311 Pelican Court (6 page)

As a relative newcomer, Jack didn’t remember Bob being especially close to the former lumberman. Thinking about it, though, he recalled that Grace Sherman had asked Bob to speak at the memorial service held for Dan. That had surprised Jack at the time, but he hadn’t said anything.

As if reading his mind, Peggy explained. “Bob and Dan used to be good friends in high school. Dan’s death really disturbed him, and then of course there was…” She shrugged and met Jack’s eyes. He knew she was talking about the stranger.

“After Dan was buried, Bob decided he’d like to start attending church services,” Peggy continued. “I certainly didn’t mind. In fact, I’ve wanted to go for quite a while. Funny how death tends to unnerve us, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Jack smiled wanly, disinclined to chat. But after a few minutes, the silence became uncomfortable, so he tried to fill it with questions. “Bob and Dan didn’t see much of each other lately, did they?”

Peggy shook her head. “Not since they got back from Vietnam, but Dan was never the same after the war. They drifted apart. I don’t think Dan was much of a drinker, but Bob was…well, you know about his problems with the bottle as well as anyone.”

Jack nodded. “Friends can do that,” he said, thinking more about himself and Olivia than Dan Sherman and Bob. “Drift apart, I mean.” Only his relationship with Olivia hadn’t exactly drifted, it had been abruptly cut off. His gut twisted, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think he had the beginnings of an ulcer. When he reached for his iced tea, he noticed Peggy studying him.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Have I?” If so, he was grateful. He had a bit of a paunch that had come with middle age and a demanding desk job. There wasn’t much time for exercise, and meals often consisted of what he could get from a vending machine.

“I suspect it has something to do with Olivia. You’re obviously miserable.”

Now, that was below the belt. Jack nearly groaned aloud. “Unfair,” he muttered. “And Olivia’s off-limits.”

“Okay,” Peggy murmured, apparently content to abide by his wishes. “But I do have one thing to tell you and then I’ll shut up.”

“One thing?” he repeated. “Just one?”

“Yes,” Peggy said, “and I think you’ll find this interesting. I had to go down to the courthouse the other day and everyone in the whole building was buzzing about another of Olivia’s decisions.” She paused, as if waiting for him to bite.

Funny Jack hadn’t already heard about it. Curiosity got the best of him and he swallowed the bait. “What did she do this time?” he asked.

Peggy explained the controversial joint custody decision Olivia had made. “I wish more judges would take the children’s needs into consideration,” she said.

This willingness to employ common sense in her courtroom was what had first attracted Jack to Olivia. He’d been surprised—and impressed—when a year earlier, she’d basically denied a young couple a divorce.

Everyone in the courtroom could tell that Ian and Cecilia Randall were still in love. They’d lost an infant daughter, and the death of their baby had ripped them apart. Olivia had not only recognized their emotional confusion and their need for each other, she’d boldly acted upon it. The last Jack had heard, Ian and Cecilia were together again.

Peggy was staring at him.

“I haven’t seen Olivia in weeks.” Jack helped himself to a cookie. Six weeks to be precise, not that he was counting. All right, all right, he knew down to the day and the hour, which he wasn’t admitting to anyone.

“Jack, that’s terrible!”

No kidding. Well, he didn’t much like it, either, but he’d backed himself into a corner. It was an impossible situation, and his ego demanded he stay exactly where he was.

“You miss her, don’t you?”

He started to say that after a while it wasn’t so bad, then stopped abruptly. Hell, who did he think he was fooling? It was worse than ever, especially in the past few weeks. “She seems to be doing okay. I hear Stan Lockhart is hanging around a lot these days.”

“Is Olivia dating her ex-husband?”

“Not according to Charlotte.” Jack nearly bit his tongue
in his eagerness to close his mouth. He hadn’t meant to let Peggy know he’d been commiserating with Olivia’s mother. Charlotte was his biggest supporter. She’d told him that she’d nagged Olivia to mend fences with Jack; unfortunately, Olivia didn’t seem inclined to admit the error of her ways.

Jack set the cookie aside, his appetite gone. “Apparently Olivia’s got some bug up her butt about how I should be making a play for her.”

“A play?”

“You know,” he said, growing impatient. “She wants me to—in her words—show some gumption and fight for her.”

