He couldn’t resist the thought that maybe, when the time came, she could
show
him. No, that was the old Will talking, he reminded himself. The new Will wanted something more genuine with this woman. Something lasting.
Their meal was splendid and, true to her word, Shirley sampled one of his oysters.
“Well?” he asked, confident that she’d order them the next time they dined at D.D.’s. “What did you think?”
She smiled across the table at him. “It was better than I remembered. But then, it’s hard to find fault with anything deep-fried.” With a wry grimace, she added, “That’s why I usually stay away from that kind of food.”
Will chuckled. “Me, too. But I allow myself extravagances on special occasions.” He wanted her to understand that being with her
was
one of those occasions.
“All in all, though…”
“Yes?” he said, eager to hear her verdict.
“I’ll stick with the crab Louie.”
“C
ut off a little more on the sides,” thirteen-year-old Jolene instructed Rachel, examining her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Rachel had set her up in the small hallway bathroom for a haircut. Some of their best conversations came while she was busy with Jolene’s hair.
Over the years, Rachel had developed a theory about why that was the case. When she was working on a customer’s hair, Rachel was in that person’s space—by invitation. This proximity created a sense of intimacy that made clients feel comfortable enough to share some of the most private details of their lives. She figured that was also why so much gossip got started—or at least spread—at hair salons.
“It looks really cute,” Rachel said.
Jolene turned her head from side to side. “You think so?” she asked, her voice uncertain.
“I do.” Rachel plugged in the electric razor. “Lean forward and tuck your chin down.”
“Do you think Dad will like my hair this short?”
“Absolutely,” Rachel assured her, although she wasn’t
sure. Jolene bowed her head, and Rachel clipped the hair at the base of the girl’s neck.
When she’d finished, Jolene raised her head and their eyes met in the bathroom mirror. Slowly Jolene exhaled. “I’m not mad at you and my dad anymore.”
“Good.” It’d been an uncomfortable week or so after Jolene had caught the two of them in bed in the middle of the afternoon. Rachel could laugh about it now.
Not Bruce.
He’d been in such a state—of embarrassment, frustration and anger—that it’d taken him days to put the incident behind him.
Meanwhile, Jolene had given them both the silent treatment for nearly a week.
“I’m glad you’re my stepmother,” she said.
“I’m glad I am, too.” Rachel held the girl’s gaze in the mirror. “I like being your stepmother.”
Jolene pointedly broke eye contact. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to be mad?”
Rachel wasn’t about to make that kind of promise. “I’ll try not to be. Okay?”
“Okay.” With an exaggerated sigh, the girl repeated, “I’m glad you’re my stepmother,” then added, “but I really wish you and my dad weren’t married.”
The words stung and Rachel couldn’t respond for a moment. “I love you and your father very much, Jolene. It’s important for me to be part of your family.”
“I know. Dad needs you…and I do, too. I feel selfish and mean for…for complaining.”
“Then we should talk about it.” Rachel needed to put aside her own emotions and listen carefully to what Jolene was saying. “Tell me why you feel this way.”
Rachel sat on the edge of the bathtub, hands braced
on either side, ankles crossed, hoping that if she looked relaxed, she’d encourage Jolene to confide in her.
“But…I don’t want you to get mad at me.”
Rachel shook her head and reached out to give the girl’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.
Jolene kept her head lowered. “Before you and Dad got married, I was afraid that if…if you moved into the house, Dad wouldn’t have time for me anymore.”
“Do you think that’s happened?”
“No,” she said after a moment. “Not exactly.”
That was good, because Rachel knew Bruce had put a lot of effort into spending extra time with his daughter. He did more than drop her off at basketball practice these days. Twice now he’d stayed and watched, just so Jolene would know he was interested. Naturally, when the actual games started, Bruce and Rachel would attend them together.
“What do you mean, not exactly?” she asked, unwilling to leave the smallest detail unexplored.
“It isn’t just Dad,” Jolene whispered.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You were always my…special friend. I could talk to you about anything.”
