Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (45 page)

“You stay as long as you like. Ben and I will look forward to seeing our granddaughter—and you, too, of course.”

“Actually, Mack and I were just talking about you,” Mary Jo told Charlotte.

“Oh?”

“We discovered the oddest thing in the duplex. I found a box of old letters under the floorboards of my bedroom closet.”

Mack moved closer to Mary Jo.

“They've been there for years,” Mary Jo said. “The
letters were written in the early 1940s to a woman named Joan Manry, who lived in the house.”

“Joan Manry.” Charlotte slowly repeated the name.

“Does that sound the least bit familiar?” she asked hopefully.

Charlotte's forehead wrinkled. “I can't say it does. I was a young bride myself back then. Clyde and I had just married, against the wishes of my parents, mind you. I was far too young, but these were desperate times and Clyde was about to go off to war.”

“From what I've been able to decipher, Joan lived at 1022 Evergreen with her sister and worked in the shipyard.”

“As I did,” Charlotte said. “I'm sorry, but the name doesn't ring a bell. Let me think about it, though.”

“Who wrote the letters?” Ben asked. “A soldier?”

“Yes. His name was Dennison,” Mack supplied. “Jacob Dennison.”

“Jacob Dennison.” Charlotte frowned thoughtfully. “His name does sound familiar but I can't recall why.”

“I'd love to find out what happened to those two,” Mary Jo said, her voice full of enthusiasm. “I want to know if Dennison survived the war and if he and Joan ever got married. If so, I'll bet their children and grandchildren would treasure these letters. They're beautifully written and very moving.”

“Hidden away like that, too,” Charlotte commented.

“Yes, I can't imagine why she'd do that. The only thing I've come up with is that, for some reason, Joan's sister didn't like Jacob.”

“Maybe,” Charlotte murmured. “I'll see what I can learn about those names for you,” she said.

“That would be great.” Mack felt some of the tension ease from between his shoulder blades.

Mary Jo turned to Charlotte again. “You don't happen to know who lived in the duplex in the forties, do you?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No, sorry, but I do know it wasn't originally a duplex.”

“When did it become one?”

“Oh, heavens, I'm not sure. It must've been twenty years ago. The previous owner hadn't kept up the place, but that all changed when Mack bought it. He's made such a difference.”

Mack's heart sank all the way to his feet. He glanced covertly at Mary Jo and was surprised she didn't react to the news.

“Mack's made improvements, then?” she asked without letting anything slip.

“The difference is like night and day,” Charlotte said.

Mack stayed quiet, for fear that any remark he made would damn him all the more in Mary Jo's eyes.

“I've kept you long enough,” Mary Jo said after a moment. “I'll come by on Wednesday with Noelle.”

“Ben and I will see you then.” Ben started to push the cart away when Charlotte turned back. “I'll find out whatever I can about Joan Manry and Jacob Dennison in the next couple of days and tell you what I learn on Wednesday.”

“Oh, thank you. I can't wait.”

Mary Jo yanked the cart away from him and steered it back to the diaper aisle at a clipped pace. Mack had to hurry to keep up with her. The anger and betrayal she felt seemed to radiate from her rigid back and stiff shoulders. Unsure how best to proceed, Mack trailed silently behind her.

Not a word passed between them as Mary Jo finished her shopping. He stood, still silent, as she paid for her purchases and exchanged pleasantries with the friendly
cashier. The woman's name tag said Christie Levitt. He thought he'd seen her before, but troubled as he was, Mack couldn't remember where.

Mary Jo seemed quite cheerful—until he caught her eye. Her gaze narrowed and Mack knew there'd be no reprieve for him. She was upset and she wasn't going to forgive his deception easily.

Once she'd paid and collected her bags, Mack dashed ahead of her and unlocked the car, opening Mary Jo's door. Usually he put Noelle in her infant seat but this time Mary Jo did it, not giving him a chance. With nothing more to do, Mack slid into the driver's seat, and simply waited until Mary Jo got in. His hand on the ignition key, he looked at her.

