6 Rainier Drive (18 page)

L
innette was waiting for her sister at the high-school track. Gloria had finally convinced her to try running, which she claimed kept her in good shape and allowed her to pass the police department's regular fitness tests.

Gloria was supposed to join her when her shift ended. Together they'd do a lazy mile, she'd said. Then, in a few weeks, after Linnette had built up her endurance, they'd run farther. Gloria had made it sound like fun and as a physician assistant, Linnette often advised patients on the health benefits of exercise. The least she could do was practice what she preached. Besides, seeing her fit and firm would be a nice surprise for Cal when he returned.

Gloria was only a few minutes behind her; she pulled into the lot and parked next to Linnette.

“Hey, you look great,” Gloria said as she stepped out of her car.

Linnette did a full turn so her sister could get a complete view of her jogging suit. “I should. This running outfit cost me over a hundred bucks.”

Gloria rolled her eyes. “You don't need designer clothes to run—an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt would've worked fine.”

“Not for me. I figure that if I'm going to sweat, I want to look as good as I can while I'm doing it.”

Shaking her head, Gloria led the way. It was late enough that the school had finished with the track, which was now open to the public. Several other runners circled it; a few more walked.

“Chad asked me to send his greetings,” Linnette said, watching for her sister's reaction. Gloria didn't give any indication that she cared. “Hey, that's quite the poker face,” she teased.

“What?”

“I mentioned Chad's name and you didn't even raise an eyebrow. When are you going to admit you're as interested in him as he is in you?”

“Do you want to run or not?” Gloria asked, ignoring the question.

“Run, of course.” She was looking forward to some brisk exercise and, in the process, spending time with her sister. All they seemed to do when they got together was go out for meals, which defeated her
goal of getting into shape. Gloria was the one who'd suggested they start running and Linnette had happily agreed.

Gloria demonstrated a few warm-up exercises.

Linnette carefully followed her instructions. “Hey, this is great. I feel better already.”

“We aren't running yet.”

Linnette jumped up and down a few times, showing her sister that she had plenty of energy in reserve. “Lead on and don't hold back on my account,” she said, gesturing dramatically at the track.

“We'll start off nice and easy,” Gloria told her. “I wouldn't want to kill my sister, the health care professional.”

“It's nice to have a sister, isn't it?” Linnette murmured, basking in the glow of first finding a friend and then learning that friend was also her sister.

“I agree—a sister is a good thing,” Gloria said with a smile.

They took off down the track, and to Linnette's surprise it wasn't bad. She could breathe almost normally. But by the end of the first lap, her breathing had grown heavier and her speed had decreased. “How many laps in a mile again?”

“Four.”

Gloria had to be kidding. Each time around felt that far. “That was a joke, right?”

“You're already a quarter there.” Gloria cast her a knowing look.

This wasn't welcome news. Her lungs ached, and her legs didn't want to cooperate. She felt suddenly depressed to realize she still had three laps to go before she was finished. Besides, in addition to her aches and pains, she noticed that perspiration was running freely down her face. “Maybe you were right about starting off slow and easy,” Linnette managed, although it stung her pride to suggest she wasn't up to the challenge.

“We're practically walking now,” Gloria said. “Why don't we talk—that'll distract you.”

“What do you want to talk about? Chad?” Linnette asked.

Once again, Gloria ignored the mention of his name. “What do you hear from Cal?”

“Not much. I talked to him this weekend. He was in a honky-tonk bar, if the background music was any indication.” Linnette frowned at the memory. She might not know much about mustangs, but even as a greenhorn she was bright enough to recognize that there weren't a lot of wild horses hanging around in bars. Rethinking the conversation, she recalled a number of other things that had bothered her. “While we were talking, Cal began to stutter again. That tells me he's tense or nervous about something.”

“Maybe he just needs to get back to the speech therapist.”

“Maybe.” Still, Linnette didn't think that was the problem. There was something on his mind he wasn't telling her. They hardly talked anymore. When he phoned, it felt more like the fulfilling of an obligation than any desire to talk to her. A recent article in the
Cedar Cove Chronicle
stated that local veterinarian Vicki Newman had joined Cal. She remembered their meeting at the ranch earlier and the odd sensation that had come over her when she saw Cal talking to Vicki. She'd felt threatened, and she couldn't figure out exactly why. Vicki was so…ordinary. Linnette hated to say it, but the veterinarian, with her sharp facial features, lank hair and mannish build, was downright unattractive. She seemed nice enough, Linnette supposed. But Cal hadn't told her Vicki was going to Wyoming, too, and that worried her.

