Return to Promise

by Debbie Macomber

  While she undressed, Cal turned back the covers.

  She seemed to be having trouble unfastening the large buttons of her tailored jacket. Brushing her hands aside, Cal unbuttoned it and helped take it off. When she was naked, he pulled the nightgown over her head, then brought her arms through the sleeves. He lowered her onto the bed and covered her with the blankets.

  She must have gone to sleep immediately. At least, that was what he thought.

  As soon as he climbed into bed himself and switched off the light, she spoke.

  “Cal, I’m not going back.”

  “Back? Where?”

  “To Promise,” she told him.

  This made no sense. “Not going back to Promise?” he repeated.

  “No.”

  “Why not?” he asked, his voice louder than he’d intended. He stretched out one arm to turn on the lamp again.

  “I can’t deal with all the stress in our marriage. Not after this.”

  “But, Jane, we’ll settle everything….”

  “She wants you.”

  At first he didn’t realize that Jane was talking about Nicole Nelson. Even when he understood what she meant, it took a while to battle down the frustration and anger. “Are you saying she can have me?” he asked, figuring a light approach might help. It was definitely better than giving in to his anger.

  “She’s determined, you know—except you don’t know. You don’t believe me.”

  “Jane, for the love of God, think about what you’re saying.”

  “I have thought about it. It’s all I’ve thought about for days. You’re more worried about me embarrassing you than what that woman’s doing to us. I don’t have the strength or the will to fight for you. Not after today.”

  Patience wasn’t his strong suit, but Cal knew he had to give her some time and distance, not force her to resume their normal life too quickly. “Let’s talk about it later. Tomorrow morning.”

  “I won’t feel any differently about this in the morning. I’ve already spoken to Uncle Ken.”

  For years her uncle had wanted Jane to join his medical practice, and had been bitterly disappointed when she’d chosen to stay in Texas, instead. “You’re going to work for your uncle?”

  “Temporarily.”

  Jane had arranged all this behind his back? Unable to hide his anger now, Cal tossed aside the sheet and vaulted out of the bed. “You might have said something to me first! What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Thinking?” she repeated. “I’m thinking about a man who lied to me and misled me.”

  “I never lied to you,” he declared. “Not once.”

  “It was a lie of omission. What I didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me, right? Well, guess what, Cal? It hurt and it hurt bad. I don’t want to be in a marriage where my husband’s more concerned about being embarrassed than he is about the gossip and ridicule he subjects me to.”

  He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “You’re not being logical.”

  “Oh, yes, I am.”

  Cal stormed to one end of the bedroom and stood there, not knowing what to do.

  “You’ll notice that even now, even when you know how I feel, you haven’t once asked me to reconsider. Not once have you said you love me.”

  “You haven’t exactly been proclaiming your love for me, either.”

  His words appeared to hit their mark, and she grew noticeably paler.

  “Do you want me to leave right now?” he asked.

  “I…I…” She floundered.

  “No need to put it off,” he said, letting his anger talk for him.

  “You’re right.”

  Cal jerked his suitcase out of the closet and crammed into it whatever clothes he could find. That didn’t take long, although he gave Jane ample opportunity to talk him out of leaving, to say she hadn’t really meant it.

  Apparently she did.

  Cal went into the bedroom where the children slept and kissed his daughter’s soft cheek. He rested his hand on his son’s shoulder, then abruptly turned away. A heaviness settled over his heart, and before he could surrender to the regret, he walked away.

  Chapter Seven

  “I realize how hard this is on you,” Jane’s mother said. It was two weeks since the funeral. Two weeks since Jane had separated from her husband. Stephanie busied herself about the kitchen and avoided eye contact. “But, Jane, are you sure you did the right thing?” She pressed her lips together and concentrated on cleaning up the breakfast dishes. “Ken is delighted that you’re going to work with him, and the children are adjusting just fine, but…”

  “I’m getting my own apartment.”

