“Gregory Paul,” Roy repeated, nodding approvingly. “That’s a nice, solid name.”
“How’s Linnette?” Gloria asked.
“Fabulous. Pete said she was a real trouper. Gregory weighed over eight pounds and is almost twenty inches long.”
“He’s a big boy,” Roy said, smiling proudly. “Corrie, we have our first grandson.” His eyes shone with pleasure and they hugged each other tightly.
“That makes me an aunt for the second time,” Gloria whispered.
“Oh, my goodness, I’ve got to get on the internet and book my flight.” Corrie raced out of the kitchen.
“I’ll call Mack and Mary Jo and tell them,” Roy said, heading off in another direction.
“I can help,” Gloria offered. She glanced around the kitchen and got to work finishing the casserole Corrie had started. She was about to place it in the freezer when Roy came back.
“Corrie’s looking through her suitcase one final time.”
“She’s arranged her flight then?”
He nodded. “Before we end here, I wanted to be sure everything’s square between you and me.”
Gloria considered the question. “It’s square.”
“Good.”
That was all he said. Then Roy was back to his paper, looking more at peace than she’d seen him in a long while.
Gloria left about an hour later. She stopped at the grocery store on her way home; as she climbed out of her car she began to cry, standing there in the darkened lot, sobbing.
Gloria wasn’t easily given to tears. If anything, she kept her emotions hidden and rarely if ever revealed them to others.
The tears were an obvious reaction to the birth of her sister’s son, and to seeing how happy and excited Corrie and Roy were. That had to be it.
Only it was much more. Instinctively Gloria recognized that this went beyond the joy she felt for her sister.
This had to do with Chad.
Eleven
Thursday evening, feeling depressed, Bruce walked into the house and found Jolene working cheerfully in the kitchen.
“I’m making tacos for dinner,” she announced. “They’re your favorite, right?”
He tossed the mail on the kitchen counter and realized she was waiting for him to comment. “Sure,” he said without enthusiasm. His mind wasn’t on dinner but on what he’d just learned. He needed time to absorb this latest news about Rachel before he could deal with his daughter’s chatter. Until recently, he’d never noticed how much attention Jolene required.
“You’re late,” she said as she shredded cheese with unnecessary vigor. “I bet you went to the salon to talk to Rachel.” She paused and then added, “Again.”
He ignored the question in her voice, but that was exactly what he’d done.
“So how is Rachel?” Jolene asked.
Bruce doubted his daughter cared. He shrugged in response. Removing his jacket, he hung it in the closet and started down the hall.
“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” Jolene called after him.
“Okay.”
Bruce washed his hands and by the time he returned to the kitchen, Jolene had set the table and placed the serving dishes in the center.
Bruce pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Jolene asked as if his silence had offended her. Her voice had a singsong quality that reminded him of when she was much younger.
“About what?”
“Dinner! I worked really hard on this and the least you could do is tell me I did a good job.”
Bruce looked at the table; it was obvious that she’d put some effort into this meal. “It’s very nice, Jolene. Thank you.”
Apparently pacified, she pulled out her own chair and sat down. Reaching for the platter of crisp taco shells, she took one and then passed it to him. “I had a good day at school.”
He smiled.
“How was work?”
“Okay.”
“Lindsey and I are going to a movie on Friday night. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Sure.”
“Can you pick us up when it’s over?”
He certainly didn’t have any plans for the evening. Not without Rachel. “Okay.”
“Great,” she said, all sunny and happy. “I’ll let Lindsey know. You met her mom, remember?”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” Jolene argued. “She was at the school picnic last year when—” She paused. “Maybe you didn’t,” she muttered, and paid an inordinate amount of attention to the taco she was busily assembling.
“Rachel went to the school picnic,” Bruce told her. He recalled how upset his wife had been afterward. Rachel hadn’t said much at the time, but Bruce could tell how miserable she’d felt. Jolene had acted in a rude and insulting manner, and while Rachel had downplayed his daughter’s behavior, she’d asked not to attend any more school functions without him. Bruce had agreed.
Every day, it seemed, he was reminded of how badly he’d failed both his wife and his daughter. The situation would never have gotten to this point if he’d realized how bad things were for Rachel and had stepped in earlier.
Father and daughter ate in silence. Bruce made an effort to eat, although he had no appetite. He did manage to force down one taco, but that wasn’t enough to satisfy his daughter.
“Have another, Dad,” she insisted, handing him the platter of taco shells.
“No, thanks, sweetie,” he said, pushing his plate aside. The lettuce had fallen out and spilled salsa ran across the white plate.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jolene snapped. “I made your favorite dinner and I tried to have a conversation with you, but you’re ignoring me and it isn’t fair.” Her voice shook slightly and her lower lip protruded.
Bruce rubbed his face with one hand. Now he had both Rachel and Jolene upset with him. It seemed nothing he did was right anymore. If only he knew how to set everything straight….
“I’m sorry, Jolene,” he whispered. “I’m pretty depressed at the moment. I went to see Rachel and—”
Jolene leaped on the news, not allowing him to finish. “She’s being a witch, isn’t she? I bet she wouldn’t even talk to you.”
