16 Lighthouse Road

by Debbie Macomber

  “You look fabulous,” Warren said, kissing her cheek when he picked her up after work. The bank was open until six on Friday nights and after a ten-hour day, Justine was tired. Warren might think she looked good, but that wasn’t how she felt.

  Because they were close to D.D.’s, Justine suggested they walk over to the waterfront restaurant.

  “Let’s drive.”

  It seemed ridiculous to drive to a restaurant less than two blocks from the bank, but Justine didn’t want to start the evening with an argument.

  Warren held open the car door for her and she discovered a small wrapped package on the passenger seat. “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Open it and see.”

  “Not another gift. Warren, please, this isn’t necessary.”

  “Says who?” he joked. “It’s the only way I can prove to you that I’ll be a generous husband.”

  “Warren.”

  “All right, all right, no pressure.” Chuckling, he hurried around to the driver’s side.

  Justine waited until he was seated before she opened the jeweler’s box. Inside was an oblong-shaped black pearl in a gold oyster clasp; it was suspended from a fine gold chain. The pearl was exquisite.

  “A friend of mine picked that up for me in the South Pacific,” he told her.

  “It’s lovely.”

  “You deserve to wear diamonds and pearls.”

  “Oh, Warren.”

  “Come on,” he said, grinning. “Let’s get to the restaurant. I could use a drink.”

  Justine enjoyed a glass of wine now and then, but she wasn’t a heavy drinker. Warren often overindulged and when he did, she drove them both home and spent the night in his spare room. She knew what people thought and was content to let their assumption stand. Warren appreciated her discretion. Evenings of this kind happened often enough that she kept a spare set of clothes at his house.

  The parking lot at D.D.’s was already almost full, and they were fortunate to find a space. Instead of requesting a table for dinner, Warren led her into the cocktail lounge, where they sat at a circular booth overlooking the water.

  Warren had two double scotches in quick succession. He’d just ordered his third when Seth Gunderson walked casually into the lounge.

  Justine’s shocked gaze clashed with his. She’d had no idea he was still in town. The last place she’d expected to run into him was here.

  Seth looked slowly from Justine to Warren, a disgusted expression on his face.

  Since it would be rude to ignore Seth completely, she attempted a smile. He acknowledged her briefly by inclining his head in her direction, then made for the bar. He took a seat with his back to her.

  “What’s wrong?” Warren asked.

  “Nothing,” she assured him, staring out over the waterfront and the marina.

  “Who’s he?” Warren asked, glancing at Seth and then, as if he’d figured it out, he reached for his drink and tossed it down in one swallow. “Damn,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Don’t worry about it, Warren. I’m with you, not Seth.” Agreeing to marry Warren right then and there would reassure him, but she couldn’t make herself do it.

  “You want him, though. Don’t you?”

  “Of course not.” How easily the lie came to her lips.

  “Who do you think you’re kidding?” Warren said scornfully. “It’s written all over both of you.”

  “That’s not true.” She repulsed Seth. Everything he did told her as much. He sat at the bar with his back to her, letting her know that he couldn’t bear the sight of her.

  “You can’t take your eyes off him,” Warren commented and oddly, he sounded amused.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m going to clear the air here and now.”

  “No! Warren, no.” She tried to grab his arm as he slid out of the booth, but he was too fast for her.

  Horrified, Justine watched as Warren walked over to the bar. She could only speculate about what he said, but he appeared to be inviting Seth to join them. Seth declined, and obviously Warren persisted, encouraging him. Justine wanted to crawl under the table when Seth finally gave in, picked up his beer and followed Warren back to their booth.

  “Sit down,” Warren said jovially.

  Seth hesitated. The option was to sit next to Warren or to slide into the booth beside her. He chose to sit by her, so she was trapped between the two men. She noticed that Seth was as far removed from her as he could possibly be and still remain in the booth. Warren moved closer to her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders.

  “I understand you two know each other from high school.”

