotte simply couldn’t allow that to happen.

Olivia stood, stared at her, then promptly sat down. She sighed. “Well…there’s a case, weak though it is, for claiming that the items weren’t of any real value until after his death.”

That sounded like an argument an attorney would make, but still…an excellent justification, Charlotte thought with a satisfied nod. Anyway, it wasn’t as though Charlotte had cleared out the storage unit. She’d left the furniture, shabby and worn but still usable. She’d taken only what she felt Tom wanted her to save from obscurity. Only the things that should go to his family—if she could find anyone.

“Don’t worry,” Charlotte said. “I have everything under control.” It worried her that Olivia had so little to say. Perhaps there were more legal ramifications than she understood, whole laws she didn’t even know she’d broken.

“Your having control is what frightens me,” Olivia said acerbically. Charlotte let that pass. “Have you tracked down any family members?”

“No…not yet, but I will. I—”

“Oh, Mother, this is a huge responsibility.”

As though Charlotte needed reminding. “I feel it’s my duty.” Straightening, she decided she might as well confess everything. “I want you to know I’ve hired Roy McAfee to search out any heirs Tom might have.”

“You did what?”

Olivia didn’t have a problem with her hearing, so Charlotte left the question unanswered.

Olivia sighed again. “What did Roy tell you?”

Charlotte’s fingers tightened around her purse, which was balanced on her knees. “I haven’t actually spoken to him yet. When I phoned for the appointment, Corrie and I spoke. I explained why I need Roy’s help. I’m seeing him this afternoon.”

“Mother, please don’t tell anyone else what you’ve done.”

“Oh, not to worry. I won’t mention how you went with me that first time, either.”

Olivia groaned. “That would be appreciated.”

“Do you want me to let you know what Roy finds out?” She had the impression Olivia would rather not be kept informed. The way her mind was all caught up with legalities, that was probably for the best. Charlotte often felt astonished by how frequently the courts abandoned common sense. “Never mind,” Charlotte said, getting to her feet. “I’ll fill you in later.”

Olivia seemed decidedly relieved. “Okay, thanks.”

The course of her action already determined, Charlotte walked out of the courthouse. Troy Davis nodded at her, and Charlotte quickly looked away, certain the sheriff would guess she was a felon on the run. Thankfully he didn’t and merely strolled past. Really, it was a wonder that guilty people didn’t give themselves away.

Later that same afternoon, Charlotte arrived at Roy McAfee’s office a full thirty minutes before her scheduled appointment. She had her knitting with her and sat in his waiting room, her needles clicking at a furious pace. Illegal activities were one thing, but confessing them to a former policeman—well, that really tried her nerves.

Corrie was busy on the phone and apologized when she’d finished. “Roy won’t be back for another twenty minutes.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I’m early,” Charlotte returned. Olivia would protect her from the long arm of the law—or so she assumed—but she had no such guarantee with Roy. Well, so be it. Her resolve bolstered her spirits, although she didn’t exactly savor the possibility of jail.

“Fiddlesticks,” Charlotte muttered. It was a chance she had to take.

Corrie glanced up. “I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing,” Charlotte said with a sigh. Roy arrived five minutes before her appointment time, and by then Charlotte had worked herself into a frenzy of worry. Corrie was aware of the reason for the visit, but Charlotte eluded her questions, preferring to speak to Roy alone.

Perhaps a minute later, Corrie announced that he was ready to see her. Stuffing her knitting needles and yarn back into her quilted bag, Charlotte stood up.

Roy sat behind a large oak desk littered with files. His computer was off to one side, and what files weren’t on his desk were stacked around him on the floor. Charlotte had no idea a private investigator would have this much business, especially in a town the size of Cedar Cove.

“What can I do for you?” Roy asked in a crisp, professional tone.

Now that she was here, Charlotte wasn’t sure where to start—probably not by confessing she’d recently committed a felony, if indeed that was what she’d done. “Did you ever watch Saturday cowboy shows as a boy?”

Roy grinned. “You bet.” He held up his index finger and blew on it as though it were a smoking gun barrel.

“Do you remember Tom Houston?” she asked next.

“The Yodeling Cowboy?”

Charlotte brightened. “Yes. Well, you’re going to be surprised to learn that until his death last month, Tom lived right here in Cedar Cove.”

Roy leaned forward and his eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

“It’s true,” she said, beaming with pride that she knew this fact before anyone else. “We were good friends.”