“That hasn’t changed.” At least, not to Rachel it hadn’t.
“Yes, it has,” Jolene insisted.
“Okay,” Rachel said. “Tell me how.”
“Well…” The girl seemed at a loss. Then she blurted out, “I’m just going to say it, all right?”
“Of course.”
“I see how my dad looks at you.”
“With love?” she asked, hoping that was the answer.
Jolene shook her head. “He wants to get you into bed so you can do…
that.
”
“Make love,” she elaborated. This was what she’d expected…and feared. It was probably best to have the conversation, bring it out in the open once and for all. “Married couples make love, Jolene. It’s a normal and healthy part of marriage.”
“Dad wants to do it all the time.” Jolene sounded mortified. “He doesn’t think I notice, but I do. And that’s not all. You’re my friend and now I have to share you with my dad and I don’t want to and…and I have to share my dad with you.” This came out on one long breath. Jolene’s eyes met hers in the mirror again. “Am I making any sense?”
“Yes, you are,” Rachel told her. “You’re making a lot of sense.”
“Things are…different. Just like I was afraid they’d be.”
Rachel couldn’t argue with her. But perhaps she could explain it to Jolene in a way she’d find more reassuring. “That happens when a couple’s first married,” she said.
“You mean it’ll stop?” the girl asked hopefully.
Rachel did her best to hide a smile. “Not…completely.”
“Oh.”
“Does that answer your questions?”
Jolene looked at her fearfully. “Are you pregnant?” she asked, as if this would be truly dreadful, the most dreadful thing she could imagine.
“No.”
The girl’s shoulders relaxed. “Good.”
Rachel felt it was critical to address Jolene’s concerns about her marriage to Bruce before they even thought about adding to the family.
“I know you were afraid that once your father and I were married, we’d be so involved with each other you’d feel excluded.”
Jolene’s gaze held hers.
“We’ve tried very hard to make sure that hasn’t happened.”
Jolene shrugged, raising one shoulder. “Yeah, but I wish…you know.”
Unfortunately, Rachel did. This was becoming more than a minor problem, not only for Jolene but for her and Bruce, too. Being discovered that one afternoon had had a devastating effect on their love life. They’d barely touched since.
If, as Jolene claimed, Bruce looked at her longingly, there was a very good reason. They were both experiencing sexual frustration.
That evening Rachel had dinner ready by the time Bruce walked into the house. “How are my girls?” he asked, pausing to kiss Rachel on the cheek.
“Hey, Dad,” Jolene said. “What do you think?” She waltzed into the living room and twirled around so her father could see her new haircut. “Rachel said you wouldn’t mind if I got it cut real short. You like it, don’t you?”
“Ah…”
Rachel cast him a pleading glance.
“It takes some getting used to.”
“But you like it?”
He grinned and managed to nod enthusiastically.
Overjoyed, Jolene rushed to his side and threw her arms around him.
“Would you set the table, please?” Rachel asked her. She followed Bruce down the hallway and into the bedroom. He usually showered as soon as he got home from work.
The moment their door closed, Bruce pulled her into his arms and kissed her hungrily.
Rachel eased her mouth from his. “We need to talk.”
“Now?”
“No, later, after Jolene’s asleep.”
“I have other plans for then.”
Rachel dropped eager kisses along his neck. “I do, too, but we need to talk first.”
When he started to protest, she kissed him again. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she said seductively.
Sliding his hands up and down her arms, Bruce’s eyes melted into hers. “I’m holding you to that.”
Quietly she slid out the door and hurried back to the kitchen.
Jolene frowned at her and set the water glasses on the table with a lot of unnecessary noise.
Rachel was willing to be patient and understanding, but she couldn’t allow a thirteen-year-old to dictate the terms of her marriage.
“I love your father, Jolene,” she said, looking directly into the girl’s eyes, “and if I want to talk to him alone for a few minutes that shouldn’t upset you.”
