204 Rosewood Lane (5 page)

“Bye,” she said, her feelings a mixture of surprise and regret. Anticipation, too, she admitted privately. And that was something she hadn't felt in years.

Kelly watched him go. As soon as Jon was out of earshot, she asked, “Was that anyone special?”

“Just one of our artists,” Maryellen returned, not elaborating.

Kelly claimed the stool recently vacated by Jon. “How's Mom holding up?”

“Better than I expected.” Making that first attorney's appointment had been difficult, but her mother's resolve had seen her through.

“Dad's coming back, you know,” Kelly said.

Maryellen didn't argue, although she'd long since abandoned hope that he would.

“You don't believe me, do you?” Kelly challenged.

Maryellen had, in fact, given up. For whatever reason, their father had disappeared. When it came to men, she didn't expect much, even from her own father.

Could Jon Bowman be any different? She wasn't going to think about that now, she decided.

“Daddy
will
come back,” Kelly insisted again when Maryellen ignored the question.

“Time will tell, won't it,” Maryellen said and reached for her coffee.

S
he must be in the grip of some insanity, Justine decided as she stepped off the small commuter plane in King Cove, Alaska. It'd been almost two weeks since she'd heard from Seth and she couldn't stand waiting another day.

She'd contacted the cannery where Seth and his father sold their fish and crab, but they didn't have any information about the boat's schedule. Justine had left a message with the frazzled secretary, although there was no guarantee Seth would ever receive it. She'd asked the woman to please let Seth know Justine would be arriving that weekend. She could only hope he'd gotten word of her impending visit.

Walking carefully down the steps of the ten-seater aircraft, Justine looked up expectantly, longing for Seth and praying he'd be at the small airport waiting for her. The wind stung her face, shocking her with its chill. The last weekend of September, and already there was evidence of winter's approach in this cold Alaskan wind.

“Is someone meeting you, miss?” the pilot asked when Justine reached for her overnight bag in the cart outside the plane.

“My husband—I think.” But Seth wasn't at the airstrip. She took a taxi into town and listened with half an ear while the driver droned on about life on the Alaskan coast. He dropped her at a waterfront motel with a partially burned-out neon sign that read TEL.

The room was small and plain and dreary with its utilitarian beige carpeting, stained in several places. The curtains and bedspread were a faded floral pattern that wouldn't have been attractive even when they were new. She sat on the edge of the thin mattress, feeling sad and lost. Coming here had been crazy, a sign of how truly desperate she was. Now that she'd arrived in Alaska, she had to accept that this trip was a waste of time.

Her marriage had seemed right and perfect only a few weeks earlier, but now she was overwhelmed by doubts. She couldn't believe she'd actually
married
Seth. She sighed, a long, heartfelt sigh. Quite simply, she needed to know he loved her. And since she'd only heard from him a handful of times, she was beginning to think he didn't. Or rather, that his love was just a temporary passion, a desire he'd now satisfied.

Well, she could spend all weekend in the motel room feeling sorry for herself or she could try to find out where he was. Determined to locate her husband, she dressed in her warmest clothes and asked Betty, the lady at the front desk, for directions to the cannery. She was on foot, but it was only a short distance from the motel to the docks. The wind whipped her long hair about her face as she walked toward the water, her hands buried deep inside her pockets. Because it was late in the fishing season, plenty of boats were tied along the pier.

Justine talked to several fishermen. They were all familiar with Seth and his father, but no one had any information to give her. Disheartened, she headed back to the motel.

As she left, she noticed a large commercial fishing vessel preparing to dock, its huge boom reaching toward the sky. The smaller picking booms stretched out like thin steel arms on either side of the vessel. A large muscular man with a blond head covered in a blue knit cap had his back to her; he resembled Seth in coloring and stature. Was it possible? Could she be this lucky?

Increasing her pace, she hurried down the dock toward the fishing boat. “Seth!” she called, but the wind carried his name away. Still, the man must have heard something because he turned. It
was
her husband. When he saw her, he took one gigantic leap from the vessel to land with both feet on the dock.

Justine ran down the wooden pier and, with a joyous shout, hurled herself into his embrace. He grasped her tightly about the waist, lifting her several inches off the ground. He was kissing her and every doubt, every question, vanished with that one frenzied kiss.

