Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2 (23 page)

T
eri pored over a new cookbook on Sunday afternoon, searching for a recipe that would entice Bobby to eat. His appetite hadn't been good since he'd learned she was pregnant. Hers, on the other hand, couldn't have been better. Her morning—or rather, afternoon—sickness wasn't nearly as bad now; she only occasionally came down with a bout of queasiness. Bobby's appetite, however, had almost completely vanished.

Then, to complicate life even more, her husband had discovered the joys of televised marketing. If there was the slightest hint that a particular product might be appropriate for a baby, Bobby ordered it. They often received two and three shipments a day.

So far, Bobby had purchased three cribs, five bassinets and enough toys to fill a day care center. The last thing that was delivered, and it came in a huge truck, was an entire gym set. While she loved him for it, this had to stop.

“You're reading a cookbook,” Bobby said as he wandered into the kitchen.

She nodded without looking up. She'd already put Post-It notes on several of the pages, designating recipes she'd like to try. Although she hadn't made her final decision, she'd started a grocery list. “Some cookbooks are more entertaining than novels.”

Bobby was supposed to chuckle or comment or
something.
He didn't.

“What's this?” he asked next, pointing to the sheet of paper on the table.

“That's a list of what I need to pick up at the grocery store.”

“Send James,” her husband ordered.

“I'd like to go.” Teri braced herself for the discussion that would inevitably follow.

“That's not a good idea.”

“Why?” Teri didn't want to bicker. In fact, she hated it when they argued. Bobby didn't understand that she was a social person and staying in the house, beautiful though it was, simply wasn't enough for her. She needed to see people, interact with others. All weekend she'd done nothing but watch TV shows and DVDs. Oh, and she'd reorganized her dresser drawers.

“I don't want you…” Bobby hesitated. Pulling out a chair, he sat down beside her. “I need to know you'll be safe. I'll come with you, okay?”

“Bobby, of
course
I'll be safe. And I know you hate going to the grocery store. This is Cedar Cove, not some huge, scary city, so nothing's going to happen to me. But if it makes you feel better, James can tag along.” Although she doubted he'd be much protection. Bobby, however, seemed to think his driver possessed skills that rivaled those of Agent 007. Still, if it brought him peace of mind, she was willing to put up with James trailing behind her.

His gaze held hers and after a moment, he gave her a half smile. “Thank you.”

“I'd like to invite Christie over. You don't mind, do you?”

“For you or for James?” he teased.

“For both of us. And I'll ask her to go to the store with me, too.” She considered that a satisfactory compromise. James was clearly besotted with Christie, and Teri's sister…well, that had yet to be determined. Teri suspected her sister
was
attracted to him, only she wasn't sure she wanted to be.

“I thought I'd make spaghetti.”

Bobby looked pleased. “The kind with clams?”

“Whatever version you like best,” she said.

“Clams.”

This was the first time in more than a week that Bobby had shown any interest in a meal, which was a relief. When she phoned, Christie seemed glad to hear from her and promptly accepted her dinner invitation.

“I'm going out grocery shopping. Want to come?” Teri asked.

“Why not,” Christie said.

An hour later, when James eased the limo into the apartment parking lot, Christie was already waiting outside. She allowed James to open her car door.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted her formally.

“James.” She inclined her head in a regal nod.

This was progress, Teri mused. Christie didn't even sound sarcastic. It seemed to take her an inordinate amount of time to slip into the seat and when she did, she held a long-stemmed rose. The color of the flower matched the flush in her cheeks.

“I'm glad you're coming with me,” Teri told her. She made a point of not remarking on the flower.

“I am, too.”

Teri noticed that Christie met James's gaze in the rearview mirror.

“James,” Teri said, sliding closer to her sister. “Christie asked me an interesting question a little while ago. What do you do with your time when Bobby doesn't require a driver?”

He didn't answer immediately.

“You don't have to say if you'd rather not,” Teri assured him. She didn't want to embarrass James.

“He
should
account for his time,” Christie said. “He's being paid for all those hours, isn't he?”

James headed into traffic and, after another short pause, said, “I read.”

This was news to Teri, but she supposed it made sense.

“What do you read?” Christie asked.

“Everything. Contemporary novels, classics, all kinds of non-fiction.”

Teri was impressed by this and suspected her sister was, too.