  “I won’t hear of it,” her mother insisted. “If you’re going through with this, I want you to stay here with me. I don’t want you dealing with a move on top of everything else.

  “Mother, it’s very sweet of you, but you need your space, too.”

  “No…” Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t want to live alone—I don’t think I can. I never have, you know. Not in my entire life and…well, I realize I’m leaning on you, but I need you so desperately.”

  “Mother, I understand.”

  “It’s not just that. I’m so worried about you and Cal.”

  “I know,” Jane whispered. She tried not to think of him, or of the situation between them. There’d been no contact whatsoever. Cal had left in anger, and at the time she’d wanted him out of her life.

  “Did you make an appointment with an attorney?” her mother asked.

  Jane shook her head. It was just one more thing she’d delayed doing. One more thing she couldn’t make a decision on. Most days she could barely manage to get out of bed and see to the needs of her children. Uncle Ken was eager to have her join the practice. He’d already discussed financial arrangements and suggested a date for her to start taking appointments—the first Monday in the new year. Jane had listened carefully to his plans; however, she’d felt numb and disoriented. This wasn’t what she wanted, but everything had been put into motion and she didn’t know how to stop it. Yet she had to support herself and the children. So far she hadn’t needed money, but she would soon. Cal would send support, she was convinced of that. She lacked the courage to call him, though. She hated the thought of their first conversation being about money.

  “You haven’t heard from Cal, have you?” Her mother broke into her thoughts.

  “No.” His silence wasn’t something Jane could ignore. She’d envisioned her husband coming back for her, proclaiming his love and vowing never to allow any woman to stand between him and his family. Disregarding Jane was bad enough, but the fact that he hadn’t seen fit to contact the children made everything so much worse. It was as though he’d wiped every thought of his family from his mind.

  Two months ago Jane assumed she had a near-perfect marriage. Now she was separated and living with her mother. Still, she believed that, if not for the death of her father, she’d be back in Texas right now. Eventually they would’ve reasoned out all this unpleasantness and discord; they would have rediscovered their love. Instead, in her pain and grief over the loss of her father, she’d sent Cal away.

  She reminded herself that she didn’t need to ask him twice. Cal had been just as eager to escape.

  Nicole Nelson had won.

  At any other time in her life Jane would have fought for her husband, but now she had neither the strength nor the emotional fortitude to do so. From all appearances, Cal had made his choice—and it wasn’t her or the children.

  “We should talk about Thanksgiving,” her mother said. “It’s next week….”

  “Thanksgiving?” Jane hadn’t even realized the holiday was so close.

  “Ken and Jean asked us all to dinner. What do you think?”

  Jane had noticed that her mother was having a hard time making decisions, too. “That would be nice,” she said, not wanting to plan that far ahead. Even a week was too much. She couldn’t bear to think about the holidays,
especially Christmas.

  The doorbell chimed and Jane answered it, grateful for the interruption. Facing the future, making plans—it was just too difficult. A parcel deliveryman stood with a box and a form for her to sign. Not until Jane closed the door did she see the label addressed to Paul in Cal’s distinctive handwriting.

  She carried the package into the bedroom, where her son sat putting together puzzles. He glanced up when she entered the room.

  “It’s from Daddy,” she said, setting the box on the carpet.

  Paul tore into the package with gusto and let out a squeal of delight when he found his favorite blanket. He bunched it up and hugged it to his chest, grinning hugely. Jane looked inside the box and found a short letter. She read it aloud.

  Dear Paul,

  I thought you might want to have your old friend with you. Give your little sister a hug from me.

  Love,

  Daddy

  Jane swallowed around the lump in her throat. Cal’s message in that letter was loud and clear. He’d asked Paul to hug Mary Ann, but not her.

  Jane was on her own.

  The post office fell silent when Cal stepped into the building. The Moorhouse sisters, Edwina and Lily, stood at the counter, visiting with Caroline Weston, who was the wife of his best friend, as well as the local postmistress. Caroline had taken a leave of absence from her duties for the past few years, but had recently returned to her position.

