Читать книгу Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection - Debbie Macomber - Страница 47

Sixteen

Despite Maryellen’s determination to keep Jon out of her life, she was curious about him. It was an unhealthy curiosity, but one that persisted. She supposed this was due mainly to his talent. Thankfully, she hadn’t run into him since that unfortunate incident right before Christmas. Nor had she heard anything from him since, and she was grateful, but she also felt disappointed, which confused her completely.

The Bernard Gallery, located in Pioneer Square in downtown Seattle, sold his work now. She was sure he’d do well, and he deserved a wider audience, but the truth was, she missed his infrequent visits. She missed talking shop with him, but most of all she missed seeing his photographs. His talent was no small thing. When a notice came about a showing of his work in Seattle, Maryellen decided to attend the launch. She had no fear that Jon would be there. Experience had taught her that he avoided these events; he claimed the pretentiousness was not only unbearable but brought out the worst in him. He’d told Maryellen that comments about his “deconstruction of natural phenomena” or his “grasp of non-being” made him want to leap up and down making ape-like sounds.

The Sunday afternoon of the show was Mother’s Day and it seemed fitting that Maryellen should allow herself this one indulgence. She spent the morning with her own mother and treated Grace to brunch at D.D.’s on the Cove. In a rare moment of sentimentality, Maryellen told her that she hoped to be as good a mother to her baby as Grace had been to her. Then, before heading to the ferry terminal, Maryellen dropped off a gift for Kelly.

When she arrived at the Bernard Gallery, the show was in full swing. Wearing a loose-fitting black dress with black hose and a string of white pearls she looked, in her own estimation, rather elegant. Before long, she held a wineglass filled with apple juice and made her way over to the display of Jon’s work.

She found Mr. Bernard himself standing in front of Jon’s photographs. He spoke to a middle-aged couple apparently enthralled with one of Jon’s pictures.

“Mr. Bowman is something of a recluse,” the gallery owner was saying. “I did try to persuade him to attend today’s function, but unfortunately he refused.”

Maryellen smiled to herself; she’d guessed right. If there’d been any chance of Jon’s attending, she wouldn’t have risked it. She could not allow him to learn about her pregnancy.

The Bernard Gallery had displayed his photographs by suspending them from the ceiling. The pictures were beautifully framed and matted, each one signed and numbered.

Moving from one piece to the next, she paused to admire his photographs of nature. A field of blue wildflowers blooming against the backdrop of Mt. Rainier was so intensely vivid that her breath caught in her throat. Several scenes of the snowcapped Olympics behind the pristine waters of Puget Sound revealed the thrusting strength of the mountains.

The next series of photographs showed a new side of Jon. These pictures, in black and white, were all taken in and around the marina. In one of them, an early-morning fog obliterated the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard on the other side of the Cove. Sailboats, with thinly veiled masts, rose toward an unseen sky. It was lovely and serene and mysterious.

The second photo she looked at was completely unlike anything she’d seen from Jon before. A notice taped to the corner stated this photograph was not for sale. Maryellen stopped and stared at the picture of a woman at the end of the pier, overlooking the Cove. The snowy peaks of the Olympics could be discerned in the far distance. The day was sunny and her back was to the camera. She stood on tiptoe, leaning over the railing, tossing popcorn into the air for seagulls to catch. They swarmed toward her, their wings flapping.

So Jon was taking photographs of people now. For one unchecked second, she wondered about the woman who’d captured his attention so completely and felt an unexpected and unwelcome surge of jealousy.

Wonder at his skill quickly overcame her ambivalent feelings as she studied the photograph. It wasn’t necessary to see the woman’s face to experience the simple joy she found in feeding the birds. Maryellen had thrown popcorn to the seagulls herself and knew how exhilarating it could be. She’d stood at the end of that very pier and—

Wait a minute!

That wasn’t just any woman—that was her. Jon had taken a picture of her on the pier. Hurrying on to the next picture, she realized, much to her relief, that there was only one photograph in which she was the subject.

