Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (108 page)

Bruce leaped off the sofa. His daughter was only
now
telling him this? Jolene had seen Rachel a week ago last Monday. He'd hoped to pry information out of her, but Jolene had remained stubbornly tight-lipped. Eventually he'd given up. All he'd been able to learn was that Rachel had read his letter.

“Moving? Where?”

“She mentioned Portland.”

“When?”

Jolene shrugged. “I…I don't know. I asked her not to leave.”

“What did she say?” He found it difficult enough with Rachel living in Bremerton, which was just across the cove but felt like it was on the other side of the world. Portland would be so much harder.

“Nothing. She didn't tell me when she plans to go.”

“You don't have any idea?”

“I asked her to stay,” Jolene reiterated.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Jolene refused to meet his look. “But I'd rather she went to Portland.”

“Jolene!” Bruce couldn't help it; he exploded. Pacing the room, he tore at his hair like a crazy man, tempted to slam his fist against the wall.

“If you felt that way, why did you even ask her to stay?” he demanded.

Jolene didn't immediately answer. “You,” she said in a small voice.

“If you're so concerned about me, then Rachel would be back in this house where she belongs.” He jabbed his index finger at the floor.

“You don't want me here anymore, do you?” she shouted, hiding her face in her hands.

“Don't be ridiculous! Of course I want you here. You're my daughter—I love you.”

“But you love Rachel more.”

“I don't love her
more
. I love her,
too
. She's my wife and she's carrying my child.” His pacing continued. “A child I might never get to know because of this whole mess.” Unable to bear it, he stormed out. With nowhere else to go, he went into his room, closing the door, and sat on the edge of his bed. He felt like crying but was too numb, too drained by his anger.

He had no idea how long he'd been there when he heard a knock on the door.

“What?” he snapped.

Jolene opened the door and stood framed in the hallway light, holding her cell. “Rachel is on the phone. Do you want to talk to her?”

“You called her?”

“Yeah. You shouldn't be moping around on Thanksgiving. I knew you'd want to talk to her. You do, don't you?”

Bruce swallowed painfully and nodded. “Very much.” The words were thick with emotion.

Jolene handed him the phone and then left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Bruce waited until the door had clicked shut. “Happy
Thanksgiving,” he said, doing his utmost to sound upbeat and positive.

“Same to you. Jolene said the two of you are about ready to eat.”

Eat? Bruce had no appetite. He'd be lucky to manage a roll, let alone an entire meal. “I bought us one of those prepared turkey dinners from Albertson's. They're supposed to be halfway decent.” But nothing compared to the home-cooked meal they would've enjoyed if Rachel was with them.

“So I've heard.”

“What about you?” he asked, wondering if she'd be joining Teri Polgar or one of her other friends.

She hesitated. “I'm cooking today.”

“Turkey and all the fixings?”

“Yes…for my roommate and some friends.”

“That's nice,” he said dully.

“They're away from home and family, so we pooled our resources and decided to have our own Thanksgiving celebration.”

“So you're living with a female navy—what?—officer?” Bremerton was filled with navy personnel.

“Not exactly.”

“Navy, though, right?” He didn't mean to turn this call into an inquisition, but he couldn't help being curious. Rachel had told him so little about her living arrangements.

“Yes, navy.”

“A man?” he pressed, and could tell right away that she didn't appreciate his questioning her.

“It doesn't really matter, does it, Bruce?”

“No, I suppose not.” He did his best to pretend it didn't. Then he suddenly realized where she was staying and it nearly destroyed him. His hand almost crushed his
daughter's cell phone. “You're living with Nate Olsen, aren't you?” he asked starkly.

“I thought you said it didn't matter.”

“It matters if it's Nate.” He clenched his jaw.

Rachel was completely silent.

“Rachel?”

More silence.

He inhaled and slowly released his breath. “Either I trust you or I don't. I choose to trust you. If you'd wanted to marry Nate, you could have. He wanted you and so did I. You chose me. Whether that was the right decision or not, you're my wife….”

