Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (103 page)

“But…”

“I want our baby, Gloria.”

“The thing is,” she said, gazing down at her hands. “I do, too. I've decided to raise him myself.”

“I see.” Chad sounded disappointed and that disturbed her even more.

“You wanted him all to yourself, didn't you?”

“Just like you did.” He nodded. “Okay, we'll need to work out a parenting plan. My son
will
know his father.”

“Are you still dating Joni?” she blurted out, unable to resist.

His eyes locked with hers. “That has nothing to do with you.”

“You're right. Forgive me for being so blunt but what will
our
son call Joni?”

“Does it matter? We'll figure that out when the time comes.”

Gloria didn't like it, but she couldn't say so without sounding churlish. Finally she conceded, “Fair enough.”

He sipped his coffee.

She sipped her juice.

When she couldn't stand the silence anymore, she said, “You asked to see me. Was there anything else?”

“Why are you so eager to get away? Are you meeting someone?”

“That's
my
business.”

“You're dating someone?” He frowned, as if the possibility hadn't occurred to him until now.

“Like I said…”

“That's your business,” he finished for her.

Clearly the thought unsettled him. Well, good. She hoped it did. Chad didn't like the idea of her seeing someone else any more than she enjoyed the knowledge that he was dating another woman.

“Well, hello.” Roy stood in front of their table, shocking Gloria. She hadn't seen him arrive.

“Nice to see you both,” he continued.

Gloria wasn't sure how to respond. “Uh, hi,” she muttered.

“Hello, Roy.” Chad stood and the two men shook hands.

“What are you doing here?” Gloria asked.

“Troy Davis and I come here for coffee once a week. I certainly didn't expect to find the two of you.”

Gloria knew the sheriff and her father were good friends, but she hadn't realized they routinely met at this restaurant. Although she worked in the sheriff's office, she wasn't privy to Troy Davis's schedule.

“Do you mind if I join you for a few minutes?” Roy asked.

Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled out a chair and sat down. “I'm glad to see you together.” He looked from one to the other, as though assuming they'd enlighten him.

“We don't do this often,” Chad explained.

“In fact, this is the first time we've met since the ultrasound,” Gloria added.

Roy shook his head. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Roy, please. This is difficult enough.” Her father was making it more so by interfering with their conversation.

“I don't mean to be rude or obnoxious, but can one of you tell me what went wrong with your relationship?”

“We don't get along,” Gloria said, giving him the easy answer.

“It seems to me you get along just fine,” Roy murmured, “or at least you did.”

“This is between Gloria and me,” Chad said. “Discussing it with you isn't going to solve anything.”

“In other words, you want me to butt out?”

“Something like that,” Gloria said.

“Okay, message received.” Roy stood, smiled down at them and turned away. He took a couple of steps, then turned back. “The thing is, that boy deserves a family. A mother and a father who'll love him and raise him to be a fine young man. And…he deserves his grandparents, his aunts and uncles and cousins.”

“Yes, Roy,” Gloria said.

“Message received,” Chad said, echoing Roy's earlier statement.

Gloria felt she needed to apologize. As soon as Roy was seated at another table, she whispered, “I'm sorry about that.”

“Not your fault. But it might be a good idea if we went somewhere else.”

Gloria nodded. “Any suggestions?” she asked.

“The Wok and Roll is down the street.”

She remembered that Chad liked Chinese food. The scent of fried food made Gloria feel queasy but she should be fine; she hadn't thrown up in several weeks. “Sure, let's go.”

They paid and waved an obligatory goodbye to Roy. Then, with his hand under her elbow, Chad escorted her to the Wok and Roll. The moment they walked in the door, Gloria was assaulted by the aroma of spices and frying meat, and her stomach instantly revolted. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed a corner of the front desk.

“Gloria?” Chad asked. “What's wrong?”