“No, that’s not—”
“Jane got mad at her the last time you were there, remember?”
What Bruce remembered was the scene Jolene had caused and how it had brought Jane out of the salon to chastise them all. Afterward he’d been asked not to return. He’d honestly tried to abide by the owner’s wishes, but he needed to talk to Rachel, to see her.
“Rachel no longer works at the salon,” Bruce said.
His announcement was followed by a stunned silence. “Rachel quit?”
“Apparently,” Bruce said, hardly able to fathom it. Rachel had worked at the salon for ten years. It was a second home; her clients were her friends, and the other staff members were like family.
Her leaving shocked him. She must’ve been desperate to get away and the reason, the only reason he could figure, was directly related to him and Jolene. In his eagerness to convince her to come home, he’d sent her fleeing.
“Where’d she go?”
If Bruce had any inkling, this news wouldn’t be nearly as devastating. “I don’t have a clue.”
“Jane wouldn’t tell you?”
He shook his head. “Either she genuinely doesn’t know or she isn’t willing to divulge the information.”
“Really?” Jolene’s eyes widened.
“I can’t believe Rachel would quit without telling me.” The fact that she’d left her job was one thing, but not mentioning it to him felt like…like a betrayal. He was afraid he’d lost Rachel entirely and that she never intended to return to their family. He refused to think that was the case.
“I told you she’s a witch,” Jolene said calmly. She stood and carried the bowls of salsa and sour cream to the kitchen counter. “If Rachel’s decided she wants out of our lives
, then I say we should let her go.” She hummed softly to herself, evidently happy with this turn of events.
Bruce stood so quickly that his chair scraped against the hardwood floor. “How can you say that?”
She spun around to face him. “What?”
“That we should let Rachel go. She’s my wife.”
“You’re going to divorce her, aren’t you?”
Divorce her? How could Jolene even suggest it? “No!” He nearly shouted the word.
“But we don’t need her. I can do the cooking and laundry and cleaning. I made dinner all by myself, didn’t I? It’s way better when it’s just the two of us like before you married her.”
Bruce was horrified that his daughter could be so callous. “What about the baby?”
“Well…” Jolene shrugged. “The baby’s a small complication, I agree.”
“A small complication? A small complication,” he repeated. He couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “This small complication is my son or daughter, your brother or sister.”
“I know that.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I miss Rachel. I want nothing more than to have her back. It’s wonderful that you can make a great taco dinner—don’t think I’m unappreciative. But Rachel means more to me than cooking dinner and doing the laundry. She’s my wife, my best friend, and I’m miserable without her.” He found it unimaginable that his daughter could be so self-centered, that all she thought about were her own interests and desires. She saw this pregnancy as a complication, while he was worried sick about his wife and child.
He sagged back into his chair. “I called Teri Polgar and she doesn’t know where Rachel’s living, either.”
“Rachel doesn’t want anyone to know. Not you, not her friends. We should just accept that,” Jolene said earnestly.
Bruce looked up. “Have you heard anything I said?”
“Yes, but I don’t agree. Dad, Rachel wants to get away from us.”
Bruce didn’t believe that.
“You say you love her and everything, but if she wants to live somewhere else, that’s up to her, isn’t it?”
Jolene seemed to delight in pointing out that Rachel had left of her own free will. That she was the one who’d chosen to keep her whereabouts a secret.
“Sit down, okay?” Bruce spoke soothingly, gesturing toward the chair.
Sighing, Jolene reclaimed her seat. “What?” she said, folding her arms defiantly.
“Do you remember, after your mother died, how you tried to hold on to your memories of her?” he asked gently.
Jolene nodded.
“Every night when I put you to bed you’d ask me questions about her.”
“I liked listening to your stories about Mom,” she said. “Sometimes when you talked about her, your voice would go all soft and I could really, really see how much you loved her.”
“I did love your mother. I still do and I always will. After we lost her, I didn’t think I could ever love another woman as much as I loved Stephanie. Then I—”
“But Rachel ruined everything!”
“No, Jolene. You didn’t let me finish. Then I discovered that loving again was possible—with Rachel. I want my wife back and I want us all to be a family.” Foolishly he’d hoped his daughter would see how sad Rachel’s departure had made him.
“Daddy, you and I are a family. Rachel isn’t one of us.”
“Yes, she is,” he told her. “I realize I made a mistake by rushing into this marriage. Rachel and I knew each other for a long time and we were friends before we fell in love. Once we did, we decided to get married, and I felt there was no reason to wait.”
Jolene shook her head impatiently but Bruce paid no attention. He had something important to say and he was determined to make her listen.
“What I failed to take into consideration was how you’d feel. For that I’m truly sorry. But it’s too late to go back. Rachel and I are husband and wife, and we’re going to have a baby.”
With her arms still folded and a look of defiance, Jolene muttered, “Don’t remind me.”
“I am reminding you because we have to work this out. Rachel suggested counseling but you refused.”
Jolene shook her head again. “That’s so lame. No way am I talking to someone I don’t know.”
“Not even if it helps you understand why you feel so negative about Rachel and our marriage?”
