Authors: Debbie Macomber
M
aryellen was at her wits’ end. Jon had set up a makeshift bed for her downstairs. Now, what had once been their living room had become the center of her universe—and her prison. The doctor didn’t even want her climbing stairs. Worse, Maryellen couldn’t lift anything that weighed more than a few pounds, which meant she was unable to hold her own daughter.
Fortunately, her sister was looking after Katie during the day, and Maryellen didn’t know what they’d do without Kelly’s help. Jon handled all the childcare plus most of the housework at night, and that was difficult enough.
Every morning he drove Katie into town and then he drove back in the afternoons to pick her up. In the meantime, Maryellen was trapped in the house, restless, bored and desperately afraid any unnecessary movement would bring on premature labor.
Her life assumed an unsettling routine. Jon woke by seven, came downstairs and put on coffee, then went back upstairs to dress Katie. After giving Katie her cereal, he brought Maryellen a cup of herbal tea. They tried to spend a few minutes together
with Katie before he took her to Kelly’s. It was early spring, so ferns and early flowers were starting to emerge, and the opportunity for interesting nature shots was at its prime. Jon was often away from the house for hours. He needed to work in order to earn the money they desperately needed.
Maryellen knew he didn’t want her to worry about finances—as if that could be avoided. Naturally she was concerned. Without her working, they were forced to live on a single income. Jon’s sales increased every year, but he wasn’t yet at the level where he could support himself, let alone a wife and two children. Maryellen had encouraged him to quit as chef for The Lighthouse restaurant and devote himself to his career. Her plan had worked well until now.
The front door opened and Maryellen set aside the novel she was reading. Her attention had been wandering all morning; the hours dragged on endlessly. Jon walked into the house carrying the backpack in which he kept his camera equipment.
“I’m home.”
She tried to smile.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he slipped off his boots.
“Cranky,” she moaned. “You can’t imagine how awful it is to stay in bed like this.” Every place she looked, there was something that needed to be cleaned or finished, folded or put away. Jon tried, but he couldn’t manage everything on his own.
“How about if I make lunch?” he suggested.
“I’m not hungry.” She appreciated the offer and knew Jon was trying to please her. The fact was, she didn’t have much of an appetite these days. Why would she? The most exercise she got was walking to the downstairs bathroom and Dr. DeGroot had suggested she cut back on those visits as much as possible.
“You barely touched your breakfast,” Jon reminded her. He sat on the edge of her bed, his eyes revealing tenderness and care. “I’ll make your favorite—a toasted cheese sandwich and tomato soup.”
She smiled; for his sake she’d try to take a few bites.
Jon kissed her cheek and moved into the kitchen. “Did anyone phone while I was out?”
“No.” Maryellen crossed her arms. For the first couple of weeks, she’d received daily calls from Lois, needing advice or guidance. Those calls had stopped. Apparently her assistant, or one-time assistant, was comfortable as manager of the gallery now. Her mother usually tried to call during her lunch hour, and Maryellen was thankful for the distraction. But the library was often hectic around noon and her calls had dwindled down to maybe three a week.
“Did you hear from your mom?” Jon asked as if reading her thoughts.
“Not today.” Grace helped Maryellen as much as possible. Her mother, however, had a life of her own. Now that she was engaged to Cliff, Grace spent every spare minute with him. Maryellen wasn’t sure when the wedding was scheduled to take place. Soon, she suspected. It was doubtful she’d be able to attend, which depressed her further.
“My vacation pay is up this week,” she said as Jon came back five minutes later with a tray. She didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but it was important her husband realize there’d be no more checks. She worried constantly about the fact that they were about to take a financial freefall. Worse, they’d have to pay the medical insurance premiums, which were hefty. Maryellen felt grateful to have some continuing coverage from her job, but the benefits were limited.
“I know,” Jon said as if it meant nothing. “We’ll manage.”
“How?” She gazed at the diamond ring he’d given her for
Christmas. How she wished he’d put that money in the bank, instead. They were on the brink of financial ruin, and here she was, sporting a huge diamond ring.
“Where’s your faith, Maryellen?”
“My faith?” she repeated. “In you? In God?”
“In both,” he stated calmly. He rested the tray of soup and sandwiches on her lap and sat next to her. “I know this is hard, sweetheart, but we’ll be fine.”
Maryellen had taken over the bill-paying and she wasn’t sure Jon grasped how tight things really were. How close they’d already come to not meeting their obligations—and now with the insurance premiums to pay…
“Only thirteen more weeks until the baby’s born.”
If he meant that to be encouraging, it had the opposite effect. Thirteen weeks sounded like forever.