When they got to the house, Christie helped Teri make dinner, amid much laughter and the occasional small confidence. Bobby came into the kitchen a few times to see what all the merriment was about; he even joined in once or twice.

Dinner was delicious—and fun—and although Teri had invited James, he'd declined. When she and Christie had put away the leftovers and finished with the dishes, the phone rang. Call display indicated that it was Rachel. As she picked up the receiver, Teri saw her sister slip outside, probably for a cigarette.

Now that she was only working part-time, Teri missed seeing her best friend as often as she had before.

“How's everything?” Teri asked, concerned because Rachel hadn't seemed herself lately.

“Oh, fine. Everything's great.”

The bravado sounded false to Teri. She knew Rachel felt tense about the upcoming rally Nate had asked her to attend.

“And Bruce?” Teri pressed. She suspected that whatever was
really
bothering Rachel could be traced to her friendship with Bruce Peyton.

The question was met with silence. Then Rachel muttered, “Why are you asking me about Bruce?”

“Why are you so defensive?”

“I'm not defensive!”

Teri smiled to herself. “Yes, you are. In fact, anytime I mention his name, you clam right up. So what gives?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” Rachel insisted. Then, in a sudden reversal, she added, “I love Nate, you know. We'll be together this weekend.”

Teri rolled her eyes. She'd heard enough about that stupid fund-raising rally to have memorized every detail. “I thought you and Bruce and Jolene were going to the Taco Shack tonight.” Teri knew this because she'd called to ask Rachel to join them all for dinner. Rachel had to turn her down; Bruce, it seemed, was treating her and his daughter to reward Jolene for being elected class secretary.

“We
were
at the Taco Shack.”

Either Teri was reading too much into it or something had happened. She hadn't expected to hear from Rachel so soon. Normally, Rachel couldn't shut up about Jolene; she bragged about every achievement as if the twelve-year-old was her own daughter. Rachel's silence was highly unusual.

“And?” Teri prompted, convinced now that Rachel's odd behavior was somehow connected to Bruce.

“And…we had a very nice dinner,” Rachel murmured. “And then something…happened after dinner.”

Just as Teri had guessed. “You'd better tell me,” she said matter-of-factly.

“It was a fluke. Neither of us intended this and now…now I'm afraid it's ruined everything.” She gulped in a deep breath. “I don't know what to do and I think Bruce feels the same way and it's so
dumb
and—”

“Whoa,” Teri said, stopping Rachel. “Start at the beginning.”

Rachel took another deep breath. “Jolene was asked to spend the night with a friend and decided she'd rather do that. Bruce said okay, so the two of us went out to dinner by ourselves.” There was a momentary silence. “That's no big deal, right?” she asked imploringly.

“Right.”

“We drove there in separate cars,” Rachel continued. “I had a few errands to run first.”

“You had a good time? At dinner, I mean?”

Rachel paused. “We always do. Bruce and I get along fine.” She laughed, but Teri thought it sounded more like a sob. “The staff at the Taco Shack knows us because we've been there so often and they have the impression we're married. It's kind of a joke, and Bruce and I play along.”

“That's…sweet,” Teri said, although she didn't think
sweet
was the best word.

Rachel ignored the comment. “I don't think I should have dinner with Bruce anymore.”

“Why not? You have fun together. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nothing until tonight,” Rachel said darkly.

Teri waited for Rachel to explain and a few seconds later, she did. “After dinner, we walked into the parking lot. You know how it gets dark early in the evenings now. Well, I was heading toward my car and obviously didn't watch where I was going because I stumbled.”

“Did you fall?”

“No, Bruce caught me by the elbow and then…then—” she lowered her voice “—he kissed me.”

“Okay, so he kissed you,” Teri said. “Did you kiss him back?”

“Yes…”

“Okay, but you've kissed him before.”

“I mean we
really
kissed,” Rachel elaborated. “This wasn't any peck on the lips or friendly little kiss. This was kissing like I've never been kissed in my life. These were kisses I felt all the way down to my toenails.”

“Kisses plural?”

“Yes.”

“Oh-h.”

“I think Bruce was as shocked as I was. He kept looking at me and I looked back at him and then he apologized and I apologized and told him I missed Nate and that's why I responded to him the way I did.”

“Because you missed Nate?” Surely Rachel didn't actually believe that?

