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Authors: Debbie Macomber

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Forty-Three

“A
llison.” Her father's voice rang over her cell phone. “Could you stop by the sheriff's office?”

“Now?” she asked, glancing regretfully at her two friends. She was on her way to the Silverdale Mall for a much-needed shopping break. Her mom had let her use the car, and Allison had volunteered to drive. Since graduation, all she'd done was work at her dad's office. She had less and less of a social life these days. It seemed pointless to date anyone else, because no matter how this whole arson mess ended, she loved Anson.

“Yes, now,” her father insisted. “It's important.”

“Does…does this have anything to do with Anson?” Her friends looked at her, and their conversation instantly died.

“It does.”

Her heart leaped into her throat. “I'll be there in
ten minutes.” After apologizing to her friends as she dropped them at a bus stop, Allison reversed her direction and headed back into Cedar Cove. Her stomach was in knots. Something had happened.

The sheriff's door was closed, and Seth and Justine Gunderson sat outside his office. So did Roy McAfee, the private investigator she'd once gone to on Anson's behalf. They all smiled warmly when they saw her.

“Hello,” she said nervously.

“Hello,” Justine said. “I think you're supposed to wait here, too.”

Allison took the fourth chair and twisted her purse strap around her palm. “Is my father talking to the sheriff?” she asked.

Mr. Gunderson nodded. He began to speak, but the door opened then, and her father stepped into the hallway. He brightened when he saw her.

“Can you tell me what this is about, Dad?” she asked, coming to her feet.

“I sure can.” Her father smiled. “Actually, it wasn't Sheriff Davis or I who asked to see you.” He held open the door and gestured her inside.

Wondering at his words, Allison entered the small office and noticed Sheriff Davis right away. A soldier stood next to him, a handsome young man, wearing fatigues and a cap. The name tag on his jacket said Butler.

Butler.

No, it couldn't be. Allison looked again. It was.

“Anson?” she whispered, hardly able to believe what she saw.

He smiled and held out his arms. Even with her father and the sheriff watching, she didn't hesitate. Allison rushed forward for the biggest, most precious hug of her life. Her throat was crowded with tears of joy. “You enlisted in the army? All this time you were in the
army?

Anson grinned. “There aren't a whole lot of options for someone hoping to escape a few unpleasant complications.”

“When?” she asked, astounded at the changes in him. He looked better, healthier than at any other time she'd seen him.

“I'd made the decision before the fire that burned down The Lighthouse. I talked to a recruiter and saw there were more opportunities for me with the military than anyplace else. I enlisted in Silverdale. Even though I was a ‘person of interest' with regard to the fire, I wasn't charged with anything, so it didn't stand in my way. I had all the credits I needed to graduate.”

Relieved though she was, Allison felt angry, too. He could have trusted her! “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I wanted to graduate from basic training first—
prove I could do it. I needed to consider my choices.”

“Which are?”

“To return to Cedar Cove and answer a few questions, for one,” Sheriff Davis put in.

“I couldn't drag you into this,” Anson said, turning to Allison.

“Anson wasn't responsible for the fire,” she argued, ready to do battle even now.

“We already know that,” her father assured her.

“We have another person of interest we're planning to question,” Sheriff Davis explained. He nodded at Anson. “We appreciate your help, son. You're free to go.” They exchanged handshakes. “Thanks to you,” he added, “we're pretty sure who set that fire.”

“Thank you, sir,” Anson said respectfully. He turned to Zach. “Do I have your permission to speak to Allison privately, Mr. Cox?” he asked.

Allison's father smiled at his daughter. “If I said no, I fear I'd have a family mutiny on my hands.”

It was all Allison could do not to hug her father. Before anything could prevent their departure, she linked her hand with Anson's, and they walked out together. As they were leaving, Sheriff Davis asked the Gundersons to step into his office.

Allison had so many questions, she wasn't sure which one to ask first. “You know who set the fire?”
she blurted out. “Was it because of the license plate?”

“Partly. I didn't know his name, but I'd seen him around town. He saw me, and I knew it wasn't safe for me to stick around, so I ran. The way I figured it, with my record, I'd get blamed for the fire anyway.” They left the building and before they could walk toward the parking lot, Anson stopped abruptly. He pulled her under an outside stairwell. “Listen, Allison, I know this is crazy, but I swear if I don't kiss you right here and now, I'll lose my mind.”

