Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2 (29 page)

M
artha Evans's heirs had completed their search and made an official report; several pieces of expensive jewelry had gone missing. They'd provided the sheriff's department with descriptions and Troy Davis had spent the morning gathering information. The first person he spoke to was Dave Flemming. The pastor had discovered the body and while he'd had opportunity, he certainly didn't have motive.

Troy liked Dave and had never considered him a suspect. Once again, Dave had answered his questions in a forthright manner and, in fact, had made a real effort to be helpful. Troy appreciated that.

His other big case currently was the one involving Bobby Polgar and the alleged kidnapping. That now seemed to be under control.

He was in a good mood, and the main reason was Faith. At the end of the day, he'd be seeing her again. They got together every week, either here or in Seattle. Tonight they were meeting halfway, at a restaurant in Tacoma.

He hadn't mentioned any of this to Megan yet. Yes, he was a coward. His daughter was having a hard time because of the miscarriage, and he wanted to give her a chance to heal, physically and emotionally, before he said anything about Faith. He wanted them to meet; Christmas would be perfect for that, he thought. Megan might not approve of a relationship so soon after Sandy's death, but once she got to know Faith, she'd come to love her.

Sitting back in his chair, he was reviewing the Evans case when one of the deputies knocked on his door.

“Your daughter's here, Sheriff.”

This was a surprise. “By all means, let her in,” Troy said.

When Megan stepped into his office he saw immediately that something was wrong. She looked pale and shaken, her cheeks streaked with tears.

Troy came around his desk to guide her toward a chair. “Megan, honey, what is it?”

She didn't seem capable of speaking. Holding a damp, wadded-up tissue to her face, she took deep, shuddering breaths.

“Is it Craig?”

She shook her head.

“The…miscarriage?”

The mere mention of that made her close her eyes and grimace with pain. “I…I went to the doctor this morning.”

Fear shot through him. “Is everything all right?”

“No.”

Troy needed to sit down himself.

“I should've thought of this. I've been so oblivious. You, too, Daddy.”

“Oblivious to what?”

“Dr. Franklin wants me to have a test.”

“What kind of test?”

She hiccuped a sob. “Daddy,” she whispered, her voice cracking with pain and fear. “He wants me to be tested for MS.”

The shock of it slammed through him. Not once had he considered this. Not once. Realizing his daughter might be at risk for the disease that had robbed Sandy of a normal life—it was almost too much to take in.

“Dr. Franklin explained that the cause is still unknown, but there might be a genetic factor. He…he said that women are more likely to get it and that statistically my chances are higher because Mom had it.”

Troy could barely function, barely think. He'd seen firsthand what Sandy had endured. Every day had presented new challenges. Every month Sandy had lost more ground. And while she faced it all with a hopeful spirit, in the end the disease had claimed her life. The thought of his only child going through that was more than Troy could tolerate.

“How am I supposed to tell Craig this?” Megan asked, weeping openly now.

Troy couldn't answer her.

“Mom miscarried babies, too, didn't she?”

Still unable to find his voice, Troy nodded.

“I think I'd rather be dead than go through what Mom did,” Megan said in a low voice.

“No!” Troy jumped to his feet. “Don't talk like that!” He wasn't easily frightened, but hearing Megan even suggest she'd rather be dead filled him with shock and fear.

His daughter's weeping grew louder, and Troy thought his heart would break.

“When will you be tested?” he asked.

“Next week. The doctor's scheduled an MRI, which he said is the most definitive means of making a diagnosis. He told me there's also a good chance I don't have it.” She shredded the tissue in her hands. “But, Daddy, what if…”

Troy couldn't deal with this. He couldn't accept that Megan, his only child, might have the same disease as Sandy.

Megan tried again. “What if I do have MS?” She tensed as she spoke the words. “The minute Dr. Franklin said I should be tested, certain things started to add up in my mind.”

“What things?” Megan had always had an active imagination, and she could have built all of this up, exaggerated symptoms. It made sense. She'd recently lost her mother and miscarried her first child. Little wonder she was distraught.