“Yes, I am. I trust you, Bruce, and I expect you to trust me.”

“I do.”

“Good.” A moment later, she added, “He's been a friend to me. That's all. A friend.”

It wasn't easy, but he had to believe she was telling him the truth.

“You talked to Jolene?” he asked.

“Yes, when she called me just now. I told her when we met at the library that she could phone me anytime, day or night.”

“Were you surprised she called you today?”

“A little, but she didn't call me for her sake. She did it because of you.”

“It's a start.”

“A small one.”

Bruce couldn't disagree. “Can I see you again?”

“I don't know if that's a good idea.”

He could argue, but decided against it. “Jolene said you're thinking of moving to Portland.”

“I'm considering it.” She didn't add any further information.

“Wherever you are, I'd like to be with you when the baby's born.” That shouldn't be asking too much. As the baby's father, he had the right. All he could do was hope she agreed.

“We can talk about that later, okay?”

“Okay.” But he wasn't willing to drop it.

Bruce could tell she wanted to end the conversation. “It's Thanksgiving, Rachel, and before we hang up I want you to know that, despite everything, I'm grateful you're in my life. I will always love you.”

“Thank you, Bruce.”

“Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

He noticed she hadn't told him she loved him. Not that he'd blame her if she'd given up on their marriage…

He walked back into the living room, where Jolene sat in front of the television. He handed her the cell phone. “Thanks.”

She looked up at him. “I've been kind of a brat, haven't I?”

At least she recognized her role in all this.

“Something like that.”

The timer on the stove indicated that the turkey was done. “Are you ready for dinner?” he asked.

She regarded him skeptically. “Are you?”

“Sure.” He'd make an effort; Jolene deserved that much. “After dinner, do you want to work on a jigsaw puzzle? Or we can play Yahtzee if you prefer.”

“Let's do a puzzle. The one with the dogs playing poker.”

“Why not?” They'd worked on a different puzzle last Thanksgiving. Rachel had been with them then, and it was the best Thanksgiving in recent memory. Jolene and Rachel had cooked the meal together.

Bruce and Jolene sat at the table with their purchased meal. Neither of them ate much, although they made a pretense of being happy. They'd just finished putting the leftovers in the refrigerator when the house phone rang.

“I'll get it,” Jolene said, leaping on the one in the kitchen as if she thought it might jump up and run away.

Bruce smiled, observing that his daughter was almost back to the way she'd been a year earlier, before he'd married Rachel.

Rachel. His heart sank. He could pretend all he wanted, but he missed his wife.

“Dad,” Jolene said, holding the phone against her shoulder. Her dark brown eyes seemed twice their normal size. “It's…Rachel. She wants to know if it would be all right if she came over for a little while.”

His heart rate automatically doubled. “Of course it would be all right. She doesn't need to ask.”

“She's asking me. She tried my cell, but I left it in my bedroom and didn't hear it ring.”

“If she's asking you, then you need to answer.” He gripped the back of his chair, waiting to see how his daughter responded.

“What if I say no?”

He closed his eyes. “I don't know.”

She studied him, then returned the phone to her ear. “Dad and I were just about to start a jigsaw puzzle.”

He nearly grabbed the phone away from her, wanting to tell Rachel that this was
her
home and she could come anytime she wanted, no matter what he and Jolene were doing.

“We did one together last Thanksgiving, remember?” Jolene went on.

Rachel must have said something, because his daughter was silent for a moment.

“No, not yet. Dad got a pumpkin pie with the turkey.” A short silence and then, “It was all right, I guess, for turkey, but last year's was way better. The stuffing was pretty bland. I like yours a lot more.”

Bruce relaxed. They were having a normal conversation. “I like pecan pie and so does Dad,” she said next. “Sure. I'll tell him. Bye.”

She replaced the phone. “That was Rachel,” she said, as if he didn't already know.