  When the three women saw Cal, the two retired schoolteachers pinched their lips together and stiffly drew themselves up.

  “Good day, ladies,” Cal said, touching the brim of his hat.

  “Cal Patterson,” Edwina said briskly. “I only wish you were in the fifth grade again so I could box your ears.”

  “How’re you doing, Cal?” Caroline asked in a friendlier tone.

  He didn’t answer because anyone looking at him ought to be able to tell. He was miserable and getting more so every day. By now he’d fully expected his wife to come to her senses and return home. He missed her and he missed his kids. He barely ate, hadn’t slept an entire night since he got back and was in a foul mood most of the time.

  Inserting the key in his postal box, he opened the small door. He was about to collect his mail when he heard Caroline’s voice from the post-office side of the box. “Cal?”

  He reached for the stack of envelopes and flyers, then peered through. Sure enough, Caroline was looking straight at him.

  “I just wanted you to know how sorry Grady and I are.”

  He nodded, rather than comment.

  “Is there anything we can do?”

  “Not a damn thing,” he said curtly, wanting Caroline and everyone else, including the Moorhouse sisters, to know that his problems with Jane were his business…and hers. No one else’s.

  “Cal, listen—”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m in a hurry.” Not waiting for her reply, Cal locked his postal box and left the building.

  When he’d first returned from California, people had naturally assumed that Jane had stayed on with the children to help Mrs. Dickinson. Apparently news of the separation had leaked out after Annie called Jane at her mother’s home. From that point forward, word had spread faster than a flash flood. What began as a simple fact became embellished with each retelling. Family and friends knew more about what was happening in his life than he did, Cal thought sardonically.

  Only yesterday Glen had asked him about the letter from Paul. Cal hadn’t heard one word from his wife or children, but then he hadn’t collected his mail, either. When Cal asked how Glen knew about any damn letter, his brother briskly informed him that Ellie had told him. Apparently Ellie had heard it from Dovie, and Dovie just happened to be in the post office when Caroline was sorting mail. This was life in a small town.

  As soon as he stepped out of the post office, Cal quickly shuffled through the envelopes and found the letter addressed to him in Jane’s familiar writing. The return address showed Paul’s name.

  Cal tore into the envelope with an eagerness he couldn’t hide.

  Dear Daddy,

  Thank you for my blankey. I sleep better with it. Mary Ann likes it, too, and I sometimes share with her. Grandma still misses Grandpa. We’re spending Thanksgiving with Uncle Ken and Aunt Jean.

  Love,

  Paul

  Cal read the letter a second time, certain he was missing something. Surely there was a hidden message there from Jane, a subtle hint to let him know what she was thinking. Perhaps the mention of Thanksgiving was her way of telling him that she was proceeding with her life as a single woman. Her way of informing him that she was managing perfectly well without a husband.

  Thanksgiving? Cal had to stop and think about the date, and he realized it’d been nearly three weeks since he’d last talked to Jane. Three weeks since he’d hugged his children. Three weeks that he’d been walking around in a haze of wounded pride and frustrated anger.

  Not wanting to linger in town, Cal returned to the ranch. He looked at the calendar and was stunned to see that he’d nearly missed the holiday. Not that eating a big turkey dinner would have made any difference to him. Without his wife and his children, the day would be just like all the rest, empty and silent.

  Thanksgiving Day Cal awoke with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Glen had tried to talk him into joining his family. Ellie’s mother and aunt were flying in from Chicago for the holiday weekend, he’d said, but Cal was certainly welcome. Cal declined without regrets.

  He thought he just might avoid Thanksgiving activities altogether, but should have known better. Around noon his father arrived. As soon as he saw the truck heading toward the house, Cal stepped onto the back porch to wait for him.

  “What are you doing here, Dad?” he demanded, making sure his father understood that he didn’t appreciate the intrusion.

