Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie Macomber
around these days?” her father asked cautiously.
“Apparently not,” she said, speaking in a nonchalant manner. “The John F. Reynolds left earlier this week.” It wasn’t as though she could ignore the fact. The media—both the local paper and the Seattle dailies, plus the TV news—had made a big issue of the repaired aircraft carrier departing for the second time within a month. Not only that, Cedar Cove had been full of talk about it.
“You speak to him lately?”
Cecilia noticed that Bobby stood several feet away from her. He seemed prepared to make a quick getaway if she snapped at him again.
“Ian and I are getting a divorce,” she reminded him.
“I know,” he said, “but I thought, you know, that you might be reconciling.”
Cecilia had started to believe the very same thing. After the night they’d gone to dinner, and the lovemaking, she’d been hopeful. Excited. It was similar to the way she’d felt when they’d first begun seeing each other. Then, when he’d left her apartment that night, everything had changed, and she couldn’t understand why.
“I wish you’d work it out,” Bobby told her, “you and him.”
Resentment swelled up inside Cecilia. “I wish you and Mom had tried harder, too, but wishing doesn’t do me a damn bit of good, does it?” With that, she grabbed her paycheck and slammed out the door.
She was angry, without justification. Her father irritated her, her coworkers annoyed her—everyone did lately—and that wasn’t like her. Bobby only wanted to be helpful and she’d immediately found fault with him. Not since her pregnancy had Cecilia been so out of sorts. She didn’t have that excuse this time; her period had showed up right on schedule—thank God. Her bad mood was simply…a bad mood, she decided.
After depositing her paycheck, she went to the grocery store and picked up the few items she’d need to see her through the week. Although it was an extravagance she couldn’t afford, she purchased a bouquet of spring flowers—for Allison. She hadn’t visited her baby’s grave in almost a month. Staying away was difficult for her. She’d had to make a real effort not to visit the cemetery every day. In the beginning she had.
She’d wanted to be more than a good mother; she’d wanted to give her daughter everything she herself had never had. Not material things, but attention and love and security. As it happened, she couldn’t give Allison the most fundamental thing of all. Life itself. Her baby had been cheated from the first, and Cecilia, with all her good intentions, had failed. Rationally she knew she wasn’t to blame, but emotionally… She couldn’t get over the feeling that there must have been something she’d neglected to do. Something she should’ve done. The doctor had said that was a common reaction in such cases and had urged her to seek counselling. Cecilia hadn’t been able to face it.
She didn’t head for the cemetery until midafternoon. With tears in her eyes, she strolled along the pathway that led to the section of the cemetery with Allison’s grave site. She stopped now and again to brush leaves or grass from a headstone, checking names and dates, wondering about each lost life.
When she arrived at Allison’s grave, Cecilia noticed the bouquet of fresh flowers. Yellow daisies, which just happened to be Cecilia’s favorite.
Ian. It could only be Ian.
He hadn’t called to tell her he was being deployed, but he’d been to visit their daughter. Cecilia crouched down and placed her own bouquet next to the one her husband had left. She touched the daisies with one fingertip, wondering if this was a message to her.
No, she decided, steeling herself against any lingering emotion. Ian had made it plain that he didn’t want her in his life. He’d wanted her body but not her. That message had come through loud and clear. He’d asked her to leave his hospital room in terms she couldn’t possibly misunderstand. And he hadn’t phoned to apologize. Fine, dammit! She didn’t need his car, anyway.
The more Cecilia insisted she didn’t care about Ian, the less she convinced herself. Not that she wanted to care. This depression and anger was all his fault. Once again she’d allowed him into her bed…and her heart. And now she was suffering the consequences.
It hurt that he’d left Bremerton without so much as a word to her. Not goodbye, not I’m sorry, nothing. He’d been rude and unreasonable, and this wasn’t the first time, either.
Back at her small apartment, Cecilia tried to do her English homework but her mind repeatedly wandered away from the English Romantic poets and down paths she’d prefer to avoid.
When the phone rang, she was jolted by the sudden noise. With an exaggerated sigh, she picked up the receiver.
“Hello,” she said dully.
“Hi,” came a cheerful woman’s voice. “You don’t know me, but I figured it was time I introduced myself. I’m Cathy Lackey.”
“Who?”
“Cathy Lackey, Andrew’s wife.”
Ian’s friend. “They’re deployed, aren’t they?”
“Three days ago. Ian didn’t phone?”
“No.” She tried to sound unconcerned, despite the pain it’d caused her.
“That coward! I’d like to give him a swift kick in the behind,” Cathy muttered.
For the first time all day, Cecilia grinned. “You and me both.”
“Listen, I realize we aren’t even acquainted yet, but I’d like it if we could be friends. Andrew and Ian are such good buddies and…well, we were only stationed here a few weeks ago, and I haven’t met very many people.”
“I don’t know a lot of people my age, either.” Not unless she counted the women she worked with, and Cecilia had never truly fit in with the group at The Captain’s Galley. Because she tended to be quiet and withdrawn, and her childhood had been so chaotic, she’d always had trouble making friends. “But sure,” she added, “let’s get together sometime.”
Cathy would be able to tell her about Ian, too; that thought didn’t escape her.
“Great!” Cathy seemed pleased. “Are you doing anything tonight?”
It was one of those rare Saturday nights that Cecilia didn’t have to work. “What do you have in mind?”
“I was thinking we could rent a movie and make popcorn.”
That was about all Cecilia could afford. “I’d like that. Do you want to come here or should I drive over to your place?”
“I’ll join you, if that’s all right?”
“Sure.” Cecilia glanced around the apartment to be sure it was clean. She’d run the vacuum and straighten her books and papers; other than that, it was acceptable.
“Can you drive me back later?”
“No problem,” Cecilia said. “Do you need a ride over here, too?”
“No, I’ve got Ian’s car.”
The words struck her like a lightning bolt. Before she could react, Cathy was asking, “Is six too early?”
“It’s fine,” she managed. “But—”
“I’ll give you the keys and the insurance papers and everything then,” Cathy continued.
“The…what?”
“For Ian’s car. He was supposed to call you, but when I didn’t hear from you, I figured he’d lost his nerve. Men!” Cathy giggled and Cecilia found herself frowning, hardly making sense of all this.
“You mean he said I should use his car?”
“He insisted on it,” Cathy assured her.
Cecilia