“I just had a cancellation,” Terri said. She cocked her head to one side as she studied Maryellen with fresh eyes. “You want it cut, right?”
“Trimmed,” she corrected. Maryellen had worn her hair in the same easy style for years. Her dark curls fell midway down her back. She’d recently begun wearing it tied at the base of her neck, free from Katie’s exploring fingers.
Terri shook her head. “Cut. You need a change.”
“I do?”
With one fist on her hip, Terri nodded. “Short, I think. How long have you had it this length?”
Maryellen had lost count of the number of years.
“Too long,” Terri answered for her. “Yup. It’s time for a change.”
Maryellen was starting to see the possibilities. “Perhaps you’re right.”
Three hours later Maryellen emerged with freshly painted fingernails and her hair in a soft straight cut that framed her face. She barely recognized herself in the mirror, but she liked the change and hoped Jon would feel the same.
She stopped herself abruptly. It didn’t matter what Jon thought. He was part of Katie’s life, not hers, and she’d better remember that.
Even as she reminded herself of her own small role in Jon’s world, her heart pounded with anticipation as she drove out to his house to pick up Katie. He was supposed to work that afternoon, and Maryellen had an errand to run in Tacoma, so it made sense to get Katie on her way.
This was one of those rare November days in the Pacific Northwest, when the sky’s a clear, bright blue and the air is crisp and cold. Driving down the now-familiar gravel driveway to Jon’s house, Maryellen noticed an eagle overhead. With its huge wings extended, the magnificent bird soared on an updraft, as though it reigned from its lofty height.
As Maryellen pulled her vehicle to a stop, she saw Jon with Katie strapped to his back, looking toward the sky with a camera pointed at the eagle. Their daughter was awake and happy, waving her arms and making delighted sounds, obviously enjoying the out-of-doors.
Jon must have heard Maryellen approach, because he lowered his camera and turned to face her. For a long moment he didn’t say anything as he stared at the drastic change in her appearance. Self-consciously, Maryellen lifted her hand to her hair.
“What do you think?” She wanted to kick herself for asking.
He walked closer, studying her, while she stood rooted to the spot.
He cleared his throat as if searching for something to say that wouldn’t hurt her feelings. “It…takes some getting used to.”
“You don’t like it?” It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t. She’d cut her hair on a whim, for herself and no one else. Jon’s opinion, no matter what it was, held no weight. And yet…it did. He clearly didn’t like the change and Maryellen was crushed.
To cover her disappointment, she reached for Katie, who was bundled up in a thick fleece outfit. Her daughter kicked her legs ecstatically as Maryellen freed her from the carrier.
As soon as Maryellen held the infant in her arms, Jon raised the camera once more. “Come on,” he urged, “give me a smile.”
Maryellen tried, but she wasn’t in the mood.
He took two or three pictures. “Again,” he insisted.
Katie was certainly a willing subject. Smiling and gurgling, she flailed her arms about from the crook of Maryellen’s arm.
“Oh, sure,” Jon said, briefly lowering the camera. “Now you’re happy. Laugh away, young lady.”
Despite her mood, Maryellen grinned. “Did Katie keep you up last night?”
“I don’t think I got more than a few hours’ sleep.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Katie was in a foul mood. Nothing satisfied her. I spent most of the night sitting in the rocking chair with her.”
“I think she might be teething.” Maryellen, too, had spent many nights dozing in an upright position. Needless to say, the next workday always ended up being hectic. In an odd way, it comforted her to know that Jon was experiencing the same troubles she did.
Out of habit, Maryellen raised her hand to flip her hair to one side, but it was too short now to toss off her shoulder.
Jon took picture after picture while she stood there.
“Come inside and I’ll make us a cup of coffee,” he said when he’d finished. She wondered if he’d abandoned his art photography in favor of snapping pictures of Katie. Pictures of their daughter were all she’d seen of his work lately. Of course, he was under contract with the Seattle gallery, and she didn’t know whether he’d submitted anything in the last couple of months. She did know his work continued to sell well and she was pleased for him.