  “It’s Thanksgiving.”

  “I know what day it is,” Cal snapped.

  “I thought I’d let you buy me dinner,” Phil said blithely.

  “I thought they served a big fancy meal at the seniors’ center.”

  “They do, but I’d rather eat with you.”

  Cal would never admit it, but despite his avowals, he wanted the company.

  “Where am I taking you?” he asked, coming down the concrete steps to meet Phil.

  “Brewster.”

  Cal tipped back his hat to get a better look at his father. “Why?”

  “The Rocky Creek Inn,” Phil said. “What I hear, they cook a dinner fit to rival one of Dovie’s Thanksgiving feasts.”

  “It’s one of the priciest restaurants in the area,” Cal muttered, remembering how his father had announced Cal would be footing the bill.

  Phil laughed. “Hey, I’m retired. I can’t afford a place as nice as the Rocky Creek Inn. Besides, I have something to tell you.”

  “Tell me here,” Cal advised, certain his father had news about Jane and the children. If so, he wanted it right now.

  Phil shook his head. “Later, son, later.”

  They decided to leave for Brewster after Cal changed clothes and shaved. His father made himself at home while he waited and Cal was grateful he didn’t mention the condition of the house. When he returned wearing a clean, if wrinkled, shirt, and brand-new Wranglers, he found him reading Paul’s letter, which lay on the kitchen table, along with three weeks’ worth of unopened mail. He paused, expecting his father to lay into him about leaving his family behind in California, and was relieved when Phil didn’t. No censure was necessary; Cal had called himself every kind of fool for what he’d done.

  The drive into Brewster took almost two hours and was fairly relaxing. They discussed a number of topics, everything from politics to sports, but both avoided anything to do with Jane and the kids. A couple of times Cal could have led naturally into the subject of his wife, but didn’t. No need to ruin the day with a litany of his woes.

  The Rocky Creek Inn had a reputation for excellent food an
d equally good service. They ended up waiting thirty minutes for a table, but considering it was a holiday and they had no reservation, they felt that wasn’t bad.

  Both men ordered the traditional Thanksgiving feast and a glass of wine. Cal waited until the waiter had poured his chardonnay before he spoke. “You had something you wanted to tell me?” He’d bet the ranch that whatever it was had to involve the current situation with Jane. But he didn’t mind. After three frustrating weeks, he hoped Phil had some news.

  “Do you remember when I had my heart attack?”

  Cal wasn’t likely to forget. He’d nearly lost his father. “Of course.”

  “What you probably don’t know is that your mother and I nearly split up afterward.”

  “You and Mom?” Cal couldn’t hide his shock. As far as he knew, his parents’ marriage had been rock-solid from the day of their wedding until they’d lowered his mother into the ground.

  “I was still in the hospital recovering from the surgery and your mother, God bless her, waltzed into my room and casually announced that she’d put earnest money down on the old Howe place.”

  Cal reached for his wineglass in an effort to stifle a grin. He remembered the day vividly. The doctors had talked to the family following open-heart surgery and suggested Phil think about reducing his hours at the ranch. Shortly after that, his parents decided to open a bed-and-breakfast in town. It was then that Cal and his brother had taken over the operation of the Lonesome Coyote Ranch.

  “Your mother didn’t even ask me about buying that monstrosity,” his father told him. “I was on my death bed—”

  “You were in the hospital,” Cal corrected.

  “All right, all right, but you get the picture. Next thing I knew, Mary comes in and tells me, tells me, mind you, that I’ve retired and the two of us are moving to town and starting a bed-and-breakfast.”

  Cal nearly burst out laughing, although he was well aware of exactly what his mother had done and why. Getting Phil to cut back his hours would have been impossible, and Mary Patterson had realized that retirement would be a difficult adjustment for a man who’d worked cattle all his life. Phil wasn’t capable of spending his days lazing around, so she’d taken matters into her own hands.