“Funny,” she whispered. “I was thinking that, too.”

Anson took her into his arms and brought his mouth to hers. She'd waited months and months for this kiss, and she wasn't going to let the fact that anyone could see them detract from the joy she felt.

“I have missed you so much,” she murmured, her arms around his neck.

“Thinking about you was all that got me through basic training,” Anson murmured as he ran his hands down her back.

They clung to each other for the longest time. Finally Allison couldn't stand not knowing, couldn't stand it for another second. “Who did it?” she asked breathlessly. “Who started the fire?”

“Like I said, I didn't know his name but I'd seen
him in the restaurant and around town. He's a builder, I guess. It wasn't until very recently that I found out who he is. Warren Saget.”

“Warren Saget,” Allison repeated. “My dad does his taxes.”

“Yeah, I know. Your father mentioned that.”

“How did you identify him?”

“His picture was in the paper. Shaw's been mailing me the
Cedar Cove Chronicle,
which is how I managed to keep up with what's been happening around town. Saget was photographed in an ad for his construction company. Once I had a name to go with the face, I phoned the sheriff.” He smiled grimly. “The license plate—first three letters
SUL
—checked out.”

It was one thing to identify Warren Saget as the arsonist and another to prove it. All the information she'd seen and read—on TV shows and in mystery novels—indicated that there had to be more than circumstantial evidence or even eyewitness reports. The only physical evidence was the pewter cross discovered in the ashes—the cross that belonged to Anson.

“How will Sheriff Davis ever prove he's the arsonist?” she asked.

“Well, I'm a witness and I've agreed to testify in court. The sheriff and Mr. McAfee had another idea, though. He didn't tell me what it was, but it involves
Mrs. Gunderson. That's why she was there with her husband. My guess,” he said thoughtfully, “is that Sheriff Davis is going to arrange a showdown, a face to face with Saget.” Anson shook his head. “The sheriff didn't confide in me. All I know is that if it's necessary, I'll testify against him in court.”

She had another question, an important one. “How did my dad get involved?”

Anson rested his forehead against hers. “I called him. It was on his advice that I spoke to the sheriff.”

“What?”
He couldn't have shocked her more had he confessed to setting the fire himself. “When?”

“Last Friday. Like I said, I saw Saget's photograph and recognized him as the arsonist. I figured if I was ever going to step forward, the time was now. Otherwise I was afraid this would hang over me for the rest of my life. Your dad arranged today's meeting.” He paused. “There are only a handful of people I trust in this world, and your father is one of them.”

“Not me?” She realized she sounded hurt; she couldn't help it, even though she wanted to be more mature.

“I wouldn't put you in that situation.” He kissed her again, letting his lips linger on hers. “I knew you wanted to believe in me. All I could do was pray that your father did, too.”

Her father hadn't breathed a word of this.

“How long can you stay?” Allison already dreaded the day he'd have to leave her again.

“Just a week, and then I'm headed for specialized training. I'm going into Army Intelligence, working with computers. Whether I continue with the military or not, this is training I can always use.”

“You're one of the smartest people I know.” She couldn't keep the admiration from her voice.

He'd never been able to accept compliments well. He did now, though, because he believed it himself. “You're the only person who ever said that to me, and the funny part is, the tests I took proved it's true.”

“I
know
it is.”

“After I enlisted, the army put me through a lot of testing. I ranked high in languages and computer skills and a bunch of other stuff. Basically, I could have my pick, and I went with Army Intelligence.”

“I'm so proud of you, Anson, so
proud.

“You're the one who gave me the power to believe in myself,” he said.

They left their haven under the stairwell and walked into the parking lot. Allison unlocked her mom's car, and Anson slid into the passenger seat beside her. “Where would you like to go?” she asked him.

“If you don't mind, I'd like to see my mother
first. I have her money. Then Shaw.” He grinned. “I don't think either of them will recognize me.”

“I didn't at first.”

“I know,” he said with a delighted laugh. “I wish you could've seen the look on your face when it dawned on you that this short-haired soldier was me. It was priceless.”

“You think you're funny, don't you?” she said, laughing, too.

“No, I think I'm the most fortunate man in Cedar Cove. I don't need to run or hide. I have you back, and my life's on course. For the first time ever, I can smile at the future.”

So could Allison.