Instead of feeling uplifted, Maryellen found that her spirits were low as she boarded the ferry for the fifty-minute sailing into Bremerton. That single photograph told her more than she wanted to know. He’d seen her at the pier without her being aware of him. When? It’d obviously been after their meeting at Christmas—probably during March, judging by the coat she was wearing. She’d gone to feed the seagulls during her lunch hour a few times, and he’d obviously caught sight of her. The fact that he’d taken this picture —his one and only photograph of a person—suggested he’d had genuine feelings for her. Maybe still did. And yet, she couldn’t allow herself to respond to those feelings, nor could she act on her own deep attraction to him. She just couldn’t.

Instead of driving directly home, Maryellen surprised herself and drove to her mother’s. Grace was in the kitchen, doing her weekly cooking. She’d recently gotten into the habit of preparing, freezing and storing everything she’d need for the next six days—until the following Sunday, when she’d start the whole cycle again.

“I’m trying a few new recipes,” she told Maryellen, busily arranging vegetables, cans and other ingredients on the counter. “Have you had dinner?”

“Not yet. I’m still full from brunch.” Her appetite was gone, but it had more to do with her churning thoughts than an empty stomach.

“What’s wrong?” her mother asked.

“What makes you think anything’s wrong? It’s Mother’s Day, and I’d like to spend some extra time with my mother. That doesn’t mean anything’s wrong, does it?”

Grace tore a strip of aluminum foil from the box and covered a small casserole dish she’d just withdrawn from the oven. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you sound defensive.”

“Maybe I should just go home.” Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Her mother could read her far too well.

“Did you see him?” Grace shocked her by asking.

Maryellen didn’t bother to ask who she meant. That was obvious. “No,” she said. “No.” For emphasis, she shook her head.

Setting the teakettle on the burner, Grace heated water. It seemed that every time they had something important to discuss, her mother made tea. It signaled that her mother considered whatever was to follow significant, something that required her daughter’s close attention.

“Mom…”

“Sit down and don’t argue with me,” her mother said briskly. She pulled out the kitchen chair and gave Maryellen a slight shove in its direction.

All too soon, the tea was steeping, and the pot rested in the center of the table. “You already know I was pregnant with you when your father and I got married.”

Maryellen knew this and wasn’t interested in learning whether her parents would have married had her mother not been pregnant.

“Getting married was the thing to do in those days.”

“Times have changed,” Maryellen felt obliged to remind her. Statistics said that a third of all children were now born outside wedlock. Other women had raised their children alone and so would she.

“He’s an artist, isn’t he?”

“Mom.” The questions exasperated her. “I’ve already told you I’m not answering any questions to do with the baby’s father, so please don’t ask.”

“You’re right, you’re absolutely right.” Grace tapped the table, as though angry with herself for meddling. “I didn’t mean to do that…. Actually, I’d planned to talk about your father and me. We spent more than thirty-five years together and…well, I don’t know if I was the best wife for him. I think he might’ve been happier with another woman. For all we know, that could be the reason he left.”

“I doubt it,” Maryellen said, grateful for the chance to speak honestly about her father. She couldn’t do that with Kelly, who viewed him as virtually a saint, without fault. Kelly refused to recognize the truth about their father; for some reason, she was incapable of seeing him in any other way. “You know, I can hardly remember a time when Dad was happy. He went into those dark moods, and both Kelly and I knew to avoid him.”

Grace nodded.

“He seemed to get so self-involved.” Maryellen’s memories of her father weren’t all bad, but in the months since his disappearance, those were the ones that drifted to the surface. “You can’t blame yourself, Mom.”

“I don’t,” Grace said, looking flustered. “What I’m trying to say, and doing a poor job of, is this.” She released a deep breath. “When it comes to the father of your baby, my advice is to follow your instincts. Don’t do what everyone else thinks is best, do what your own heart tells you.”

“I am, Mom, I am.”

“Then that’s all I can ask.”

Maryellen smiled and leaned over to clasp her mother’s hand. “Thanks, Mom—I needed to hear that. Now, how about some of that pasta casserole over there? I suddenly feel hungry.”

Almost a week later, on Friday afternoon, Grace was still thinking about her conversation with Maryellen. She prayed she’d said the right things. If Maryellen had decided to keep the father out of her life, there had to be a reason. At times she sensed an uncertainty in her daughter—as if she doubted her own decision—but if so, Maryellen didn’t discuss it with her. After the baby was born, Maryellen might well have a change of heart.

