Читать книгу Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection - Debbie Macomber - Страница 36

Five

“Do you have plans for tonight?” Grace phoned to ask Olivia late Friday afternoon, the following week. It was a clear, crisp day toward the end of October, and Olivia had been waiting to hear from Jack ever since his phone call on her birthday.

“Plans? I wish…” Olivia said. “Do you have any suggestions?” she asked with a little more enthusiasm.

“How about taking in a football game?” Grace said. “We could go to dinner afterward. It’s been ages since we had a chance to catch up.”

Olivia was delighted that Grace had called her. During the months since Dan’s disappearance, Grace had closed herself off from almost everyone. She’d kept her conversations brief and superficial, clearly unwilling to disturb the bedrock of pain and grief that had become the basis of her life. Again and again she’d found excuses to postpone visits or social plans. Olivia was concerned, but she respected her friend’s need for privacy. It was no reflection on their long and very solid friendship. Grace was dealing with the loss of her marriage. Olivia stood by her, encouraged her with notes and cards and called frequently, just to maintain communication and to let Grace know she was there. This was the first time in a long while that Grace had called her to suggest an outing.

“I’d love to take in a game,” Olivia told her friend.

“I thought you would,” Grace said. “Have you heard from Jack yet?”

“Not a word.”

“Damn.”

Grace had that right. Olivia was tired of making excuses for him, even in her own mind. He’d been absent from her life all week. He hadn’t called once. Nor had he shown up for their usual Tuesday night get-together. She couldn’t help being disappointed that he’d had to break their date on Saturday; she certainly understood. But at the same time she’d hoped he would, at the very least, leave a brief message telling her how Eric was doing—and maybe saying he missed her. He could’ve called to make a tentative plan for next week or even the week after that. Instead, he’d ignored her.

“Meet me at the football field at seven,” Grace said.

“I’ll be there.”

Olivia was grateful to have somewhere to go and something to do. Especially with her best friend, who seemed to be emerging from her self-imposed isolation. Her social life had revolved around Jack for months. Almost always, they spent part of a weekend together.

At seven o’clock, Olivia met Grace just outside the chain-link fence at Cedar Cove High School’s football stadium. The field was ablaze with lights and the stands on both sides of the field were quickly filling up. Grace had dressed in gray wool slacks with a blue-and-green plaid wool jacket. She wore her thick salt-and-pepper hair shorter these days, and it suited her. Dan had always preferred a shoulder-length style, reminiscent of her high-school appearance, but Grace didn’t need to please Dan anymore.

“You look great,” Olivia commented as they stood in line to purchase their tickets.

“Of course I do. The only thing you ever see me in these days is my sweats for aerobics class.”

Olivia smiled because it was all too true.

“Remember in high school when we used to come and cheer on the team?” Grace asked as the line moved slowly toward the ticket counter.

“Do I ever. Bob Beldon and Dan were our football heroes—” Olivia paused. She regretted bringing Dan’s name into the conversation.

Grace touched her arm. “I was thinking the same thing. Dan was a wonderful athlete when he was young. I still remember the year he scored the winning touchdown that put Cedar Cove in the playoffs for the first time in a decade.”

“So do I,” Olivia said, glancing at her friend. “It doesn’t hurt to talk about Dan?”

Grace gazed into the distance. “Not really. But it’s easier to think about the early years, before Vietnam.” She was silent for a moment. “I don’t know why he left me the way he did. I’ve gone over it a thousand times and can’t come up with an answer. I just don’t understand how he could do this. I realize I might never know. All I can say is that this was his choice. I have my own choices to make, and I need to move forward with my life.”

“You always were a strong woman,” Olivia said, not hiding her admiration, “but you’re stronger now than ever.”

“I wish that was true,” Grace murmured and then she changed the subject, looking up at the night sky. “I love this time of year.”

“Me, too.” The weather in the Pacific Northwest had taken a decided turn in the last couple of weeks. Soon the autumn rains would start, and the clear bright evenings would become storms of wind mingled with a steady drizzle.

After paying for their tickets, they purchased a program from one of the drill team members hawking the small booklets just inside the field. Making their way toward the stands, Olivia paused to see what seats were still available.