Jolene nodded contritely. “I know.”
“Okay, then.”
The evening passed, with everyone involved in various tasks—laundry, homework, bill paying—and other than Bruce making exaggerated yawning noises and darting glances at the master bedroom, everything went smoothly.
“Isn’t it your bedtime?” he asked Jolene when the clock chimed nine-thirty. He and Rachel were watching TV by then.
She closed her textbook and kissed them both on the cheek. “Night.”
“I’m going to watch the news,” Rachel announced.
She wanted Jolene to understand that they weren’t going to jump into bed the minute she was out of sight.
“I guess I will, too,” Bruce muttered.
Jolene walked past Rachel and rolled her eyes. The kid wasn’t fooled.
When their daughter’s bedroom door shut, Bruce shifted closer to Rachel. “Okay, talk to me.”
Rachel had been waiting for this moment all evening. “Jolene and I had a good discussion today while I cut her hair. She talked about you and me and her place in this family.” Rachel wouldn’t tell him
everything
Jolene had shared.
“You’re my wife!”
“Yes, but—”
Bruce grimaced, unwilling to listen. “You know, I’m getting sick of this. I’ve done my best to be sensitive to Jolene’s feelings. I’ve spent more time with her in the past two months than at any—”
“Yes, it’s just that—”
“The frustration is killing me, Rachel. I want to make love to my wife. I’m sick and tired of tiptoeing around my daughter and her insecurities. The longer we kowtow to her, the more complicated and difficult this becomes.”
“But, Bruce—”
Again he cut her off. “What we need is time away, just the two of us.”
“No,” she countered swiftly. She couldn’t disagree more. “That’ll make every insecurity Jolene already has that much worse. She’s feeling excluded as it is. Sharing me, sharing you…If we abandon her for even a weekend, it’ll feel like a betrayal.”
Bruce stared at her for several seconds before throwing his head back, eyes closed. “I don’t believe this.”
“We haven’t been married very long. Give Jolene a chance. The two of us made progress today.”
Bruce exhaled and finally nodded.
The ten o’clock news came on, and they cuddled together on the sofa. They held hands, and every now and then he’d lean forward to kiss the side of her face. Rachel’s eyes drifted shut as a river of awareness flowed through her.
“Do you think she’s asleep yet?” Bruce whispered after the last news segment.
“I certainly hope so.”
“Not as much as I do…”
Turning out the lights as they went, Bruce led Rachel down the hallway to their bedroom. He didn’t bother with the light. Rachel heard him slip out of his clothes. She did, as well.
They got into bed, and Bruce reached for her. Rachel moved into his arms. They kissed passionately, caressing each other, until she was weak with longing.
“So far, so good,” Bruce whispered.
“So far very good,” she whispered back and the kissing continued.
The bed creaked, and it seemed to reverberate through the room. They both froze.
There was a long hesitation, in which they held themselves suspended, afraid to move or even breathe.
Then they heard Jolene’s bedroom door open.
The sound of the door was followed by the patter of feet going down the hallway to the bathroom.
“What if she comes in here?” Rachel whispered.
“She wouldn’t dare,” Bruce muttered fiercely.
Rachel ran her hands tenderly down her husband’s back. “Do we risk it? Remember what happened last time.”
Groaning, Bruce rolled away from her. Without a word, he marched into the master bathroom and a moment later she heard the shower.
Rachel didn’t need him to tell her he’d turned on the cold water.
“D
ad, you’ve got to
do
something,” Megan wailed.
Troy Davis had just walked into his house when the kitchen phone rang. He picked up, not surprised to hear his daughter’s voice; she’d left a message at the office but he’d forgotten to call her back. Troy’s day had been interesting and he was eager for an opportunity to analyze what he’d learned that afternoon. The coroner’s office had finally sent him the complete report on the remains discovered in the cave, and the information had given him pause, to say the least. He needed an opportunity to digest what had been revealed and decide how to proceed. His one hope was that media interest had died down sufficiently to let this latest development pass without attention.