Jon paused when she didn’t immediately follow him into the house for coffee. “Do you have time?” he asked.
Since their bout of kissing, Maryellen had managed to avoid spending time alone with Jon. He hadn’t pressured her or questioned her reasons. “I…can’t stay,” she said.
No argument came. It was almost as if he’d expected her to decline.
“I’ll get Katie’s things for you,” he said.
Unsure what prompted her, Maryellen walked inside with him. “How’s everything going at The Lighthouse?” she asked, making casual conversation. She found the success of Seth and Justine’s restaurant particularly gratifying, knowing Jon was employed as head chef. People raved about his innovative dishes. He was a talented, complex man.
Jon gathered up Katie’s favorite blanket and stuffed it into her diaper bag. He found a toy rattle, which he also stuck in the bag.
“I heard it’s impossible to get a reservation for the weekends.”
He shrugged, then looked up, his dark gaze probing hers. “Do you need one?”
“No, no,” she said, not understanding the change in his mood.
“No Saturday-night date?” he pried.
Maryellen laughed. “Hardly.”
“You didn’t get your hair styled to impress me, now did you?”
“I did it for me, Jon.”
His muscles relaxed as he slipped the strap of the diaper bag over his shoulder and gave her a brief smile. She was sure, for a moment, that he wanted to kiss her. “That’s comforting to hear,” he muttered.
His concern—was it jealousy?—was so endearing, she had to resist touching him. In an effort to hide her attraction, she said, “The girls at the nail shop said how wonderful the food at The Lighthouse is.” Terri had recently dined at the restaurant. Rachel, too.
“Thank them for me,” he said in an offhand manner, as if compliments embarrassed him.
“They asked me if I knew where you got your training. I don’t believe you ever mentioned it.” Terri had, in fact, asked her that, and Maryellen took advantage of her friend’s interest to ask a question she herself had wondered about.
“You’re right, I didn’t.” His response was blunt. Clearly he didn’t welcome any further inquiries.
“But you must have been formally trained to—”
“I wasn’t.” He glanced pointedly at his watch. “I need to get ready for work.”
Maryellen was stunned. Every previous time she’d been to Jon’s place, he’d practically thrown himself in front of her car to detain her. Now it seemed he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough.
Absently Maryellen looped a strand of hair around her ear, forgetting once again that her curls were much shorter now than they’d been a few hours earlier. This reaction of Jon’s was so confusing.
Silently he walked her to the car and handed her the diaper bag. “Do you have your work schedule for next week?” she asked.
“Not yet.” He stood beside her vehicle while she strapped Katie into her carrier in the back seat.
When she straightened, she noticed that his attention appeared to be elsewhere. “All right,” she said, “then I’ll wait to hear from you.”
He nodded.
She hesitated, sorry to end their time on such a negative note, but she was unsure what had gone wrong or why. “Goodbye, and…thank you.”
He stepped back from her car and Maryellen got inside and slid the key into the ignition. As she pulled away, she looked in her rearview mirror. Jon was still standing there.
Thirteen
“Are we going to have a big turkey like Mom always cooked?” Eddie asked Thanksgiving morning.
Zach wasn’t fully awake yet, and already his son was demanding answers to questions he could barely comprehend. “Sure,” he said sleepily as he sat up in bed. He glanced at the clock-radio and saw that it was only eight. Sleeping in, apparently, was not an option.
“Don’t you think you should put it in the oven now?” Eddie asked.
The turkey was supposed to be in the oven? This early? Then Zach remembered he’d already solved this issue at the local grocery store. The national chain offered fully cooked Thanksgiving dinners, complete with a thirteen-pound turkey, mashed potatoes, giblet gravy, plus dressing. As a bonus, they threw in a can of cranberry sauce and a pumpkin pie.