“Olivia! Grace!” Charlotte’s voice rang out from the home field section.

Olivia glanced around until she found her mother waving her right arm high above her head. Charlotte sat next to Cliff Harding about halfway up. Her lap was draped with a small red quilt and Cliff was wearing a fringed leather jacket and his ever-present cowboy hat.

“Do you mind sitting with Mom?” Olivia asked, although her real question had to do with Cliff Harding.

“No, it’s fine.” Grace’s eyes were on Cliff and she gave a slow smile.

Now, that was an interesting development, Olivia mused as they climbed the steps.

Olivia hugged Charlotte as she edged past her mother. Moving down, she left plenty of room for Grace. Cliff sat on the outside of the row, closest to the stairs.

“What a pleasant surprise to run into you two,” Charlotte said, sounding positively delighted. “Cliff’s never been to a Cedar Cove football game. My column in the newspaper this week was about supporting our youth, you know?”

“I read it, Mom, and it was a great piece.” Her mom derived real pleasure from writing the Seniors’ Page for The Chronicle.

“Cliff read it, too, and I told him he’d never be part of the community until he’s cheered for our football team.”

Cliff was studying the program and seemed impressed with all the community advertisement that supported the team. “The last time I was at a highschool football game was when I was in high school myself.”

“This town takes its football seriously,” Olivia told him.

“I can see that.” The game was about to start and there was standing room only. In addition to the football team itself, the school band, the cheerleading squad and drill team were all present.

“Do you two have plans for after the game?” Cliff asked, but Olivia noticed that he directed the question at Grace.

“Olivia and I are going to dinner,” Grace explained.

“Cliff invited me out, as well,” Charlotte said. “Why don’t you two join us?” She glanced from one to the other.

“Sure, that sounds like fun,” Olivia said. From Grace’s reaction to seeing Cliff, she knew her friend wouldn’t object.

The game was close, and at halftime the score was tied. Olivia was, once again, amazed by how many people her mother knew. Not a moment passed without Charlotte calling out to one person or another. Her weekly column had increased her recognition among the townspeople, and she was obviously well-loved for her charitable activities, including her volunteer work at the local convalescent center where she’d met Tom Harding.

Cedar Cove High School won in the last five seconds with a field goal. The mood was festive as the stadium emptied. Since the Pancake Palace would definitely be crowded after the win, Cliff suggested The Captain’s Galley in the downtown area.

They met there and were quickly escorted to a table for four. Olivia noticed that Cecilia Randall still held the position of hostess, but there wasn’t time to chat with the young Navy wife. Once they were seated, conversation was light and flowed smoothly both before and after they ordered.

Try as she might, Olivia found her thoughts wandering to Jack, and that distracted her. Without being obvious, she’d searched for him throughout the game. He generally wrote the sports articles for the highschool teams, simply because he loved going to the games. Olivia had given up counting the number of sporting events they’d attended together. But if he was at the game tonight, she hadn’t seen him.

Of course, she could phone him. They weren’t fighting, although she had to wonder why he hadn’t called her. Perhaps Eric was still with him, but his son couldn’t possibly take up every minute of Jack’s time. Olivia was getting downright irritated.

Conversation ceased as their meals arrived and then it resumed. They’d moved from the football game to the state of the local economy. Olivia added a comment every now and then as she nibbled at her crab salad, but her spirits weren’t high and she struggled to keep her thoughts away from Jack.

Even though she’d dated occasionally since her divorce, she hadn’t gotten close to another man the way she had with Jack. Because their personalities and backgrounds were so different, he brought balance and spontaneity to her rigid schedule. With him she was free to laugh and shed the formality that had taken over her life after she was elected to the bench. Jack was unconventional, witty, fun—and, damn it all, she missed him.

The bill came, and before anyone could argue, Cliff reached for it. “My treat, ladies,” he insisted.

Olivia objected. She’d never have agreed to join them if she’d known Cliff was buying. “I can’t let you do that,” she said.

“Hey, how often does a man get the chance to be seen with three beautiful women?”

“This is very thoughtful of you,” Charlotte said and patted his hand, sending Olivia a sharp glance. Sighing, Olivia decided to accept graciously and murmured her thanks.

Grace chuckled. “Are you sure you’re not using my credit card?”