Her assistant, Loretta Bailey, got to the library early so Grace could leave for what she’d vaguely termed an “appointment.” As soon as Loretta showed up, Grace grabbed her sweater, eager to depart before she was barraged with unnecessary questions.

“Thanks, Loretta,” she called back as she headed out the door.

“Oh, no problem. Are you seeing that nice man friend of yours?”

She must have something taped to her forehead, Grace thought with a sigh, because Maryellen had asked her the same thing earlier, when they’d met for lunch.

“Cliff asked me to drive him to the airport.” After everything he’d done for her over the past months, it was a small thing to request. “He’s taking some of the memorabilia from his grandfather’s estate to a museum in Arizona.”

“Oh, that’s right, his grandfather was a famous Hollywood cowboy, wasn’t he?”

“The Yodeling Cowboy, Tom Houston himself.”

“I’m too young to remember his television show, but I certainly remember hearing about The Yodeling Cowboy,” Loretta said. “My brothers used to try yodeling, and all it did was frighten the neighborhood cats.”

Grace laughed and went out to the parking lot reserved for library employees.

By the time she arrived at Cliff’s place, he was packed and ready. The neighbors would be taking care of his horses and Cliff returned the favor for them when they were away.

She was a few minutes early, so Grace walked out to the paddock where several of his quarter horses grazed. As she stood by the fence, a lovely tan-colored mare trotted toward her. “Hello, Brownie,” she said, stroking the mare’s long sleek neck.

“You could have her eating out of your hand if you wanted,” Cliff said from behind Grace. “Just the same as you have me.”

He said things like that just to make her blush; Grace was convinced of it. “Ready to go?” she asked, turning away from Brownie. It was easier to ignore the comment than respond to it.

“Anytime you are.”

He loaded his suitcase into the back of her car, then got in on the passenger side. Grace pulled out of the yard, a trail of dust behind her. Two geldings raced along the fence line with her, and she admired their speed and beauty. Grace understood why Cliff chose to live this far outside town. She felt a serenity whenever she visited his small ranch. She suddenly realized that after all the years she’d spent living in town, she wouldn’t mind life in the country. She’d never expected to even consider such a thing.

“Thanks for doing this,” Cliff said as she turned onto the road.

“It’s the least I can do. You’ve done so much for me.”

Without missing a beat, Cliff said, “If you feel obligated, then I suggest you think seriously about our relationship—about where we could go.”

He said it in a joking way and she replied in a similar fashion. “Where we’re going is the airport. Now, would you cut it out?”

“Probably not. Would you like it if I did?”

She smiled and kept her gaze focused on the road ahead. “Probably not.”

Cliff chuckled. “How’s Maryellen?”

“Wearing maternity clothes now. I wouldn’t have wished this on her, but I’m amazed by how happy she is. She’s very excited about the baby.” She paused, then thinking aloud, said, “I’m pretty sure the father is one of the artists she knows.” Initially she hadn’t intended to, but Grace told him about the conversation she’d had with Maryellen on Sunday.

Cliff listened intently. “I admire the way you can be open and honest with your daughters.”

“You aren’t with Lisa?”

Cliff didn’t answer right away. “Not really. We avoid the subject of her mother. It’s as if Susan’s a phantom woman. I think Lisa’s afraid of saying something that’ll hurt me, although I doubt my ex-wife has that power anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Although Grace didn’t want to pry, she was curious about his marriage. He’d made occasional remarks, but nothing that gave her a real picture of what his life had been like before the divorce. In a way, information about the marriages—and divorces—of others helped put her own marriage in perspective.

“I think one of the reasons you attracted me is because of Susan.”

This instantly alarmed Grace. “You mean I resemble her?”

“Not in the least. You couldn’t be more different. Physically, for instance. She’s tall and thin, whereas you’re short and…pleasingly round.”

“Thanks a lot,” Grace muttered under her breath. He hadn’t intended to be insulting, but then a man didn’t understand the effort it took to keep her weight down to “pleasingly round.” Glancing over, she found him studying her with an amused look. “It’s my thighs, isn’t it?”

He laughed at that. “Too bad you’re driving, otherwise I’d find an excuse to kiss you right now.”

“You most certainly will not!”