“Dad, are you listening to me?” Megan asked impatiently.
“What is it you want me to do something about?” Troy asked, just so she’d know he’d heard her the first time.
“You didn’t return my call,” she said.
“I was in a meeting.”
“I know, that’s what Cody said, but I asked him to explain that this was important.”
Troy’s assistant had mentioned the phone call and that Megan had sounded upset. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I had every intention of phoning you back, but time got away from me.” He didn’t want Megan to feel he didn’t consider her calls important; however, since she’d gotten pregnant, his daughter seemed to be in a perpetual state of crisis. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said, setting the mail on the kitchen counter. The microwave clock told him it was ten to seven, which explained why his stomach was growling. He hadn’t even had a chance to remove his coat. A light rain had begun and tapped against the kitchen window.
“It’s about Faith,” Megan began.
Troy stiffened. “What’s happened now? Has there been another disturbance?” He’d been worried about the prowler and wondered if she’d taken his advice and installed an alarm. He hoped she’d asked Grace and Cliff about a motion sensor light, too. He’d recently checked with his deputies about the neighborhood; according to Deputy Weaver, things had been quiet on Rosewood Lane. If anyone was pestering Faith, she hadn’t reported it, nor had she contacted Troy.
“Nothing’s happened at the house that I know of—not that Faith’s said, anyway.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Megan sighed and he was afraid she might break into tears, an occurrence that had become commonplace in the past few months. It’d been the same with Sandy, Troy recalled. His wife’s emotions had been volatile during her pregnancy.
“Faith’s
moving,
” Megan said, her voice low.
Frankly, Troy didn’t blame her. In fact, he approved.
“Well?” Megan demanded.
“Well, what? Actually, I think it’s a good idea.”
“You can’t mean that,” Megan said with a gasp. “What’s the matter with you? You can’t let Faith move away! You just can’t.”
Clearly Troy was missing something. “Okay, let’s go over this again. Start from the beginning.”
“Okay,” Megan said impatiently. “I met her for lunch. We do that every so often, you know.”
Troy did, and was grateful for any information his daughter could provide regarding Faith.
“She’s helping me with the blanket I’m knitting for the baby. I’m practically finished and it’s really nice.”
Troy smiled, excited all over again at the prospect of becoming a grandfather. He knew one thing for sure—his grandchild was going to be a very spoiled baby.
“She almost didn’t tell me. In fact, I had the distinct feeling Faith wasn’t going to mention it.”
“She realized you’d eventually pass it on to me.”
“Probably,” Megan agreed. “At any rate, just as we were leaving and Faith was putting on her coat, she said she’d decided to move. She said that coming back to Cedar Cove had been a mistake. Her home in Seattle sold so quickly, she hadn’t thought everything through. Now she thinks it might be better if she left the area entirely.”
Shock rippled through Troy.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Megan asked.
Troy couldn’t speak for a moment. Faith wasn’t moving from one house to another; she’d be moving to another town. Troy knew why. She wanted to get away from him.
“I…see,” he finally managed.
“You aren’t going to
let
her leave, are you?” Megan
asked, sounding like a little girl who wasn’t happy with the answer she’d been given.
“There’s nothing I can do to stop her.”
“Dad!”
The shock was still fresh and he hadn’t absorbed this new information. So Faith was leaving town. He wanted to protest, demand she reconsider, but he had no right to ask. All he could do was stand back and keep his opinions to himself.
“I’m not seeing Faith anymore,” he reminded Megan.
“But you love her.”
Troy didn’t deny it. He did love Faith. Her plan to leave Cedar Cove cut him to the quick, but he couldn’t think of a single thing he could do to change her mind.
“How do Scott and his family feel about this?” Troy asked. One reason Faith had moved to town was to be closer to her son and grandchildren.
“I asked her that,” Megan told him. “And she pointed out that her daughter, Jay Lynn, lives in north Seattle. Jay Lynn said that after all the problems Faith’s had in Cedar Cove, she should consider leaving.”
