16 Lighthouse Road (23 page)

Looking embarrassed, Cathy wiped her eyes and said, “I knew you'd understand.”

“Oh, I do.”

Impulsively they hugged. The damp towel slipped to the floor, and Cathy buried her face in Cecilia's shoulder.

“I figure it happened when the
John F. Reynolds
returned for repairs.”

Cecilia was fortunate not to be in the same predicament herself. “You aren't going to tell Andrew?”

Cathy frowned. “He'll just worry. He's half a world away, and there isn't a thing he can do.”

“You want children?”

Cathy nodded, but the admission seemed to cause her pain. “More than anything. Andrew, too. When I miscarried the first time, we were upset, but when I lost the second pregnancy, it devastated us both. I can't imagine what'll happen if I miscarry this time….”

“What do the doctors say?”

“That everything looks normal and healthy, but we were told the same thing before.”

“Was there a medical reason for the miscarriages?”

“No. That's what makes it so frustrating. They couldn't find anything wrong.”

“Oh, Cathy…” Cecilia didn't know what to say that would ease her friend's fears.

“No one can figure it out. Twice now, and I can't seem to stay pregnant for more than three months.” She gnawed on her lower lip. “I'm about nine weeks along and I'm so scared.”
As if she were suddenly cold, Cathy folded her arms tightly. “I know this sounds crazy, but when I first found out, I actually considered terminating the pregnancy.”

Cecilia said nothing. Cathy needed to confide in her, and this was not the time to be judgmental or to argue with her friend.

“I kept thinking I'd rather lose the baby early than build my hopes up. Now I realize how ludicrous that kind of thinking is.” She drew in a deep breath. “No one else knows I'm pregnant, not even my parents. I didn't want to say anything until I'm in my fourth month…if I make it that far.”

Cecilia could understand the fear and the doubt. It wasn't only her own hopes Cathy didn't want to dash. She was considering those of her husband and her family, as well. Cecilia knew what a difficult burden that was. And she knew that such a burden only grew heavier if you couldn't share it.

“I can't promise you that this pregnancy is going to be different from the first two,” she said solemnly, holding Cathy's gaze. “No one knows what the future will bring. But I
can
promise that whatever happens, I'll be there for you.”

“Oh, Cecilia, you don't know how much that means to me.” Cathy wiped her cheeks with her fingers. “I'm so emotional when I'm pregnant.”

Cecilia's laugh was poignant. “You and me both.” The first few months she was pregnant with Allison, she'd wept at the flimsiest excuses. A sentimental television commercial could reduce her to a sniveling, tissue-packing blob. The bouts sometimes lasted for hours.

Cathy touched Cecilia's arm. “Are you afraid to have another baby, too?”

The mere thought resulted in stark terror. “I…won't. Ian
knows how I feel.” Cecilia stopped just short of confessing that this was one of the reasons she felt compelled to follow through with the divorce.

“Give it time,” Cathy advised, and they hugged once more. “Good grief,” she said, forcing a laugh. “My hair's dry already.”

Grabbing the plastic hook, Cecilia held it up. “I'm ready to torture you.”

“Just remember I get my turn later.”

The afternoon passed in a whirl of giggles, chatter and popcorn, and by the time Cathy left, Cecilia was tired but exhilarated. The blond streaks were a success. But far more important, their friendship had become stronger and deeper because of what Cathy had shared. Cecilia understood why she'd confided in her. Cathy knew that, of all the women in their small group, Cecilia was the only one who could identify with the trauma and the recriminations that followed the loss of a child. It didn't matter that Cathy was only a few months pregnant when she miscarried. Her unborn children had laid claim to her heart.

As she readied for bed that evening, Cecilia stared at the one picture she had of Allison. The dried bouquet from her wedding had been fashioned into a heart-shaped frame.

“They're from your daddy,” she whispered to her daughter.

Then, because she was weak and because her heart ached, Cecilia reached for a pad and pen.

“Anything?” Kelly asked hopefully as she slid into the booth at the Pancake Palace. The restaurant was a local favorite, where the food was good and the portions hearty. Sunday mornings, the lineup to get a table often stretched out the door.

Grace's daughter had phoned earlier in the week, and they'd agreed to meet Friday after work. With no reason to hurry home, Grace was free to have dinner out. Yet she felt an unaccountable urge to rush back to the house on Rosewood Lane. It was just habit, she decided. Thirty-five years of habit.