“You and Tom Houston?” Roy looked impressed.

“Well…” She released a deep sigh. “I didn’t know he was Tom Houston at the time. He went by the name of Tom Harding.” She explained the circumstances that had led up to their meeting and everything that had happened since his death. Including her raid on the storage unit.

“You have all the memorabilia at your home now?”

“I do.” She’d avoided mentioning Olivia’s name, but she could see that Roy had several questions. “I realize that what I did is flirting with civil disobedience,” she began.

“Not quite.”

Charlotte had trouble remembering all those fancy legal terms. “But…” Then she decided that if he wasn’t worrying about the illegality of her activities, she wouldn’t, either.

“What would you like me to do?” Roy asked.

Charlotte had thought that should be obvious. “I need to find out if Tom has any living heirs. Can you do that for me?”

Roy didn’t hesitate. “I’m sure I can. Did you see anything in Tom’s things that gave his Social Security number?”

“No, but I can get it.” Janet Lester was sure to have it in the accumulated paperwork she had for Tom. She frowned, wondering exactly how to ask. As much as she liked and trusted the social worker, Charlotte hadn’t told Janet any of this, including the fact that she’d taken things from the storage unit. No sense dragging her friends to jail with her, if it came to that.

“Does anyone else know Tom’s true identity?”

“Only Olivia.”

Roy nodded approvingly. “Keep it that way until you hear from me.”

It hadn’t been easy staying quiet about all this, but Charlotte feared that once the story became public, long-lost relatives would be popping out of the woodwork, all eager to claim their inheritance.

“How long will it take?” Charlotte asked. Now that she’d officially hired Roy, she was ready for results.

“I can’t promise you a definite time line,” Roy told her. “If you’d like to make an appointment for two weeks from now, I’ll give you a progress report.”

“Can’t you just look it up on the computer?” she asked, waving her hand in the direction of his monitor.

“I’ll start there.”

Charlotte had taken a basic computer class last summer. Using Olivia’s old computer, she’d typed up her columns for Jack—because he’d insisted on it. But the best part about a computer was playing games such as solitaire, although the contraption made it impossible to cheat. What fun was that?

She planned to buy a new computer soon, with the money she’d earned from her contributions to the Seniors’ Page. She had all kinds of ideas for future columns; once this was all settled, she might even write about meeting Tom….

“Two weeks, then?” Roy asked.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she told him.

As Charlotte walked out, she felt as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

Cathy laughed at Cecilia’s caricature of a ditzy hairdresser. Cecilia was going to help her add do-it-yourself highlights to her hair on this rainy Wednesday afternoon. Since that first video-and-popcorn evening they’d found reasons to get together often. Neither one could afford much, so they took turns having each other over for various kinds of low-budget fun—like movies or dinner. Gradually Cathy had drawn Cecilia into a circle of other Navy wives. On the night of her wedding anniversary, the whole group had shown up at The Captain’s Galley. Last weekend, Cecilia had met Carol Greendale, another Navy wife who’d had a baby girl the same month as Allison. She’d found it hard—more than hard—to see Carol with her daughter. She’d made excuses to leave, but despite her vague protests and paper-thin excuses, Cathy had patiently convinced her to stay. In the end, Cecilia was glad she had.

Cathy headed for the bathroom to wash her hair while Cecilia read through the package directions. “Did you bring a crochet hook?” she asked when Cathy reappeared with a bathroom towel wrapped around her head.

“No. Do we need one?”

Cecilia wasn’t sure the small plastic hook included in the kit would work as well. “Never mind, we’ll manage with this.”

“Should I make a run over to Kmart? I could pick up another package to do your hair, too.”

“Not this time, okay?” Cecilia shook her head. “Look—I have to draw strands of hair through the holes in this plastic cap….” She frowned as she studied the paraphernalia that had come with the kit.

“Have you heard from Ian lately?”

Cecilia shook her head. It’d been almost three weeks since their anniversary, and she hadn’t thanked him for the flowers, hadn’t even acknowledged getting them. She hadn’t contacted him in any way. Ian hadn’t written her, either. Apparently her message had been received and understood.

“Andrew says they’re putting into port soon.”

“Australia?”

Cathy gave an exaggerated sigh and propped her chin on one knee. “I’ve always wanted to visit the South Pacific.”

“Me, too.”