  Seth didn’t seem too interested in answering.

  “We were friends even before that,” she murmured.

  “Did you enjoy the reunion?” Warren asked, directing his question to Seth.

  “Parts of it.” His gaze burned into Justine’s. “I understand congratulations are in order. Justine told me she’s agreed to be your wife.”

  Warren’s arm tightened around her shoulders, as if to tell her how pleased he was. Then—pretending he knew—he said expansively, “That’s right. As you can imagine, I’m a happy man.” He threw Justine a bold smile.

  “A lucky one,” Seth added without emotion.

  “But not a selfish one,” Warren said, not quite under his breath.

  Justine pressed her hand against his arm, fearing what he seemed about to say.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Warren, I think it’s time we had dinner,” Justine said, eager to end this conversation.

  “Not quite yet.”

  “Warren, please.”

  “In a minute,” he said a little more firmly. “I can see what’s happening between you two,” Warren went on.

  “Not a damn thing, I can assure you,” Seth informed him stiffly.

  “Maybe. I’m not here to judge. I know how Justine feels about you, Gunderson. She’s got the hots for you.”

  “Don’t do this,” she pleaded.

  Seth frowned, his face darkening.

  “You aren’t any better at hiding your feelings than she is,” Warren continued. “Well, more power to you.”

  “Justine’s already agreed to marry you,” Seth reminded him.

  “True, but we both know she’s more woman than an old guy like me can handle.”

  “Oh, God.” Never in all her life had Justine been so humiliated, so embarrassed. She tried to leave the booth, but with Warren on one side and Seth on the other, she couldn’t escape.

  Seth leapt out of the booth as if it’d suddenly caught fire. “I’ve heard enough of this conversation to know I’m unwilling to listen to any more.”

  “Don’t be hasty,” Warren said with a congenial laugh. “I’m just trying to show you both how open-minded I am. If you want Justine, you can have her with my blessing.”

  Seth’s earlier look of contempt didn’t compare to the one he cast Justine now. Contempt…and pity.

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he said, slamming down his beer. “I have no interest in Justine.” Then he walked out of the lounge, not sparing her so much as a backward glance.

  Nineteen

  Cecilia felt the joy, anticipation and excitement as Navy wives and families crowded the pier, awaiting their husbands and fathers. She had truly become one of those wives. She stood with Cathy, who was obviously pregnant now. They held on to each other, fearful of being separated in the large group. In some ways, Cathy was like the sister she’d never had. She hoped that the bond they’d built in the past months would continue for a lifetime. Her friend had taught her so much about courage and hope. Lessons Cecilia had carried with her ever since the accident on the John F. Reynolds.

  “I think I see Andrew,” Cathy shouted.

  Andrew Lackey stepped off the gangplank and peered expectantly around. Cathy shrieked and ran toward him, arms flung wide. Andrew caught her around the waist and half lifted her from the ground. As they
kissed, Cathy threw her arms around her husband’s neck.

  Feeling a bit awkward watching them, Cecilia looked away, hoping to catch sight of Ian. Her heart sank; he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Glancing back at her friend, Cecilia felt tears in her eyes as Andrew flattened his hand against Cathy’s belly. Standing where she was, Cecilia could feel his relief and his sheer happiness that this pregnancy was secure. The most dangerous months had passed, and although there were no guarantees, a miscarriage was far less likely now. The doctors were pleased with the way the pregnancy was progressing.

  Then all at once Cecilia saw Ian. He paused at the top of the gangplank and scanned the crowd, searching for her.

  “Ian!” she shouted and her arms shot into the air to attract his attention. “Here! I’m here.” She took off running toward her husband, ducking and weaving through the crowd, and literally flew into his embrace.

  Cecilia had thought she was ready for this moment, but nothing could have prepared her for the wild burst of happiness. When Ian returned shortly after Allison’s burial, she hadn’t come to the base to meet him. At the time, she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. But everything had changed, and now Ian was home and they were beginning a new life together.