Peggy frowned. “She wants you to
fight?
”

“Well, maybe not a knock-down, drag-out fistfight but… hell, I don’t know
what
she wants.” He assumed she was expecting him to come on bended knee and beg her forgiveness. He had too much pride for that. If she was interested in him, the same way he was interested in her, then that high-school, high-drama stuff shouldn’t be necessary. For a woman who supposedly knew so much about human nature, Olivia had fallen decidedly short on figuring this out.

“You might send her flowers,” Peggy suggested.

Jack had already thought of that. “I don’t have a reason.”

“Reason? What do you mean, reason?” Peggy repeated.

“You know…her birthday, Christmas, whatever.”

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Peggy said slowly. “You
have
a reason. You want her back, don’t you? This nonsense has gone on long enough. That’s all she wants to hear. She’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

Yeah, well, Jack was waiting, too.

“You’re at a standoff,” Peggy said. “If you don’t do something fast, you’ll lose her. If she intended to get together with her ex, don’t you think she’d be with him by now? Good grief.” She shook her head. “Stan must be overjoyed by all this.”

Jack scowled ferociously. He’d thought plenty about that slimy bastard who’d once been married to Olivia, and heaven knew Jack didn’t want to do Stanley Lockhart any favors. “I suppose you think I should pour my heart out on one of those dinky cards, too.”

“No,” Peggy said. “That wouldn’t be like you.”

Thankfully she knew him well enough to recognize that. “What should I say, then?”

“Why say anything? Just write your name.”

“That’s it?”

Peggy nodded. “All Olivia needs is some indication that you care.”

It was that easy? Nah—couldn’t be.

“Are you going to do it?” she pressed.

“Maybe.” It sounded like good advice, and at this point, he was willing to try just about anything—especially if he could hold on to his pride at the same time.

Peggy shoved the cookie plate in his direction and Jack took the last one. “I hope you do it,” she told him.

Peggy had certainly given him something to think about, but now he was anxious to turn the subject away from Olivia. “I happened to run into Roy McAfee the other day,” Jack said. The retired Seattle police detective had put out his shingle as a private investigator shortly after he’d moved to Cedar Cove. Jack knew that Roy had talked to Bob and Peggy extensively about the John Doe who’d checked into their B and B—and never checked out. The medical examiner still hadn’t determined the cause of death.

“Is Roy still working on our big mystery?” Peggy asked, her eyes troubled.

“He didn’t mention anything, but I doubt it.”

Peggy became quiet and thoughtful. “I wish he would,” she finally said.

“Investigate your John Doe?” Jack prodded.

“It’s almost as if…as if he landed here from another planet.”

“You think Roy might be able to find out something the police can’t?” he asked.

“I…I don’t know.” She shifted in her seat and suddenly seemed uncomfortable. “It’s just that…” Again she hesitated.

“What?”

“It’s Bob. That night, he casually said there was something familiar about our guest. But with the way he arrived, so late and without a reservation, Bob couldn’t put his finger on it. I think there might be more to this than meets the eye.”

Bob and Jack were close. He knew Bob had scoured his brain looking for a connection and been unable to come up with one.

“I’ve been married to Bob for over thirty years…” Peggy’s voice dropped to a whisper. She darted a glance at him. “Did he ever tell you about his nightmares?”

He hadn’t. “We all have bad dreams at one time or another.” Jack hadn’t gone to Vietnam himself, but he knew plenty of men who had. Nightmares weren’t uncommon for a man who’d been to war.

“Twice now…” She sighed. “Sometimes, through the years, Bob’s sleepwalked.”

Jack leaned forward. “Surely you don’t think he had anything to do with your guest’s death?”

“Oh, no.” Her eyes widened in horror. “It’s impossible! The bedroom door was locked from the inside.”

But Jack knew they had a key, so that wasn’t a viable excuse.

“And there wasn’t a scratch on him.”

Jack nodded. That was true.

“Besides, you know Bob. He can barely swat a fly. It just isn’t in him to purposely hurt anyone or anything.”

Peggy was right. “Then why do you want Bob to talk to a private investigator?”

“I just want Bob to talk, I guess. It doesn’t matter to whom. After I saw how upset he was over Dan’s death, coupled with the recurring nightmares—well, I just think it would do him good to get it off his chest. He’s always so afraid that he might start walking in his sleep again.”