“Can we talk about this?”

“No.”

Her voice was stark.

“Uh, can you let me know when we
can
talk about it?”

She didn't answer.

“I guess that means it won't be anytime soon?” he asked, attempting a bit of levity.

“Probably not.” She stared out the passenger-side window.

Mack exhaled slowly, then backed out of the parking space. He drove in silence.

“Just when I thought I'd met a man I could actually trust,” Mary Jo blurted out five minutes later, “I discover that not only did you outright
lie
to me but you continued with the fabrication when you had every opportunity to set the record straight. Were we not discussing this very matter no more than thirty minutes ago?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Can I trust
anything
you have to say?”

“Yes,” he insisted.

“I doubt it.” She looked pointedly out the passenger window again, her arms crossed.

“Would it help to say I'm sorry?” he asked. And he was. But once he'd told her someone else owned the duplex, he couldn't ever find a way to introduce the truth. He wished now that he'd tried harder.

“No.”

“That's pretty harsh, don't you think? Okay, I screwed up. I admit it.”

“Fine, apology accepted.”

Despite what she said, it certainly didn't sound as if she meant it. “Thank you.”

“Why did you lie?” she demanded.

“Okay, good question. I was afraid—”

“Of what?”

“Afraid you wouldn't agree to the lower rent payment if you knew I owned the duplex.”

She threw him an angry look. “You're right, I wouldn't have. What I want to know is why you felt it was so important for me to move next door to you.”

“Because.” He didn't have an answer that would satisfy her. He couldn't very well say he'd fallen completely and totally in love with her and that he couldn't stand the thought of losing Noelle. Not that she was really his to lose…

“‘Because'? Oh,
that
explains everything.”

“I wanted to be nearby in order to protect both of you,” he returned, losing his own patience. “What's so under-handed about that? If David showed up, I wanted him to deal with me, and leave you and Noelle alone.”

“I can take care of my own problems,” she snapped. “I don't need a knight in shining armor riding to my rescue.”

More like tarnished armor, he reflected, but didn't say anything.

“Besides, David did show up,” she added.

“And you panicked,” he reminded her.

“Yes, I did panic, and then you jumped into hero mode again, asking me to marry you.”

That hadn't been one of his finer moments.

“Of all the ridiculous solutions to come up with,” Mary Jo muttered. “And I was frightened enough and foolish enough to say yes.”

“We came to our senses,” he said.

“Yes, thankfully.”

He sighed. “I'm sorry, Mary Jo. I was wrong to mislead you.”

“You did more than
mislead
me. You lied.”

“Okay, I lied.”

“I don't appreciate it.”

“That I get,” he said drily. “I just want you to know I regret the lie—and the, uh, misguided proposal.”

No response.

They arrived at the duplex, but neither seemed ready to get out of the car.

“Where do we go from here?” Mack finally asked.

Mary Jo didn't answer for the longest time. When she did, she turned sideways and looked at him, her eyes wide and imploring. “Can I trust you, Mack?”

“Yes.” He said it without hesitation. “I'd do anything for you and Noelle.”

“Why?”

His shoulders rose as he took a deep breath. He was afraid of Mary Jo's reaction if he confessed his feelings. She'd probably leave, go back to Seattle, uproot the life she'd created here.

“You don't know?” he asked instead.

“No,” she said. “I don't.”

“You need someone. You don't want to admit it but you do, and I want to be that someone.” He'd toned down
his feelings and hoped she'd understand—and not take offense.

“Of all the people I've met since Noelle was born, you were the one I felt I could trust the most. I'm devastated to learn otherwise.”

“Will you give me another chance?” he asked. He wouldn't plead with her, wouldn't state his case. The decision was hers; this was make-it-or-break-it time. He'd faltered badly but, God willing, Mary Jo would look past his error in judgment and agree to move forward.