They all laughed and after savoring the last of their coffee, they parted for the night.

“Is everything okay?” Grace asked as they strolled to the parking lot next to the library. “You’ve been quiet all evening.” Olivia had hoped for a few minutes to speak privately to Grace, but with her mother and Cliff present that hadn’t been possible.

“Who can get a word in edgewise with my mother?” Olivia joked.

“Is everything okay between you and Jack?” How like Grace to care about her friend’s petty concerns when she was the one whose life was in upheaval.

“I think so,” Olivia told her, and then added, “I hope so.”

“So do I.”

They parted with promises to talk soon, and Olivia drove home. As she walked into the hallway, she saw that the message light on her answering machine was flashing. She stared down at it for a few hopeful seconds. Pressing the button, she waited and was rewarded by the craggy sound of Jack’s voice.

“Olivia, hi. Sorry I haven’t been in touch lately, but I’ve had my hands full with Eric. I was hoping you’d be home so we could talk. You’re not out with some other guy, are you?” There was a forced laugh. “Listen, I’m really sorry about last week, but I hope to make it up to you. Phone me back, all right? I’ve got a special birthday gift for you. Can we get together soon?”

Olivia checked her watch. It was close to eleven and too late to return his call. Anyway, he’d kept her waiting all week; she’d keep him guessing until morning. As she readied for bed, Olivia was smiling.

Maryellen wanted to kick herself for coming up with this ridiculous “swap meet for men” idea. It’d all started out innocently enough with her mentioning the article she’d read about that town in Ireland. Next thing she knew, she was part of the party-planning. By her following nail appointment, this Halloween get-together had gathered momentum to the point that she’d lost count of how many people were attending.

“You’re still bringing that chef friend of yours, aren’t you?” Terri asked. Maryellen had barely sat down when Terri started grilling her with questions she couldn’t answer about Jon.

“Like I said, he’s just a friend—no,” she amended. “Jon’s more of a business acquaintance. And he hasn’t given me an answer yet.”

“Oh.” Terri sounded disappointed. “So you don’t know if he’s coming or not?”

“I can’t say for sure.” She hadn’t talked to him since that initial conversation a week ago. “If he’s not there, I’ll make sure you get introduced some other time.”

Terri’s dark eyes lit up. “Great.”

The following evening—Halloween night—Maryellen stood in the darkest, creepiest corner of the decorated bar with a fake spider dangling from the ceiling directly above her. More than ever, she felt convinced that this had all been a mistake. The room was crowded with maybe a hundred men and women, some in costume, some not.

Then without warning, without her seeing him arrive, Jon was standing next to her. He held a frosty mug of beer. “Hi,” he said, looking out over the crowded room.

“You came.” Now that was brilliant. Nothing like stating the obvious. “I mean…you didn’t call me back and when I didn’t hear, I assumed you wouldn’t show up.”

“I should’ve phoned, but I wanted to make sure I could get the evening off first.”

“It’s all right—don’t apologize.” He hadn’t but…

“Between the restaurant and my photography, I’ve been working a lot of hours. Sometimes I lose track of time.”

An artist’s working habits weren’t new to Maryellen. “I understand.”

He took a sip of beer. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Then, glancing around the room, she saw Terri, who’d dressed as Cleopatra complete with heavy eye makeup and black wig. “There’s the woman I wanted you to meet.”

“All right,” Jon said, following as she wove her way through the crowd.

“Terri,” Maryellen said, interrupting the other woman’s conversation with someone—male or female?—dressed as a wizard in voluminous robes. “This is Jon, the man I was telling you about.”

“Hello, Jon,” Terri returned, as though she’d waited her entire life for precisely this moment. The wizard, having lost her attention, drifted off.

“Pleased to meet you, Terri,” Jon said.

“I hear you’re a chef.” Terri edged closer to him, and Maryellen could see she’d already had more than enough to drink. She bit her lip, wanting to suggest that it might be best if they talked another time. “I know my way around a kitchen, too. Want to stir up something together?”

“That might be interesting.” Jon took another sip of beer, and Maryellen could see he was trying hard to disguise a smile.

“Maryellen said you also take pictures.”

“I do a little of that on the side.”