  “Oh, honey.” Her husband’s hands were in her hair and they kissed frantically, straining against each other, eager to give and receive, holding back nothing.

  “Welcome home.” As long as her arms were around his neck, she didn’t care if her feet dangled inches off the ground. “How are your ribs?” she asked, afraid all this hugging might hurt him.

  “They burn like hell, but I’d rather put up with the pain than not hold you.” He kissed her again. The passion between them was back, the way it had been at the start.

  Tears welled in Cecilia’s eyes. She hadn’t expected to cry, but it felt so…so good to be with Ian. The months he’d been at sea had been a time of healing for them both.

  “I love you so much,” she whispered over and over.

  “I love you, too.”

  Ian had proved it in more ways than she could count. She was grateful for his patience and his refusal to give up on her or their marriage. If it hadn’t been for his repeated attempts to resolve their differences, she was sure they would’ve been divorced by now. Neither Ian nor the judge had made divorce an easy option and Cecilia was truly thankful.

  “I’ve made a decision,” she told him as they walked toward the car, their arms locked around each other. Now that he was home, any separation, even that of a few inches, seemed too much.

  “I hope it involves living with you again,” he murmured.

  “Yes, it does.” Actually Ian was in for a surprise. With Cathy’s help, she’d moved her husband’s things back into their small apartment. Some of his stuff was still on base, but everything he’d left with the Lackeys had been brought to their home.

  “I want my wife with me.” He stared into her eyes.

  “I want another baby, Ian.” There, she’d said it. The words came straight from her heart.

  His steps faltered and he stopped abruptly. “I thought…you said…”

  She knew he was confused and could hardly blame him. “You can thank Cathy and Andrew for my decision.” If her friend could face a third pregnancy with hope and a positive attitude, then Cecilia, too, could learn to let go of her pain and look toward the future.

  “You’re sure? Because I’ve made up my mind to leave it entirely up to you. Don’t misunderstand me, I want a family, but it’s more important to me that you feel you can go through with another pregnancy.”

  Cecilia leaned her head against his shoulder as they resumed walking. “I’ve given this a lot of thought in the last few months. I’d like to continue with my schooling.”

  “You should, Cecilia. You’re very intelligent, and you show real ability with numbers.”

  “But I want a family, too. Our family. I’d like to wait a couple of years, though.”

  “Whatever you decide.”

  “I wish you’d been this agreeable a few months ago,” she teased, then changed her mind. He’d been stubborn, all right, but she’d been no less so.

  “Someday soon I want to go back and visit that judge,” she continued.

  “Why?”

  “She had the courage to tell us to stay together. She didn’t say it in so many words, but that was her message. I want to thank her.”

  “I do, too,” Ian said. And he gently kissed the top of her head.

  The telephone woke Grace out of a sound sleep. Heart pounding, she jerked upright and automatically groped for the receiver.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s time,” her son-in-law said.

  “Kelly’s in labor?” Grace was already out of bed, holding the telephone to her ear, turning on lights, looking for clothes. The digital clock-radio told her it was three-fifty.

  “The contractions are five minutes apart, and we’re on our way to the hospital.”

  “I’ll meet you there. Do you want me to call Maryellen?”

  “Thanks. She’s the next name on the list.”

  After throwing on a pair of sweats, phoning Maryellen and making herself a cup of instant coffee, Grace was ready to head out the door in less than fifteen minutes.

  “Buttercup!” She called her dog, needing to let her out in the backyard before she left.

  The golden retriever ambled slowly out of the bedroom, obviously not pleased to have her sleep interrupted. “I’ll be back before you know it,” she promised, and then because she was just so excited, she announced loudly, “I’m about to become a grandma!”

  Maryellen was at the hospital’s birthing center by the time Grace arrived. They met in the waiting area. Paul’s mother, Margaret, was there with her camera and cross-stitch project.