“I'm not making any promises,” she said.

“I'm not asking for any.”

She nodded. “Just don't ever lie to me again.”

“You have my word.” The second he spoke, he realized that expression was a poor choice.

“Your word,” she repeated. “For what
that's
worth.”

Mack would need to show her that his word was good and his lie of omission was the wrong thing done for the right reasons.

“From this point forward I'll pay fair market rent,” she insisted.

Mack didn't feel he could argue, so he let it go. But he had to acknowledge, if only to himself, that he was relieved the truth had come out.

Five

C
hristie walked out of her sister's house and slumped against the closed front door. She didn't know how Teri managed with three tiny infants. Identical triplet sons.

After a single afternoon of helping Teri with the babies, Christie was completely exhausted. Thankfully Teri's husband, Bobby, had insisted on a live-in nanny; otherwise, Christie had no idea how the family would've coped.

Nikki, the nanny, was off on Wednesdays, and Christie had arranged to have her afternoons free on the same day so she could come over and assist Teri. To her surprise, she'd discovered that when she focused her attention on others, she was a happier person. She'd learned that lesson over Christmas, which had otherwise been a miserable time for her. James, Bobby's closest friend and chauffeur, had vanished. In an effort to divert herself from her unhappiness without him, Christie had helped distribute food and gifts to the needy. It turned out to be the best thing she could've done. Christmas Day was another matter, but she didn't want to think about that. And then weeks later, he'd returned, without apology or explanation.

The apartment door above the garage opened, and
James stepped onto the small porch. While he didn't invite her into his apartment, he made it clear that he'd welcome her company. The fact that he stood there quietly, waiting, told her as much.

Tired though she was, Christie couldn't walk away. She loved James. He'd hurt her badly when he'd disappeared without a word—and then seemed to think all should be forgiven once he came back. Eventually she
had
forgiven him, although she still didn't understand exactly why he'd left. For good measure she'd tossed in a threat or two. If he ever walked out on her again, it would be over.

She had legitimate reasons for being upset with him. She'd believed he was different from her various exes. Christie had a bad track record with men, starting in high school. The only thing her ex-husband had ever given her—besides trouble—was his name. And every man she'd loved, before and since, had left her high and dry. She'd had a pattern of finding losers she felt she could rescue with enough love and sympathy. Generally they moved in together and for a while all would go well. Then, invariably, there'd be a fight or a betrayal or some kind of disastrous revelation, and the affair would be over, leaving Christie sick at heart, crying her eyes out and desperately alone.

Yes, she'd believed James was unlike any other man she'd ever known. Certainly in the obvious ways, such as the fact that he wasn't nearly as handsome as the guys she usually went for. Tall, skinny, with facial features that were sharp and slightly irregular, he resembled the caricature of a butler in some English comedies she'd seen. But that was superficial and irrelevant. He was compassionate, caring and kind, and that made him more appealing than all the good-looking men she'd been attracted to in the past.

Furthermore, James had inspired her to become a
different woman, to look beyond herself. She'd laid out her past, ugly as it was, so there'd be no secrets between them. Then
poof!
Like every other man she'd ever loved, he'd disappeared from her life.

When he'd come back a few weeks later, Teri and Bobby had championed his case, but Christie was having none of it. Then Teri went into labor and they'd met at the hospital. After that, Christie decided to give their relationship a second chance. However, things were still tentative. She was bruised, weary, uncertain; experience had been a brutal taskmaster and she'd already given too many second chances.

“You look tired,” James said. He met her halfway down the stairs and slipped his arm around her waist. Walking beside her, he guided her up the rest of the steps.

“You would, too, if you'd held a fussy infant for the past three hours.”

“Jimmy?”

“No, Christopher.” Her sister had named the three little boys after Bobby, James and Christie. Naturally, Christie couldn't help being partial to Christopher, the smallest of the three and—of course—the one who demanded the most attention.