Читать книгу Cedar Cove Collection - Debbie Macomber - Страница 55

“Hi, Daddy.” A smiling Megan opened the front door and kissed Sheriff Troy Davis on the cheek.

“Hi, baby, how’re you feeling?” Troy followed his daughter into the kitchen, hoping his question didn’t sound too anxious. He couldn’t help it, though. Megan had recently been tested for multiple sclerosis, the same disease that had claimed his wife, Sandy, several months before. Their small family was close, and the mere thought that his daughter, Troy’s only child, would suffer the same debilitating disease as her mother terrified him. Megan had miscarried her first pregnancy a few months ago, and that loss, on top of her mother’s death, had devastated her. And now this constant threat …

“Would you stop,” Megan chided as she walked over to the stove and turned down the burner. Something smelled good—the aroma of a home-cooked meal tantalized him and he wondered what he’d make for his own dinner. Chili out of a can, probably. If he still had any. “The tests showed nothing conclusive,” she was saying, “so there’s no reason to worry.”

Yet, Troy added to himself.

He didn’t want to smother her with unwanted concern and unwarranted fears, but he needed to know that she was successfully dealing with the possibility of MS, that she could cope with everything it meant. The medical world was divided as to whether or not multiple sclerosis was hereditary. So far, there was evidence supporting both beliefs.

To complicate matters, an absolute diagnosis was often difficult. In Megan’s case the results had been inconclusive just as she’d said. In one sense that felt like a reprieve; in another, it seemed as if they were still waiting for what appeared to be inevitable. He reminded himself not to borrow trouble. That expression echoed with a hint of foreboding, since it had been a favorite of Sandy’s.

Troy was proud of Megan’s newfound serenity, the way she calmly accepted the uncertainty of her situation. That was a hard-won acceptance, he knew, and he attributed a lot of it to her husband.

Thankfully, she’d chosen her life partner well. Craig was a quiet, good-humored man who loved Troy’s daughter and was completely devoted to her, the same way Troy had been to Sandy.

“I came over to ask what I can bring for Thanksgiving dinner,” Troy said. That was a convenient excuse to stop by without being too obvious about checking up on Megan—although Craig and Megan no doubt saw through him quickly enough.

“Hey, Troy.” Craig stepped into the kitchen, holding the Cedar Cove Chronicle in one hand. “Hard to believe Thanksgiving’s this week, isn’t it?” He shook his head. “Look at this—more ads than news.”

Megan chuckled and waved them both out of the kitchen. “Quit whining, you two! Next thing I know, you’ll be complaining about how commercial Christmas is.”

“Christmas!” Craig groaned and winked at Troy.

Like her mother, Megan loved everything about Christmas. The leftovers from Thanksgiving dinner would hardly be put away before Megan would start decorating for the holidays. That involved Craig and Troy hanging strands of Christmas bulbs around the outside of the house and arranging the lighted deer in the front yard.

“Let me set a place for you,” Megan said, moving toward the cupboard. “We’re having porcupine meatballs and a green salad.”

Troy was tempted. The recipe—meatballs filled with rice and then cooked in tomato soup and served over mashed potatoes—was a family favorite from the time Megan had been a little girl. The salad he could take or leave.

“Thanks but no thanks, honey.” Despite the enticing smells, Troy had no intention of intruding on his daughter and her husband. “Like I said, I just came by to ask what I can contribute to Thursday’s dinner.”

Megan paused as though mentally reviewing the menu. “I think I’ve got everything under control,” she told him. “We’re having turkey, of course, and I’m using Mom’s rice-and-sausage recipe for the stuffing. Then I’mmaking a couple of salads and that sweet potato-and-dried-apricot recipe I tried last year that everyone liked so well.”

Last year.

Just twelve months earlier Sandy had been alive; she’d spent Thanksgiving with them. It seemed impossible that she was really gone. They’d brought her from the chronic care facility, setting her wheelchair at the table, helping her eat.

One year, and so much had changed. Troy had buried Sandy and then, a short while later, reconnected with Faith Beckwith. The thought of his high school girlfriend brought with it a rush of sadness. They’d become a couple again earlier that summer, he and Faith, and everything had looked promising—until Megan’s miscarriage.

When his daughter had learned Troy was dating someone, she’d been shocked. More than shocked. Hurt and angry. She knew nothing about Faith, not even her name, but in her emotionally volatile state, she couldn’t tolerate the idea of her father seeing another woman. Troy loved his daughter and couldn’t risk alienating her. The night she’d lost the baby, he’d been with Faith. Not wanting a call from Megan to interfere with his evening, he’d turned off his cell phone, an act he’d lived to regret again and again.

With the possibility that Megan might have MS, Troy had made the painful decision to sever his relationship with Faith. He missed her, missed their long telephone conversations, missed spending time with her. There was no alternative, though. Painful as it was to accept, Faith was out of his life.