Jack could appreciate her concern. “Do you want me to say anything to him?”

She shook her head. “It might do more harm than good. If he thinks I’ve been talking about him—even with you—he’d just get upset.”

Jack noticed the way she clenched and unclenched her hands, and he realized that Peggy was afraid. Even though she’d denied it, she was afraid her husband might have had something to do with the stranger’s death.

Was that possible? Could Bob be involved?

S
unday afternoon, the day Katie turned one month old, Maryellen paced the living room floor, holding her daughter against her chest. The doorbell chimed and she froze. Jon had come for Katie, to take her home for the night. This was the first time since she’d been born that Maryellen had to surrender her to Jon. Until today, he’d visited almost daily, usually staying only an awkward few minutes. Now he’d be taking her on his rotation days off, returning the next afternoon. Already she knew that abiding by their agreement wasn’t going to be easy.

Reluctantly, she set Katie back in her bassinet and opened the front door. Jon stood on the other side of the screen, dressed casually in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. His long dark hair was pulled away from his face and tied in a ponytail.

“Hi,” he said. “You look great—both of you.”

“Jon.” Despite her resolve not to be emotional, her voice trembled.

If he noticed her distress, he ignored it. “Is Katie ready?”

Maryellen swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. She held the door open for him. “I’ve packed everything
you’ll need.” She reached for the diaper bag and pulled out a container of breast milk she’d pumped and several empty bottles. “She only takes about three ounces, sometimes four, at a time. You’ll probably have to get up twice during the night, and she isn’t all that accustomed to the bottle, so I don’t know how she’ll do.” She swallowed again, trying to hide her reservations. “You will hear her if she cries, won’t you?”

“I’m a light sleeper.”

That wasn’t the way Maryellen remembered it. On their one night together she’d managed to gather her clothes and sneak halfway down the stairs before he noticed she was gone.

“I put three extra outfits in her diaper bag in case she needs a change—and extra diapers, too.”

“All right.” He walked over to the bassinet, which she’d brought into the living room this morning. “Hey, I didn’t know they still had these.”

“It was mine,” Maryellen told him. “Mom saved it and then gave it to Kelly when she had Tyler. Kelly passed it along to me for Katie.”

Jon smiled down at his daughter; the infant seemed to smile back and started moving both arms. Jon placed his hand over her tiny stomach.

“She likes her yellow blanket best….” Maryellen said. “My mom knit it for her and I think she sleeps better with it.” She was rambling, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I’ll be sure the blanket is always with her.”

“You’ll need a car seat. State law demands that—”

“I already have one.”

Not once had his gaze wavered from their daughter, and Maryellen saw him make silly faces at her. The tenderness in his eyes made her want to weep.

“She tends to be fussy first thing in the morning,” she told him, and bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

“She must get that from you,” Jon said, briefly glancing toward her. “As I recall, you’re not much of a morning person, either.”

Apparently he was reminding her of their night together. Maryellen immediately wanted to defend herself, but she was afraid that if she said one more word, she’d burst into tears. His having Katie had sounded like a reasonable solution a couple of months ago. Katie was Jon’s daughter, and it was his legal right to spend time with her. But Maryellen hadn’t realized when she’d agreed to this how bereft she’d feel. How lost and unsettled…

Jon carefully bent down and scooped his daughter into his arms. It was all Maryellen could do not to rush forward at the clumsy way he handled their baby. Sheer determination kept her where she was. Jon wouldn’t appreciate her intervention.

“I’ll take her out and put her in the car seat,” he said.

Rather than respond verbally, Maryellen nodded. She followed closely behind, carrying the diaper bag. While Jon fiddled with the car seat, she waited anxiously to be sure he had Katie properly secured.

“What time will you have her back?” she asked, although she already knew.

“Before five.”

Twenty-four hours.

Jon closed the back door.

“You’ll phone if you need anything?”

He walked around the vehicle, a brand-new sedan, and opened the driver’s side door. “Of course. I have your number next to the phone.”

“Okay…good.” Maryellen clung to the top of the door while he climbed inside and inserted the key in the ignition. The warning bell instantly started to chime. Reluctantly she stepped back and Jon pulled the door shut.