“In his last letter, Andrew wrote about the night sky,” Cathy said in a soft voice.

Cecilia stopped rereading the directions to listen. Ian loved the stars and was actually quite knowledgeable about the planets and constellations. She remembered the clear summer night he’d pointed out Cassiopeia and recounted the ancient Greek legend about its formation. Cecilia had been enthralled—and she’d learned something new about her husband.

“Andrew said there are a billion stars out at night,” Cathy was saying. “At first he was disappointed because there seemed to be a thin cloud cover that obscured his view.” She paused and laughed softly. “Then Ian told him the cloud cover he was complaining about was actually the Milky Way.”

“Wow.”

She nodded. “Andrew said he’d never seen anything like it.”

Cecilia looked at her friend and was surprised to find tears in her eyes. “You miss him, don’t you?”

Cathy bit her lip and nodded. “Cecilia,” she whispered and reached for her hand, gripping it hard. “I’m pregnant again.”

The again was what threw Cecilia. Andrew and Cathy didn’t have children.

“I miscarried the first two pregnancies,” Cathy explained in a voice that trembled with emotion. “I… don’t know if I can go through that agony a third time.”

Cecilia glanced toward her bedroom and the single photograph she had of Allison. It was a dreadful photo taken shortly after her daughter’s birth. Allison had been so small, her skin so pallid. The hospital had stuck a tiny pink bow in her hair and someone had snapped the shot. It proved to be the only one she would ever have, and Cecilia treasured it.

Looking embarrassed, Cathy wiped her eyes and said, “I knew you’d understand.”

“Oh, I do.”

Impulsively they hugged. The damp towel slipped to the floor, and Cathy buried her face in Cecilia’s shoulder.

“I figure it happened when the John F. Reynolds returned for repairs.”

Cecilia was fortunate not to be in the same predicament herself. “You aren’t going to tell Andrew?”

Cathy frowned. “He’ll just worry. He’s half a world away, and there isn’t a thing he can do.”

“You want children?”

Cathy nodded, but the admission seemed to cause her pain. “More than anything. Andrew, too. When I miscarried the first time, we were upset, but when I lost the second pregnancy, it devastated us both. I can’t imagine what’ll happen if I miscarry this time….”

“What do the doctors say?”

“That everything looks normal and healthy, but we were told the same thing before.”

“Was there a medical reason for the miscarriages?”

“No. That’s what makes it so frustrating. They couldn’t find anything wrong.”

“Oh, Cathy…” Cecilia didn’t know what to say that would ease her friend’s fears.

“No one can figure it out. Twice now, and I can’t seem to stay pregnant for more than three months.” She gnawed on her lower lip. “I’m about nine weeks along and I’m so scared.” As if she were suddenly cold, Cathy folded her arms tightly. “I know this sounds crazy, but when I first found out, I actually considered terminating the pregnancy.”

Cecilia said nothing. Cathy needed to confide in her, and this was not the time to be judgmental or to argue with her friend.

“I kept thinking I’d rather lose the baby early than build my hopes up. Now I realize how ludicrous that kind of thinking is.” She drew in a deep breath. “No one else knows I’m pregnant, not even my parents. I didn’t want to say anything until I’m in my fourth month…if I make it that far.”

Cecilia could understand the fear and the doubt. It wasn’t only her own hopes Cathy didn’t want to dash. She was considering those of her husband and her family, as well. Cecilia knew what a difficult burden that was. And she knew that such a burden only grew heavier if you couldn’t share it.

“I can’t promise you that this pregnancy is going to be different from the first two,” she said solemnly, holding Cathy’s gaze. “No one knows what the future will bring. But I can promise that whatever happens, I’ll be there for you.”

“Oh, Cecilia, you don’t know how much that means to me.” Cathy wiped her cheeks with her fingers. “I’m so emotional when I’m pregnant.”

Cecilia’s laugh was poignant. “You and me both.” The first few months she was pregnant with Allison, she’d wept at the flimsiest excuses. A sentimental television commercial could reduce her to a sniveling, tissue-packing blob. The bouts sometimes lasted for hours.

Cathy touched Cecilia’s arm. “Are you afraid to have another baby, too?”

The mere thought resulted in stark terror. “I…won’t. Ian knows how I feel.” Cecilia stopped just short of confessing that this was one of the reasons she felt compelled to follow through with the divorce.