“Yes,” she returned heatedly. “I need to move to San Diego like Nate wants….”

Teri resisted the urge to scream that leaving Cedar Cove would be a mistake. For some time now, Teri had sensed that Rachel's feelings for Bruce were more complex than either of them realized. The last person to discover this seemed to be Rachel.

“Those stupid kisses are an embarrassment to us both. He's sorry it happened, and so am I. Now I'm afraid everything's changed.” She sounded miserable. “That's why I'm calling, Teri. I'm afraid it might never go back to the way it was between us and I don't know if I can stand that.”

“Give it time,” Teri said gently. “Bruce needs to think this over and so do you. You've both had a shock. You'll be seeing Nate soon, and then you'll figure out how you feel.”

Rachel clearly wanted to believe it would be that easy. And for her friend's sake, Teri hoped it would.

When she hung up the phone, Teri went searching for her sister. She wasn't surprised to find Christie in the patio chair. James sat with her, and although the evening was cool, neither seemed to mind. The moon was full and the stars looked bright and cold in the cloudless sky. As soon as they saw Teri, James leaped to his feet.

“Is it okay if I join you?” she asked.

“Of course,” Christie told her.

James pulled out her chair and Teri sat beside her sister. “James was just telling me about the book he's reading,” Christie said.

He seemed ill-at-ease with her there and stood once again. “If you'll excuse me, ladies, I'll retire to my quarters.”

“Yes, of course,” Teri said.

“Goodbye, James.”

He bowed his head. “Christie. Miss Teri.”

As soon as James was out of earshot, Teri blurted out,
“Christie?”

“I told him to drop the Miss nonsense.”

Teri had asked him to do the same thing a dozen times, but he'd never paid any attention. He seemed willing to listen to her sister, though.

J
ack waited until Olivia had left the kitchen before he reached for the phone. Bob Beldon was his AA sponsor and if ever Jack had needed to talk, it was now. Good thing Bob was on speed dial, because the way his hand shook, Jack wasn't sure he could've punched in the right numbers.

Peggy answered, announcing the name of their bed-and-breakfast, Thyme and Tide.

“It's Jack.”

Peggy instantly knew something was wrong. “Bob's in the other room,” she said without asking for details. “I'll get him for you.”

“Thanks.”

Half a minute later, Bob was on the phone. “Hey, Jack. It's Bob.”

Jack felt as if his tongue had swelled to twice its size.

“Jack, are you there?”

“Yeah,” he finally managed.

“You weren't at the meeting tonight.”

Jack leaned against the kitchen door. “I should've been. I need a meeting.”

“Is there alcohol anywhere near you?”

Leave it to Bob to get straight to the point. “Not that I know of.” Olivia might have a bottle of cooking sherry somewhere in the kitchen, but if she did, he wasn't aware of it.

“Good.”

“Can you meet me?” Jack asked.

“Tell me when and where.”

Jack closed his eyes. He was terrified to leave the house—it wasn't safe to go where there might be booze. Where he might pass a bar or a liquor store or even a grocery. Although he'd been dry for over fifteen years, he felt weak. Desperate. He
needed
a drink. He didn't think he could get through this ordeal with Olivia if he couldn't have one. The craving was like a knife twisting in his gut. One drink. The aching need refused to go away. One drink would make everything better. Ignoring the voices in his head was becoming more difficult. Too difficult. The whispers urged him toward oblivion with a promise he knew was a lie. A drink
wouldn't
make anything better.

Still, it was how he'd once smothered his pain, and he hungered for the oblivion, the escape. Fear of what might happen if he gave in was the only thing that held him back.

“Do you want me to come to you?” Bob must've read his thoughts.

“Please.” Even getting out that one word was an effort.

“I'm on my way.”

Jack knew then and there that he couldn't have found a better sponsor—and friend. He'd linked up with Bob years earlier while living in Spokane and working for the big regional paper, the
Review.
When Bob and Peggy moved back to their hometown and opened Thyme and Tide, Jack had visited. He'd fallen in love with the town, the landscape and the slower pace.

Up to that point, Jack had pretty much screwed up his life with alcohol, a bad marriage and a mangled relationship with his only son. Eric had moved to Seattle, and it seemed that if Jack was ever going to reconcile with him, his chances would improve if he lived in the area. So he'd come to Cedar Cove, taken a job with the local paper and got himself a place to live.