“Everything will be fine,” he assured her through the half-open window.

“I know…it’s just that we’ve never been apart before.”

Jon’s eyes went blank as he looked past her. “You’re the one who wanted it like this. I’m only going along with your wishes.”

Her wishes, she longed to remind him, had been to keep him entirely in the dark about their daughter. She hadn’t originally planned to involve him because she’d believed Jon wouldn’t want anything to do with their child. But she’d been wrong.

Tears blurred her vision. Normally Maryellen wasn’t a volatile or weepy person, but the pregnancy and birth had thrown her hormones off-kilter. At the slightest excuse—a television ad, watching her beautiful daughter sleep, even folding baby clothes—Maryellen would find herself on the verge of tears.

Jon was about to drive away from the curb when he glanced at her and stopped. “Are you all right?”

She nodded forcefully and hurriedly wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I’ve been feeling emotional lately. That’s all.” Wrapping her arms protectively about her waist, she moved onto the sidewalk.

“New-mother blues,” he said knowledgeably. “I read about it in one of the books I checked out of the library. It’ll pass in a few weeks.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. Maryellen could read, too, but pointing that out just now seemed childish and petty. She didn’t want to say anything to irritate him, especially when he had their baby in his vehicle.

“I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,” he assured her.

“Okay,” she whispered. She could sleep in, Maryellen told herself. After a month of getting up at all hours of the
night, sometimes two and three times, she should be grateful for a single night of uninterrupted rest. All this anxiety was a by-product of too many nights walking the floor and too little sleep. Not to mention those rampant hormones…

Once inside the house, Maryellen straightened the living room. She picked up the rattle, which was a gift from Jon; it had arrived in a huge basket of flowers he’d had delivered to the hospital. The burp rag draped over the end of the couch got tossed in the washing machine.

Tidying the bassinet, Maryellen sat up the large white teddy bear Jon had given Katie before she was born. The house was full of small gifts he’d brought either before or after the birth. Everywhere she looked there was evidence that he was determined to be part of Katie’s life. He was serious about it and she knew he wasn’t going to let his commitment slide, so she’d better get used to it now.

That night Maryellen slept miserably. She tossed and turned, certain that Katie needed her, certain Jon wouldn’t hear when she stirred in the middle of the night. A hundred regrets besieged her. She’d handed her daughter over to him without once checking to be sure he was adequately prepared to deal with an infant. Maryellen envisioned Katie crying in a wet diaper with an empty stomach while Jon slept, blissfully unaware that she needed attention.

By seven the next morning, Maryellen had worked herself into a near-frenzy. Three times she reached for the phone, but she was afraid she’d wake him, or worse, Katie. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she dressed hastily and drove to her mother’s house.

Fortunately Grace was up, having coffee at her kitchen table. She opened the back door for Maryellen, and Buttercup greeted her delightedly, tail wagging. Maryellen stepped into the kitchen, took one look at her mother and burst into tears.

“Maryellen! My goodness, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing… Everything. Jon has Katie.”

Her mother poured her a cup of coffee. “Sit down and we’ll talk.”

Maryellen felt foolish and overemotional and everything she’d never wanted to be. This was so unlike her. “You have to get ready for work,” she said between sobs.

“Okay, I’ll get dressed, and while I do, you can talk to me.”

Dabbing her eyes, Maryellen followed her mother into the bedroom. She paused when she entered. “You painted in here.”

Grace nodded. “Do you like it?”

Maryellen shrugged. “I guess… I didn’t think there was anything wrong with the old color.”

“There wasn’t, but I had some things I needed to work out in my mind and painting helped.”

Caught up in her own world, Maryellen feared she’d failed her mother, that she hadn’t paid enough attention to the difficulties Grace was confronting. This summer had been traumatic for them both. “Anything I can do to help?” she asked as she sat on the end of her parents’ bed. Her mother pulled a blouse and jumper from her closet.

Grace shook her head. “No, but thanks. Besides, you didn’t come here at this hour to ask about me. Now, tell me what’s got you so upset.”

Maryellen wasn’t upset as much as she was worried. “Jon’s never had Katie before…. I’m afraid she’ll miss me. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Her mother pulled a full-length black slip over her head. “Wait until eight-thirty or so and then give him a call,” she advised. “My guess is that Jon will be more than happy to hear from you.”