She closed her eyes, trying not to vomit. This shouldn't be happening anymore, but because of the meeting with Chad, she'd been tense all day. As a result she hadn't eaten much, which was probably a good thing.

“You're pale. Do you want to sit down?”

“No.” She dashed to the women's restroom. Pushing open the stall door, she barely made it inside. Bent over the toilet, she lost the juice she'd managed to drink.

When she finished, she turned to discover Chad waiting for her by the sink, holding a wet paper towel. “Are you okay now?”

“Yes, sorry. I didn't expect that. I should've known.”
She wiped her mouth and then smiled. “Do you make a habit of walking into women's restrooms?”

“Only when—” He stopped short. “No,” he said, amending whatever he'd been about to say. “Let me get you home.”

She obediently followed him out of the restaurant. Her apartment was close to the library and near the waterfront. Chad had been there often enough not to need directions.

“I won't stay long,” he said when she'd unlocked the door.

After she'd rinsed out her mouth again they sat on the sofa, he at one end and she at the other.

“Does that happen often?” he asked.

“Not anymore… It was just nerves, I guess.” She didn't explain what she'd been nervous about, but he obviously understood.

“I haven't slept well for several nights either,” Chad confessed.

“We're a sad case, aren't we?” she whispered. It seemed the only place they'd ever been able to communicate was in bed.

“Are you working today?” Chad asked.

“No. I took personal leave. What about you?”

“I have Thursdays off.”

That made sense, since he'd requested the meeting for this afternoon.

She tried to hide a yawn. She didn't succeed and he responded with a yawn of his own. They looked at each other and smiled.

Chad stood. “I'll leave and you can nap.”

Suddenly she didn't want him to go. But she knew instinctively that if she asked him to stay, he wouldn't. Instead, she got up, too, and reached for his hand. He
frowned as she led him toward the hallway, hesitating when he saw her bedroom.

“Gloria, where are you taking me?” Then he answered his own question. “Your bed?” He inhaled sharply and said, “I hope you remember that's what got us into this mess.”

“It isn't what you think.”

“What, then?”

“A nap. All I want you to do is hold me, feel our baby move. Nothing more. We're both tired and stressed. I want us to sleep. Once we do, we'll be able to talk and make the decisions we need to make.”

He stood next to her bed. “You're sure this is what you want?”

“Sleep, Chad. That's all. Understand?”

“No,” he muttered. “But then I've never been able to understand you.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“No,” he said. “In fact, I'm finding it downright impossible to walk away.”

“Good.” She folded back the covers, removed her shoes and slid beneath the blankets. Rolling onto her side, she turned her back to him and closed her eyes. It took Chad several minutes to join her. He climbed into the bed, fully dressed, and cuddled her spoon fashion. After a moment, he slipped his hand over her side, pressing it against her stomach.

“The baby just moved.”

Gloria smiled sleepily. “I know.”

“I felt him.”

“He's going to play soccer, I think.”

“And baseball.”

“We'll see. Now close your eyes and nap.”

It wasn't long before she heard the deep, even rumble
of his breathing, which told her he was asleep. Tired though she was, Gloria stayed awake.

She'd acknowledged it herself—they'd only ever been able to communicate in bed. Now that they had decisions to make, this seemed the best place for that to happen.

Twenty-Five

“O
livia, I can't tell you how excited I am to be in my own home,” Charlotte said as Ben unlocked the front door of 15 Eagle Crest Avenue. The kitchen had been completely remodeled.

Olivia exchanged a look with her brother. She had reservations about her mother and Ben returning here, but when she'd broached the subject of moving into assisted living, Charlotte had instantly rejected the idea. Ben hadn't been keen on it, either, automatically dismissing it as “too expensive.”

So far, none of the places she and Will had checked out had any apartments available, but they'd put their name on a couple of waiting lists. Maybe, when something appropriate came up, Charlotte and Ben would be ready to consider it. Like it or not, eventually they'd have to leave this house. Probably before another year was up.