Forty-Four

I
n Rachel's opinion, dinner with Nate's parents on Tuesday evening couldn't have gone worse. She'd felt miserable and out of her element the entire evening. They were in an outrageously expensive Seattle restaurant, where each place setting featured more cutlery than Rachel owned. That was bad enough. Even worse was the fact that Nate didn't even seem to notice how uncomfortable she was. Nate's mother had used every opportunity to belittle Rachel, and she'd done it in the most subtle way. Again and again, she brought up subjects that excluded Rachel and made no effort to explain who or what she meant.

Once when Rachel had the temerity to ask a question about someone she'd mentioned, Patrice Olsen raised her eyebrows—as if it should be understood that she was referring to the English ambas
sador's daughter. Following that, Rachel hadn't dared ask a single thing. They'd all started off on the wrong foot the night Nate had showed up at her house, his parents in tow. The fact that Bruce and Jolene were there seemed to give his mother even more of a reason to dislike her. Patrice obviously assumed that Rachel was cheating on her son.

After dinner, which seemed to last forever, Nate wished his parents a safe trip home. He appeared to be pleased with what he considered a successful evening. Now as he drove Rachel home, she tried to figure out how Nate had missed his mother's unmistakable attempts to thwart their relationship.

“I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Nate said, briefly glancing away from the road. His right hand reached for hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. He looked happy and content, while Rachel felt just the opposite. “I knew the minute Mom met you, she'd love you, too,” he continued, “and I was right. Mom thinks you're fabulous.”

“How can you say that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was a nervous wreck all night.” She didn't mention their initial introduction, but surely he could guess that was part of the reason!

“You were?”

“Yes,” she said, close to tears. “Nate, I was so far out of my comfort zone I could hardly breathe.”

He glanced away from the road again. “It didn't
show. You're a classy woman, Rach, and my parents thought you were great, but I knew they would.”

Apparently he hadn't noticed that she hadn't swallowed a single bite of that expensive dinner. “Your parents really care about you,” she said.

Nate shrugged. “Dad and I have had our differences over the years. As you already know, he didn't approve when I enlisted in the navy. We had a big blowup about that, but underneath it all, I know he's proud of me and my decision. He's come to trust my judgment. Mom, too.” He cast a meaningful look in her direction as they drove across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge on their way back into Cedar Cove.

“Your parents have plenty of reasons to be proud of you, Nate.” All Rachel wanted was to get home. Her head hurt and her cheeks ached from constantly smiling. She had less of a problem with Nate's father; unlike his wife, Nathaniel Olsen was a straight shooter. Mrs. Olsen had made it evident from the moment they were introduced that she found Rachel lacking. No, even before tonight, Rachel thought, recalling the phone conversation in the park. It wasn't anything personal; his mother just didn't consider Rachel Pendergast good enough for her only son.

They got to her house before Rachel was ready. She didn't want Nate to leave and yet at the same time she wanted to be alone. How could she explain
the way his mother made her feel? If she tried, Nate would assume she was being paranoid and childish.

Nate parked his car at the curb and turned to smile at her. The look in his eyes told her he wasn't ready for the evening to end, either.

“Would you like to come in and talk for a bit?” Rachel asked. There was nothing to do at the moment but put tonight's dinner behind her. Later, when she'd had time to assimilate the evening's events, she'd be able to make some decisions.

“I would love a cup of coffee,” Nate said and gently kissed her. His kisses had always been her downfall. The first time they'd kissed, Rachel had felt her world crumble at her feet. That hadn't changed in the months they'd been seeing each other; if anything the physical attraction between them had grown stronger.

Nate helped her out of the car and when they'd walked up to her front door, he took the keys from her hand and unlocked it for her. He observed these small courtesies, old-fashioned courtesies, which he'd obviously grown up with. The contrast between Nate and Bruce when it came to these details of courtship was striking. Not that she was dating Bruce. The fact that he'd even enter her mind at a time like this was an irritation she could do without.

“Thanks,” she said when Nate gave her back the key ring. The living room was dark and she switched
on a lamp on her way into the kitchen. Although she wasn't really interested in coffee, preparing a pot gave her something to do while she collected her thoughts.

“It looks like you've got a message on your answering machine,” Nate commented as he pulled out a kitchen chair.

Without thinking, Rachel pushed the button. Almost immediately she heard Jolene's sweet voice. “Hi, Rachel.” She sounded disappointed not to find Rachel at home. “I wish you were there. I was hoping we could go to a movie together. Dad says the one I want to see is a chick flick and I should ask you.” She gave an exasperated sigh that made Rachel laugh. “You know men. Call me back soon, okay?”