“Eat,” he said, pushing the cheese sandwich toward her.
For the baby’s sake, Maryellen took one small bite. Then another. Jon had to coax her every time. She didn’t mean to be such a problem, and sighed, feeling wretched. Caught up in her own miseries, she hadn’t noticed that Jon’s mood wasn’t any better than her own.
“Is everything okay, honey?” she asked anxiously.
His face immediately relaxed as if to reassure her. “Of course.”
“You’d tell me if it wasn’t, right?”
“I would,” he promised.
But Maryellen had to wonder. And the more she did, the guiltier she felt. “I’ve been horrible all day, haven’t I?”
“Not at all.” He dismissed her question with a shake of his head.
“I have, and don’t tell me otherwise.”
Jon grinned, but Maryellen could tell it was forced.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
He shrugged. “Why? So you’ll be more depressed?”
“Jon,” she cried. “We’re a couple—a team. We shouldn’t hide the way we feel from each other. Communication is the key. You’re the one who told me that, remember?”
She set the tray aside, unable to eat any more.
Jon looked away from her and into the distance. “I went to see Seth Gunderson about working part-time. We could use the money, and I don’t care what hours he gives me.”
Maryellen hated the thought of Jon postponing his photography, but they were going to need a steady income.
“Seth was pleased to see me. He said he’d take me back anytime.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?”
“It was—until I found out the only hours available were at night.”
“Oh.” Maryellen couldn’t cope with Katie alone.
“Seth understands I need daytime hours, and he said he’d talk to the day chef and see if he’d be willing to trade shifts for a while.”
“That would be wonderful.” Maryellen tried to sound positive. At the same time, she realized that if Jon worked all day he wouldn’t have a chance to continue his commercial photography business. It was a lose-lose proposition.
“We’ll be just fine,” he said again, but the comment fell flat.
Maryellen swallowed hard. “Would you hold me for just a moment?” she asked. Everything seemed better when she was in her husband’s arms. There she found comfort and peace. With her head against his shoulder, she could anticipate the future and remember that at the end of this enforced rest, they’d have a second child. Katie would have a little brother or sister. A little more than three months from now, this would all be over. What she needed to do was keep her
gaze focused on the future and not their present circumstances.
Jon’s hand caressed her back, and she sighed, content for the first time that day. “I’ve been thinking,” she murmured, carefully broaching the subject.
“That’s a dangerous sign.”
Maryellen felt her husband’s smile. “I’ve been trying to come up with another way. We need help, Jon.”
“I’m managing.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “and you’re doing a wonderful job. But it’s only been three weeks, and you’re already exhausted. Taking care of Katie and me, cleaning the house, shopping, cooking, plus trying to work and sell your photographs. You’re worn out.” She couldn’t begin to imagine what would happen if he added a forty-hour week at The Lighthouse to his schedule.
“You think I’m tired, do you?” He nuzzled her neck, but it was more affectionate than provocative. Anything remotely sexual was off limits until six weeks after the birth.
Maryellen hugged him close. “You
are
tired. I am, too.”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“We do know people who could help.”
He knew immediately who she meant. “If you’re going to suggest what I assume you are, then save your breath.” Jon broke away from her and stood up.
“Jon, would you please be reasonable about this?”
“You want me to call my parents.”
That was exactly what she wanted. “They’d leap at the opportunity to spend some time with us.” His father and stepmother were desperate to win back his love and would do anything to help if the chance arose.
“I’m not asking them for a damn thing,” Jon said forcefully, “and I absolutely forbid you to contact them.”
“Forbid?” she repeated, raising her eyebrows.
“Forbid?”
The temptation to retaliate in anger nearly overwhelmed her, but she maintained a calm facade. When she spoke, Maryellen chose her words carefully. “I’m going to ask you to rephrase that, Jon, because I have to believe you didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
Her husband started pacing. “
Forbid
wasn’t a good word. I’m sorry.” He hesitated, then walked to the picture window that overlooked Puget Sound. “But knowing how I feel about them, I would hope you’d take that into consideration.”
“I already have.”
His back was to her, his hands in his pockets. “Have you been in touch with them?”
Maryellen sighed. “I mailed the last photos you took of Katie and included a note that said I was pregnant.”
“When?”
“At Christmas.” Then she remembered she’d also sent a thank-you note. “I…I wrote after Christmas, too—a short note to thank them for the gifts.” Even then she’d felt guilty, as though with this small act of kindness she was somehow betraying her husband.
Jon turned to face her. “At one time I needed my parents and they failed me. I vowed I’d never ask them for help again.”
