16 Lighthouse Road (26 page)

Cathy looked pointedly in Cecilia's direction. “Come and give me a hand,” she murmured.

Cecilia jumped up with alacrity.

Carol seemed confused and a little affronted. Cecilia felt bad about that, but Cathy obviously had something important to tell her.

“Andrew knows about the baby,” Cathy whispered the minute they entered the kitchen.

“How?”

“I told him. I had to. He wanted to know why I quit my job. I tried to edge around the truth, but we made a promise never to lie to each other and so I…I explained that I'm pregnant.”

“And?”

Cathy stared down at the floor. “He's afraid, just like I am, and kind of hurt that I hadn't told him sooner.”

“Under all of that I'm sure he's thrilled.”

Cathy nodded. “I know he is. We both want this baby so much.”

Cathy seemed about to dissolve into tears and might have if little Amanda hadn't let out a frustrated cry. Cathy hurriedly found a soda cracker and brought it into the living room.

Carol was busy picking up toys. “It's time I went home,” she murmured.

“You just got here,” Cathy protested.

“I know…it's just that…” She glanced at Cecilia, as if to say that now Cathy's other friend had arrived, she was obviously less welcome.

Ever sensitive, Cathy shook her head. “I hope you'll forgive me for being so rude, but I needed to tell Cecilia something. I didn't mean to exclude you.”

“I understand,” Carol said. She reached for Amanda, who eluded her mother's arms and waddled toward Cecilia. The baby stumbled and Cecilia instinctively thrust out her arms. Drooling as she smiled, Amanda gazed up at Cecilia, her eyes wide with interest. Cecilia froze, unable to stop looking at the baby girl who in other circumstances might have been her own.

Little Amanda returned her look, then smiled and raised her arms, wanting Cecilia to pick her up.

The decision was automatic. Cecilia leaned over and lifted the child. Then Amanda, as though she understood the significance of the moment, wrapped both chubby arms around Cecilia's neck. Cecilia knew she was being fanciful, but she felt that this child, this year-old baby, recognized all the love stored in her heart for Allison. The daughter she'd never hold again, or sing to, or kiss good-night.

Cathy and Carol paused for breathless seconds, watching Cecilia's reaction to Amanda.

Tenderly Cecilia brushed the wispy hair from the child's forehead, kissed her there, then set her back on the floor, where Amanda teetered, recovered herself and walked unsteadily to her mother's side.

“Carol, I'm going to tell you, too,” Cathy said. “I…you know I recently quit working. Well, there's a reason for that. I'm pregnant.”

Carol's eyes lit up. “That's great!” Her smile faded when she realized that neither Cathy nor Cecilia seemed completely delighted. “What's wrong?” she asked, glancing from one to the other. “Aren't you happy?”

Cathy was quick to assure Carol she
was
pleased. “It's just that I miscarried the first two pregnancies, and I'm scared to death.”

“I would be, too.” Carol handed Amanda the soda cracker; the little girl was content to sit on the floor, gnawing it. “I'm so sorry, Cathy. I can't even imagine…” She turned to Cecilia. “Weren't you in the hospital about the same time as me?” Carol asked.

Cecilia nodded. “My little girl was named Allison.”

“I remember. I always wanted to tell you how bad I felt, but you…well, you didn't seem to want to talk to anyone.”

“I regret that now,” she said. “I could've used a friend.”

“I could use one myself,” Carol said.

The military might have its heroes, but the wives were the backbone of the Navy, Cecilia reflected. These women—and she was now one of them—supported their husbands, their country and each other.

“I don't know how this pregnancy will go,” Cathy told
them, “but I do know that Andrew and I will be able to deal with it, no matter what happens.”

No matter what happens,
Cecilia mused. If her friend could be this brave, then she could, too.

Hurry home, Ian,
she prayed.
Please be safe and hurry home.

I
f not for Olivia, Grace would've dropped out of the Wednesday-evening aerobics class ages ago. But since Dan's disappearance, she'd found that working out was a great stress-reliever. Never had she sweated so much or breathed so hard. Every movement was done with enthusiasm and energy. Before, she'd always been the one who lagged behind; now she led the class.

“Keeping up with you is going to kill me,” Olivia complained as she followed Grace into the shower room. “What's gotten into you lately?”

As if Olivia didn't know. “You have to ask?”

“Well, yes, I understand you're upset about Dan.”

“That's not the half of it.”

Olivia wiped her face with a hand towel. “Have you had dinner yet?”

Grace shook her head. With only herself to cook for, it was easier to toss a frozen entrée into the microwave. Wednes
days she generally skipped dinner altogether. By the time she got home from aerobics, she was too tired to eat.

“Not yet.”

“Want to meet at the Pancake Palace?” Olivia suggested.

Grace wasn't hungry, but it beat walking into an empty house. “Okay.”

She took her time showering and changing into her street clothes. She hadn't done more than chat with her friend in several weeks, and she was looking forward to a real conversation. Sure, they saw each other, but there was rarely an opportunity to say more than a few words in passing.