“Not for lack of interest.” He shook his head. “Don’t you know how attractive I find you?”

Her hands gripped the steering wheel a bit more firmly. “Just explain that comment about Susan.”

“All I meant is that you and I have a great deal in common.”

“What, exactly?”

“Well, for one thing, I know what it is to have the person you love get involved with someone else. It’s an emotionally damaging experience—as if every inadequacy, every doubt, I’d ever had about myself was true. If Susan had an affair, it was because there was something lacking in me.”

She merged with the traffic, heading over the Narrows Bridge. She lowered her speed as she drove onto the mile-long expansion bridge. “You mean a man thinks like that, too?” she asked, surprised by the revelation.

“Of course—but then we do what we can to compensate in other areas.”

“Such as?”

He shrugged. “For me, I got involved with horses. I ignored what was going on behind my back because that was the only way I could deal with it. A man isn’t supposed to feel pain, you know?” he added wryly.

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Yes, well, I learned that pain comes out one way or another. I think if Susan and I had gone on as we were, it would’ve eventually killed me. She was braver than I was and decided to end our marriage. The funny part is, I was actually grateful.”

“What does any of this have to do with me?” Grace asked.

“Oh, yeah—that was the point of this conversation, wasn’t it?” He grinned. “When we met that first time—”

“You mean when you absconded with my credit card?”

“You know, I’ve thought about the significance of that a hundred times since.”

“Finish your original sentence,” she said with mock sternness.

“That day I came by the library to exchange credit cards, I was strongly attracted to you. I’ll admit it shook me up because I’d been divorced for five years and I wasn’t interested in another relationship. And then, all at once, it was like a bomb went off and I saw the future in a totally new way.”

It didn’t hurt Grace’s ego any to hear this, although his interest had unsettled her in the beginning. She found herself growing more and more comfortable with it, however. For a long time she’d needed answers regarding Dan, but as the months passed, a resolution seemed increasingly unlikely and she was growing accustomed to that reality.

“I realize now what attracted me. Or, at least, part of it.”

She sent him a questioning glance.

“You believe Dan’s with another woman.”

She nodded, swallowing down the hurt the words still evoked.

“You’ve dealt with the emotions felt by someone who’s been betrayed in his or her marriage—what I felt about Susan’s affair.”

He could be right. In her heart of hearts, Grace was indeed convinced that Dan was with someone else. A woman he’d loved so much that he was willing to walk away from his entire life. So many things about his disappearance didn’t add up, and she had no other answers.

Grace exited the freeway in Tacoma and took the back road into the airport. The route Dan had taught her.

“Can I tell you my theory about the mix-up with our credit cards?” he asked.

She laughed out loud. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

“Well, to my way of thinking, it was fate. Destiny. Call it what you will.”

“The waitress at the Pancake Palace wasn’t responsible?”

“She was merely the instrument of fate.”

Grace was both amused and intrigued by his theory. “So, we were destined to meet.”

“Without a doubt.” He sounded convinced of it. “I’ve come to think of our meeting as a gift. A sort of compensation for all the pain that came with the divorce.”

Grace felt her throat constrict. “That’s very sweet, Cliff.”

“I mean it. Someday, when you’re ready, I hope we can be more than sweethearts.”

What an old-fashioned and rather endearing term, Grace mused. “I’d like that.”

He grew quiet and looked out the window as they neared the terminal. “I know it’s important that you find Dan. Or at least find out what happened to him.”

“I’d like closure, but I might never have it. I accept that now. I have to get on with my life.”

“Do you mean that?” The expression in his eyes revealed a vulnerability that touched her deeply. “Because if you do, then I want you to consider us being together, Grace.”

“Are you talking about—” She swallowed tightly and pulled to the curb to let Cliff out. “Are you talking about us getting…serious?”

His hand was on the door handle. “Yes,” he said simply.

Without another word he opened the car door; she stopped him by placing her hand on his arm. “Have a safe flight.”

“Thanks.”

Still, her hand lingered. She leaned toward him and he moved closer for a kiss that lasted long enough for the car behind them to honk impatiently. Cliff glanced quickly over his shoulder, then turned back to her. “Is that your answer?”