Suddenly she saw that Nate was frowning. “They take a lot for granted, don't they?” he murmured.

“Not really.” Now Rachel frowned, finding herself oddly defensive of Bruce and Jolene.

“I have news,” Nate said. He'd waited until after she'd poured him a mug of coffee.

“Good news, I hope,” she said as she joined him at the table. She stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her coffee.

“Rachel.” He reached across the table, stilling her hand. “The
John F. Reynolds
has been transferred to San Diego.”

It took longer than it should have to understand what that meant. “You're leaving Cedar Cove?” she asked.

He nodded. “I wanted to say something sooner, but with my parents in town and you so busy most of the time…”

“I haven't been
that
busy at work,” she countered. “Not since Teri got back.” But she knew what he'd say. Twice in the last month, he'd wanted to go out and she'd had to turn him down because of previous commitments to Jolene.

“You're always doing something with that girl.”

“She has a name, Nate. It's Jolene, and she's my friend.”

He shrugged. “I'm not sure it's healthy for you to spend so much time with her.”

The anger Rachel experienced was hot and immediate, but she forced it back. This wasn't the time to discuss her relationship with Jolene. There were other pressing matters at hand. It had only begun to sink in that Nate would be leaving Cedar Cove. “You…you should've said you were being transferred,” she said. “You should've told me earlier.”

“I know.” He covered her hands and gazed into her eyes. “I hate to tell you like this,” he said quietly, “especially since we're heading out so soon.”

“When?” she asked in a strained voice.

“Next week.”

She gasped. “No…”

He nodded. “I'm sorry.”

“I…” She didn't know how to react to this shocking news. The evening and the uncomfortable dinner were the least of her worries now. Nate had been transferred. Within a week, this man she loved would be gone.

Her mouth went dry. “What will that mean for us?” she managed to ask.

“It means,” Nate said, exhaling deeply, “that you and I need to make a decision. A very important decision.”

Her stomach tensed, and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

He paused as if to gauge her response to his announcement. “You know how I feel about you.”

“Yes…” She felt the same way about him. Although he was a few years younger and the son of a wealthy and powerful politician, he'd managed to steal her heart. During the six months he'd been at sea, they'd written each other long letters, then later e-mailed on a daily basis, and in the process had grown close. When she'd first learned about his family, she'd wanted to end their relationship, but he'd persuaded her not to. Now the navy was taking him away from her.

“What about the others?” She'd become good friends with several of the navy wives, especially
Cecilia Randall. Since Aaron's birth, she hadn't seen as much of Cecilia, and now Rachel understood why. Cecilia was adjusting to more than her newborn son, more than her move to Grace Harding's house on Rosewood Lane. She was packing up for San Diego.

“They're all moving, too,” he said, “Almost everyone associated with the
John F. Reynolds
has been transferred.”

“Oh.” She hoped there'd be an opportunity to say goodbye to her friends and to exchange addresses and promises to keep in touch.

“I want you to think about something,” Nate continued. “I want you to go there, too.”

He couldn't be serious! Did he expect her to pack up her own life and become a camp follower?

“With your job you could work anywhere, right?”

He left her reeling from one shock and then another. “You want me to move, too? Just like that?”

“I know it's a lot to ask. I know it's unfair, but I have a reason for asking.”

It didn't matter. “I can't, Nate. My life is here in Cedar Cove. My closest friends are here—Teri and Jane and—”

“Jolene,” Nate finished.

“Yes, Jolene,” she confirmed. If Rachel moved, the child would be devastated. She'd lost her mother
a few years ago, and Rachel's leaving would make her feel like she'd been abandoned a second time. Rachel couldn't do that to her.

Nate brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. “Why don't we give it three months?”

“All right.” Already she missed him. She knew instinctively that this would be different from when he was at sea. “Three months,” she repeated, wondering,
Three months until what?

“At the end of three months, we should both know,” Nate said casually.

“Know
what?

“If this is something we can do, live apart like this,” Nate explained, again sounding very casual, as if everything was clear. As if she understood.

She frowned slightly. “And if we decide we can't, what will that mean?”

“I'm hoping it means you'll be willing to join me.”

“Join you?”

Nate's sensual mouth turned upward in a warm, inviting smile. “In other words, Rachel, I'm hoping you'll consider becoming my wife.”

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