“Actually, Jon’s a brilliant photographer,” Maryellen rushed to explain, mortified at what he must think.

Trying not to be conspicuous about it, she wandered away and eventually returned to her protective corner. She wasn’t there long before Jon joined her.

“So, Terri’s the woman you wanted to set me up with?” he asked.

“Have you ever done something you regret?” she asked. “I’m afraid this is one of those situations.”

He nodded, but didn’t respond, and they stood in silence for a few minutes.

Someone put a bunch of quarters in the jukebox, and the music started. Several couples formed an impromptu dance floor. Jon made a sweeping gesture. “Shall we?”

Jon didn’t give her a chance to object. He put his beer aside and gently pulled her into his arms.

He felt strong and solid against her, but Maryellen was having none of it. “I don’t think we should,” she said, her posture rigid. She didn’t want Jon to hold her, didn’t want this relationship to be anything but professional. Yet she recognized that she’d broken her own rule in calling him, inviting him here—in acknowledging her attraction to Jon Bowman.

“Relax,” he whispered close to her ear.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She sighed. “It’s a long story. Jon, I’m serious, this isn’t a good idea.”

“One dance,” he said. “Okay? Think of it as your penance for setting me up with your friend.”

Refusing would be ungracious. “Okay,” she agreed, but reluctantly. She tried to keep her distance, although it was difficult with Jon’s arms around her, urging her closer. The song was that slow-dance classic, “Cherish,” and she couldn’t help feeling affected. If Jon wasn’t so gentle and warm and considerate, it would’ve been easier to maintain her reserve. She began to relax in his embrace.

“Better, much better,” he whispered, leading her across the floor. He stroked her back in a slow circular motion that was doing crazy things to her pulse. The music ended long before she was ready to stop.

“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Jon asked.

She blinked up at him, not realizing she’d closed her eyes. “No.” It was scary and wonderful, both at once. She didn’t want to feel any of this. Warning bells were clanging in her head. Nevertheless, when the next song started—even before he asked—she slipped her arms around his neck and swayed toward him.

Jon didn’t say anything, but she could feel his smile. To her own amazement, she was smiling, too.

They danced for what seemed like hours, danced to song after song. They didn’t talk, but the communication between them was unmistakable. The way he held her close told her he’d been interested in her for some time. And the way she responded to his touch told him she found his work brilliant and beautiful, and that he intrigued her—as an artist and a man.

She wanted to know why he answered every question with a question. Did he have secrets? She suspected he must. After all, she had her own. Secrets that had remained buried since the early days of her marriage. No one knew, not even her mother. Not her sister. No one. Perhaps it was this that drew them together. Perhaps this was what he sensed in her and she felt in him. Of one thing Maryellen was sure. Secrets could be dangerous.

The Halloween party was breaking up and Jon suggested he walk her to her car. Maryellen agreed. Knowing that parking would be scarce, she’d used her space behind the art gallery. It would be dark and deserted, and she was glad Jon had offered to escort her.

“I had a good time,” he told her as they entered the alley.

“I did, too.” Darkness swallowed them up no more than two feet from the street.

“I forgive you for wanting to pawn me off on your friend.”

Maryellen’s face instantly went hot, and she felt grateful there wasn’t enough light for Jon to notice. “That was all a misunderstanding.”

He chuckled. “If you say so.”

As she fumbled in her purse for her car keys, Jon stopped her. “I’ve wanted to know you better for years,” he said in a low voice.

Maryellen couldn’t have muttered a word had the fate of the world depended on her reply. She envisioned herself thanking him in a flippant, matter-of-fact way, then whirling around and unlocking her car door. Instead she stood rooted to the spot, staring up at him. He was going to kiss her. That couldn’t happen; she simply couldn’t allow it. Yet, all the while objection after objection marched through her mind, she found herself slowly—against every rational dictate—leaning toward him. Her head was raised, her eyes half-closed.

When his lips met hers, it wasn’t the slow, seductive kiss she’d anticipated. Jon lifted her from the pavement until she stood on the very tips of her toes. His mouth was hungry, urgent, needy as his lips seduced hers. She tasted his passion as his tongue swept her mouth and swallowed his moan as it went on and on and on until she was sure she’d faint.