“I don’t know,” she said, but she smiled warmly. “I’ll think on it while you’re gone.”

“Do that,” he said, his eyes smiling into hers.

Olivia was too excited to sit still. Stan was due any minute and with him would be James, Selina and their granddaughter, Isabella Dolores Lockhart.

“What time is it?” Charlotte asked. Her mother was as excited about this visit as she was. “I don’t know why you agreed to let Stan pick them up from the airport.”

“Mom, it made sense. Stan lives in Seattle.”

“Yes, I know, but it seems to be taking him forever,” she murmured fretfully.

“They’re here!” Justine cried from her perch near the front window. Stan opened the screen door, and both Olivia and Charlotte flew out to the porch. Olivia ran down the steps, her arms open to hug her son the instant he climbed out of the car. Within minutes, Olivia held a sleepy Isabella in her arms. The baby pressed her head against Olivia’s shoulder, and her heart melted with love for this first grandchild.

“Grandma,” James said, hugging Charlotte. “You look terrific.”

“Well, I’m not dead yet,” Charlotte assured him and stepped forward, waiting for an introduction to Selina. “Guess my number didn’t come up.”

James slid his arm around his wife’s waist and introduced her. Selina’s dark eyes gleamed with happiness as she hugged Charlotte and then each family member in turn.

Seth and Justine appeared as the excited greetings wound down.

“Look at you, big sister,” James said, patting Justine’s stomach. “Almost a mom.”

“I’ve got months to go,” she complained.

“Oh, then you’re just fat.”

“Be careful what you say,” Seth advised under his breath. The two men exchanged a brief hug.

“Welcome to the family,” James said to Seth.

“Thanks.”

By the time Olivia shepherded everyone into the house, she felt weak with joy. It was so rare to have the entire family together. “Where’s Marge?” she asked her ex-husband. When they’d made plans for this reunion, Olivia had included his second wife.

“Marge couldn’t make it,” Stan said, sounding genuinely regretful. “She sends her apologies.”

“Please tell her she’s welcome anytime.”

“I will,” Stan promised. Olivia noticed, however, that he hadn’t asked about Jack. She put the observation away, to be examined later.

While Olivia and Charlotte started setting the table for dinner, Stan held Isabella. The baby nestled in his embrace and almost immediately went back to sleep. Olivia smiled to find her ex-husband sitting in her rocking chair with their granddaughter in his arms. He looked so natural and relaxed. The last time she’d seen him like that had been when James was an infant and the twins were five…. Olivia blinked away the nostalgic tears those memories brought. She hurried back to the kitchen.

“Tell me everything,” she instructed her son as Selina and Justine took over the task of getting food onto the dining-room table. “Is the Navy bringing you home? I’d love it if you were stationed here in Bremerton.”

“Sorry, Mom, but it looks like I’ve got another two-year stint in San Diego.”

It was hard to disguise her disappointment, but Olivia tried. “I’m grateful Selina’s family is there.”

“My parents love James,” her daughter-in-law told her.

“But it wasn’t that way in the beginning,” James said, patting his wife on the behind as she walked past with a large green salad.

“With good reason,” Olivia chastised. “You got their daughter pregnant.” Only a month before Isabella was born had Olivia learned that James and Selina were married. She was disappointed that both her children had decided to marry without either parent present. First James, and then a few months later, Justine had eloped to Reno with Seth. Still, she believed the children had chosen their mates well, which was a source of great pleasure to her and Stan. Pleasure and relief.

Soon the family gathered around the table. Olivia and Charlotte had been cooking and baking for days, making certain that James had the opportunity to enjoy all his favorite dishes. There were stuffed green peppers and Caesar salad with homemade croutons, plus seafood spaghetti. James took two helpings of each.

“Save room for dessert,” Charlotte warned.

“Grandma, did you bake me a coconut cake?” James looked like a little boy again, excited about his favorite dessert.

“I did,” Charlotte assured him. “Just for you.”

“This is the cake James talks about?” Selina asked. “The one he told me takes three days to make? Would you be willing to share the recipe?” The shy question was directed at Charlotte.

“First you start with a fresh coconut.”

At Selina’s astonished eyes, Olivia leaned close to her daughter-in-law and whispered, “There are short-cuts.”