During their last call, Linnette had told him how much it dismayed her, but Cal hadn't responded. Instead, he'd changed the subject.

They never argued. Cal would walk away from a disagreement rather than talk about it rationally. It didn't help, she told herself, that he had a difficult time controlling his speech when he was upset, which only made him more disinclined to discuss problems.

“What about you and Chad?” Linnette asked
again, rather than focus on her own relationship. “You talk about Chad and I'll discuss Cal.”

“There's nothing to talk about.”

“Why aren't you going out with him?” Linnette didn't understand it.

Gloria shrugged. “Should I be?”

“No, I guess not,” Linnette said reluctantly. And yet the two of them looked at no one else whenever they were together.

“If anyone
isn't
interested in Chad, it's me,” Linnette said on the off-chance Gloria was denying her feelings out of misplaced loyalty to her.

“Then why are we discussing him?”

“Because I know how he feels about you.”

Gloria increased her pace, and Linnette had to struggle to keep up. “Hey, slow down, would you?”

“Not if you want to talk about Chad.”

Linnette frowned, blinking as the sweat slid down her face. “Am I missing something here?”

“No.” Gloria's response was much too quick.

Linnette was nearly panting in her effort to keep pace with her sister, who seemed to be trying to break a world speed record. “Maybe it'd be best if we didn't talk,” she suggested, breathing heavily.

“Maybe,” Gloria agreed and immediately slowed to a kinder pace.

“This was supposed to be a
lazy
mile,” Linnette reminded her.

Round two was completed, and two more remained. It would be a miracle if she managed four full laps.

“A lazy mile doesn't mean we're going to crawl,” Gloria snapped.

“You've had more practice at this than I have.” Linnette tried not to sound apologetic.

“I thought we weren't going to talk.”

“I
have
to talk.” Linnette couldn't stop, much as she'd prefer to. If she did, then all she'd think about was how much her body didn't want to do this. Her calf muscles were about to spasm. Her face burned, her stomach had begun to churn with nausea. “How often do you come out here?” she asked.

“Every day. I run between three and five miles.”

Linnette groaned. “You just said that to make me feel bad, didn't you?”

Gloria laughed, raced ahead, then spun around and ran backward, facing Linnette. “Hey, are we having our first sisterly disagreement?”

If she'd had the energy, Linnette would've laughed, too. “Yeah, I think we are.” Seeing that she was holding Gloria up, she gestured for her to run on. “Leave me,” she panted. “I'll walk these last two laps.”

“You sure?”

“Go, before I require resuscitation.”

Gloria grinned and took off at a speed that
would've caused Linnette to have a cardiac arrest. As she'd promised, she continued walking, astonished at Gloria who literally ran circles around her. Actually, now that she was moving at a relaxed speed, Linnette found she didn't object to exercising.

Without Gloria there to distract her, though, her mind was free to roam. But the subject in the fore-front of her thoughts was an uncomfortable one.

Cal.

While his mission was undeniably noble, he'd seemed too eager to get away from Cedar Cove—away from her. Her brother, Mack, had warned her that she was suffocating him. At the time, Linnette hadn't been willing to listen, but now she felt she had to give his words some heed.

When she rounded the last curve, Linnette was surprised to see Chad standing outside the fence, watching them. When he looked in her direction, she waved. He returned her greeting, but his gaze immediately went to Gloria. In that brief moment, Linnette saw such longing in his eyes that it took her aback.

She didn't know what to think. Was it possible they were already involved? Yet that didn't make sense. Chad would've mentioned it, she was sure, since they worked together every day.

Gloria was certainly closemouthed, but Linnette
resolved to mind her own business from now on. She couldn't figure out what was happening in her own relationship, so she hardly felt qualified to diagnose the problems between Gloria and Chad.

 

After the evening meal at Lonny Ellison's Wyoming ranch, where they were staying as guests, Cal found Vicki outside, standing at the corral. He hesitated before joining her. They'd been working together twelve and fifteen hours a day for two weeks now. His new feelings had crept up on him unawares. She'd been around Cliff's ranch from the time he'd hired on, and they'd always been friendly but nothing more. He wasn't sure when it'd happened, but Vicki had become someone who mattered to him. Maybe it had started the week he left, when they'd met to make plans for this trip….

Vicki ignored him and rested her arms on the top rung. She stared straight ahead as several of the mustangs dashed around inside the pen, snorting at their unaccustomed boundaries, kicking up dust and generally letting their displeasure be known.

“It was a mistake for me to come to Wyoming,” she said without looking at him.

Cal couldn't let her think that. “No. You've been a real asset.” He began to remind her of everything she'd done for the mustangs, but she stopped him.