“No news,” Grace answered.

“Mom, he can't have dropped off the face of the earth. Someone must know
something.
”

If that was the case, no one had bothered to tell her. One thing Grace did know was that she could no longer afford Roy McAfee's services. He'd made some suggestions to help her track down her missing husband, but Grace had run into a solid row of dead ends. Discouraged and defeated, she'd given up trying. Even if she did manage to locate Dan, what could she possibly say? It wasn't as though she intended to beg him to come home.

The waitress brought them menus and Grace chose a chef's salad and coffee, while Kelly ordered a chicken sandwich and a glass of milk.

“Why would Daddy do something like this?” Kelly asked—as she'd already asked dozens of times.

If Grace knew the answer to that, she could stop listening to the voices in her head. Besides her own emotions, she had those of her children to consider. Maryellen had reacted with outrage and anger. Kelly was more hurt. The younger of the two girls, she'd always been closest to her father. Even as a child, Kelly had followed Dan around; while she was a teenager, she and Grace had constantly been at odds. Yet even through the worst of her rebellion, Kelly had steered clear of any major confrontation with her father.

Grace waited until they'd finished their meals before she broached the subject she wanted to discuss. “Your father's been gone six weeks now.”

“I know,” Kelly said, sounding exasperated. “Mom, I'm so worried about him.”

“I am, too.” Although she was more worried about what
she'd do once she found him. “I want you to know I've seen an attorney.”

Kelly stared at her as if she didn't understand. “An attorney can help you find Dad?”

“No. I've decided to file for divorce.”

Kelly reached for her water glass. She took a sip and Grace could see that her daughter was struggling to hold on to her composure. “Mom, don't! Please don't. Dad's coming back. I know he is—and when he does, we'll discover what this is all about. There's a logical reason he had to leave the way he did.”

“I'm not doing this to punish your father. It's for legal reasons.”

“Legal reasons,” Kelly repeated, frowning.

She told her about the need to cancel all their credit cards and her responsibility for half of any debts he assumed. What she didn't mention was that Dan had used the VISA to purchase a ring for another woman. Every time she thought about her husband doing such a thing, knowing full well that she'd investigate the charge, she nearly broke down and wept.

“You still think Daddy's got a girlfriend, don't you?”

Grace heard the challenge in her daughter's voice. She wanted to protect her children, hide the truth from them, but the charade had become too much for her. Dan wasn't concerned about protecting
her.
He'd left her open to ridicule, speculation and embarrassment.

“You can't honestly think he'd do that,” Kelly insisted.

“That's exactly what I think,” Grace said without apology. “Everything leads me to believe he's involved with someone else.”

Kelly shook her head so hard her earring flew across the table. “Not Dad.”

“I don't want to believe it, either,” Grace said quietly as Kelly retrieved the earring. “Do you think it gives me any pleasure to tell you I'm seeking a divorce? Your father and I have been married for thirty-five years. This isn't a decision I've made lightly.”

“Wait,” Kelly pleaded.

“For what?” Financial ruin? Dan could accumulate all kinds of expenses and as she'd explained, she'd be legally responsible for half the debt. A divorce would protect her from that.

“Wait until after the baby's born,” Kelly whispered, her voice cracking.

“Oh, Kelly.”

“Does Maryellen know you want to divorce Dad?”

“I talked to her last week.” She'd delayed mentioning it to Kelly for exactly this reason. No matter what Dan was guilty of doing, Kelly would find an excuse for him.

“The baby doesn't have anything to do with the divorce,” Grace said firmly. “Nothing at all.”

Kelly's beautiful blue eyes clouded with tears. “Give him more time. It's only been six weeks.”

Six hellish weeks. The six longest weeks of Grace's life. Her daughter apparently didn't understand what Dan's disappearance had done to her. It was difficult to hold up her head in public. Difficult to meet library patrons with a smile when it felt as though her life had been ripped in half. Grace saw the pitying looks in their eyes. She heard the whispers and knew they were talking about her.

“This baby deserves to be brought into a whole family,” Kelly said stubbornly.

Grace wondered if it'd do any good to point out that
she
wasn't the one who'd splintered the family unit. Dan had walked out on her, not the other way around.