Ironically, in a recent conversation Megan had implied that it was time he moved on with his life. Troy wished he could believe she meant it, but he was afraid to put too much credence in her words. Yes, she’d attained a new maturity and had reconciled herself to—maybe—living with MS. But her reaction when she’d found out he was seeing someone indicated all too clearly that his daughter was nowhere near ready for him to begin a new relationship. A woman in his life, a woman other than Sandy, seemed a betrayal of her mother’s memory. So, even though Megan was now saying what he wanted to hear, he’d reluctantly decided he couldn’t act on it.

However, whether she truly approved of the idea or not, Megan wasn’t the only one who’d mentioned that he should start dating. A deputy friend of his had suggested setting him up with his mother-in-law—Sally Something. Troy had absolutely no interest in a blind date. The only woman he wanted to see was Faith, and he’d ruined any chance of that.

“Last year,” Megan repeated slowly, breaking into his thoughts. “Mom was here …” The realization that Sandy had been with them for Thanksgiving had obviously just struck her. “Mom always loved the holidays, didn’t she?”

Troy nodded. Despite her physical limitations, Sandy had cherished family traditions and done her utmost to be part of them. He found comfort in the fact that his daughter was continuing where her mother had left off.

“You’re serving mashed potatoes and gravy, too, aren’t you?” He used the question as a diversionary tactic to turn their thoughts from Sandy.

“Of course!”

“What about pies?”

“Pumpkin and pecan. Oh, and I have a small surprise to go with dinner.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is?”

Megan’s eyes sparkled with delight. “I have one jar of the sweet pickles Mom and I made the summer before last. I was saving them for a special occasion.”

Sandy hadn’t been able to do any of the work, but Megan had brought her mother from the care facility to Troy’s house. Together, they’d spent the day canning cucumbers, Sandy giving directions and advice, the two of them laughing often. That afternoon had been one of the best of the entire year for his wife. Sandy had treasured the time with Megan and loved being back in her own home, albeit briefly.

“Your mother will be with us, whether or not we have those sweet pickles,” Troy said.

“I know.” Megan shrugged helplessly. “It’s just that …”

Rather than watch his daughter get emotional, he said, “How about if I bring the dinner rolls on Thursday? And a bottle of wine.”

Megan seemed to struggle with her composure for a moment, then smiled. “Perfect.”

Troy left a few minutes later. The evening stretched before him, long and empty. Instead of going home immediately, he drove to the local Safeway store, still wearing his uniform. He needed a few groceries and since he was already there, he might as well pick up the wine and dinner rolls he’d promised Megan.

Troy reached for a cart and wheeled it toward the vegetable aisle, starting in the same part of the store Sandy always had. He wasn’t sure why he bothered to purchase anything fresh, because all it did was rot in his refrigerator. He was checking out the bananas when he saw her.

Faith.

He stopped abruptly and stared at her. It’d been two weeks since they’d spoken. That conversation had been among the most uncomfortable of his life. When she’d answered the phone, she’d been so excited to hear his voice. She’d told him her Seattle house had sold; before he could say anything else, she’d announced that she was moving to Cedar Cove. She’d said this with such joy and enthusiasm, expecting him to be just as pleased. And then he’d told her he wouldn’t be seeing her again.

Even now he could clearly recall her pain. It haunted his sleep. He remembered how calmly Faith had listened as he haltingly explained about Megan. She hadn’t raised her voice or argued. In the end, she’d wished him well.

At that moment, Faith glanced up and saw him standing not more than two feet away. Her reaction was the same as his—she went completely still as their eyes met over the large pile of bananas.

Troy was good at reading faces. Her initial reaction was shock, followed by a flicker of undiluted misery. Both emotions were quickly gone as she visibly took a breath and schooled her expression.

“Hello, Troy,” she said pleasantly.

“Faith.” He inclined his head slightly and wondered if she heard the regret in his voice.

Looking at her cart, he was surprised to see it filled with essential items—flour, sugar, coffee, milk, some fruit and vegetables. That suggested she was already living in Cedar Cove. He knew she’d sold her home, but he’d assumed it would be months before he’d see her again—months during which he could prepare for her presence in his town. He certainly wasn’t mentally or emotionally ready for a face-to-face encounter so soon after their break-up.

“You’ve left Seattle?” he asked.

“I told you my house sold.”

“Yes, you did, but …” He couldn’t make his tongue cooperate. He was about to argue, to tell her this wasn’t fair. However, when it came to being fair, he didn’t have a lot of ground to stand on. He’d treated her badly.

His reaction apparently made her want to explain. “One of the stipulations was that the closing would be before the end of November, preferably before Thanksgiving.”

“You mean you’re living in town now?”

“I … yes.” She seemed as uncomfortable as he was. “I just never thought I’d run into you so soon—my very first day. I’d hoped …” She let the rest fade.

Troy knew exactly what she meant. He’d hoped, too. Hoped they wouldn’t see each other for a long time, because the pain of losing her, the disappointment of it, would be hard to conceal. Especially since he’d brought it on himself.