“It was a mistake for other reasons,” she said. “I'm sorry, Cal.”

She still hadn't looked at him.

He swallowed hard. He refused to believe that she shouldn't be there—or that she was sorry. Although he'd been careful to avoid touching her, he couldn't keep from doing so now. He placed his hand on her shoulder and watched as her eyes drifted shut, as if she, too, was fighting their strong physical attraction. “I didn't mean for this to happen,” he whispered.

“I'm going to turn in for the night,” she said.

“Don't,” he pleaded. “Not yet.” He moved closer, stroking her hair with his other hand.

“You don't understand!” she said, breaking free.

“Understand what?” Despite the desire to pull her back into his arms, he let her step out of his embrace.

“What?” he pressed.

She held his gaze until her own eyes filled with tears. “You really don't know, do you?”

He frowned. “Know what?”

“Oh, Cal, how could you be so blind? I've been in love with you for two years!”

She couldn't have shocked him more if she'd poked him with a cattle prod. His mouth fell open, but he couldn't speak for at least a minute. He just gawked at her.

“You never let on,” he said numbly.

“How could I?” she asked, jerking her hand across her face, smearing the tears. “I…I didn't know how, and then you started seeing Linnette and she's so lovely and I'm—well, I'm not. Why do you think I didn't want to go on this trip at first?”

Cal hated to appear dense, but apparently he was exactly that. “I—thought it had s-something to do with your office.”

“I only said that because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hide my feelings, and now look what's happened.”

“What's happened,” Cal said, exhaling sharply, “is that I've fallen in love with you, too.”

He had no idea how Vicki would accept this news; however, he didn't expect her to lash out with her fist and clobber him in the chest. “Don't you
dare
say that to me, Cal Washburn! Don't you dare!” She punctuated each word with another solid punch.

“Ouch.” Cal backed away and rubbed his chest, confounded by the vehemence of her attack. “Ow, dammit. What did you do that for?”

“Don't you touch me again, either.”

“I thought—I hoped you shared my f-feelings.”

“I do,” she muttered, “but that doesn't change the fact that Linnette's in Cedar Cove patiently waiting for your return. What about
her?
She loves you, too.”

Cal felt the color drain from his face. Vicki was right. He had no business declaring his feelings until he'd resolved the situation with Linnette. The problem was, he had no idea how to do that.

M
emorial Day, Cecilia got up early, even before Aaron woke her for his feeding. Not wanting to disturb Ian, she got quietly out of bed and pulled on her robe. Then she tiptoed into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. The clock on the microwave told her it was barely five. Nevertheless she was wide awake.

A quick check on the baby assured her that Aaron was sound asleep. Taking these few moments to herself, savoring the silence, Cecilia poured a mug of coffee and sat in her favorite chair in the living room. She was happy, she realized, truly content with her life. Memorial Day was a little less sad this year, mostly because she had Aaron. For the past few years she'd visited the cemetery on this holiday, so it had come to remind her of the most profound loss she'd ever experienced—the death of her daughter, Allison. All this time, her arms and her
heart had ached for the baby she'd held so briefly. Her son would never
replace
Allison, but she loved him just as much. Her grief no longer seemed as raw, as overwhelming.

A year ago on Memorial Day, when Cecilia was still pregnant with Aaron, and Ian had been at sea, she'd driven out to the cemetery and placed flowers on Allison's gravesite. The loss of her little girl still affected her, and Ian, too, although he wasn't as willing to discuss the subject as she was. Every now and then in the middle of the night, he'd reach for her and they'd talk about Allison. She could never doubt Ian's love for the daughter he'd never seen or held.

“Cecilia?” Ian said groggily. He stood in the hall doorway wearing his pajama bottoms. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I was awake and it's such a lovely morning, I decided to get up.” She was hoping to do a bit of yard work later, after they'd been out to the cemetery. She'd started tending the garden and hoped to coax Grace's rosebushes and perennials back to vibrant life. She longed to show the Hardings how well she and Ian were caring for the house and yard.

“It's only about five,” Ian said.

“I know. Why don't you go back to bed?” She had plans for him later and didn't want him telling her he was too tired.

“Are you all right?” he asked, sounding worried.

“Yes,” she told him.

He didn't look as if he believed her.

“Ian,” she said, smiling softly. “I couldn't be happier. I love you and our babies so much, and Aaron is healthy and thriving. We live in a lovely home. My life's never been better.”

“Babies,” Ian repeated carefully.

“Yes, babies.” Allison would always live in Cecilia's heart, would always be her daughter.

“So we're going to the cemetery today,” he said.