He doubted Jay Lynn was referring only to the prowler. He felt she was insinuating that the disappointment he’d brought into Faith’s life was a problem, too—a good reason to leave. Troy couldn’t blame her family. They were concerned about their mother’s physical and emotional welfare.
“Daddy, you have to do
something,
” Megan said again.
Troy leaned against the kitchen counter. “I’ll do whatever I can.” Although he had no idea what that would be…
“I like Faith so much.”
“I know.” He liked Faith, too—more than liked her—and he wished he could persuade her to stay in Cedar Cove.
“Thank you, Daddy. You’ll find a way. I’m sure you will.”
A couple of minutes later, the conversation ended with Megan inviting him to dinner the following weekend, and Troy replaced the receiver.
The day just seemed to get more complicated. Needing a distraction, he walked into the living room and switched on the evening news, wondering if the Seattle TV stations had gotten wind of the coroner’s report. Thankfully there was nothing.
After half an hour or so, he decided it was time to eat. Searching through the cupboards, he found a can of chili. Opening it, he dumped the contents into a bowl, which he set in the microwave. While his meal warmed, he sorted through the mail, his thoughts still on Faith.
“No!” He said the word aloud. Megan was right; he had to talk to Faith, convince her that leaving Cedar Cove would be wrong. He didn’t know if he’d be able to talk her out of this—or if he even had the right to try. The thing was, he couldn’t idly stand by because Faith meant too much to him. She
belonged
here.
He reached for the phone just as his chili was done. Ignoring it, he punched out her number. The phone rang four times before the answering machine informed him that no one was home. Rather than leave a message, he hung up.
More depressed than ever, Troy paced the kitchen, gulping down spoonfuls of chili as he considered his options.
Perhaps it was just as well that he hadn’t spoken to Faith, he told himself. If she felt she had to escape Cedar Cove, then maybe he should simply let her go.
That conviction stayed with him for five whole days—until late Wednesday afternoon. On his drive home, Troy
saw Faith’s car in the Safeway parking lot. He needed bread, anyway, he reasoned, and pulled into a space as far from hers as he could find. He didn’t want Faith to assume he was seeking her out—although, in truth, he was.
The weather, overcast and gloomy, matched his mood. Ever since Megan’s phone call, his appetite had vanished and he wasn’t sleeping well. Although he longed to talk to Faith, he realized he couldn’t ask her to remain in Cedar Cove, and yet…he had to. If she left, he’d always regret it.
After their last meeting, he’d felt hopeful that at some point they’d be able to put their differences behind them. He didn’t know anymore. Although he’d developed good instincts about people and situations in his years of police work, he couldn’t read Faith or understand her feelings.
Two weeks ago, when she’d called him about the intruder outside her bedroom window, reconciliation had actually seemed possible. He’d been depressed after seeing her with Will Jefferson, but that night he’d let her know how much he loved and needed her. He hadn’t used those precise words but he couldn’t have made his feelings any more obvious.
The way he figured it, the next move was hers. He hadn’t pressured her, assuming his patience would eventually be rewarded. Apparently he’d been wrong.
By the time Troy had walked across the Safeway parking lot and grabbed a cart, his coat was damp. Once inside, he did a wide sweep of the perimeter, hurrying past the deli, the fresh fruits and vegetables and then the frozen-food section. Finally he spotted Faith halfway down one of the center aisles. She appeared to be reading the back of a box of pasta.
Attempting to look casual, he entered that aisle and
slowed down as he drew close. Faith glanced up and her eyes widened when she saw him.
“Hello, Troy.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment and maneuvered his empty cart next to hers. He wished he’d had the foresight to toss in a few items to give her the impression that he’d been in the store a while.
“Faith,” he murmured.
They stared at each other a long moment, and Troy decided to wait her out, let her speak first. Silence was a common investigative technique; most people felt uncomfortable with a gap in the conversation and rushed to fill it. They often revealed more than they intended.