Megan went very quiet, as if formulating the best way to explain. “My eyes have been bothering me,” she said.

A chill raced down Troy's spine. Shortly before they were married, Sandy had gone through a brief spell during which her eyes had given her trouble. The symptoms had disappeared and they'd both attributed it to stress. Only later did they learn that problems like double vision could be an early sign of the disease. Of course, that'd been nearly forty years ago, when much less was known about multiple sclerosis or its treatment.

“We'll get through this,” Troy assured his daughter. “We will,” he said fervently. “You and Craig and I.”

She looked up at him with anxious eyes, and he could see how much she wanted to believe him.

Troy wanted to believe it, too.

Before Megan left, they hugged for a long time. Later he noticed that his shirt was damp with her tears.

The possibility—no matter how slight—of Megan's having MS meant that his daughter needed him, and he had to be there for her, the same way he'd been there for Sandy. It meant Troy would have to make changes in his life, and the biggest change involved his relationship with Faith.

Alone in his office he gazed, unseeing, out the window for an hour, trying to make sense of what was happening. He was in shock, and yet he felt that his thinking was completely clear. Before he could back down, he reached for his cell phone.

Faith answered right away. “Troy! What a pleasant surprise.” Generally, he didn't call in the middle of the day.

Her joy was like a knife piercing his heart. “Hello, Faith.” Closing his eyes, Troy could hardly force himself to speak. “I won't be able to see you tonight,” he finally said.

“Oh, Troy, I'm sorry to hear that.” Her disappointment made his own that much sharper. But any relationship with him would be filled with broken dates and frustration. Megan had to be his priority. Being sheriff made constant demands on his time, as well. It wasn't fair to expect Faith to wait in the background or to settle for the occasional stolen minutes he could offer.

“I'm sorry, too,” he mumbled.

“I know you'd never cancel a date for any frivolous reason.”

He didn't respond.

“I guess I'll have to tell you my news over the phone,” she said, “instead of waiting for this evening.”

She remained irritatingly cheerful. “What news?” he asked.

“I would've said something sooner, but I wanted it to be a surprise. I sold my house!”

This was the last thing Troy wanted to hear. “Oh,” he said flatly. He had no idea how he'd cope with seeing Faith in town—on the streets, in the stores, everywhere.

If she heard the reluctance in his voice, Faith ignored it. “I should've done this before now. It was ridiculous to live in such a huge place all by myself.”

Troy said nothing.

“My son's thrilled,” she went on to tell him. “Scottie's looking for a house for me. At least you and I won't be spending all our time on the road now,” she added with a laugh.

“Faith, listen, I've been doing some thinking, and I've decided it might not be wise to continue seeing each other.” How he managed to get the words out, he didn't know. His heart screamed that he should stop. That he should withdraw the words, pretend he'd never said them.

He couldn't.

Bracing his hand against his forehead, he leaned his elbow on the desk.

A short pause followed his announcement.

“Have I done something to upset you?” Faith asked softly. If her joy had irritated him earlier, her pain left him raw.

“No.”

“Then can I ask why you've made this decision?”

He thought about that, too, and how unjust he was being. “No.”

She took a moment to absorb his remark. “I'm not a teenage girl anymore, Troy. Our relationship went wrong all those years ago through no fault of ours. I don't want it to happen again. Now, please tell me what's wrong. I deserve to know that much.”

She did, and he had to tell her. “It's Megan.”

“Your daughter…”

“My daughter might have MS.”

Faith gasped. “Oh, Troy. I'm so sorry.”

“I've never told her about you and I can't now.”

“No, I don't suppose you can,” she agreed sadly.

“When you move to Cedar Cove…” He couldn't ask her not to move because it wasn't his right to do so. But at the same time, seeing her around town would be agony.

“I've already made that decision, Troy. You were one reason, but there are others, including my son and his family.”

“Of course.” He closed his eyes in an effort to control his feelings. He loved Faith. He'd loved her while they were in high school and he loved her now. Whether she lived in Seattle or Cedar Cove didn't matter. His love for her wasn't going to change.