“Give it time,” Cathy advised, and they hugged once more. “Good grief,” she said, forcing a laugh. “My hair’s dry already.”

Grabbing the plastic hook, Cecilia held it up. “I’m ready to torture you.”

“Just remember I get my turn later.”

The afternoon passed in a whirl of giggles, chatter and popcorn, and by the time Cathy left, Cecilia was tired but exhilarated. The blond streaks were a success. But far more important, their friendship had become stronger and deeper because of what Cathy had shared. Cecilia understood why she’d confided in her. Cathy knew that, of all the women in their small group, Cecilia was the only one who could identify with the trauma and the recriminations that followed the loss of a child. It didn’t matter that Cathy was only a few months pregnant when she miscarried. Her unborn children had laid claim to her heart.

As she readied for bed that evening, Cecilia stared at the one picture she had of Allison. The dried bouquet from her wedding had been fashioned into a heart-shaped frame.

“They’re from your daddy,” she whispered to her daughter.

Then, because she was weak and because her heart ached, Cecilia reached for a pad and pen.

May 16th

Dear Ian,

I wasn’t going to write you again. I probably shouldn’t now. Nothing has changed. Nothing will. Still, I find that you’re on my mind and I hope we can at least be friendly toward each other.

I spent the day with Cathy Lackey. Don’t tell Andrew, but his wife is partially blond now, thanks to me. While she was here, Cathy mentioned that the John F. Reynolds would be docking in Sydney Harbour this week. You always said you’d see the Southern Cross. Is it as incredible as you hoped? I imagine it is.

I was going to drop out of school. Really, I couldn’t see the point of sticking it out. At the rate of two classes a quarter, it’ll take me a hundred years to get a degree, but then I decided that it didn’t matter if I ever got one. I like school, and as Mr. Cavanaugh said, knowledge is never wasted. I really like Mr. Cavanaugh. He’s the kind of person I wish my father was, although I have to admit Bobby tries. He does. When the flowers arrived for our anniversary and I started to cry, he patted my back—and then walked away. Oh, well… But later he confessed that every year on the anniversary of his divorce, he gets drunk. I think that was supposed to comfort me. In some odd way, it did.

This isn’t a very long letter and I’m not even sure I’ll mail it. Basically, I wanted to thank you for the flowers and tell you Happy Anniversary, too.

All my best,

Cecilia

May 26th

My dearest Cecilia,

I’ve hardly ever been as excited as I was this morning at mail call. I’d given up on hearing from you. Andrew said my shout was heard three decks below. Thank you, thank you and thank you again for mailing that letter. You have no idea how badly I needed to hear from you.

I’m glad you got the flowers. Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart. It’s been one hell of a first year, hasn’t it? From here on out, it’ll be better. You feel it, too, don’t you?

I did see the Southern Cross, and it was even more exciting than I’d dreamed. That experience could only have been improved in one way—having you beside me when I found it.

I can’t write much. I’m on duty in five minutes and I want to mail this as soon as I can. There’s only one more thing I want to say. You mentioned that your father gets drunk on the anniversary of his divorce. He obviously has more than a few regrets. Don’t make the same mistake he did, Cecilia. We need each other. I love you. There’s nothing we can’t work through. Not one damn thing. Remember that, all right?

Ian

“Anything?” Kelly asked hopefully as she slid into the booth at the Pancake Palace. The restaurant was a local favorite, where the food was good and the portions hearty. Sunday mornings, the lineup to get a table often stretched out the door.

Grace’s daughter had phoned earlier in the week, and they’d agreed to meet Friday after work. With no reason to hurry home, Grace was free to have dinner out. Yet she felt an unaccountable urge to rush back to the house on Rosewood Lane. It was just habit, she decided. Thirty-five years of habit.

“No news,” Grace answered.

“Mom, he can’t have dropped off the face of the earth. Someone must know something.”

If that was the case, no one had bothered to tell her. One thing Grace did know was that she could no longer afford Roy McAfee’s services. He’d made some suggestions to help her track down her missing husband, but Grace had run into a solid row of dead ends. Discouraged and defeated, she’d given up trying. Even if she did manage to locate Dan, what could she possibly say? It wasn’t as though she intended to beg him to come home.

The waitress brought them menus and Grace chose a chef’s salad and coffee, while Kelly ordered a chicken sandwich and a glass of milk.

“Why would Daddy do something like this?” Kelly asked—as she’d already asked dozens of times.