Maryellen knew what was coming.
“I can’t do it. I’m sorry, Maryellen. I’d rather work twenty hours a day than ask my parents to lift a finger to help me. I simply won’t do it.”
The decision was his, and nothing she could say would change his mind. “Okay.”
He eyed her skeptically. “Are you angry with me?”
She shook her head. “No, you said it earlier—we’ll be fine.”
“You won’t go behind my back?”
She’d done that once and regretted it. “No.”
Jon came back and sat down next to her. “It’s no wonder I love you as much as I do. You and Katie are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Despite what he said she’d done for him, Maryellen knew it was Jon’s love that had redeemed
her
life.
F
riday evening Grace arrived at Cliff’s an hour later than she’d planned. She felt exhausted and worried and guilty all at once. Maryellen needed her; Cliff wanted to set the date for the wedding and she was scheduled to leave for a library conference first thing Monday morning. With all these demands, she didn’t feel she was much help to anyone.
Cliff walked out to the car to meet her, and Grace swore if he said one word about her being late, she’d burst into tears.
He opened the car door and instantly sensed something was wrong. “Bad day?”
She nodded as she climbed out. “I drove to Maryellen’s to see what I could do for her,” she said. The house was a disaster, her daughter’s spirits were low, and Jon seemed about to collapse under the burden of his responsibilities. He was cooking again, too, whenever The Lighthouse needed him to cover a shift. To top everything, Katie had the flu, which meant the little girl needed constant care. She clung to Maryellen and wouldn’t allow Grace to hold or comfort her. “I stayed and did a couple loads of wash, and cleaned up a bit, but Cliff, they’re in bad shape.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
He was sweet to offer. “I don’t know. Offhand, I can’t think of anything.” She shrugged. “Perhaps bring them dinner one night.”
“Consider it done.”
Grace was seriously thinking about not going to the conference and spending the time with her daughter, instead. She’d hate to cancel; the money for her to attend had come out of their tight library budget and no one else could take her place on such short notice. The thought of wasting the roundtrip ticket to San Francisco, plus the conference fee, depressed her.
“I don’t know what to do,” Grace said as she slid her arm around Cliff’s waist. Together they walked toward the house.
“I don’t suppose now would be a good time to ask you to elope, would it?”
He couldn’t possibly know how tempting that was. “Maryellen and Kelly would never forgive me.” Olivia wouldn’t, either, but she didn’t mention her best friend. Of the three, Olivia would be the most sympathetic.
“Lisa would feel the same way,” he admitted grudgingly. “I had no idea it was so difficult to schedule a wedding. I hate this waiting. I can see us six months from now, still searching for the perfect date, working around everyone else’s schedule.”
“Maybe we
should
do it,” she said, thinking out loud. “Elope, I mean.”
Cliff came to an abrupt halt and dropped his arm from around her waist. “You aren’t just saying that, are you?”
Grace supposed she’d meant it more as a comment than a suggestion, but then realized how badly she wanted to end this craziness and—just marry him. “Olivia could perform the ceremony.”
“We can get the license Monday morning.”
Then she remembered she was flying out on Monday. “Oh, no—I’ve got that conference.”
“Where is it again?”
“San Francisco.”
Cliff smiled. “All the better. We’ll be married there.”
That sounded perfectly wonderful, if not for one minor detail. “Cliff, I’m attending a huge library conference.”
“We’ll go on a real honeymoon later.”
“You’re serious?”
“Are you?” He studied her as if he wasn’t sure.
“I…I was just thinking I might have to forget about the conference altogether. Maryellen and Jon need my help, and I’m feeling guilty about not doing more.”
“Can you cancel out at this late date?”
“Well, yes, although it’s a problem. And, Cliff, I
want
to go. I have workshops scheduled each day, plus there’s a banquet one night and I’m even on a panel about literacy.”
“Then you
should
go. Why don’t we hire a housecleaning service to help Maryellen out? We’ll arrange it for Monday. And we’ll have The Lighthouse send out a few meals. Then there’s no need for you to feel guilty—and you and I will go to San Francisco.”
Grace stared at him. “You are a miracle worker,” she said.
“Aw, shucks, ma’am,” he muttered with fake modesty.
When she laughed, he said, “You do have some free time during the conference, don’t you?”
“Some. On Wednesday afternoon.” She’d hoped to steal away and do a little sightseeing.
“Some is enough. We won’t need much.”
“But—”
“Are you looking for an excuse to get out of this?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Good, because I’m going to make it happen. Wednesday afternoon it is, March eighth. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
They weren’t even inside the house yet, but she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. “We’re running away to get married!” Cliff lifted her off the ground and with a shout of jubilation, whirled her around and around.