Cecilia had already purchased a small bouquet of flowers. She nodded. “I have every year. I couldn't imagine not going.”

“Me, neither,” Ian concurred sadly. He yawned and turned away, then walked into the room with slow, measured steps. To her surprise, he sat down on the nearby ottoman, his shoulders slumped.

Cecilia leaned forward and placed her hand on his bare back, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He didn't say anything for a long time. Long enough for her to recognize that he had something on his mind. Something that weighed on him.

“Ian?” she said. “What's wrong?”

He didn't answer; instead, he stared down at the floor.

“Ian?”

“I've been transferred.”

The words hung in the air. Ian
transferred?

Cecilia swallowed hard, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. Ian had been stationed at the same base for nearly six years, two more years than the usual four-year assignment. Those two extra years could be attributed to the fact that he'd moved from a submarine to an aircraft carrier.

After Allison's death, the navy had given him a new duty assignment. Because Ian had been under the polar ice cap at the time of Allison's birth, he hadn't even known until his return that his daughter had been born, had died and already been buried. He'd suffered severe emotional trauma as a result.

“We have to move?” Cecilia asked, choking off an automatic protest. The day they'd come to view the house, Ian had said they couldn't sign a full year's lease. He'd said there was a rumor they might be transferred. Cecilia had known it was a possibility, only she'd convinced herself it wouldn't really happen.

Ian had told her when they were first married that the navy might require frequent moves. But Cedar Cove was their
home.
It was where they'd met, where they'd fallen in love and married, and where they—

No.
Bile rose in the back of her throat. Their daughter was buried here. A transfer meant they'd be leaving Allison behind.

“I put off telling you as long as I could,” he
mumbled. “I was afraid one of the other wives would say something, and I didn't want you hearing this from anyone else. The
John F. Reynolds's
new home base is San Diego.”

“Just like that, we have to pack up and leave?” she said in a small voice.

He nodded. “I'm sorry, Cecilia.” He shrugged helplessly. “There's nothing I can do.”

“What about Allison? Who'll visit her grave? Who'll make sure it's properly taken care of if we're not here?” Fears and denials crowded her mind but she quickly swallowed a cry of alarm. This had to be hard on Ian, too, and her dissolving into tears wouldn't change anything.

“I don't know what to tell you. All I can say is that the navy's sending us to another duty station. When I signed my name on the enlistment agreement, I knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. You knew it, too.”

Cecilia did. Two weeks ago, her closest friend, Cathy Lackey, had revealed that her husband had received transfer papers that would send the small family to Scotland. Cecilia and Cathy had shed a lot of tears, but they'd vowed to keep in touch through e-mail and letters. Cecilia was determined to hold on to that precious friendship.

“What about the house?” she asked next. They'd only just settled in; the packing boxes were still in
the garage. Cecilia loved this house, and so did Ian. “I thought we might own it one day.”

“I know.” Her husband sounded as miserable as she felt. “We are on a month-to-month agreement, though. I've already spoken to Mrs. Harding. She was disappointed, too, but she understood.”

Cecilia hardly knew what to say. She'd be walking away from the friends she'd made, the daughter she'd buried, the job she enjoyed and the teenage girl she'd befriended. Everything—her whole life—was here in Cedar Cove.

“You'll like San Diego,” Ian said gamely.

“I'm sure I will,” she murmured with no particular enthusiasm.

When Ian spoke again, his voice was void of emotion. “I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I know how much you love it here.” He paused. “If you wanted, you could stay,” he suggested with obvious reluctance. “I could make the commute for a while. I'm at sea for six months—and, well, there are ways around this if you don't feel you can uproot your life and leave Allison.”

“Oh, Ian.” That would be disastrous for their marriage. She needed to be with her husband, regardless of where he was assigned. They were a family.

“Is that what you'd like to do?” he asked, his eyes intense and sad as he studied her.

“I hate leaving Cedar Cove,” she said softly, rubbing her hand down his bare back. “But, Ian, don't you see? I could never live apart from you.” She managed a shaky laugh. “At least, not any more than the navy already requires.”

He brought his arms around her then, and they clung to each other. Words weren't necessary. He wanted her and Aaron with him, and yet he'd been willing to compromise, to give her what he felt would make her happy.

“I love you so much,” he whispered. “You have no idea how much I dreaded telling you this.”

She hadn't made it easy, Cecilia realized. Every day she'd been full of joy about the house and working hard to make it comfortable and welcoming.

“We can start packing this afternoon,” she said, tears spilling from her eyes.

“We'll go visit Allison first.”

Yes, and while she was there, Cecilia would tell her baby girl goodbye.