Then, as if she'd been waiting to deliver the final punch, Kelly reached for her purse and removed a shiny piece of rolled paper.

“What's that?” Grace asked.

“A picture of your grandchild.”

Grace's heart started to pound faster. “You had your ultrasound?”

Kelly nodded. “Here's your grandbaby, Mother.”

This technology hadn't been available when Grace was pregnant with the girls. She studied the circular array of lines and squinted, barely able to make out the baby's form.

“Oh, my goodness,” Grace whispered, awed by the sight.

“That's Dad's grandbaby, too,” Kelly said.

Grace's heart sank.

“Tell me you'll wait before you file for divorce.”

“Kelly…”

“Please?”

Grace sighed. “All right, but just until after the baby's born. Deal?”

Kelly gave her a relieved smile. “Deal.”

O
livia Lockhart left the Boeing 767 and stepped off the jetway. She was just returning from San Diego and a one-week visit with her son, his wife and their new baby. Isabella Dolores Lockhart was born in the wee hours of May eighteenth. The following morning, unable to stay away a moment longer, Olivia had boarded a plane for California. In seven short days, she'd fallen completely in love with her first grandchild.

Collecting her luggage, Olivia glanced around, wondering if Justine was late. Her daughter had volunteered to pick her up at Sea-Tac Airport and was normally punctual. Her suitcase in hand, unsure what to do, Olivia walked over to the bank of phones.

“Looking for a familiar face?” a man asked from behind her.

Olivia knew the sound of her ex-husband's voice as well as she knew her own. “Stan! What are you doing here?”

“What else? I came to collect you.”

“But Justine—”

“I asked her to let me do the honors.”

Olivia couldn't help feeling surprised. She rarely saw Stan and they didn't speak all that often. At fifty-six, he was still vital and handsome, and she smiled as he kissed her cheek, then relieved her of her bag. She'd vowed to love this man all her life—and despite the divorce, still did. It was a love that continued to this day because of everything they'd once meant to each other. Because of what they'd had—and what they'd lost.

“I thought this would give you an opportunity to tell me about the baby. How's James?”

After her visit, Olivia felt reassured. “I don't think we need to worry about James.”

“You like his wife?”

“Very much,” she told him. “I have pictures of the baby. Oh, Stan, she's adorable.”

“Don't tell me you're turning into one of those silly grandmas with a purse full of pictures.”

“In a heartbeat. I've waited a long time for this.” Most of the friends they'd once shared were grandparents several times over by now.

Together they headed toward the short-term parking on Sea-Tac's lower level. Olivia told him about the baby as they went, barely paying attention as Stan paid for parking and led the way down the escalator. They walked along the row of parked cars until he suddenly stopped in front of a red convertible.

Olivia did a double take. Stan in a BMW? A convertible, no less. Leave it to her ex-husband to buy a convertible in a city that had three solid months of rain every year!

“When did you get this?” she asked, not even trying to disguise her amusement.

“Do you like it?”

“I absolutely love it! You'll put the top down, won't you?”

“If that's what you want.”

He was smiling as he slid into the front seat. He started the engine and made a real production of lowering the top. When he'd finished, they were both laughing. “This reminds me of that beat-up old convertible you had in college,” Olivia said between giggles. “Remember when the top got stuck halfway up?”

They talked comfortably throughout the drive. As they waited at a light, Olivia showed her ex the first photographs of their granddaughter.

“Born May 18th,” Stan reminded her. “That's the day Mount Saint Helens blew, isn't it?”

As if either one of them was likely to forget. They'd driven to Portland for the weekend. Stan was attending some engineering conference and while he went to meetings, Olivia had taken the three children over to Lloyd Center. The shopping mall, with a skating rink in the center, had fascinated eight-year-old Jordan. Olivia had tried to shop, but with three children constantly underfoot, it'd been an impossible task and she'd finally given up. After renting skates for herself and the kids, she'd spent a delightful day. Then early Sunday morning, when they were to drive home, Mount Saint Helens had the first of several volcanic eruptions. Plumes of hot gasses, ash and rock had shot sixty thousand feet into the sky. The falling ash had made the drive back to Cedar Cove nerve-wracking. For several hours, they'd been trapped on the Interstate with
three whiny, frightened children in the back seat. Olivia had been no less terrified.