Cal came out of the barn and gave them an odd look. He stood there, apparently waiting for an explanation.
“We’re getting married,” Grace told him when Cliff set her feet back on the ground.
Cal grinned. “I…th-th—figured as much.”
“Next week,” Cliff added.
Cal straightened his hat. “You got that m-m-mare coming from Ken-tuck-ky.”
Cliff’s smile slowly faded, but then he shook his head. “You can handle her. You’ll have to, because I’ll be in San Francisco with my bride.”
“Y-yes!” Cal laughed and nodded. “Go!” he yelled, waving them off.
Cliff wrapped his arm around her waist. “If we waited for the perfect time, it could take years. I, for one, am not willing to wait a minute longer than necessary.”
“Are we going to tell anyone?”
“And risk the wrath of the entire universe?” he teased. “Lisa will probably hire a hit man and I know your daughters won’t be thrilled with us, either. That’s the risk we’ll have to take. As far as I’m concerned, no one needs to know we’re married until we decide to tell them.”
“But if we don’t tell everyone we’re married, I won’t be able to move in with you.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t let my family assume we’re living together.”
“If I had my say, you’d be living with me now.”
“Cliff!”
“All right, all right,” he said, opening the front door to let her into the house. The fire in the fireplace warmed the room, welcoming her, and she glanced around at the log walls, the simple, solid furniture, the old-fashioned braided rug. This would be her home….
“We’ll announce that we’re married when we return and let the chips fall where they may,” he said.
“Good.” That solved that. “We’ll schedule a wedding reception at a date convenient to all.”
“That’ll be years from now.”
“Okay,” she amended, smiling. “We’ll schedule the reception when it’s convenient to most.” Then, because it was impossible to contain her excitement, Grace turned into Cliff’s arms and kissed him again.
“Wednesday can’t come soon enough for me,” he murmured, his voice husky against her ear.
“Do you know how long the waiting period is in California?” she asked. It was three days in Washington State, and she didn’t want any last-minute problems if it happened to be longer in California.
“No,” Cliff said, “but I’ll find out. Now don’t worry—we’re getting married, come hell or high water.”
Dinner—a beef stew—was warming in the Crock-Pot, and Grace set the table. She felt as if she was walking on air. Every now and then, she’d catch Cliff’s eye and they’d share a smile. Once, Grace broke into giggles of delight. She felt so lighthearted, so…happy.
Cliff disappeared into his office after dinner and returned about twenty minutes later. “I went on-line and there’s no waiting period in California.”
“Great!” All their plans were coming together.
“And while I was at it, I booked my flight.” His eyes shone. “It’s the same one as yours.”
“How’d you know?”
“Easy. You told me when your flight was leaving, so all I had to do was check the airlines for that departure time.”
Cliff said he’d ask Cal to drive them to the airport early Monday morning. That meant everything was settled. “Have I told you lately how brilliant you are?” she asked in an admiring voice.
“I am, aren’t I?” he said, sounding smug. “If it means I can marry you next week, you’d be amazed at how smart I can get.”
Cliff put in a DVD; she hardly noticed what, nor did she care. They sat together in front of the television. Cliff’s legs were stretched out, his boots propped on the coffee table. He’d slipped his arm around her shoulders and her fingers were linked with his. In a matter of days, she would be this man’s wife….
Cliff leaned down and rested his cheek against her hair. Sighing, he asked, “Are you enjoying the movie?”
She had a vague impression of car chases and lots of action. What she enjoyed wasn’t the movie, but being with him. “Not really. Why?”
“I’m going to need help reorganizing the bedroom.”
“Now?”
“Might as well, since you’re moving in with me the minute we get back from San Francisco.”
“What about my house?” All of a sudden she realized that their decision to elope brought immediate consequences.
Cliff shrugged. “That’s up to you and the girls. Keep it, sell it, rent it—do whatever you want as long as you promise you won’t live anywhere but with me.”
“Cliff, what about Buttercup and Sherlock?”
“They’ll adjust to a new home.” He seemed so confident. “Hey,” he muttered, “you’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
When he was looking at her like this, his eyes intense with love, there wasn’t a thing in the world that concerned her.
“No—but I don’t know anything about horses.”
“You don’t need to.”
“What about my job?”
“Do you enjoy working?”
“I love it.”
“Then keep your job.” He frowned. “Are you
sure
you want to do this?”
Laughing, Grace grabbed his shirt collar and brought his mouth down to hers. Then she kissed him with everything she had. “Does that answer your question?” she asked.