“I want to see my new kitchen,” Charlotte said, walking into the house and heading straight to the remodeled room. “Oh, my.” She brought her hands to her cheeks. “Everything is so…new.”

“We decided to replace the cupboards,” Olivia reminded her, coming to stand beside her mother.

“We did?” Charlotte looked to Ben for confirmation.

“We picked out the white oak together,” Ben said.

“Of course. I remember now.” Charlotte pulled open a couple of drawers, which then slowly glided shut. This was a new feature; unless the drawer was pulled out completely, it would automatically return to the closed position once it was released.

“Everything's back exactly the way you left it,” Olivia reassured her. She'd taken great pains to make sure of that. She'd replaced the ruined pots and pans with new ones that were as similar as possible. Charlotte frowned as if she didn't believe that. “Is everything all right, Mom?” Olivia asked.

“It just looks so different….”

“There's a new stove, too,” Will said, opening the oven door to display the large baking area.

Slowly, deliberately, Charlotte examined the knobs and studied the burners. “It looks complicated.”

“I'll read over the instruction manual and we'll learn about it together,” Ben said.

“That would help.” Every word and movement revealed her hesitation. “I'm afraid I'm so accustomed to my old stove and this one…well, it looks far too modern for me.”

“It'll be fine,” Ben told her. He placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Is there anything else I should know about?” Charlotte asked Olivia.

“You have a new refrigerator,” Will said, and gestured proudly toward it.

“But why? The old one was working fine and it wasn't damaged in the fire, was it?”

Will answered. “We figured you'd want a new one,
since all the other appliances are new,” he said. “It's an early Christmas gift. I thought you'd be pleased.”

“I am, I am,” Charlotte was quick to tell him. “I'm just used to seeing the old one here. What did you do with it?”

“It's on the back porch, Mom,” Olivia said. “For extra things.” Seeing her mother's puzzled expression, Olivia added, “Cold sodas and beer, stuff like that.”

“Oh.”

“We can take the new fridge back if you don't like it,” Will offered.

“No, it was so thoughtful of you…. Of course we'll keep your gift, Will. I wouldn't dream of sending it back.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mom?” Olivia asked. She and Jack would be meeting Grace and Cliff for dinner, but that wasn't for hours yet.

“No, dear, everything is fine. It's so good to be home again.” She rubbed her palms together as her eyes darted about the kitchen. Charlotte had visited the house frequently since the fire, but this was the first time she'd seen everything in place and complete. She walked over to the apple-shaped cookie jar and rested her hand on it. That, at least, was familiar. It'd been around for as long as Olivia could remember. Countless times through the years that jar had held her mother's home-baked cookies. Luckily it had survived the fire.

On her way out, Olivia hugged her mother and Ben, and so did Will. Brother and sister left together.

As soon as the front door closed, Will asked, “So what do you think?”

They'd gone over their plan of action repeatedly. They'd let Ben and Charlotte move back into the house for a while and then bring up the idea of assisted living again. It seemed only fair, despite their fears, to give
their mother and Ben an opportunity to adjust to their new surroundings, see how things worked out. Olivia hoped that once they were ready to move, there'd be an opening at one of the better facilities.

“This is exactly what I was afraid would happen,” Olivia said. They reached their cars, which were parked at the curb.

“What's that?”

“Mom. The new kitchen's overwhelmed her.”

“Are you afraid she'll leave a burner on again?”

“No, actually, I don't think Mom will turn on any of the burners unless it's absolutely necessary. She won't want to cook because she's unfamiliar with the stove.”

“Mom not cook?”

“I know. That was one of her main objections to moving into assisted living. She still enjoys working in the kitchen.” She'd rejected the idea out of hand and
then
listed a number of excuses, that being the first.

“But she can still cook,” Will said, showing his frustration. “There's a huge kitchen at Stanford Suites for anyone who wants to bake or prepare a meal.”