Justine heard men chuckling somewhere nearby, but she barely noticed and apparently neither did Seth.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, brushing the hair from her face. His eyes were warm with love. “How'd you know we were coming back in?”

“I didn't—I just prayed you'd be here.”

He lowered his mouth to hers once more and murmured something about prayer being highly underrated just before his lips claimed hers.

“I have a motel room,” she whispered.

Seth glanced over his shoulder. “Wait here.” He hurried
back to the boat, leaped aboard and quickly disappeared belowdecks. Justine was beginning to wonder what had happened to him when he reappeared with a dark duffel bag draped over his shoulder. Even though he needed a shave and a shower, he was the most handsome, thrilling, incredible man she'd ever seen.

“How long do we have?” he asked.

“Two days.” She slid her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder. “We need to talk, Seth.”

“We will,” he promised, but any conversation would come second if she read the glint in his eyes correctly.

“I see you found your husband,” Betty said as they approached the motel.

“I did,” Justine said, her voice light with happiness. By the time they reached her room, Justine had the key out and ready.

Seth hauled her into his arms the instant the door was unlocked and carried her inside, flicking on the light as they entered. What had seemed plain and ugly only an hour ago felt like a honeymoon suite just now.

Her husband set her on the worn carpet, and his hands delved into her hair, angling her mouth toward his. Their kiss was long. Passionate. “I need a shower,” he muttered impatiently when it was over. “Wait right here.”

“Okay,” she murmured, eyes closed, still consumed by his kiss.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Justine opened her eyes and gazed into his. Seth was stripping off his coat and had started to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. “I'm starving,” she told him, but they both knew she wasn't talking about food.

“Oh, Jussie, me, too.”

He was the only person in the world who dared to call her that.

“I can't believe you're here,” he said. He rapidly discarded his clothes, sitting on the far edge of the bed to remove his boots. He stood before her unzipping his pants. Even in his rush, he took time to drape his clothes over a chair. Then he stalked naked into the bathroom.

The shower had to be the fastest one on record. Justine had just slipped out of her shoes and pulled the sweater over her head. She'd started to unbutton her blouse when he returned. The intense look in his eyes stopped her, and her fingers froze on the last button. It was ridiculous to feel so shy with him. They were married and had already spent one glorious weekend together as husband and wife. But that had been weeks earlier and already seemed as distant as a dream.

Ever sensitive to her moods, Seth seemed to know her thoughts, to sense her apprehensions. With a tenderness that made her weak in the knees, he gently drew her to him. His mouth was warm and moist, and there didn't seem to be any part of her that he didn't want to kiss. Soon her blouse was on the bed next to her sweater.

Their kisses appeared to have the same knee-weakening effect on him because he sank to the bed and put his arms around her waist. He kissed her belly, then reached up and released her bra, freeing her breasts. He moaned and she lowered her mouth to meet his.

Not long afterward, he urged her onto the bed with him and they were caught in a sensual tumult that lasted until Justine was breathless and spent. Wrapped in her husband's embrace with only a sheet covering their legs, she rested her head on his chest, one arm flung about his waist.

Half inclined, his back against the headboard, Seth ran his hand along the length of her hair. Justine had closed her eyes,
but not because she was sleepy. These moments needed to be savored, especially if they had to last her another few weeks.

“I don't know what brought you here,” Seth whispered. “But whatever it is, I'm grateful.”

“I had to know,” she said, her voice more breath than sound. “I had to ask if you were sorry we got married.”

“No.” He was adamant. Tilting her chin up, he studied her eyes. “Are you?”

Her smile developed slowly. Feeling deliciously relaxed and sated, she had no problem giving him the answer he wanted. “I'm so in love with you it's driving me crazy. I want us to be together, Seth. I hate having you so far away.”

“It's been hard on me, too,” Seth told her, his hand continuing its soothing motion. “I've always loved fishing, but my heart's been with you from the moment I left.”

Justine stroked his shoulder, delighting in the smooth skin there. “I didn't tell anyone at home what I was doing. I knew if I told my mother or grandmother I was flying up to find you, they'd tell me it was impossible, that I was taking too big a chance.”

“You've always had an incredible sense of timing,” Seth teased.