Olivia had already secured the booth when Grace arrived. She slid in across from her and reached for the menu tucked, as always, behind the napkin canister.

“Wasn't this our booth back in high school?” Olivia asked.

Grace had to think about that. Was it? “I don't remember, but it might be.”

“Remember how Kenny Thomas broke up with me right here in the Pancake Palace?” Olivia reminded her.

“The rat fink.”

Their eyes met and they smiled, chasing memories. But Grace's amusement faded as she recalled how often she'd met Dan here during their high-school days. How different her life might have been if he'd broken up with her, or she'd had the courage to return his high-school ring. Even then, while she was still a teenager, Grace had sensed that they didn't bring out the best in each other. Deep down, Dan had known it, too. Then, just before graduation, Grace had discovered she was pregnant. Dan had wanted to marry her and she'd managed to convince herself it was the right thing to do.

“Kelly and I met here for dinner not long ago,” Grace told her, breaking off her thoughts before she fell into the abyss of self-pity. It was the night Kelly had persuaded her not to file for divorce. She'd promised to wait until after the baby was born, but she'd regretted that decision ever since.

“I envy your relationship with your daughters,” Olivia admitted.

“Aren't you and Justine getting along?”

Olivia gave a slight shrug. “We don't argue, if that's what you mean, but we don't talk openly. I heard through the grapevine that Warren's asked her to marry him, but she hasn't even mentioned his proposal to me.”

“Maybe she knows what you'll say.”

Olivia's eyes turned thoughtful. “I've vowed not to be negative, but it isn't easy.”

One thing Dan's disappearance had done was bring Grace closer to her daughters. They talked at least once a day, mostly to encourage and support each other. After the latest episode, they'd decided they could no longer bear not knowing where Dan was. The girls were willing to help with the expense of the private investigator; they felt as desperate for answers as Grace did.

“I hired Roy McAfee again last week.” Grace had talked to him soon after Dan's disappearance, and decided after his initial investigation that she couldn't afford his services anymore. As the weeks crept by, she'd come to understand that neither she nor the girls could afford
not
to hire him. They had to know what had happened to her husband, and there seemed to be no other way. “The frustration is driving me insane.”

“Do the girls approve?”

Grace nodded. “They're the ones who talked me into it. They want answers as badly as I do. Badly enough to help foot the bill.” Hiring a private detective was expensive, but as Maryellen had said—only half joking—the medical bills for a nervous breakdown would be far higher.

Something inside Grace had snapped the night she cleared out Dan's closet. She should probably have checked herself into a psychiatric ward. She'd reached her limit, and her daughters had immediately recognized it even if she hadn't.

“What did Roy say?”

“I gave him what information I could, and he promised to get back to me.”

“Did you tell him about your suspicions?”

Grace sighed and picked up her fork, squinting at the water spots. “He didn't agree or disagree with me. But I have faith that if there's another woman, he'll find out who it is.”

“And,” Olivia said, leaning forward, “what proof were you able to give him?”

“Not a damn thing.” Grace had searched through everything Dan owned and come away all the more confused. How careful he'd been, how clever. Not a shred of evidence remained—at least, nothing tangible she could hand over to Roy.

“But gut instinct tells you there's someone else?”

She nodded slowly. “As I think back, I see more and more clues.”

“Such as?”

“You know Dan. He didn't care much about appearances, but recently I started remembering little things about the first time he went missing.”

“Like what?”

“That morning was the same as always, but I realized later that he'd combed his hair and shaved. Dan usually shaved at night. He altered his routine that day.”

“He was meeting her?”

“That's my guess.”

“What about this time?”

Grace had reviewed their last morning together a hundred times or more. “I can't remember exactly, but I think so.” What she did recall was the faint scent of his aftershave as he collected his lunch bucket from the counter and headed out the door.

“I remember a year ago I asked him if he felt guilty about something because he was acting kind of… furtive.” That incident had played back in her mind, too. Dan had shot her a stricken look as though she'd caught him red-handed. Naturally he'd denied everything, and because she'd
wanted
to believe him, she had.

“Have you heard anything from Roy yet?”

Grace wadded up the paper napkin in her fist. “He phoned this afternoon.”

“And?” Olivia's eyes widened with anticipation.

“Nothing. He said that if Dan does have another job, he's not using his social security number.”

“What about the woman? Did Roy give you any ideas on who it might be?”

“No. He's asked around, put out feelers in Seattle and beyond, but he hasn't come up with a single lead. Whoever it is, I suspect they've been meeting for years. She probably got tired of Dan's inability to make a decision and told him it was either her or me.” Although Grace spoke without emotion, plenty of it churned inside her. It had become more
and more apparent that Dan had been under pressure. He wasn't by nature a cruel man, although at times he was capable of saying and doing cruel things. Whoever this woman was, Dan must have loved her very much.

“It's like he disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“I know.” Grace stared down at the table. “All I want is an answer,” she whispered. “I know it might be hard to believe, especially after everything he's put us through, but I want Dan to be happy.” She'd never been able to fill the emptiness inside him. It'd been worse after Vietnam. Then Kelly had been born, and it was as though this second daughter had renewed his purpose. For a few years they'd been happy. Dan had encouraged Grace to get a college education, and was an invaluable asset with the girls. They'd been a team, a family. Now he was gone.