“You do remember May 18th, 1980, don't you?” Stan asked.

In response, Olivia shuddered elaborately. She'd never been happier to get home. The drive had been a nightmare, but time had a way of erasing the sharp edges of that memory. In later years, whenever the trip was mentioned, it was done with drama and lots of laughter.

“She's beautiful,” Stan said, staring at the color photos while they waited for the light to change.

“James is happy, and Selina's perfect for him. She's just the kind of wife he needs.” As the youngest, James had been badly spoiled—even more so after the death of his brother.

Stan had worried about their son. She knew that, but James was an adult now and made his own decisions. Often Olivia disagreed with what he chose, such as joining the military. Without a word to either one of them, he'd enlisted. Now he was married and a young father. This, too, had been accomplished without consulting either parent.

“I'm glad to hear that.” Stan did sound relieved.

Olivia had liked her daughter-in-law instantly. They'd talked on the phone several times, but those brief conversations hadn't given her a clear picture of her son's wife. Selina belonged to a large extended and well-to-do family who'd welcomed Olivia with the same enthusiasm that they had James and the new baby. There were dinners and celebrations every night of her visit. James was genuinely happy. He and Selina lived in a suite of rooms at his in-laws' home and amazingly, the arrangement seemed to be a success. Olivia was impressed by the amount of Spanish he'd learned since he'd
met Selina. She'd quickly realized that Selina's family had been part of the attraction for her son. James had been only ten at the time of the divorce, and although both Olivia and Stan had tried hard to make the split as amicable as possible, their son had suffered. Every child did. Olivia saw the results of divorce every day in family court.

“How's Justine doing?” Stan abruptly changed the subject.

“Why? What did she say when you talked?”

“Not much.”

He seemed worried about their daughter. “She still seeing that Saget guy?”

“He's asked her to marry him.” By now, everyone in town knew about the diamond ring Warren had purchased. Justine, however, had yet to mention the proposal.

Stan cursed and swerved into another lane. “Is she going to do it?”

Olivia shrugged. “She doesn't confide in me when it comes to Warren Saget.”

“Talk her out of it,” he said urgently. “You're her mother—she'll listen to you a hell of a lot more than she will me. Marrying Saget would be a disaster.”

“Yes, but convincing Justine of that isn't easy.”

“She's stubborn, just like her mother.”

Stan was joking and Olivia grinned, but his amusement didn't last long. “Marge's son is getting a divorce. She's pretty upset about it.”

They rarely if ever talked about his wife.

“I think,” he went on, “that one of the most difficult aspects of being a parent is watching your child make what you know is a mistake and not being able to do a damn thing about it.”

“I'm sorry about Marge's son,” Olivia murmured.

“It's really too bad,” Stan told her. “He's got two small children and he's leaving them for some gal he met in his office.”

Olivia wondered if her ex-husband saw the irony of the situation. Marge had divorced her husband and abandoned her children for Stan, and now history was repeating itself.

“I will talk to Justine,” she said. “Unfortunately, we don't communicate well. But we've raised her to think for herself and make her own decisions, and we have to trust her to do so wisely.”

“That's harder than it sounds.”

Olivia didn't need him to tell her that.

By the time they hit the Seattle freeway, the sun had come out from behind the clouds. The wind and the traffic noise made conversation difficult. The hour's drive through Tacoma and over the Narrows Bridge passed quickly, especially when Stan plugged in a sixties rock-and-roll CD—music they'd danced to in their college days. Olivia was soon lost in happy memories.

She felt almost disappointed when he pulled onto Lighthouse Road.

“Oh.” She reacted with surprise when she noticed Jack's clunker parked outside her house behind Justine's car.

“Someone you know?”

“Jack Griffin. He's the editor of the
Chronicle.
”

Stan darted a glance in her direction. “Isn't he the one you had a date with the night I phoned? Is he a…boyfriend?”

“Oh, hardly. Jack's a
friend.
”

“That's what Justine said when I first asked her about Saget,” he muttered. “The next thing I know, he's pressuring her to get engaged.”

“I don't think you need to worry about me marrying Jack,” she assured him.

He parked at the curb and cut the engine and then said the oddest thing. “Good.”

Good?
He didn't want her to remarry? What a strange reaction, considering that he'd been married to Marge for fourteen years. Before she could ask him about it, her front door opened and Justine stepped onto the porch—with Jack right behind her.