“Jack?” Olivia's voice drifted out from the bedroom.

“In here,” he said, trying to pull himself together. Olivia had enough to worry about without him. Dragging in a deep breath, he went down the hallway to the master bedroom, determined to hide his fears. “Do you need anything?” he asked.

She sat up in bed, looking pale and lovely. Jack resisted the urge to hold her in his arms, to protect her and love her. She was frightened. How could she not be? He was scared out of his wits, too. If he lost Olivia, he didn't think he'd survive.

“Did I hear you on the phone?” she asked.

Jack couldn't lie. He'd rather she not know he'd called his sponsor, but he wasn't going to lie about it. “Bob's coming by. I thought I'd talk to him for a few minutes. You don't mind, do you?”

“No, no, go ahead.” She'd spent part of the evening with Grace and seemed fortified and optimistic afterward.

At the moment Jack could use a dose of that optimism. “I'll probably be a couple of hours,” he said.

“Can I turn out the light, then?”

“By all means. You need to sleep.”

Olivia gave him a tentative smile. “We'll get through this, Jack. I promise.”

He should be the one reassuring her, and he hated himself for being so weak. “Of course we will.”

Jack walked over to her bedside, bent down and kissed her, then switched off the lamp. Fearing she might overhear the conversation between him and Bob, he closed the bedroom door.

Halfway down the hallway, he stopped and leaned against the wall, covering his face with both hands, remembering. Remembering. Eric, his son, had leukemia as a kid. That was what had driven Jack to alcohol in the first place. That helplessness, that total dependence on others to care for his son, that inability to alleviate his suffering…Jack had barely made it then, and he wasn't sure he'd make it this time. Eric had gone into long-term remission, but Jack didn't know if he could watch someone else he loved endure all the pain and uncertainty. All the grief and fear.

He just couldn't do it. He just might have to.

Instead of using the doorbell, Bob knocked quietly at the front door. Jack hurried to let him in. When he saw his friend, it was all he could do not to break down. His weakness shamed and humiliated him.

“I've been repeating the Serenity Prayer for the last hour,” Jack told him. “I think I'd be face-first in a bottle if I hadn't.”

Bob nodded, and Jack was grateful that he understood. “You haven't had a drink?” Bob asked.

“By the grace of God, no.” He was one sip away from a complete mental and physical breakdown. He couldn't explain why alcohol tempted him when he knew what it did to him. Still, the pull was as powerful as an undertow, and Jack could feel himself being swept away with the need.

He was hanging on by a thread and that thread was Bob.

“Sit down and tell me what's happened.” Bob led him to the sofa.

Jack slumped down, burying his face in his hands.

Bob pulled the ottoman closer and sat on it.

“Olivia went in for a routine mammogram,” Jack began, his voice faltering slightly.

“Cancer?” Bob asked.

“We don't know yet. Not for sure. The Women's Clinic called her back for a second test, a more extensive one, and then for an ultrasound.”

“You've seen the doctor?”

Jack nodded. “We went this morning. He has to do a biopsy.”

Bob exhaled loudly. “You're afraid.”

Jack nodded again. “I don't think I truly realized how much I love Olivia until this morning.”

To his surprise, Bob smiled. “Olivia said almost those same words to me when you had your heart attack.”

Now that their situations were, in effect, reversed, he could appreciate how hard it had been on his wife. The problem was, love opened you up to that kind of pain. He'd never expected to fall in love again when he moved to Cedar Cove. Even less had he expected to find someone who loved
him.

He'd been attracted to Olivia right away. Sitting in her courtroom and watching her deny a divorce—that got his attention. Most family court judges were jaded by the day-in-and-day-out bitterness of marriages gone bad. Not Olivia. She'd seen that the young couple was still in love and she'd intervened. Her compassion had stirred him. Her toughness had impressed him.

Jack knew that if Olivia hadn't denied that divorce, the couple would have gone their separate ways and carried around that pain for the rest of their lives. She'd forced them to deal with the grief of losing their child, forced them to resolve their differences.

Without knowing it, Jack had fallen in love with her that very morning. In fact, he'd written an entire column in the
Cedar Cove Chronicle
about her unusual stand. His attention had embarrassed her but she'd eventually forgiven him.