“What if you don't get those answers?” Olivia asked gently.

Grace had considered that, too. It was a very real possibility. Dan didn't seem willing to tell her why he'd left—not to her face, at any rate. Perhaps that was the reason he'd decided to make a brief appearance in Cedar Cove. He'd wanted to be seen. Perhaps he was telling her he'd gotten on with his life and now she should do the same.

“If I don't get any answers, I'll deal with it just as I have everything else.”

Olivia shook her head admiringly. “You're a brave woman, Grace Sherman.”

Grace didn't view herself that way but accepted the compliment. “Hey, when are we going to get some service around here?”

Olivia placed two fingers in her mouth and gave a low
piercing whistle. She'd always been proud of her ability to do that—and it had certainly impressed her sons.

“Hold on!” the sixty-year old waitress shouted from the other side of the restaurant. “I've only got two hands.”

“Same ol' Pancake Palace,” Grace laughed. Some things never changed, and for that she was grateful.

 

The last week of June, Olivia suddenly realized she hadn't heard from Jack Griffin in more than a month. Not since she'd returned from California. It wasn't until she started planning her mother's birthday celebration that she noticed it'd been so long. Between her work in family court, the problems with Justine, James's new family, her mother's obsession with Tom Houston and Grace's troubles, Olivia had been caught up in everyone else's life. She'd nearly forgotten she had one of her own.

Home from court early on a Monday afternoon, Olivia was in a rare domestic mood and prepared a batch of her favorite breakfast muffins, a family staple.

Since Jack hadn't seen fit to phone her, she decided to call him. It wasn't her habit to contact men, but this time she had a perfectly good excuse—an invitation. She didn't have a home number, so she called him at the office.

“Jack Griffin,” he snapped, answering as soon as the receptionist had rung through.

“Hello, Jack.”

“Oh—Olivia.”

He sounded as if she'd knocked him off-balance. “I guess you weren't expecting me,” she said.

“You could say that.” His voice softened.

It was probably best to get to the point right away. “Have you got plans for the fourth of July?”

“Depends,” he said cautiously. “What do you have in mind?” He didn't wait for her to answer before he offered his own suggestion. “There's an article I've been meaning to write about a nudist colony out by Home. Are you interested in tagging along?”

Her laugh was answer enough.

“That's what I thought.” He muttered in a resigned voice, and Olivia laughed again.

“Actually, it's my mother's birthday on July fourth,” she said, “and I was planning a small surprise party.”

“How small?”

“You, me and Mom.” Justine had been invited, too. She would likely make an appearance without Warren, but Olivia doubted her daughter would stay long.

“Can I get back to you?”

“By all means.” They ended the conversation soon after that, and Olivia hung up with a sense of disappointment. Perhaps she'd offended Jack, although she couldn't imagine when or how. She'd had to cancel their last date, because of a Bar Association meeting, but he'd sounded almost relieved and she hadn't heard from him since.

Five minutes later, the doorbell chimed. When Olivia answered, she was astonished to see Jack Griffin leaning against her doorframe, doing his damnedest to look like Cary Grant in
His Girl Friday.

“Jack? What are you doing here?”

“I thought it over,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “I'd love to come to your party.”

“Great.”

“Are you going to invite me in?”

“Oh, of course.” She moved aside and he stepped into the house, following her into the kitchen, where she'd brewed a fresh pot of coffee. The muffins were just out of the oven. “This is a family recipe,” she told him as she set a warm muffin on a plate. “Mom frequently reminds me how good bran is for the older person.” She rolled her eyes on the word
older.

“Bran apple muffins? Your mother included the recipe in one of her first columns.”

“The very ones.” Olivia reached for a muffin herself and joined him at the table.

“I'm glad you called,” Jack told her. “It's been a while since we talked.”

“You could've phoned me, you know.”

He hesitated. “I, uh, wasn't sure that was such a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asked, her tone forthright.

He hesitated again, weighing his words. “I know you've been divorced a long time, but it seemed to me—and I could be wrong—that you and your ex are—”

“Friends?”

Jack's gaze held hers. “More than friends,” he said. “Are you still in love with him, Olivia?”

It was a question she didn't need to consider long. “Stan and I had three children together. We'll always be linked through them.”

“That wasn't what I asked you.”

“I know.” She wished she could explain what she felt for her ex-husband, but her feelings were complex and something of a mystery even to her. She took a deep breath. “You're
right, we're divorced. I do love him, but it isn't the same kind of love we had as husband and wife.”

Jack looked away as if he didn't understand the answer. Or perhaps he
did
understand, but didn't like what he'd heard. Olivia felt her words were woefully inadequate. The bond between her and Stan was more than the children they'd brought into the world, more than the child they'd buried. It was everything they'd shared. There were things they knew about each other that no one else could possibly know.

Legally they were separate. Stan had a new wife and a new family, but a court decree hadn't completely divided their hearts.