“Mom always had the turkey in the oven early in the morning, don’t you remember?” Eddie was almost bouncing on Zach’s bed.
Frankly Zach didn’t remember. What he recalled was the tension during Thanksgiving dinner last year, when he’d been fighting with Rosie. They’d barely managed to get through the day without a major blowup. This year was different. This year it was Zach and the kids and no one else.
According to the terms of the divorce, Zach had been awarded all the major holidays, including Thanksgiving, but Rosie got Christmas Day. He could have Allison and Eddie Christmas Eve, but only until midnight. Heaven forbid if he stayed here one minute past. He remembered Rosie’s anger as he’d disputed those terms and suspected she’d welcome the opportunity to drag him back into court. So much for peace and goodwill, he mused darkly. During the crisis precipitated by Allison’s rebellious behavior, he and Rosie had been aligned in their views and actions, but things had quickly reverted to the earlier animosity.
“Is Allison up?” Zach asked.
Eddie frowned and shook his head. “Do you want me to set the table for dinner?”
“Can we have breakfast first?” Zach mumbled, although he was beginning to share his son’s enthusiasm.
“Do we have to?” Eddie whined. “I want stuffing. It’s my favorite part of the dinner.”
“Mine, too,” Zach confided. Rosie might have her faults as a cook, but she did make the most incredible dressing. His mouth started to water before he remembered that Rosie wouldn’t be stuffing the bird this year. Albertson’s would.
While Zach showered, shaved and dressed, Eddie watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on television. Zach was pleasantly surprised to find Allison awake and sitting in the family room. She lounged on the sofa with her bare feet braced on the edge of the coffee table while she leafed through the newspaper.
“Morning,” Zach greeted her, uncertain what to expect in response. It was a day-to-day struggle with his daughter.
Her reply was half growl and half human. Zach had suggested a truce over the holiday, and Allison had agreed, but she’d let it be known that she was doing him a big favor and he should be grateful.
“What are you reading?” he asked, sinking down onto the sofa next to her. If Allison was willing to make an effort, then so could he. He held a cup of coffee in his hand and had half an eye on the television screen.
“The ads.”
“Advertisements?” Zach asked, her answer catching him off guard.
Eddie raced into the kitchen and returned with a huge bowl of cold cereal. Milk sloshed over the edges as he lowered himself to a cross-legged position on the floor. Zach was about to send him back to the other room, but he didn’t feel right being so strict with his son on a holiday. Eddie could eat in the family room this once, despite the rules.
“Tomorrow’s the biggest Christmas-shopping day of the year,” Allison informed him, continuing to turn the pages of the flyers, scanning each one with care.
These flyers didn’t mean a lot to Zach. He hated shopping. Rosie was the one who purchased all the Christmas gifts. He dreaded the thought of even entering a mall. Last Christmas he’d asked Janice to buy Rosie’s gifts for him; not only had she done a decent job, but she’d wrapped them, as well. His gift to Janice had been a cash bonus, a generous amount—not a personal gift but a practical one—and he’d figured that as a single mother, Janice could use the extra money at Christmas. It still rankled that she’d resigned.
“Mom and I used to read through every single ad,” Allison said absently.
This information wasn’t exactly life-changing. Women enjoyed that sort of thing, he guessed.
“It was fun.”
He shrugged, not understanding the sadness he heard in his daughter’s voice. This was beyond him. If she wanted to get all sentimental over a bunch of advertisements, he’d let her.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Allison sobbed, her eyes swimming with tears.
“What?”
“Mom and I used to go shopping. It was our tradition. We had fun. I loved picking out my clothes for Christmas, and Mom was great about finding exactly what I wanted on sale.”
Zach was sorry, but he still didn’t get it. “You can go shopping with your mother in the morning if you want.” More power to them, as far as he was concerned. Then, thinking he’d add a bit of levity to the situation, he said. “Eddie, your mother and Allison can go shopping tomorrow, can’t they? We don’t care.”