When they got married, Jack felt as though his life had begun again. He was crazy about her, although their relationship had never been easy. They were about as different as two people could get.

“Jack?”

Startled, Jack glanced up to see Bob staring at him. “You won't know for sure if it's cancer until they do the biopsy, right?”

His heart pounded against his ribs. “It's scheduled for this week.”

“You want a drink now?”

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “A strong drink. Strong enough to take away this ache.” Preferably hard alcohol, Scotch or brandy, something that would melt his teeth.

“A drink's going to help?” Bob asked.

They both knew the answer to that. “No. But that doesn't make me want one any less.”

Bob cocked his eyebrow. “One?”

Jack didn't have to be told that one drink, even one sip, was a fantasy. For alcoholics like Bob and him, it never ended there. Jack had sat through enough meetings to know that. Lived it long enough to recognize the truth when he heard it. This was the lie so many alcoholics tried to believe: that they were strong enough to have one drink, just one, and then walk away. But that wasn't how it worked for people like him.

“You need a meeting to get your head on straight,” Bob said. He stood up to take his wallet out of his hip pocket, then pulled out a small booklet and unfolded it. “There's one in Bremerton that starts in ten minutes. I'll drive.”

Jack nodded. They'd be late but that didn't matter. A meeting was a meeting. He'd feel better after talking about this with other men and women who understood the addictive power of alcohol.

“Let me say goodbye to Olivia.” Carefully opening the bedroom door a moment later, he paused, hesitant to wake her if she was asleep. Light spilled from the hallway into the bedroom.

“Jack?” Olivia rose up on one elbow. “Is everything all right?”

“It is now. Bob and I are going out for a while.”

“Okay. I'll see you later.”

“Will you be okay by yourself?” he asked. “I can call Grace if you want.” She was the kind of friend to Olivia that Bob was to him. Any time of the day or night, Grace would be willing to help.

Olivia shook her head. “I'm fine.”

Walking into the room, Jack sat on the edge of the bed and gathered Olivia in his arms. As they clung to each other, he felt her tremble.

“I need a meeting,” he whispered.

“I know, Jack. Go.” She stroked the back of his head, her fingers light against his hair.

It was the same way she touched him after they'd made love. The gesture brought emotion bubbling to the surface and Jack hid his face in her shoulder.

“Wake me when you get back,” she whispered.

“Okay.” He left her then, reluctantly.

Bob was waiting for him by the front door. Jack grabbed a fleece jacket from the hall closet and together they headed into the cold. A sporadic rain had begun, matching his mood, darkening an already dark sky. When they reached the address, they hurried into a church basement that smelled of stale coffee and damp coats. Jack was quickly immersed in the familiar and comforting routine of the meeting; it was exactly what he'd needed, he told himself an hour later.

During his first weeks of sobriety, he'd gone to thirty meetings in thirty days. He'd needed every one of those meetings. That was how he'd made it through the first month—one day at a time and on some days one minute at a time. Alcoholics Anonymous had given him a structure. And Bob had helped him at every step, listening, encouraging, cutting through the bull and self-pity. When his head was clear enough to listen, Bob reminded him that no one had poured the booze down his throat. No one had forced him to drink. He had to take responsibility for his own life, his own happiness.

By the time he let himself into the house, it was two o'clock. He, Bob and a couple of other people from the meeting had gone out for coffee afterward and they'd talked for another hour. Jack felt almost sane again.

He slipped off his jacket and hung it in the hall closet. Olivia had trained him well, he thought. Smiling, he started toward the bedroom. When he walked inside, he was surprised to see his wife sitting up in bed, a book lying open on her lap. She blinked at him, obviously a bit disoriented.

“Oh! I didn't hear you come in.”

“I can tell.” Moving to the side of the bed, he kissed her. He'd meant it to be light and easy, but the kiss quickly turned into something more, something urgent.

All at once, Olivia broke away from him. “Jack Griffin,” she cried. “What's that I taste on you?”

“Ah…”

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Cherry pie?”

He grinned. “Could be.”

“Jack!”

“Hey, Miss Coconut-Cream-Pie-every-Wednesday-night. You've got no call to be criticizing me.”

Her pretend outrage faded, and she set aside the book she'd been reading. “Do you feel better?”

“Much,” he said.

“Me, too.”

Jack knew he was ready for whatever the future held. He could—and would—be the man his wife deserved.