He smiled and raised his hand in greeting, but his gaze slowly shifted away from her. Stan and Jack locked eyes.

“Welcome home,” Justine called, oblivious to the tension between the two men. She ran down the porch steps to greet her.

Olivia hugged her daughter, and with her arm wrapped around Justine's waist, walked toward her home. She was much too old to get excited about the attention of two men, she told herself. But then—was she really?

“It's great to be back,” she said, leaving Stan and Jack to follow if they chose.

“I'm dying to hear all about the baby. You didn't mind Dad picking you up, did you?”

“Not in the least.” If anything, Olivia had enjoyed it too much.

 

Charlotte Jefferson could hardly wait for her daughter to return from California. She had so much to tell her. Although she knew Olivia would be exhausted from the trip, Charlotte couldn't delay talking to her another minute.

The last thing she expected when she arrived at Olivia's was
a houseful of company. Anyone might've thought she was having a garage sale.

Naturally she recognized Justine's SUV, and the Taurus looked like the one Jack Griffin drove, but the red BMW had her baffled.

Olivia answered the doorbell and relaxed noticeably when she saw her. “Mother.” After a quick hug, Olivia brought her into the house. A pizza delivery box lay open on the table and a bottle of red wine was there, too.

“Anything left for me?” she joked.

“Get your grandmother a wineglass,” Olivia instructed Justine.

“Stan!” Charlotte was delighted to see her ex-son-in-law. She'd always been fond of him. The divorce had been as hard on her as it'd been on her daughter and the children. “Don't tell me that red convertible belongs to you?”

“It does.” He set his wineglass next to the pizza box. “I hate to eat and run, but I've got to get back to Seattle.”

“Already?” Charlotte would have dearly loved a chat.

“Another time,” he promised. He bent down and kissed Charlotte's cheek, then hugged Justine, who was busy pouring a glass of wine. The two men exchanged brief handshakes and Olivia escorted him to the door. Charlotte soon realized that Stan had picked up Olivia from the airport. She realized something else, too. The two men had not taken a liking to each other. Now,
that
was interesting.

“I should be leaving, too,” Justine announced. She gave Charlotte a half-full goblet and a kiss, then promptly disappeared.

That left Jack, who showed no sign of departing in the near future. Well, Charlotte needed to talk to her daughter, so she intended on waiting him out. “Tell me all about the baby,” she
said, settling in for a long visit. “Did James and Selina like the blanket I knit?” Then sighing, she added, “I do hope you brought back pictures.”

“I sure did. Oh, Mother, she's so beautiful.”

“See you Wednesday?” Jack asked, sounding a little dispirited.

Olivia hesitated a moment, then nodded. Apparently she'd just agreed to a date, which cheered Charlotte immensely. She didn't want Olivia to be alone the rest of her life, and she liked Jack Griffin.

“I should be heading out, too,” Jack said reluctantly—as though he wanted Olivia to ask him to stay.

She didn't. One look from Jack told Charlotte he wanted to be alone with Olivia, but she wasn't budging.

Soon enough he'd departed.
Privacy at last.
Charlotte released a deep sigh. Olivia sat down next to her with a glass of wine, feet propped up on the coffee table. “It's been quite a week.”

“For me, too,” Charlotte said excitedly.

“You heard from Roy?”

Charlotte grinned widely. “Yes, and guess what? Tom has a grandson living right outside Purdy.” The town was only a few miles down Highway 16 from Cedar Cove. Charlotte was thrilled with the news. In her heart of hearts, she'd known Tom had chosen to spend his last days in Cedar Cove for a reason.

“His name's Cliff Harding. Ever heard of him?”

“Can't say I have.” Olivia rubbed her eyes, and Charlotte could tell that her daughter was tired.

“He raises quarter horses.” Roy had told her that, along with the other information he'd unearthed. Cliff was a Boeing engineer who'd opted for an early retirement. He'd moved to the Kitsap Peninsula five years earlier.

“I suspected Tom had family in the area.” Charlotte felt downright proud of that.

“Yes, you did.”

“I didn't want to be intrusive, so I wrote Cliff to ask him to get in touch.” The letter had gone out the very day she'd heard the news, but to her disappointment, she hadn't heard back from him.