6 Rainier Drive (26 page)

C
harlotte spent the morning with her friends at the Senior Center. The knitting group get-together had included a lunch of sandwiches and coffee—and a thoroughly enjoyable gossip fest. Although it was a lovely afternoon—the official first day of summer—and the house was only a few blocks from the center, she drove. She usually enjoyed the short walk, but today she needed to run errands.

Ben had decided to remain at the house, which meant he wouldn't be playing bridge with his friends while she visited with hers. It meant he wouldn't be running errands with her, either. From the moment they'd started seeing each other, Ben had willingly accompanied her on such routine tasks, and Charlotte had come to rely on his companionship.

Something was bothering him. Had they been married longer, she might have known instinctively
what it was. She was becoming familiar with his moods, but this latest one was new—and it worried her.

As she pulled into the grocery store lot, she found a convenient parking spot, turned off the engine and sat in her car for a few minutes while she thought about this. She'd hoped Ben would feel comfortable enough to share his troubles with her. Apparently he didn't. But rather than take offense, she tried to think of ways to ease his worries. Perhaps she should ask him outright why he seemed so distressed. That was what she'd do, she decided.

Olivia was walking out of the grocery just as Charlotte was going in.

“Mom!” her daughter said excitedly. “Maryellen's having the baby.”

“Now?”

“She might even have delivered already. Grace phoned yesterday evening to tell me. She and Cliff spent the night out at Jon and Maryellen's. They're watching Katie.”

“That's wonderful news.” Charlotte was so pleased for Maryellen—and her mother. Grace was having a good year, and she deserved it. Two grand-babies due within a few weeks of each other, a new husband and—Charlotte frowned. Although Grace's happiness was unmistakable, a cloud darkened the horizon. Will was returning to Cedar Cove. Her
son's sudden desire to move here concerned Charlotte. Her fear was that Will intended to meddle in Grace's relationship with Cliff.

“Mom?” Olivia asked.

“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking.”

“I have to get back to the courthouse—I came to pick up something I need for dinner. It's tofu, but don't tell Jack. He eats it all the time, only I don't let him know.”

“Good for you.” Grabbing a cart, Charlotte entered the store. “Be sure and call me when you hear about the baby.”

“I will,” Olivia promised. “Talk to you later.”

Charlotte exhaled heavily. Life did have its share of worries. Her first concern was Ben; she'd tackle Will later. Ben had been so preoccupied lately, so distracted, and try as she might, she couldn't put her finger on what was wrong. That thought weighed on her as she hurriedly finished her tasks. She bought milk and bread, went to the cleaners, then headed home.

Yes, she'd ask him. Further deliberation had confirmed her decision. Asking him was the only
sensible
way to handle the situation. Charlotte was a
sensible
woman, or she had been, until she'd fallen in love with Ben Rhodes.

On the drive back to the house, Charlotte stopped at a roadside stand selling strawberries freshly
picked on Vashon Island. She purchased two large flats to put up strawberry preserves. Perhaps she could tempt Ben by serving scones topped with sweetened strawberries and whipped cream for dessert this evening. He enjoyed scones, especially when they were hot from the oven. As she'd always known, a clever woman had ways of getting information from a man. Her granddaughter might tell her this was an old-fashioned approach, but whatever worked…

The moment she got home, Ben came out to carry in the strawberries and the few groceries she'd bought.

Charlotte followed with the dry cleaning. The prices they charged for pressing a shirt were highway robbery, but Ben insisted. He didn't want her expending time or energy at the ironing board when the cleaner was happy to do it.

Ben brought everything into the kitchen, and she saw that he hadn't eaten the lunch she'd left for him. Rather than comment, she mentioned Olivia's news. “Maryellen's having the baby.”

Her words fell on deaf ears.

“Did you hear me, Ben? Maryellen's in labor.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said, recovering quickly. “That's great.”

“It is,” Charlotte agreed. “Olivia said she'd let us know as soon as Grace calls her.”

“Good.”

Shaking her head, Charlotte set the kettle on the stove to heat water for tea. Whatever was wrong had grown markedly worse in the time she'd been away.

“These are a lot of strawberries,” Ben commented as he picked up a large red one.

“Let me wash a few of those for you to nibble on,” Charlotte suggested. “They were just picked this morning and couldn't be sweeter.” The vendor had told her as much.

Ben set the strawberry down and shook his head. “Thanks, but no.”

