Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (123 page)

Beth had gotten pregnant with Bailey at Christmastime.
Christmas Eve, to be exact. Hard to prove, perhaps, but she was sure of it.
She'd
felt
it, felt they'd made a baby that night.
Beth wondered if Kent remembered and suspected that, after all these years, he'd
put it out of his mind.

They could only afford a small tree that year and had waited
until Christmas Eve to decorate it. Beth had said it was tradition, and while it
hadn't been
his
family's tradition, he'd been a good
sport about it. With little money for ornaments, Beth had made their own. Kent
had done his part, stringing popcorn and cranberries while she sewed gingerbread
men from pieces of felt, decorating them with eyes and a row of tiny buttons
down the front. Each was unique, individual. She still had several of the
original ones and others, too, that she'd crafted through the years. She kept
them carefully packed away in boxes.

It'd snowed that Christmas Eve, too, but their tiny basement
apartment was warm and cozy. As a surprise, Kent had purchased two miniature
bottles of rum to make hot drinks. After decorating the tree, they sat in front
of the woodstove, their only source of heat, and with Beth on Kent's lap and the
cat curled up on the ottoman, they'd toasted the holidays. They'd started
kissing and then one thing led to another and three weeks later the stick was
blue.

That was Bailey.

How excited Kent had been to have a daughter. When they learned
Beth was pregnant a second time, he'd hoped for another girl and had gotten his
wish.

The early years of their marriage were financially tight.
They'd met every crisis, refusing to let their money problems come between them.
They were a unit, a couple, determined to beat the odds. And when it was smooth
sailing financially, her marriage had fallen apart.

Somewhere, while the girls were in their early teen years,
they'd lost the glue that held them together.

Well, good grief, there was no need to analyze the past at this
late date. What was done was done. She smiled despite her mood. If ever there
was a profound statement, that was it.
What's done is done.
Accept it.
Beth found herself humming a Christmas carol as she headed
back to the house.

Bailey was on her cell phone in the kitchen. When she saw Beth,
she abruptly ended the conversation.

“That was Dad,” she explained. “He said he wants to be here
when we decorate the tree.”

Beth's chest tightened. “Is he… Did he say he was bringing
Danielle?”

“I don't know. I didn't ask.”

“Where did he take her to lunch yesterday?” she asked
conversationally as she considered the situation. Danielle didn't appear to be
the sensitive sort who'd recognize that her presence might be uncomfortable for
Beth and the girls. Beth decided she needed to brace herself for the
inevitable.

“The Lighthouse restaurant, I think.”

“Oh.” Of course Kent would take Danielle to one of the most
expensive places in town.

“What are you making for dinner, Mom?” Bailey asked.

Sophie sent her a pleading look. “
Please
let it be your lasagna.”

Beth laughed. “Of course.” She'd better add two extra settings
to the table.

“With Grandma Carlucci's marinara sauce?”

“Would I use anything else?” The recipe came from Kent's
maternal grandmother, who was Italian. Because the dish demanded a lot of time
and effort she only served it on special occasions. It was one of Kent's
favorites, too. She'd actually made it for him, thinking…well, what she'd
thought was irrelevant.

“Did your father tell you when he plans to come over?” she
asked, trying to hide how anxious this news made her.

“He's on his way now.”

“Okay,” she said, rubbing her palms together. “Why don't you
girls help me carry down the ornaments and we can have everything ready for when
your dad gets here.”

“Can we bring Roscoe downstairs?” Bailey pleaded.

“Sure, but you'll need to keep a careful eye on him. He's still
a bit weak.”

Roscoe was Beau's—the Hardings' puppy's—brother, and the
sickliest of the litter. Ted hadn't held out much hope for his survival, but
Beth had given the undernourished puppy plenty of love and attention,
bottle-feeding him and carefully administering his medication. At three months
he seemed to have turned the corner and she thought he'd survive.

“Can we bring Princess in the house, too?” Sophie asked.

“Of course.” Her dogs spent more time inside than out.

For the next few minutes Beth and her daughters carried down
boxes from the storage area upstairs. Princess watched from her place by the
sofa. Roscoe was in his bed with his chin resting on his paws, still too weak to
move about much, although he seemed to enjoy the activity around him. “Did you
and Dad ever have birds?” Bailey asked, standing near the canaries' cage.

Beth unsuccessfully hid a smile.

“What's so funny?”

“I did have a canary named Tweetie shortly after we were
married, but we had to give her away.”

“But why? Dad loves animals, too!”

“Yes, I know, but both your father and I were gone during the
day. We had to keep the apartment heated for Tweetie, and after the first
heating bill, your father insisted I find her a wealthier owner.”

“Did you hate giving her up?”

“A little. She went to an aunt of mine, who had her for years.”
She smiled again. “Your father promised me there'd be other birds when we could
afford them.”

“But you never got another canary until you came to Cedar
Cove.”

“And now you've got two.”

“So they could keep each other company,” Beth said. Kent had
long ago forgotten his promise and, frankly, so had she. Then one day last year
she saw the canaries in a feed store and impulsively purchased them.

They heard a car drive up to the house.

“Dad's back,” Bailey said, looking out the living room
window.

“Is… Did Danielle come with him?” Beth asked, trying to make
the best of this.

Sophie joined her sister and glared out the window.

“Yup. Danielle's with Dad,” Bailey said in a stark voice.

Beth didn't know why she'd expected anything else.

Six

“I
s that Allison?” Rosie Cox called from
the kitchen.