“But I don’t take them,” Charlotte told her. “Not for James, at any rate.”

“He’s spoiled,” his wife insisted, her eyes dancing with laughter. “I can’t help spoiling him, too. He’s just so cute.”

That remark evoked a round of good-natured teasing about how cute James was.

After dinner, they sat around the table, drinking coffee, reminiscing about the old days, laughing, sharing stories. A little while later, Selina left to put the baby to bed.

Olivia showed her up to James’s old room and Stan followed with the luggage.

Starting down the stairs, Stan put his hand on her shoulder and stopped Olivia. She found him studying the pictures that lined the staircase wall. Although they’d divorced many years ago, she kept their wedding photo there. Not for sentimental reasons, but because she felt it was important for their children.

Stan’s gaze rested on Jordan’s school photograph, taken the year he drowned. “I sometimes wonder…”

He didn’t finish, but it wasn’t necessary; Olivia had often entertained these same thoughts herself. She wondered what their lives would’ve been like if it had rained that day or if Jordan had decided to ride his bicycle instead of going to the lake with his friends.

“Mom,” James called from the living room. “Grandma’s doing the dishes.”

“I’d like to see her try,” Stan muttered, leaping down the remaining stairs. “Charlotte, sit down this instant! I’m washing the dishes.”

“You?” Apparently Marge had him better-trained than Olivia ever did.

Stan paused when he saw the dining-room table, piled high with plates, cups, glasses and serving bowls. “I, uh, might need some help.”

“I’ll volunteer,” Seth offered.

“No,” Olivia insisted. “Justine’s exhausted. Take her home so she won’t be too worn-out for tomorrow.” The grand opening of The Lighthouse was scheduled that week, and tomorrow was an Open House for the Chamber of Commerce. After spending ten hours today preparing for the Open House, the couple needed some rest. Thankfully, Justine had left her job at the bank, and Seth no longer worked at the marina.

Olivia hugged them both, and shuffled her daughter and son-in-law toward the door. James joined the little group to say goodbye. “Hey, I think it’s great that you two are opening a restaurant,” he said, walking out with them.

Olivia hurried to the kitchen, rolling up her long silk sleeves as she went. She saw that Stan had cleared the table, while Charlotte had picked up her knitting and begun watching “Jeopardy,” her favorite television game show.

In the kitchen, Olivia discovered the sink filled with sudsy water for the pots and pans.

“You don’t need to do this,” she told Stan.

“I want to.” He stacked plates and cutlery in the dishwasher and she put the leftovers in containers, storing them in the refrigerator.

“I’d forgotten how good your stuffed green peppers are.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed them.”

He grew quiet then. She found his somberness a little unexpected after all the happy chatter during dinner and afterward.

“I guess I might as well tell you,” he suddenly said, his back to her as he rinsed off dishes.

“Tell me what?” She laughed. “Marge is leaving you?” She smiled at her own joke.

“Yes—sort of.” The laughter had drained from his eyes. “Marge and I are separating.”

Olivia couldn’t hide her shock. Her silly, flippant remark had been correct. “Oh, Stan, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, I am, too.”

“Why are you—” She raised her hand. “No, it isn’t necessary for me to know. I just didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did I.” He returned his attention to the dishes. “It’s been a pretty rough year for us, and we decided last week that it would be best all the way around if we took a break from each other.”

Olivia couldn’t think of anything to say.

Reaching for a towel, Stan wiped his hands, keeping his eyes lowered. “This evening with James and Justine here, seeing both our children so happy and so much in love—I don’t know, something happened.”

“Happened?”

“I’m not sure how to explain it. We’re grandparents, Olivia, and we’re about to become grandparents a second time.”

“Yes…”

“Sitting at the table with our children made me realize how badly I wish I could undo the past. I wish you and I were a couple again.”

“Oh, Stan…”

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s true. It hit me between the eyes at dinner. You and I always belonged together. I made a terrible mistake when I left you, and I can’t help regretting it.”

A hundred times over the years, Olivia, too, had regretted the divorce. Had she been stronger, better able to deal with Jordan’s death, she would have fought to keep the marriage, the family, together. But it was too late to recover something that now belonged to the past. Olivia recognized this, and in his heart, so did Stan. She was sure of it.