“It might be best if you started seeing someone else,” he said, disregarding the pain it caused him to say that.

Her lack of response filled him with dread. After a minute she said, “Is that what you want, Troy? Do you really want me to see another man?”

“It might be best,” he repeated.

“I don't think so, but I understand why you feel that way.”

“I'm sorry, Faith. I wish this had worked out for us, but it's not going to happen.”

“I'm sorry, too,” she whispered. “I'll be praying for you and your daughter.”

“Thank you.”

He thought he heard her swallow a sob. “Goodbye, then.”

“Goodbye, Faith.”

L
innette had been working for Buffalo Bob nearly two months now, and she had to admit she'd grown attached to this town called Buffalo Valley. The people were open and friendly, yet they respected her privacy and never asked questions she didn't want to answer. With one exception.

Pete Mason.

He'd taken to dropping by 3 of a Kind for meals as often as two or three times a week—which wouldn't bother her if all he did was eat. Oh, no, whenever he came to the restaurant, he made some remark or other about the things she'd blurted out after the tornado. In fact, he didn't even seem to know he was embarrassing her with his rude comments.

Once, he'd actually brought her popcorn from the town's lone theater. The stuff dripped with so much melted butter that it leaked through the bag. He'd presented it to her in front of half a dozen patrons, bowing low and making a spectacle of himself and consequently of her. All because she'd casually mentioned one day that she liked popcorn.

Okay, Linnette was willing to confess that she ate the popcorn later—alone in her room.

“Pete likes you,” Merrily told her early on Saturday afternoon.

“I doubt it.” This was a discussion Linnette didn't want to have. If Pete Mason was the slightest bit attracted to her, he would've asked her out on a date by now. There'd certainly been plenty of opportunities. He'd shown more interest in the meat loaf and mashed potato special than in her. As far as she could tell, the only reason he made the long trek into town was so he could humiliate her with all the personal information she'd revealed.

The Grange dance was coming up that evening and nearly everyone in town planned to attend. Because most people were going to be at the dance, Bob and Merrily were closing the restaurant.

“I bet Pete will be there tonight,” Merrily said, shooting her a secretive little smile.

Linnette let that pass. She cleared away the dishes and wiped the counter. The breakfast hour had passed, and the number of customers wandering into the restaurant had slowed to a trickle. In the lull between breakfast and lunch, Linnette usually helped out in the kitchen, peeling potatoes, grating carrots, chopping onions—anything Bob needed her to do. This job was temporary, she knew; still, she found she liked being around these people.

One blessing was that working as a waitress had taken her mind off Cal and Vicki, and for that she was grateful. She'd heard from her mother that the two of them were going on another mustang rescue soon. Corrie had urged her to return to Cedar Cove, but Linnette had already made her decision and that was to stay in Buffalo Valley.

“Is the restaurant open for Thanksgiving?” she asked.

Merrily shook her head. “Most folks prefer to be at home. Buffalo Valley closes up tighter than a drum around the holidays.”

“Oh.”

“If you're going to be alone, you're welcome to join us,” Merrily offered. “With three kids, it gets pretty hectic but there's always room for one more.”

“Thanks,” Linnette said. “I'm not sure what I'll do yet.”

Merrily studied her. “Are you homesick?”

“Not really.”

“You don't miss…some people?”

Thanks to Pete Mason, half the town knew she'd been jilted by the man she loved. Just thinking about the way he'd betrayed her confidence made her seethe. She couldn't imagine what had possessed her to tell Pete the things she had.

Later, as Linnette dressed for the dance, which she'd decided to attend, she thought about that conversation with Merrily. Surprisingly, she
wasn't
homesick. She missed her mother and father. Mack, too. And Gloria. Their frequent phone conversations helped.

As for her friends, they were few. Chad had written her a letter and updated her on what was happening at the clinic. He'd also mentioned that he'd talked Gloria into going to dinner with him.