Charlotte couldn't stand it a minute longer; she had to know. “Is everything all right, Ben?” she asked.

He walked over to where Harry had curled himself up on a kitchen chair and began to pet her cat. “Of course.”

“I don't mean to pry,” she continued, “but you just haven't been yourself lately.”

Ben pulled her close and hugged her, sighing deeply. “Are you
sure
you want to know?”

“Of course.”

“It's my son,” he confessed.

“David?”

He sighed again. “Yes.”

“Here,” she said, the practical side of her nature immediately taking over. “I'll pour water in the teapot and while it steeps we can start to talk.”

“I don't want to burden you with this,” Ben said, dismissing the offer.

“Nonsense! I'm your wife.”

“But—”

“Ben, please. Unless you confide in me, I won't feel comfortable sharing my worries about my own children.”

“Your children are nothing like mine—especially David,” he murmured.

“That's not true, but we can discuss Will later.”

“Will?” Ben looked up, his face a picture of astonishment.

“I'll say more about him when we're finished. Please, tell me what's got you in such a state.”

He seemed relieved to finally tell her, and Charlotte silently scolded herself for delaying this conversation. Instead of fretting, she should've asked him sooner.

He waited until she'd poured hot water in the teapot and assembled cups. When she sat down with him at the table, she noticed that he'd placed Harry on his lap. Not so long ago, the cat had taken exception to sharing Charlotte's affections, but Ben had won him over—as well as everyone else in her life. Harry purred contentedly as Ben stroked his sleek body.

“You know Steven phoned a little while ago.”

“Yes.” Charlotte had talked briefly with Ben's
older son. It'd been a bit awkward at first, but Steven sounded like a fine young man. Unlike his brother, he wasn't a charmer and seemed to have difficulty carrying on a conversation. Fortunately Charlotte had no such problem and she'd done her best to let him know how pleased she was to be part of his family.

“Do you remember Steven said that David had gotten himself into a financial mess—again?”

“Yes. He declared bankruptcy a few years ago, didn't he?”

“Right,” Ben confirmed. He looked past Charlotte, not meeting her eyes. “What I didn't tell you has to do with yet another mess my son's gotten himself into. I'm not sure of all the details. According to Steven, David was recently arrested for fraud. It was because of an insurance claim he made.”

Arrested?
“Oh, dear,” she gasped.

Ben continued to pet Harry, his fingers smoothing the cat's soft fur. “Then all of a sudden, he had the money to hire a high-priced attorney to represent him.”

“All of a sudden?” Charlotte repeated. “You mean he came into some unexpected funds?”

Ben grew very still. “Apparently this was shortly after the break-in and arson at The Lighthouse.”

Charlotte felt a chill. “Are you saying David might somehow have been involved in that?”

“Yes,” he said hoarsely.

“Ben, surely David would never do anything so…so vile.”

“You think I
want
to believe my own son could do something like this?” he asked. “I have lived with this information for nearly a week now, and I can't ignore the possibility any longer. I checked the dates and they coincide.”

“Oh, Ben.”

All the color had drained from Ben's face. “I didn't say anything earlier because…because I didn't know if I could. It's one thing to suspect my son of such an ugly, underhanded crime and another to give his name to Sheriff Davis as a suspect.”

Charlotte's heart ached for her husband. What an impossible decision he had to make. Regardless of anything else, the young man was Ben's son. No father wanted to be responsible for turning his own child over to the authorities.

“While you were at the Senior Center this morning, I paid Sheriff Davis a visit.”

“Oh, Ben.” Charlotte stretched her arm across the table, wanting to clasp his hand, to offer what comfort she could. He didn't seem to notice.

“Sheriff Davis took down all the information and said he'd look into it,” Ben said stoically, gazing down at the cat. “If it does turn out that David had something to do with the fire, promise me, Charlotte,
that you and your family—” He seemed incapable of continuing.

“I love you, Ben. If David
is
involved, you can rest assured that no one in this family will blame you in any way for your son's actions.”

Her husband glanced up, and his eyes shone with appreciation. “Thank you,” he whispered, taking her hand at last. “If David did this, I'll personally reimburse Justine and Seth for their losses.”

“Ben! You can't possibly do that.” Restitution for The Lighthouse wasn't
his
obligation—and it would wipe him out financially. “They have insurance.”

“It doesn't matter,” he said. “I won't allow my son to hurt you, directly or indirectly.”