“I do, don't I?” She rubbed her cheek against the hard muscles of his chest, loving the feel, the sight, the scent of this man. She eased her leg over his.

“When do you have to leave?” he asked.

“Late Sunday afternoon.”

His hands were in her hair again. “In that case, we'd better make up for lost time, don't you think?”

Justine was in full agreement.

 

Grace woke early Monday morning, feeling more contented than she had in a long while. Buttercup, her golden
retriever, who slept on the floor beside her, got to her feet, tail waving vigorously as Grace folded back the covers and climbed out of bed.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” she said, reaching for her robe. She wondered what Dan would think if he learned that she'd replaced him with a dog.

Buttercup ambled behind Grace into the kitchen and then let herself outside, through the pet door. While the dog did her business, Grace brewed a small pot of coffee. Humming softly to herself, she showered and chose a red plaid blouse and jean jumper to wear to the library. She slid her feet into a pair of matching red shoes, and then popped two slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster for breakfast.

When it was time to leave, Buttercup followed her to the car. Grace rubbed her companion's ears, grateful that her dog would be waiting for her when she returned.

Buttercup was the perfect housemate: loving, obedient, reliable. She'd return to the kitchen through her dog door as soon as Grace left. And then, when Grace got home, Buttercup would come out to greet her again.

The sun was out, but rain was forecast for the afternoon. Grace loved the autumn months; she remembered that Dan used to feel the same way. Having worked as a logger most of his career, he'd always been at home in the woods. Only in recent years, with much of the forest land closed to lumbering, had Dan taken a job with a local tree service. He'd never complained, but she knew he'd hated it and longed to return to the woods.

The sadness was back, and Grace forced her thoughts away from her soon-to-be ex-husband. Wherever Dan was now and whoever he was with, she wished him happiness. She'd never been able to give him that, even in the early years.
They'd married young. Grace was pregnant with Maryellen by the time they graduated from high school. She'd married Dan and he'd enlisted and gone off to Vietnam, but the man who returned wasn't the same man who'd left. Almost forty years later, he still suffered from nightmares and memories he refused to share. She never knew what had happened in those dark jungles, and Dan always said it was better that she didn't.

As usual, Monday morning at the library was slow after the heavy weekend activity. Grace decided to change the bulletin board and brought out the packet with a scarecrow, a black cat and a pumpkin patch. They had sets of cardboard cutouts for every season and holiday; Thanksgiving would be next, followed by Christmas. She was busily working on it, when she heard a male voice behind her.

“I'd like to apply for a library card,” Cliff Harding told her assistant, Loretta Bailey.

“I can help you with that.” Loretta pulled out a form and set it on the counter. She paused when she saw Grace watching her.

Cliff looked over his shoulder. “Hello, Grace.”

“Hello.” She hoped her voice didn't betray how flustered she felt.

“I thought it was time I got a library card, since I'm in Cedar Cove practically every week.”

“We have the highest percentage of people with library cards per capita of any town or city in Washington State,” Loretta informed him proudly as she handed him a pen.

“I'm impressed,” Cliff said as his gaze moved back toward Grace.

She tried to ignore his appreciative stare but couldn't. All at once she found herself fumbling and a tack fell and rolled across the floor. Bending to retrieve it, she nearly bumped
heads with Cliff Harding as he, too, bent down. He was dressed in the same western style as he had been earlier, complete with a Stetson and boots. She even thought she detected the scent of hay on him.

“Are you ready to have dinner with me yet?” he asked in a stage whisper while both of them were crouched.

She glanced up at Loretta, who was carefully studying some paper or other, but Grace wasn't fooled. Her coworker was keenly interested in Grace's answer, perhaps more so than Cliff.

“I…don't think so.” She could feel the heat radiate from her face. His interest left her uncomfortable and out of her element. Her last date had been with Dan, when they were both teenagers. That was almost four decades ago—in a different century! The world was a vastly different place now.

“Would you consider having coffee with me, then?” Cliff asked.

Before Grace could respond, Loretta stood on her tiptoes, leaned over the counter and smiled down at them. “You can take your break now if you want.”

Grace resisted the urge to groan out loud.

“The Pancake Palace?” Cliff suggested, grinning boyishly. He seemed thankful for Loretta's encouragement, even if Grace wasn't.