Now
that
was news. Linnette had believed her sister might agree to a relationship once she was out of the picture. She didn't understand what the problem was, other than that Gloria seemed to think Linnette had some prior claim. While it was true that at one time she'd had a crush on the doctor, she'd been over him for ages.

When she did communicate with family and friends, no one referred to Cal. That was fine with her. Out of sight, out of mind was the old adage, and it had proved to be the case. She rarely thought of him these days, but if she did, the memory was accompanied by the same deep pain she'd experienced when he'd broken off their relationship.

The Grange Hall was on the outskirts of town. The parking lot was already crowded with pickup trucks of every model and style imaginable. In this part of the country, trucks and four-wheel-drive vehicles were a must and not a luxury. She'd driven in with Buffalo Bob, Merrily and their kids, and when they'd parked, she stood there for a moment, enjoying the crisp dark night and the music spilling out of the hall.

Merrily had lent her a pair of turquoise cowboy boots that were a good match for her three-quarter-length skirt. Her brown suede jacket was a nice touch, although fringe would've made it perfect. All she needed to look like a bona fide local was a hat. If her family could see her now…

Linnette was astonished to find that she was actually considering a future in Buffalo Valley. The town appealed to her, even if Pete Mason didn't. Although, he might if he wasn't so…so… She searched for the right word and couldn't think of one. Smart-mouthed? Rude? Presumptuous?

When Linnette had obtained her training as a physician assistant, she'd hoped to work in a town exactly like Buffalo Valley. Her original idea was to look in Montana or Wyoming, but her mother had been upset about her living so far from Washington. If Linnette had stuck with her plan, she might've saved herself a great deal of heartache. In retrospect, North Dakota suited her very well indeed.

Linnette came into the hall with Bob and Merrily and removed her long winter coat, throwing it on a pile with the others. A temporary stage had been erected, where a fiddler, a piano player and a man with a banjo provided the entertainment. They were currently taking a break.

She gazed around, noticing that sawdust was sprinkled on the floor for dancing. The wooden tables on the left-hand side of the hall held homemade desserts and punch. Kids sat under them watching the adults.

On the far right, three rows of chairs had been set up for those who were more interested in visiting than dancing.

Linnette had never seen anything like this, had never
been
anywhere like this.

Shortly after they'd taken off their coats, Buffalo Bob and Merrily left Linnette to join some of their friends. After an uncomfortable moment of hovering near the front entrance, Linnette sauntered over to the punch bowl and helped herself.

The music started again and before she'd taken her first swallow of punch, three men were shouldering one another aside in an effort to reach her first.

“Want to dance?” Charley Dawson asked her.

“What about me?” DeWayne Block wanted to know.

“It was
my
idea,” Brian Ledel insisted.

Linnette straightened. A girl could get used to this kind of treatment. “I believe Charley asked me first,” she said and, putting down her punch glass, offered him her hand. The band had just struck up a country waltz.

Linnette realized her mistake the third time Charley inadvertently stepped on her foot.

“Sorry… I'm not much good at this dancing business,” he muttered.

“You're doing fine,” she assured him and watched him mouth the words:
one, two, three, one, two…

Even before the dance had finished, DeWayne Block was there to take his turn. Unfortunately, DeWayne seemed to have the same dance instructor as Charley. If this continued, she'd be hobbling around with two bruised and possibly broken feet.

When Pete Mason showed up to claim a dance, she nearly protested that she was ready to sit one out. But that would mean he'd escort her to the rows of chairs and stay with her. Linnette would rather endure another session of trampled toes than have Pete lean over to some stranger and expose another tidbit of her personal life.

Unexpectedly, Pete turned out to be an accomplished dancer. Not once did he come even close to stepping on her feet. More unexpected yet—during the entire dance he didn't say a word.

With his jaw resting against her temple, he expertly whirled her about the room with moves Arthur Murray himself would've approved. They might have been on a ballroom floor in New York City instead of a sawdust-covered Grange Hall on the prairies.

When the music ended, Pete released her with a brief bow. She blinked, viewing him with fresh eyes.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?” she asked. After all, the man was a farmer.