Charlotte thought she might weep for his pain, for his disappointment in David and his nobility in assuming an obligation he didn't need to.

But that was Ben, wasn't it? And those were the reasons she loved him.

“C
an't you do something to help my wife?” Jon pleaded with the labor room nurse. The middle-aged woman with gray-streaked hair wore a name tag that identified her as Stacy Eagleton.

“Honey, I'm fine,” Maryellen whispered, her brow damp with perspiration. Her death grip on Jon's hand said differently.

Jon was worried. Maryellen had been in labor for nearly twenty hours, and with each passing minute, his fears mounted. Everything about this pregnancy had been difficult. He didn't know why he'd assumed the labor would go smoothly when nothing else had.

The hospital staff had all assured him that his wife's labor was progressing normally. “These things take time,” Stacy had repeatedly told him. If one more person uttered that trite remark, Jon
thought he might not be able to control his temper. Twenty hours
wasn't
normal. It couldn't be. Katie had arrived with far less effort on Maryellen's part.

“Give her something for the pain,” he instructed the nurse.

His wife opened her eyes and lifted her head from the pillow. She'd grown so pale, so weak. “No,” she said in a surprisingly strong voice. “I don't want anything.”

Before Jon could try to convince her to accept medication, Maryellen groaned. Then, as if she couldn't bear the agony another second, she tossed her head from side to side. Jon did everything he could think of to help her, but she no longer wanted him to touch her or massage her back. The most she'd let him do was count off the seconds, and that seemed so damn little.

“Excellent, excellent,” Stacy encouraged Maryellen, after checking to see if dilation was complete. “Everything's looking good. I'll get Dr. DeGroot for the delivery.”

Kissing Maryellen's hand, Jon whispered, “It won't be long now.”

His wife offered him a feeble smile. “I don't think our baby is all that willing to be born.”

Jon remembered the elated feeling he'd experienced at Katie's birth. The miracle of bringing a new life into the world had left him awed and humbled,
although much of the labor remained a blur in his memory. How oblivious he'd been to the reality he faced now as he watched his wife struggle to give birth to his child.

He loved Maryellen deeply, but never more than he did just then. He laid a cool cloth across her brow and kissed her temple and whispered his love.

“Are Joseph and Ellen still in the waiting room?” she asked, looking up at him.

Jon nodded. Grace had called them, and as soon as his father and stepmother learned that Maryellen had gone into labor, they'd rushed to the hospital. The truth was, he didn't want them there. All that prevented Jon from asking them to leave was his love for Maryellen.

“Have you talked to them?” she asked.

Although he knew he was a disappointment to her, Jon shook his head. “I've had the nurse give them regular updates.”

Her smile faded.

Jon leaned his forehead against the edge of the mattress. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. But he knew the tiredness he felt didn't compare to what Maryellen had endured during these twenty hours.

She moaned slightly, and her grip on his hand was punishing. Trying to help her, he softly counted off the seconds. The pain lasted a full minute and a half,
and her contractions came so quickly now, there was barely a moment between them. When this latest one had passed, a tear rolled from the corner of her eye.

Dr. DeGroot arrived and nodded at Jon. “This seems like a good day to be born, don't you think?” he said, as he took his position at the end of the birthing bed.

Everyone suddenly seemed to get busy. Several nurses surrounded Maryellen and there was a noticeable surge of energy now that the birth was imminent.

“Let's see what we have here,” the physician murmured. “Okay, Maryellen, get ready to push.”

Jon felt a little extraneous, as though he had no real role anymore. There was some problem, but he didn't completely understand it. Apparently the baby was facing up instead of down, which had contributed to the lengthy labor.

The pain that followed seemed to be the worst so far. Maryellen gritted her teeth and bore down with what appeared to be an excruciating effort. She half rose from the bed and groaned loudly.

“Good, good,” Dr. DeGroot said encouragingly.

Jon was mesmerized. He watched as the baby slipped free of Maryellen's body and into the physician's waiting hands with a lusty cry. The doctor smiled and turned to Jon. “Congratulations! You have a son.”

Jon smiled at Maryellen. “It's a boy,” he told her unnecessarily.

“Is he all right?” she asked anxiously.

“He's perfect,” Jon announced, although he couldn't really see anything through the tears that clouded his vision.

“Welcome, little Drake,” Jon whispered. This was the name Maryellen had liked best. They'd discussed names a hundred different times, poring through baby-name books Grace had brought them from the library. Unreasonable as it seemed now, he'd assumed the baby would be another girl; if it was, they'd settled on Emily.