“So, is she coming by?” He tried to sound casual. Nonchalant.

“Yeah, in about an hour. She said we should get started on the puzzle and get all the border pieces in and then she'd help us with the rest. Oh, and she's bringing a pecan pie. We have whipped topping, don't we? Because I told her we did.”

“I think so. If not, there's ice cream.”

“Dad,” his daughter said in an exasperated voice. “We have
strawberry
ice cream. That would be awful with pecan pie.”

“Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it.”

Jolene rolled her eyes, but she was smiling and so was he. Really smiling for the first time that day, and it felt darn good.

Thirty

“I
t's so good to get back into our regular schedule,” Grace said as she slid into the booth at the Pancake Palace. She and Olivia had finished their aerobic workout—a Wednesday-night tradition for years—and stopped for coffee and coconut cream pie. Another tradition.

Their schedule had been disrupted for months after Olivia's surgery for breast cancer and the chemotherapy and radiation treatments that followed. She'd lost weight and grown so weak that for a time Grace had feared her best friend might not survive. If there were lessons to be learned from this experience—and there were—one of the most profound was how dear Olivia was to her. How important their friendship was. Grace treasured her and their special times together. Every week they made a point of catching up with each other. They'd shared so much through the years. Grace relied on Olivia to sympathize when necessary, to tell her the truth and to laugh with her. And Olivia expected the same from Grace. They'd seen each other through births and deaths, marriage and divorce, triumphs and disappointments.

“Coffee, girls?” Goldie asked as she sidled up to the booth.

“Tea for me,” Olivia said, surprising both Grace and Goldie.

“Tea?” Goldie echoed. “When did this happen?”

Olivia shrugged. “Coffee leaves a bitter taste in my mouth these days. I don't know if it's because of the prescriptions I'm taking or what, but I prefer tea now.”

Goldie snorted, shook her head and, after pouring Grace's coffee, returned to the kitchen.

“You usually order tea when there's something on your mind,” Grace said, studying Olivia. Her friend had been unusually quiet all evening.

“I guess so, but I really have gone off coffee.”

“You're the one who told me you've had the most important conversations of your life over tea, remember?”

“Yes, I suppose I have. Most of them in the kitchen. My mother's or mine.” She thought for a moment. “Conversations with my mother. With Stan. With Justine.” She smiled. “Jack and I have had some of the most intimate discussions of our marriage in the kitchen. Funny, isn't it, that the kitchen and a cup of tea would play such a major role in my life?”

“Maybe because it's such a comfortable setting. So personal,” Grace said. “Anyway, what's on your mind tonight?” She couldn't see any reason not to be direct.

Olivia leaned forward to reply, but didn't have a chance before Goldie came back with a small white ceramic teapot and a tea bag on the side. “I thought I'd better ask if you're ordering coconut cream pie or if that's changed, too.”

“I'll have coconut cream pie,” Grace said. This was her one indulgence of the week and she wasn't about to give it up.

“What other kinds do you have?” Olivia asked.

Grace had to bite her lip to keep from giggling at
Goldie's horrified reaction. “You've got to be kidding me,” she burst out. “Now you're quitting coconut cream pie, too? What are those drugs doing to you?”

“I also like pumpkin pie,” Olivia said evenly, “and I think it would be a better choice health-wise.”

“You're not a pumpkin pie kind of woman,” Goldie argued. “If you order pumpkin, I swear you'll have to get some other waitress to serve it. Fact is, I'm wondering what those doctors did to the Olivia I used to know.”

“I'm right here. Okay, you win, I'll have a piece of coconut cream pie.”

Goldie's face broke into a wide smile. “You were just playing with me, weren't you?” Not waiting for a response, she turned sharply and marched back to the kitchen.

“Okay,” Grace said. “
Now
you can tell me what's on your mind.”

Olivia reached for her fork and stared at it. “It's because of Mom moving and everything else—things I never thought would affect me.”