“It wouldn’t make any difference,” she said angrily. “That’s how I feel.”
“Please, Jolene.”
“I said I won’t go and I won’t. You can’t force me to talk to anyone. If you think it’s so awful without Rachel, then you go.”
He’d already scheduled his first appointment. “I plan to, but it would mean a lot to me if you’d attend the sessions, too.”
“No way.” Her mouth thinned in patent disgust.
“Why is it so hard for you to see that I’m concerned about Rachel and the baby? If Rachel’s completely on her own, what does the future hold for her and our child?”
Jolene remained stubbornly quiet.
“I remember a time when you begged me for a brother or sister,” he said.
“I was only eight and I wasn’t smart enough to know that if I had a brother or sister I’d have a witch for a stepmother, too.”
“Rachel isn’t a witch.” He swore if she referred to his wife like that one more time, he was going to lose it.
“Sure, she isn’t one to you. The two of you were so lovey-dovey you couldn’t see what she’s really like.”
“What did Rachel do that was so terrible other than marry me?” Unable to stay seated any longer he stood and circled the table, pushing back his hair in frustration. He could imagine how difficult it must’ve been for Rachel to deal with Jolene. She’d tried everything and, idiot that he was, Bruce hadn’t appreciated the self-control it took to put up with his daughter’s barbs and insults.
No wonder Rachel had left. Bruce was as much to blame as his daughter. He’d been blind—willfully blind—and oblivious; now he was paying the price. If only he could turn back the clock…
“Dad, be reasonable.”
“Me?” he cried. “I’m unreasonable?”
“Rachel will tell you when the baby’s born. You know she will.”
“I want to be more involved in my child’s birth than just getting a phone call after the event. My place is with Rachel at the hospital, the way I was there with your mother. My child deserves that and I will not—” He pointed his finger at Jolene. He needed a moment to subdue his irritation before he could continue. “I will not let you dictate to me how I should feel about my son or daughter. It’s time you grew up and thought of someone other than yourself.”
“Me?” Jolene leaped out of her chair, her face reddening. “Me?” she repeated. “The two of you were disgusting, going to bed so early every night. I knew what you were doing. It’s repulsive. And then you had to go and do something stupid like not use birth control!”
“You need to snap out of this and accept that Rachel and I belong together.” Bruce was shouting now. His voice shook with the effort to control his anger. “This baby, boy or girl, is going to need a father who’s present and available in his or her life, just like I was for you.”
Jolene wouldn’t look at him.
“And he or she is going to need a big sister, too. You’ve said you see our child as a complication, but this is a sweet, innocent baby who’ll love you unconditionally…who’ll need your love, too. Are you so biased you can’t see that?” he asked. “Are you so coldhearted that you’d reject your own brother or sister because you’re jealous of Rachel?”
“I am not jealous of Rachel!” Jolene screamed, tears streaming down her face. “I hate her! I hate you!”
“So you hate your brother or sister, too,” he said calmly.
Jolene stamped her foot and in a rage swept her arm across the table. Dishes and serving bowls toppled onto the floor, shattering, spilling food
in all directions. Then she ran out of the kitchen and down the hall to her bedroom, slamming the door. The sound reverberated through the house.
Bruce sank into the chair and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. They desperately needed help. This was more than he could deal with, more than he could handle alone. How right Rachel was to insist on a counselor…. He should have taken her seriously months ago.
He hoped it wasn’t too late.
Twelve
Grace Harding was in her library office reviewing the budget when she heard a knock at her door.
“Come in,” she called, expecting her assistant.
Beth Morehouse opened the door and stuck her head inside. “Do you have a minute?”
Grace glanced at the clock and realized it was past closing. She’d been so involved in her review that she hadn’t noticed. “Sure, come on in.”
Beth walked into the office carrying a picnic basket. Filled with books? Grace wondered but didn’t ask. She smiled at this woman who’d become a friend. Beth’s love for dogs resonated strongly with her. Not only was she an effective trainer who’d been instrumental in setting up the Reading with Rover program, she rescued stray and abandoned dogs. She found homes for some of them and kept others for the library program. She trained them to sit with children as they read aloud. Being with a dog relaxed children who struggled with reading and were at risk academically. While a volunteer was close at hand, the real focus was on the children and “their” dogs. And on learning to read.
Grace had instigated the program after hearing how it had started in a Seattle bookstore. Because of her own volunteer work at the animal shelter, it had immediately appealed to her. She’d checked with local grade schools and, not surprisingly, the idea had met with enthusiasm.
That was when Grace heard about Beth, who’d moved to Cedar Cove three years earlier. As soon as Grace approached her, Beth had responded with an unqualified yes. Despite the work on her Christmas tree farm, Beth faithfully brought the dogs into the library several times a week. Without her the program wouldn’t be possible.
“What’s up?” Grace asked, pushing aside her spreadsheets. After hours of staring at numbers, considering proposed budget cuts and trying to do more with less, she welcomed the break. It’d been a draining week and she looked forward to a relaxing weekend with her husband. They planned to go horseback riding along the beach on Saturday, maybe take in a movie Sunday afternoon.
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 Page 69