They had a history; they’d been high school sweethearts and then Troy had gone into the service after graduation to avoid being drafted for Vietnam, since joining voluntarily gave him options. He’d chosen to become an MP, which led directly to his career in law enforcement when he was discharged. He’d planned to propose to Faith once he’d completed his basic training. Unbeknownst to them, Faith’s mother had thwarted the relationship by withholding Troy’s letters. Mrs. Carroll had decided they were too young to be so seriously involved.

Troy had gone on to meet Sandy later that summer, and Faith had left for college and met her future husband. Nearly forty years had passed before they reconnected—only to be separated by circumstances once again. Except that this time it wasn’t Faith’s mother but Megan who’d come between them.

“I saw Grace Sherman,” Faith murmured, breaking eye contact.

“It’s Harding now.”

Faith nodded. “That’s right. She’s remarried. And I met Cliff. They’ve both been a great help. I simply haven’t had time to look for a place to buy, and I didn’t want to make a hasty decision I’d later regret.”

“Of course.” He wasn’t sure if that was an oblique comment on their relationship.

Speaking quickly, she said, “I was visiting my son and his family last week. Scottie read the classifieds in the paper, and he mentioned the rental house on Rosewood Lane.” She took a deep breath. “A day or so after that, I ran into Grace. I’d taken my grandchildren to the movies, and Grace and Olivia were just coming out. When I told them I was moving to Cedar Cove, Grace said her rental house had recently become vacant. It turned out to be the same place.”

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Troy grinned.

Faith frowned, obviously puzzled by the fact that he was smiling.

Troy felt obliged to tell her why. “Grace had bad renters, deadbeats who trashed the place, and it looked like it might take months to get them out legally.”

“I didn’t know that. So … what happened?”

“Cliff and Olivia’s husband, Jack Griffin, used a … rather inventive means of convincing them to move—that same night.”

“So that’s why the walls have all been freshly painted,” she said. He saw her fingers tighten around the cart handle and suspected she was about to leave.

Regardless of his own discomfort, Troy didn’t want her to go. He’d missed her even more than he dared to admit. Seeing her unexpectedly was simultaneously agonizing and exhilarating, like warming frostbitten fingers before a fire.

“You’re shopping for Thanksgiving?” he asked, gesturing at the contents of her cart, which included sweet potatoes and a bag of fresh cranberries.

She picked up a small bunch of bananas and added them to her groceries. “No. I’m buying a few things to stock my cupboards and my fridge. My daughter and daughter-in-law are at the house now, unpacking. I didn’t intend to be gone long.”

He should let her go, he realized, nodding mutely.

“Nice seeing you,” she said, but she was obviously just being polite.

She took a few steps, nudging her cart, then hesitated. “Listen, Troy, I don’t want you to worry.”

“Worry?” Was she talking about Megan? He’d made a point of not bringing up the subject of his daughter and was grateful that Faith hadn’t asked.

“I don’t plan to make a habit of running into you. I’m sure you feel the same way.”

“This was purely coincidental.” It wasn’t like he’d followed her into the store.

“I know. But I’ll do my shopping when you’re at work, and I doubt we’ll frequent the same places.” She threw back her shoulders as if that was her last word on the subject.

He managed a faint smile. “Good to see you again, Faith.”

“You, too, Troy.” Her steps were purposeful as she moved past him with her cart.

Troy watched her go, trying not to stare, forcing himself not to rush after her.

With a determined effort, he continued down the produce aisle and hurried through the rest of the store, collecting what he needed. Bananas. Paper towels. Cans of soup and chili, a couple of frozen entrées. Dinner rolls and wine for Thursday. When he’d finished, he pushed his cart over to the checkout.

As luck would have it, Faith was at the counter beside his, waiting her turn. He felt guilty glancing in her direction but caught her looking at him, too.

Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. He stepped away from his cart and toward her. “Listen, Faith, let’s talk.”

Her eyes widened.

“Let’s go for coffee, all right? If now isn’t convenient, then perhaps tomorrow. If you prefer to do it after Thanks giving, that would be fine, too.” He hadn’t figured out what he’d say to her, but he’d come up with something. At least he could sit there and look at her.

He could tell immediately that Faith didn’t share his enthusiasm. “Thank you, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She was right, of course. In retrospect it was perfectly idiotic. He was asking her to see him on the sly, and that must have seemed contemptible to her. But much as he wanted to spend time with Faith, Megan could never know. His motives were entirely selfish.

His suggestion might not have been very honorable, and yet if he wanted to see her, there was no other option.

He loved Faith. He was convinced she loved him, too. However, she wasn’t going to let him into her life a third time when he’d already broken her heart twice.

Troy couldn’t blame her.

“Have a nice holiday, Faith.”

“You, too,” she whispered with a catch in her voice.

Troy paid for his purchases and carried the bags out to his vehicle. If it hadn’t been completely clear before, it was now—he’d lost any chance he’d ever had with Faith.