If Grace knew the answer to that, she could stop listening to the voices in her head. Besides her own emotions, she had those of her children to consider. Maryellen had reacted with outrage and anger. Kelly was more hurt. The younger of the two girls, she’d always been closest to her father. Even as a child, Kelly had followed Dan around; while she was a teenager, she and Grace had constantly been at odds. Yet even through the worst of her rebellion, Kelly had steered clear of any major confrontation with her father.

Grace waited until they’d finished their meals before she broached the subject she wanted to discuss. “Your father’s been gone six weeks now.”

“I know,” Kelly said, sounding exasperated. “Mom, I’m so worried about him.”

“I am, too.” Although she was more worried about what she’d do once she found him. “I want you to know I’ve seen an attorney.”

Kelly stared at her as if she didn’t understand. “An attorney can help you find Dad?”

“No. I’ve decided to file for divorce.”

Kelly reached for her water glass. She took a sip and Grace could see that her daughter was struggling to hold on to her composure. “Mom, don’t! Please don’t. Dad’s coming back. I know he is—and when he does, we’ll discover what this is all about. There’s a logical reason he had to leave the way he did.”

“I’m not doing this to punish your father. It’s for legal reasons.”

“Legal reasons,” Kelly repeated, frowning.

She told her about the need to cancel all their credit cards and her responsibility for half of any debts he assumed. What she didn’t mention was that Dan had used the VISA to purchase a ring for another woman. Every time she thought about her husband doing such a thing, knowing full well that she’d investigate the charge, she nearly broke down and wept.

“You still think Daddy’s got a girlfriend, don’t you?”

Grace heard the challenge in her daughter’s voice. She wanted to protect her children, hide the truth from them, but the charade had become too much for her. Dan wasn’t concerned about protecting her. He’d left her open to ridicule, speculation and embarrassment.

“You can’t honestly think he’d do that,” Kelly insisted.

“That’s exactly what I think,” Grace said without apology. “Everything leads me to believe he’s involved with someone else.”

Kelly shook her head so hard her earring flew across the table. “Not Dad.”

“I don’t want to believe it, either,” Grace said quietly as Kelly retrieved the earring. “Do you think it gives me any pleasure to tell you I’m seeking a divorce? Your father and I have been married for thirty-five years. This isn’t a decision I’ve made lightly.”

“Wait,” Kelly pleaded.

“For what?” Financial ruin? Dan could accumulate all kinds of expenses and as she’d explained, she’d be legally responsible for half the debt. A divorce would protect her from that.

“Wait until after the baby’s born,” Kelly whispered, her voice cracking.

“Oh, Kelly.”

“Does Maryellen know you want to divorce Dad?”

“I talked to her last week.” She’d delayed mentioning it to Kelly for exactly this reason. No matter what Dan was guilty of doing, Kelly would find an excuse for him.

“The baby doesn’t have anything to do with the divorce,” Grace said firmly. “Nothing at all.”

Kelly’s beautiful blue eyes clouded with tears. “Give him more time. It’s only been six weeks.”

Six hellish weeks. The six longest weeks of Grace’s life. Her daughter apparently didn’t understand what Dan’s disappearance had done to her. It was difficult to hold up her head in public. Difficult to meet library patrons with a smile when it felt as though her life had been ripped in half. Grace saw the pitying looks in their eyes. She heard the whispers and knew they were talking about her.

“This baby deserves to be brought into a whole family,” Kelly said stubbornly.

Grace wondered if it’d do any good to point out that she wasn’t the one who’d splintered the family unit. Dan had walked out on her, not the other way around.

Then, as if she’d been waiting to deliver the final punch, Kelly reached for her purse and removed a shiny piece of rolled paper.

“What’s that?” Grace asked.

“A picture of your grandchild.”

Grace’s heart started to pound faster. “You had your ultrasound?”

Kelly nodded. “Here’s your grandbaby, Mother.”

This technology hadn’t been available when Grace was pregnant with the girls. She studied the circular array of lines and squinted, barely able to make out the baby’s form.

“Oh, my goodness,” Grace whispered, awed by the sight.

“That’s Dad’s grandbaby, too,” Kelly said.

Grace’s heart sank.

“Tell me you’ll wait before you file for divorce.”

“Kelly…”

“Please?”

Grace sighed. “All right, but just until after the baby’s born. Deal?”

Kelly gave her a relieved smile. “Deal.”