311 Pelican Court. Debbie Macomber
one of the books I checked out of the library. It’ll pass in a few weeks.”
“Yes, I know,” she said. Maryellen could read, too, but pointing that out just now seemed childish and petty. She didn’t want to say anything to irritate him, especially when he had their baby in his vehicle.
“I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,” he assured her.
“Okay,” she whispered. She could sleep in, Maryellen told herself. After a month of getting up at all hours of the night, sometimes two and three times, she should be grateful for a single night of uninterrupted rest. All this anxiety was a by-product of too many nights walking the floor and too little sleep. Not to mention those rampant hormones…
Once inside the house, Maryellen straightened the living room. She picked up the rattle, which was a gift from Jon; it had arrived in a huge basket of flowers he’d had delivered to the hospital. The burp rag draped over the end of the couch got tossed in the washing machine.
Tidying the bassinet, Maryellen sat up the large white teddy bear Jon had given Katie before she was born. The house was full of small gifts he’d brought either before or after the birth. Everywhere she looked there was evidence that he was determined to be part of Katie’s life. He was serious about it and she knew he wasn’t going to let his commitment slide, so she’d better get used to it now.
That night Maryellen slept miserably. She tossed and turned, certain that Katie needed her, certain Jon wouldn’t hear when she stirred in the middle of the night. A hundred regrets besieged her. She’d handed her daughter over to him without once checking to be sure he was adequately prepared to deal with an infant. Maryellen envisioned Katie crying in a wet diaper with an empty stomach while Jon slept, blissfully unaware that she needed attention.
By seven the next morning, Maryellen had worked herself into a near-frenzy. Three times she reached for the phone, but she was afraid she’d wake him, or worse, Katie. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she dressed hastily and drove to her mother’s house.
Fortunately Grace was up, having coffee at her kitchen table. She opened the back door for Maryellen, and Buttercup greeted her delightedly, tail wagging. Maryellen stepped into the kitchen, took one look at her mother and burst into tears.
“Maryellen! My goodness, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing… Everything. Jon has Katie.”
Her mother poured her a cup of coffee. “Sit down and we’ll talk.”
Maryellen felt foolish and overemotional and everything she’d never wanted to be. This was so unlike her. “You have to get ready for work,” she said between sobs.
“Okay, I’ll get dressed, and while I do, you can talk to me.”
Dabbing her eyes, Maryellen followed her mother into the bedroom. She paused when she entered. “You painted in here.”
Grace nodded. “Do you like it?”
Maryellen shrugged. “I guess… I didn’t think there was anything wrong with the old color.”
“There wasn’t, but I had some things I needed to work out in my mind and painting helped.”
Caught up in her own world, Maryellen feared she’d failed her mother, that she hadn’t paid enough attention to the difficulties Grace was confronting. This summer had been traumatic for them both. “Anything I can do to help?” she asked as she sat on the end of her parents’ bed. Her mother pulled a blouse and jumper from her closet.
Grace shook her head. “No, but thanks. Besides, you didn’t come here at this hour to ask about me. Now, tell me what’s got you so upset.”
Maryellen wasn’t upset as much as she was worried. “Jon’s never had Katie before…. I’m afraid she’ll miss me. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
Her mother pulled a full-length black slip over her head. “Wait until eight-thirty or so and then give him a call,” she advised. “My guess is that Jon will be more than happy to hear from you.”
Maryellen hoped that was the case. She didn’t want him to think she was intruding on his time with Katie, but he had to understand how difficult this was for her.
“Come on,” Grace said as she finished dressing. “Let me put on my makeup and fuss a bit with my hair, and then I’ll buy you breakfast before I go to work.”
Maryellen declined with a shake of her head. “I can’t eat.”
“Yes, you can,” her mother insisted. “And you will. Now, come on, it isn’t every day I offer to treat you to breakfast. The Pancake Palace has an early bird special. All-you-caneat pancakes for a buck.”
Her mother was right, Maryellen realized. She needed a meal—and a distraction.
By the time she left the Pancake Palace, Maryellen felt worlds better, although they’d done more socializing with others than talking between themselves. The restaurant obviously did a thriving breakfast business. They’d run into Charlotte Jefferson and the members of the New Knee Club who met there once a month. Everyone at the long table had gone through knee-replacement surgery. Charlotte introduced them to her friend Ben Rhodes, a distinguished-looking older man. They appeared to have a relationship that was more than friendly, at least in Maryellen’s opinion. She couldn’t help wondering if there was a romance in the offing. It was kind of cute.
She got home after nine and headed directly for the phone, figuring Jon would be up with Katie by now. When there was no answer, she left a short message on his machine and dejectedly replaced the receiver.
At ten she called again. Still no answer. She couldn’t stand not knowing and drove to Jon’s home near Olalla. Her heart pounded frantically as she parked and climbed out of her car.
Even before she reached his front door, Jon had it open. Katie was in his arms, held firmly against his shoulder. She was astonished to see her daughter raising her head and peering around.
“Maryellen,” Jon said, stepping aside. “Come on in.”
His home was almost complete now. On her last visit, the finish work had only been partially done. But today she saw that there was a carpet in the living area—a lovely Berber rug in soft greens and grays—and the oak woodwork around the windows overlooking Puget Sound was beautifully varnished. She could see Vashon Island in the distance, and the view of Mount Rainier, majestic and serene beyond the island, was stunning enough to make her heart skip.
Now that Maryellen was here it was obvious to her that Jon had managed just fine. “You…you didn’t answer the phone,” she stammered, “and…and I didn’t know what to think.”
“You called?”
“Twice.” She gave a quick shrug. “I was worried, but I can see that everything’s gone great.”
“I must’ve been in the shower,” he explained, “or on the balcony.”
He seemed so easy with Katie now. During his brief visits, he’d lifted her as if she were a bag of unwieldy potatoes, and now he was as natural with her as a…dad.
Maryellen’s anxiety had been for nothing. She felt embarrassed about rushing out to rescue her daughter. Jon had everything under control.
“Would you like to see Katie’s room?” he asked.
Maryellen nodded. Hindsight being what it was, she should’ve checked on all this before she handed over their daughter.
Jon led her up the open stairway. She loved the house and the fact that he’d done most of the construction work himself. There didn’t seem to be anything Jon Bowman couldn’t master.
His bedroom was at the top of the stairs, and the French doors leading to the balcony were open. She could imagine him sitting there at first light, holding Katie and talking to her about the panorama outside.
Maryellen glanced