“Sure you can go,” Eddie told his sister.
In response Allison hurled down the newspaper and stormed out of the room.
“What did I say?” Eddie asked. He picked up his bowl and drank from the edge, making loud slurping noises.
“I don’t know,” Zach muttered. He’d better go find out what he’d done that had warranted this reaction.
He discovered his daughter lying across her unmade bed, weeping her eyes out. Zach sighed. Sitting on the edge of her bed, he placed his hand on Allison’s shoulder. She jerked away, telling him in no uncertain terms that she found his touch repugnant.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said.
Allison curled up tightly. “Go away.”
“I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?” she demanded between sobs.
“Because I love you, and it hurts me to see you so unhappy.” Zach was sincere about that.
“You don’t love me.”
“Allison, you’re wrong. You’re my princess, don’t you remember?” He’d called her that for years, until she’d asked him not to when she reached thirteen. Every now and then, he forgot.
Allison rolled onto her back and stared up at him, red-faced.
“What is it about the newspaper ads that upset you so much?” he asked gently.
His daughter sat up and ran the back of her hand under her nose. “Mom said we can’t go shopping tomorrow.”
“Why not?” Zach didn’t understand why Rosie was breaking such a beloved tradition, especially when it meant so much to Allison. They were looking for a way to build a bridge with their daughter, not blow it up!
“Mom said there wasn’t any money for Christmas this year because of the divorce.”
Zach wanted to groan out loud. He was hurting financially himself. Maintaining two households, paying off what he owed the attorneys, plus covering the cost of Rosie’s summer courses, had left him dry.
“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it.
Allison’s lower lip trembled as she nodded. “I know you are, but that doesn’t change a damn thing, does it?”
Zach had to agree she was right.
At noon, when Eddie couldn’t wait a moment longer, Zach drove to the grocery store and picked up their Thanksgiving feast. Allison had all the serving plates and bowls out when he returned.
“We don’t need to dirty those,” he said, thinking of all the extra dishes they would create. The dishwasher could only hold so much.
“We can’t serve mashed potatoes out of a plas
tic container on Thanksgiving Day,” Allison protested.
“Sure we can,” Eddie insisted righteously. “Come on, Allison, you’re holding up the stuffing.”
Zach’s teenage daughter rolled her eyes and surrendered.
With great ceremony Zach unloaded the box. The turkey was browned to perfection and Zach brought out the knife and fork to slice it, lifting the meat from the bird and transferring it to each of their plates. While he worked on the turkey Allison and Eddie helped themselves to the trimmings.
They waited until he’d finished dishing up his own plate and then the three of them joined hands for the prayer. Zach didn’t feel much like praying so he said, “Good food, good meat. Good God, let’s eat.”
“Amen,” Eddie cried, and reached for his fork.
Allison looked at Zach, slowly shaking her head. It went without saying that if Rosie had been with them, he wouldn’t have gotten away with that. Zach winked at her. She winked back. It was almost like having his daughter back.
His first bite was disappointing. The stuffing was too bland, although he supposed that made sense. The grocery store prepared huge amounts at a time and had to satisfy a lot of different tastes.
“Not bad,” Zach said, putting on a bright front.
“It doesn’t taste right,” Eddie complained.
“It’s not Mom’s stuffing,” Allison informed them both.
No one needed to tell Eddie that. He complained with every bite and finally left the table after declining a piece of pumpkin pie.
Zach assumed his son was in front of the television, but when he went to join him and tempt him with pie, Eddie wasn’t there. A search found his son sitting on his bed crying.
Eddie had been a real trooper through the divorce proceedings. It was Allison who’d acted out her anger and rejection, Allison who’d given him his first gray hairs.
“I’m sorry the stuffing was a disappointment,” Zach said, standing in the doorway.
Eddie rubbed his eyes and sniffed.
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series Page 75