“We don't have a middle name,” Maryellen said, reminding Jon that he'd promised to choose a second name. “Drake Jonathon has a nice ring to it.” She smiled up at him and he leaned forward and kissed her, putting all his love, all his pride in her into that kiss.

“There's plenty of time to choose one,” he said, entwining his fingers with hers.

When he straightened, the nurse handed Jon his son. Maryellen was right; little Drake found the world the most irritating of environments. The baby cried until Jon rocked him gently, then placed him in Maryellen's arms.

As if she needed to see for herself, she pulled back the receiving blanket and examined his fingers and toes. Drake gazed up at her and instantly settled
down to sleep. Like Jon, his son had found his contentment in Maryellen's arms.

“I believe your family's waiting for the news,” Stacy Eagleton told him after finishing with Maryellen.

“Will you tell them?” Maryellen asked, her eyes imploring.

It was decision time for Jon. A part of him wanted to ignore the fact that his father and stepmother were even at the hospital. He'd vowed not to let them back in his life. He'd fought to maintain this promise to himself. He didn't
want
to care about his father. The man had turned his back on Jon when he'd counted on his family to come forward with the truth. He'd lied. Even knowing his oldest son was innocent, Joseph had sent him to prison.

“Jon?” Maryellen whispered.

Her soft voice drew him from his reverie. As he stared down at his sleeping son, Jon's heart filled with such overwhelming love that he thought it might burst wide open. For the first time, he understood his father's dilemma.

Jon had two children now, too. Katie and Drake, and he loved them equally. If he had to choose to send one to prison over the other, which would it be? He didn't ever want to find himself in such a horrible position—sacrificing one child to protect the other. Granted, Joseph had no legal or moral right to make
such a choice, to play God in this way, but Jon could understand it now, at least a little. Yes, Jim had been guilty, but he was a weak and vulnerable man, easily broken. He'd lied about Jon's culpability, and Joseph had backed him up. Joseph had chosen to sacrifice Jon because he was stronger than his brother. Prison would have destroyed Jim. In the end, of course, Jim had destroyed himself, despite Joseph's attempts to save him with rehab and counseling and unstinting support.

“I'll tell them,” he said.

Maryellen clasped his hand. “Thank you.”

“They've been here nearly twenty hours, too,” he reminded her.

As he walked into the waiting area, Ellen and Joseph immediately stood. Two other people who sat at the far end glanced over, then returned to their conversation. His parents looked at him, their eyes wide with expectation. They were both tired and disheveled, especially his father. Only the day before, Joseph had frantically stumbled through knee-deep running water in a desperate attempt to save Katie. His father, with a weak heart, had nearly suffered a heart attack while rescuing his granddaughter.

If he lived another hundred years, Jon would never forget the panic in his father's eyes when Jon found him sitting on a fallen log, holding a sobbing Katie in his arms. He'd been panting with relief and
physical exertion and was deathly pale. Seeing the embankment his father had clambered down in his struggle to reach Katie, Jon thought it was a miracle the old man hadn't been swept away himself.

“We have a son,” Jon told them.

Ellen brought her hands to her mouth and tears streamed from her eyes.

“A boy,” his father repeated, grinning proudly.

“He's perfect.”

“Maryellen's okay?” Joe asked.

“She's exhausted. I'm married to an incredible woman, you know that?”

Joseph grinned again and nodded in obvious agreement.

“How much does he weigh?” his stepmother asked.

“Six pounds, thirteen ounces,” Jon said. “He measured twenty-one inches.”

“He's going to be lanky like his father,” Joseph commented.

“And grandfather,” Ellen added, looping her arm around her husband's waist. She leaned her head against his arm. “Have you and Maryellen chosen a name?”

Jon looked at the two of them. “We decided on Drake,” he said.

“Drake. Drake Bowman.” His father seemed to test the name, then nodded approvingly. “I like it.”

“Drake Joseph Bowman,” Jon said, his gaze connecting with his father's.

Joseph stared at him, and then his eyes filled with tears that ran down his cheeks.

“Oh, Jon.” Ellen was sobbing now. She held out her arms to him and after the briefest hesitation, Jon hugged his stepmother and then his father.

He hadn't known he was capable of forgiveness until that moment. What he'd discovered was that when a man found love, the kind of love and contentment he'd discovered with Maryellen, there wasn't room in his life for hatred.