“College,” Pete said, obviously somewhat chagrined. “The dance class passed for a physical education elective, and I figured it was an easy
A.
” He gave her a wry smile. “I was wrong. I've never worked harder for a grade in my life.”

By unspoken agreement, they walked off the floor and over to the chairs. He sat down next to her and suddenly they were both ill-at-ease.

“What I wouldn't give for another tornado,” he mumbled.

Linnette looked at him in shock. “I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing.” He stared straight ahead.

So did Linnette, until she saw her three earnest beaux heading in her direction. Her toes curled up in the fancy borrowed cowboy boots. If she danced with any of those cowboys again, she'd be lucky if she could walk by the end of the evening.

Before DeWayne could reach her, Pete stood. Clasping her hand, he led her back onto the dance floor.

“My hero,” Linnette whispered and felt his smile as he drew her into his arms. It was a slow dance, and she could hardly believe how well they synchronized their steps, almost as if they'd been partners many times over.

“I'm waiting,” she said as the music wound down.

“For what?”

“Some remark intended to embarrass me.”

Pete nearly missed a step. “Yeah, well, I could see that wasn't working.”

“Working?” she repeated.

“Never mind.”

She frowned at him. “I don't understand.”

He cleared his throat. “Are you leaving Buffalo Valley anytime soon? Because if you are, I'd prefer to hear about it now.”

The question startled her. The musicians declared another break, and they walked back to the seats they'd previously occupied. When they were both sitting, Linnette turned to ask him, “Why should you care if I stay or if I go?”

Pete folded his arms and glared at the floor. “
Are
you planning to leave Buffalo Valley?”

“Do you want me to?”

His eyes flared wide. “No.”

“What makes you think I'm going to leave?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. I figured a city girl like you probably wouldn't stick around for long.”

This conversation was starting to get interesting. “Why do you want me to stay?” she asked. “
If
that's what you're saying.”

He stared back at her as though he resented the question. “Have you noticed how many times I've come into town in the last two months? We've got an excellent cook out at the farmhouse, and my brother and I eat real well. The food at home is just as tasty as Buffalo Bob's. Maybe tastier.”

In other words, Pete was telling her he'd driven into town because of
her.

“You never asked me out,” Linnette reminded him.

“With good reason.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “I seem to remember you telling me you've got a broken heart.” He expelled his breath, then uncrossed his arms. “I figured you needed time to get over this other guy.”

“Oh…kay.”

“Why do you think I've been coming to Buffalo Valley so often? It's an hour's drive each way!”

“I'm not a mind reader, Pete.”

“I had to make sure no one else was showing any interest in you.”

Linnette nearly swallowed her tongue. “
What
did you just say?”

He blinked. “Was that insulting? My brother, Josh, says I'll never convince a woman to marry me because I don't know when to keep my mouth shut.”

“So you're looking for a wife?” This put a whole new twist on their conversation—and on his behavior. Although if he wanted to get married, he was going about it in an odd way.

“I'm not proposing,” he said quickly.

“Good.”

He frowned. “Good?”

“Well, yes. I'm not even thinking about marriage.”

Pete leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So I'm wasting my time?”

“That depends,” Linnette murmured.

He glanced over at her. “Depends on what?”

“On whom.”

“Okay,” Pete said, “that's fair. Can I ask you something?”

“Ask away.” Linnette crossed her legs and swung one foot to the rhythm of the music.

“What are my chances? Just tell me flat-out so I can save myself the time, effort and expense of driving back and forth. Not to mention making a fool of myself,” he added in a low voice.

Linnette thought about his question. “I can't really say. It would help if I knew more about you.”

He nodded. “That's fair,” he said again. He paused, taking an audible breath. “I run a farm with my brother. Josh isn't married, either.” His eyes narrowed and he gave her an appraising look. “I don't suppose you have any unmarried friends who'd be interested in moving here?” As soon as the words were out, he seemed to regret having asked. “Never mind. It worked once, but I don't think history's going to repeat itself.”

“What?”

“Eight or nine years ago, Lindsay Snyder moved to town—”