No man, not even her husband, had kissed her so thoroughly, so passionately. When he broke it off, Maryellen was breathless and speechless. Had he released her, she would’ve crumpled into a heap on the ground.

“Oh, no.” When she could manage to speak, these were the first words that emerged.

“No?” Jon asked.

“Oh…no.”

“My ego’s taking something of a bruising here. Can’t you do better than that?”

“Jon.” She gave herself a moment to gather her composure. “That was—”

“Pretty damn wonderful if you ask me.”

“Yes…it was.” Maryellen couldn’t begin to explain to him why this was such a mistake.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all evening,” he said in a satisfied tone.

Arms dangling at her sides, Maryellen slumped against her car. It was still hard to breathe, and for some reason, she felt as if she was about to cry. “I think we need to talk.”

“We’ll talk,” Jon promised, kissing her again. She’d been half expecting it, and even though she was prepared this time, his touch devastated her, left her gasping with shock and pleasure.

“Soon,” he said as he eased his lips from hers. “All right?”

“Okay,” she agreed hoarsely, although she couldn’t recall what was going to happen “soon.”

Once secure and inside her car, she placed her hands on the steering wheel. She was trembling so badly she found it impossible to insert the key into the ignition. What had she done? What had she unleashed on them both?

Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, Grace started outside to look around the house and garage. She couldn’t delay winterizing her home any longer. Dan had always taken care of such chores; now, for the first time in her marriage, Grace would need to complete these unfamiliar tasks herself.

Thankfully, her son-in-law had stepped in whenever she’d required help. He’d shown her how to change the furnace filter, fixed a leaking faucet and repaired the dryer, but Grace couldn’t continue to rely on Paul, dear as he was. She had to learn to cope with these situations on her own.

The first thing she did was stare at the open garage door. For the last two weeks, the automatic door had refused to budge. Grace had managed to open it manually, but last evening it had stuck in the open position. It needed to be fixed before someone saw it as an invitation to rob her.

Standing in front of the garage, wearing Dan’s oversized gloves, hands on hips, Grace regarded the garage door like a dragon ready to roar down sulfur and fire upon her.

“Get a grip,” she muttered under her breath. “You can do this. You’ve done everything else—you can tackle a garage door, too.” Okay, first she had to find the manual and the necessary tools. Dan was always so proud of his workbench. He had every gadget imaginable. Yet he hadn’t taken a single one with him when he walked away. Like everything else about his disappearance, this baffled her.

Was this other woman so incredible, so amazing, that she provided for his every need? Or did the things that used to matter to him no longer mean anything? He’d left behind his clothes, his tools, even his wedding band. He’d taken nothing more than the clothes on his back.

Grace didn’t know where she’d find the manual. She thought Dan kept his various instruction books in a box somewhere in the garage. She saw a stack of boxes piled beneath the workbench; she slid the top one out. Kneeling on the concrete floor, she opened the lid. Instead of the manual, she found the thick woolen shirt she’d bought him last Christmas. She lifted it and gasped. The shirt had been shredded. It looked as though Dan had taken a pair of scissors to it and systematically cut the fifty-dollar shirt into strips. All that remained intact was the collar and cuffs.

Grace remembered asking Dan about the shirt, remembered him telling her it was his favorite, but she’d never seen him wear it. After a while, it had completely slipped her mind.

Another box revealed a second ugly surprise. Kelly had given Dan a highly touted book on World War II for his birthday. He’d thanked her profusely and said he’d read it. But he hadn’t. Instead it, too, had been destroyed, the pages ripped from the binding. Grace discovered two more boxes of his carnage. It was as though he’d planted them there for her to find. Dan couldn’t have shouted his hate more loudly had he been standing directly in front of her.

Shaken to the core, Grace discarded the boxes in the garbage and sat down on the back porch steps. Her first reaction was anger. How dare he do such a thing. How dare he! Then she felt the overwhelming urge to weep. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to give in to them. She refused to hand her husband the power to reduce her to a sniveling, spineless weakling.

Buttercup joined her and seemed to sense Grace’s distress.

“What would make him do this?” she asked her golden retriever.

Buttercup looked up at her with big, soulful eyes.