Maryellen hoped that was the case. She didn’t want him
to think she was intruding on his time with Katie, but he had to understand how difficult this was for her.

“Come on,” Grace said as she finished dressing. “Let me put on my makeup and fuss a bit with my hair, and then I’ll buy you breakfast before I go to work.”

Maryellen declined with a shake of her head. “I can’t eat.”

“Yes, you can,” her mother insisted. “And you will. Now, come on, it isn’t every day I offer to treat you to breakfast. The Pancake Palace has an early bird special. All-you-caneat pancakes for a buck.”

Her mother was right, Maryellen realized. She needed a meal—and a distraction.

By the time she left the Pancake Palace, Maryellen felt worlds better, although they’d done more socializing with others than talking between themselves. The restaurant obviously did a thriving breakfast business. They’d run into Charlotte Jefferson and the members of the New Knee Club who met there once a month. Everyone at the long table had gone through knee-replacement surgery. Charlotte introduced them to her friend Ben Rhodes, a distinguished-looking older man. They appeared to have a relationship that was more than friendly, at least in Maryellen’s opinion. She couldn’t help wondering if there was a romance in the offing. It was kind of cute.

She got home after nine and headed directly for the phone, figuring Jon would be up with Katie by now. When there was no answer, she left a short message on his machine and dejectedly replaced the receiver.

At ten she called again. Still no answer. She couldn’t stand not knowing and drove to Jon’s home near Olalla. Her heart pounded frantically as she parked and climbed out of her car.

Even before she reached his front door, Jon had it open. Katie was in his arms, held firmly against his shoulder. She
was astonished to see her daughter raising her head and peering around.

“Maryellen,” Jon said, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

His home was almost complete now. On her last visit, the finish work had only been partially done. But today she saw that there was a carpet in the living area—a lovely Berber rug in soft greens and grays—and the oak woodwork around the windows overlooking Puget Sound was beautifully varnished. She could see Vashon Island in the distance, and the view of Mount Rainier, majestic and serene beyond the island, was stunning enough to make her heart skip.

Now that Maryellen was here it was obvious to her that Jon had managed just fine. “You…you didn’t answer the phone,” she stammered, “and…and I didn’t know what to think.”

“You called?”

“Twice.” She gave a quick shrug. “I was worried, but I can see that everything’s gone great.”

“I must’ve been in the shower,” he explained, “or on the balcony.”

He seemed so easy with Katie now. During his brief visits, he’d lifted her as if she were a bag of unwieldy potatoes, and now he was as natural with her as a…dad.

Maryellen’s anxiety had been for nothing. She felt embarrassed about rushing out to rescue her daughter. Jon had everything under control.

“Would you like to see Katie’s room?” he asked.

Maryellen nodded. Hindsight being what it was, she should’ve checked on all this
before
she handed over their daughter.

Jon led her up the open stairway. She loved the house and the fact that he’d done most of the construction work himself.
There didn’t seem to be anything Jon Bowman couldn’t master.

His bedroom was at the top of the stairs, and the French doors leading to the balcony were open. She could imagine him sitting there at first light, holding Katie and talking to her about the panorama outside.

Maryellen glanced into the bedroom and caught sight of his unmade bed and the photograph of her, beautifully framed and positioned on the opposite wall. She’d first seen it on display in a gallery in Seattle, where the majority of his work was now sold. It had been taken on a foggy afternoon while she stood on the pier next to the marina; she’d had no idea he was there. Her back was to the camera and she’d raised her arm to toss popcorn to the seagulls. The photograph had an exciting, dynamic quality, and yet the misty air gave it a sense of whimsy, too.

Jon seemed a bit flustered that she’d noticed the photograph. “That’s one of my favorites,” he said. “Do you mind that I have it here?”

The odd thing was she didn’t. It gladdened her to see that he kept it in this room, although she didn’t dare analyze the reasons. “I don’t mind,” she said.

“Good.” With that, he took her down the hallway to Katie’s room.

Maryellen swallowed a gasp of delight when she saw the charming room. Jon had painted a zoo scene on one wall. Giraffes and elephants, zebras and monkeys appeared in a variety of realistic poses.