“How are you?” she asked awkwardly after half a minute of silence.
When he was speaking to a suspect, Troy generally answered a question with one of his own. He did that now. “Did you have that security system installed like I suggested?”
“I did and it was worth every penny,” she told him. “It’s given me peace of mind.”
He reached for a bag of spaghetti noodles and dropped it into his cart, as if that was the sole reason he’d come grocery shopping. Her reaction to his next question would tell him everything he needed to know.
“When’s moving day?”
She blanched. “Oh, so Megan told you.”
“Wasn’t that what you wanted?”
Frowning, she looked down at her cart as though she’d forgotten something on her list and couldn’t remember what it might be.
“Wasn’t it?” he repeated, unwilling to let her sidestep the question.
Her shoulders sagged. “I suppose I did,” she mumbled.
“You couldn’t have phoned me yourself?”
“I…I…” She shifted her weight and stared down at the floor; he could tell his questions unsettled her. “Every time I see you lately, you’re angry.” She looked up and met his gaze.
“I’m not angry,” he said. “You’re welcome to live wherever you wish. If you want to move away from Cedar Cove, then be my guest.” He snapped his mouth shut before he could say another word.
Faith’s head flew back. Her eyes narrowed and he could see the anger welling up inside her. Biting her lip, she placed both hands on her cart and began to walk away.
He started after her, shoving his cart ahead of him. “Faith! Hold on a minute.”
She disregarded him, rounding the corner with long strides. He was catching up, feeling like a participant in a stock-car race, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“Sheriff Davis!”
Troy reluctantly came to a halt, and glanced over his shoulder to find Louie Benson wheeling his grocery cart toward him.
Not now,
Troy thought. But he was trapped. Much as he wanted to hurry after Faith, he dared not ignore the mayor.
“I’m glad I caught you,” Louie said.
Troy offered him a weak smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I read the coroner’s final report but haven’t had a chance to discuss the details with you. I assume you’ve read it?”
“I did,” Troy replied crisply, trying to defer this. He
wanted to apologize to Faith, make amends if it wasn’t already too late.
The mayor hesitated. “Did you see the statement that, judging by the skull, the young man had Down syndrome?”
“I did.”
“This opens up an entirely new front in your investigation, doesn’t it?”
“I—”
“I just hope the media doesn’t pick up on it,” he murmured.
“So do I,” Troy said. He was off duty and wanted out of this conversation. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I need to talk to.”
“Of course. Sorry if I interrupted you.”
“It’s okay,” Troy said, rushing down the aisle, abandoning his cart. If he was lucky, he might still be able to catch up with Faith and apologize.
Luck was with him, and he saw her at the checkout stand. He waited outside until she’d finished paying for her groceries.
As soon as she stepped through the doors into the gloomy afternoon, he approached her. “I’d like to apologize, Faith.”
“What for?” she asked, moving past him.
Troy had seen that expression before and knew it wasn’t a good sign.
“I came at you like…like an angry bear.”
“Not at all,” she countered, walking purposefully toward the parking lot.
Troy followed her.
“You were right,” she said. “I was foolish to mention my plans to Megan. It was the coward’s way out and I
was immediately sorry I’d done it.” Her pace clipped, she headed for her vehicle.
“You
wanted
me to know.” She’d admitted to using Megan to inform him of her plans. He couldn’t help feeling encouraged by that.
Perhaps Faith had done this, spoken to Megan, because she secretly—or not so secretly—hoped he’d talk her out of it. Maybe this was her way of telling him she’d prefer not to leave, that she wanted him back in her life. Instead, Troy had gone on the attack. He felt like kicking himself for being so insensitive.
“Like I said, it was wrong of me to tell Megan, knowing she’d pass the word along,” Faith said stiffly. “You see, I didn’t want to phone you directly, because I was trying to avoid unnecessary contact. The less we see of each other, the better. I’m sure you agree.”