“I don’t know either, girl. I just don’t know.” Needing to hold someone, Grace put her arms around the dog’s neck and buried her face in Buttercup’s fur.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, feeling intense anger, regret and simmering emotion. After a while she got to her feet. The garage door wasn’t going to fix itself.

In the process of digging through the neat stack of boxes, she eventually happened upon the manual. She flipped through it and quickly read over the information. The book offered suggestions for troubleshooting, which she studied in detail. Again and again she reminded herself that she could handle this.

She’d just positioned the stepladder when a pickup truck pulled into the driveway. Grace recognized Cliff and hesitated, her feet on the fourth rung up.

“Hi,” he called, climbing out of the truck. Buttercup trotted over to greet him. While friendly, the golden retriever was protective of Grace and wasn’t keen on letting strangers into the yard. To Grace’s surprise, Buttercup greeted Cliff as if he were family.

“Hi,” she said, wishing now that she’d worn a newer pair of jeans and a less faded sweatshirt.

“Charlotte mentioned that you had a problem with your garage door,” he said, bending down to scratch her dog’s ears.

Grace blinked, unsure how Olivia’s mother had known about her problem, but then Charlotte always did have a way of finding out things.

Cliff straightened and seemed to await her invitation. “I came to see if I could give you a hand.”

At this point, Grace wasn’t about to refuse help. “I’d be grateful if you’d look at it. I’ve been reading the manual but I haven’t had a chance to check out the mechanism yet.”

“I have a knack for stuff like this.” He glanced around. “I’m gifted at cleaning leaves out of rain gutters, too.”

Grace laughed. “You must be an angel in disguise.”

“I don’t think so.” He helped her down from the ladder and even before Grace could get inside the house to brew a pot of coffee, he had the garage door working again.

“What was wrong?” she asked, astonished that it had been so easy.

“The wheels jumped out of alignment. I just put it back on track. Nothing to it.”

While Cliff carried the ladder over to the house, Grace reached for the rake and started gathering together a huge pile of oak leaves. When she’d finished, Cliff helped her pack them inside plastic bags.

“Are you ready for that coffee?” she asked, when they’d tied the last bag.

“That’d be great.”

She welcomed him into her kitchen and set out two big mugs. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

He studied her a moment, then grinned boyishly. “I’ll think of something,” he teased.

“I’ll bet you will.” Grace laughed—and suddenly realized that just a couple of hours earlier, she’d been fighting back tears. The contrast was all the more apparent when she saw the way Buttercup had warmed to Cliff.

“Buttercup normally isn’t friendly with strangers,” she told him.

Cliff petted the dog. “She probably smells the horses.”

Grace propped elbows on the table. “I’d forgotten you raise quarter horses.”

“They’re a big part of my life. Do you ride?”

Grace shook her head. “I haven’t been around horses much.”

They chatted for a while, the ebb and flow of their conversation completely natural. Rarely had Grace felt more at ease with a man. More than once, she had to remind herself that legally she was still married to Dan. While he might have run off with another woman—or at any rate, run off—she intended to remain true to her vows.

As he was getting ready to leave, Grace saw Cliff glance toward the living room. A framed family photograph stood on a bookshelf. “That’s Dan?” he asked.

She nodded.

Cliff walked over to the bookcase and picked up the photograph, which had been taken almost twenty years earlier. Both girls were teenagers then, and Kelly was in braces. Dan’s gaze had been somber as he stared straight into the camera, not revealing any emotion.

After an extraordinarily long moment, Cliff replaced the faded color photograph.

“I don’t know why he left,” Grace whispered. “I just don’t know.”

Cliff didn’t say anything.

“It’s the not knowing that’s dreadful.”

“I can only imagine.”

She swallowed tightly.

He brushed the hair from her cheek. “I don’t want you to feel guilty about me being here this afternoon. This wasn’t a date.”

Grace smiled tremulously.

“If you’re going to suffer pangs of remorse, then you should worry about how much I want to take you in my arms right now. If you’re going to feel guilty, then do it because I’m having one hell of a time not kissing you.”

Grace closed her eyes, knowing that if she looked at him, Cliff would realize it was what she wanted, too.

Sighing, he stroked her cheek with his knuckle before he turned away.

Eyes still shut, she heard him open the door and leave.