  “I’ve been through this before,” she explained, settling down in a chair and taking out skeins of embroidery thread in various colors.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Maryellen muttered, cradling a cup of convenience-store coffee in her hands. “I haven’t been up this early since drill team in high school.” That comment was followed by a huge yawn.

  “Where’re Paul and Kelly?”

  “Back there.” Maryellen waved absently toward a set of double doors.

  Grace was approaching the nurses’ station to ask for news when Paul appeared. “Kelly’s getting checked now to see how far she’s dilated. She’s doing great.”

  “How about you?” Grace asked.

  Paul nodded excitedly. “I’m ready for this.”

  “He thinks he is,” Paul’s mother teased.

  “Your life is going to change forever,” Grace told him.

  “Believe me, I know that. Kelly and I very much want this baby.”

  Before he left, Grace hugged her son-in-law, grateful to Paul. He’d been a wonderful help in the months since Dan’s disappearance. Grace knew he’d given Kelly unwavering comfort and support, as well as commonsense advice; she herself had leaned on him many times when something around the house needed fixing. Not once had he complained. She’d gradually become stronger, braver, more determined to get on with her life, but she didn’t think Kelly felt that kind of resolve yet—or resignation.

  “How do you think Kelly’s going to deal with Dad not being here?” Maryellen asked, as if reading Grace’s thoughts.

  Grace couldn’t answer that. Kelly had clung to the hope that her father would reappear as soon as her baby was born, absolutely refusing to accept that he’d abandon her at this crucial time.

  “He isn’t coming,” Maryellen whispered, leaning forward. “Dad’s not going to walk through that door and there isn’t going to be a joyous reunion, is there?”

  “Probably not,” Grace agreed. “Kelly will deal with it in her own way. Right now, though, she has enough to think about.”

  “You’re telling me,” Maryellen muttered.

  Grace leaned back in the hard plastic chair and closed her eyes, fighting off the u
rge to sleep. A part of her wanted to be with Kelly, but she also recognized that this special time was reserved for Paul and she didn’t want to intrude. Maryellen, long-divorced, had shown no interest in motherhood, nor had she revealed any desire to marry again. Grace sometimes wondered if Maryellen had put her emotional life on hold while concentrating on her professional life. Grace’s only concern was that Maryellen have no regrets about the choices she was making.

  At seven-thirty, Kelly was ready to deliver. Paul brought them that update and then dashed out of the waiting room at lightning speed. Maryellen, Grace and Margaret gathered in the hallway outside the delivery room. Not long afterward, their tension was broken by the cry of an infant.

  Paul appeared a few minutes later. “It’s a boy,” came his jubilant shout. “A boy!”

  Grace didn’t know Margaret Jordan very well, but all of a sudden Maryellen and Grace were hugging Paul’s mother as if she were their closest friend. Tears of joy crept down Grace’s cheeks.

  “Mother,” Maryellen chided. “Just look at you.”

  “I have a right,” she laughed, wiping the tears from her face. “I’m a grandmother!”

  At nine that morning, while Kelly slept, Grace sat in the rocking chair with this precious new life cradled lovingly in her arms. “Welcome, little Tyler Daniel Jordan,” she whispered, rocking gently. The commotion had died down. Margaret had taken her pictures and returned home to her husband. Maryellen had gone into the art gallery, refusing to allow a little thing like becoming an aunt—and getting hardly any sleep—to keep her away. Grace, however, was in no hurry to leave.

  “Mom,” Kelly whispered from her bed. Grace glanced up to find her daughter watching her. “He’s so perfect, isn’t he?”

  “Precious child.” Grace kissed Tyler’s forehead.

  “You don’t mind that we named him after Dad, do you?”

  Grace assured her she didn’t. “I don’t know where your father is,” she told her, “and there are no guarantees I ever will, but I’m sure of one thing. He loves you and he’d be very proud to know that little Tyler is his namesake.”

  “Do you really think so?”