Zach glanced out the window and, sure enough, his daughter's
car had just pulled into the drive. “Yes,” he called back. She'd gone to pick up
her boyfriend, Anson Butler, at the airport, since he'd be spending the holidays
with them. Rosie had been cooking and decorating for days in preparation for
Christmas. Zach had gotten roped into helping, not that he minded.

Eddie, their son, who was home from college, came out of his
bedroom. He'd spent most of the afternoon there, which was unusual. Eddie was
tall and lanky, and he'd shot past Zach's six feet by two or three inches. Eddie
must be working on some project in his room, but when he heard the commotion in
the hallway, he hurried out, earbuds plugged into his ears and his iPod playing.
He yanked one plug free. “What did you say?”

“Your sister and Anson are here.”

“Cool.”

Zach already had the front door open. The decorative lights on
the roof flashed on and off, their colors reflecting in the layer of fresh snow.
Anson waved. He'd flown in from Washington, D.C., that afternoon.

Anson had entered the army at eighteen and currently worked in
Military Intelligence at the Pentagon. Zach was proud of Anson's achievements,
although there'd been a time he was convinced the young man was a felon. Zach
had done everything he could to keep his daughter away from Anson.

Fortunately, as Zach had discovered, he'd been wrong about his
daughter's boyfriend. Anson hadn't been born with many advantages, but he'd
risen above those difficulties, thanks in part, Zach believed, to his daughter.
The two of them had met in high school, and they'd maintained their relationship
all these years.

At this stage, Zach would welcome Anson as his son-in-law.
Rosie cautioned him not to rush their daughter into an engagement, and she was
right. Allison and Anson were still young and, as Rosie said, these things had
to develop on their own. Parents shouldn't involve themselves one way or the
other.

Zach opened the screen door for his daughter and Anson, who set
down his bag as he stepped inside and extended his hand. “Mr. Cox, thank you for
having me.” His handshake was firm and solid.

“My pleasure.”

Rosie came forward and hugged Anson. “Merry Christmas!”

“You're bedding down with me,” Eddie said, leading Anson down
the hallway to his room. “You can have the top bunk.”

While Eddie showed Anson where he'd be sleeping, Allison
followed her mother into the kitchen. “The traffic was a nightmare,” she said.
“I can't believe this many people are out on the roads on Christmas Eve.”

“Everyone has places to go,” Zach said, tagging behind his wife
and daughter. “Hey, it smells good in here. What's cooking?”

“Honestly, Zach, I've baked ham every Christmas Eve since we
were married. You'd think after twenty-four years you'd remember that.”

“Right. Ham.” Now that he thought about it, they did seem to
have ham every year. Rosie used the bone for a black bean soup she served on New
Year's Day, which was some Southern tradition she'd read about and adopted. It
was supposed to guarantee good luck for the upcoming year. He doubted anyone
believed that, but he liked black bean soup and so did Rosie.

By New Year's, the kids would be heading back to school, and he
and Rosie would be alone again. Zach had to admit he missed his children.
Without them, the house seemed too quiet.

“What can I do?” Allison asked, reaching for an apron.

Zach smiled at his daughter's eagerness to help. She was an
intelligent, considerate young woman, and one day she'd make a fine attorney. In
her first year of law school, Allison had gotten top grades. Zach was proud of
her.

“Dinner won't be ready for a while, but if you want to make the
salad you can.”

“Sure.” She went over to the refrigerator, collecting the
lettuce, tomatoes and other vegetables.

Normally, Zach would've sat down in front of the television at
this point. He and Rosie both enjoyed football and had spent many a lazy Sunday
afternoon watching the Seattle Seahawks. At first she hadn't understood much
about football, but she was a fast learner. Before long, she knew the players'
names and positions and understood the game. Spending Sunday afternoons with his
wife was
fun.

Anson joined him at the breakfast bar, pulling out a stool and
sitting down.

“So how does it feel to be back home?” Zach asked him. Anson
wore jeans and an army sweatshirt, and his hair was shorn. Very different from
his high school days when his hair straggled to his shoulders and he wore a long
black raincoat. The difference between then and now was striking.

“I talked to my mother,” Anson said. He looked down as if to
hide his reaction.

“You're welcome to invite her for dinner, if you'd like,” Rosie
offered.

Zach wasn't keen to spend Christmas Eve with Cherry Butler, but
he certainly wouldn't refuse to entertain her.

“Thanks, Mrs. Cox, but Mom has other plans. She's got a
new…friend.” Anson's tongue seemed to trip over the word. “She's sure it's love
this time and wants to be with him.”

“You'll have a chance to see her while you're on leave,” Rosie
said reassuringly.

“I probably will.”

Zach noticed that Anson didn't sound all that confident.

Rosie started into the dining room and paused in the
doorway—underneath the mistletoe. Zach couldn't have planned this better had he
tried. He'd hung it there earlier and now, taking advantage of the opportunity,
he slipped out of his chair and hurried toward his wife.

Rosie gave him an odd look as if she didn't understand what he
was doing.

“You're standing under the mistletoe,” he told her.

Surprised, Rosie immediately looked up.

Taking her in his arms, he kissed her deeply, and with an
exaggerated flourish bent her backward over his arm. He might be middle-aged,
but he wasn't dead yet and he loved his wife.

Anson and Allison hooted and cheered, but he didn't need any
encouragement.

“Zach.” Rosie was breathless by the time he released her.

So was he.

She planted her hand over her heart as though to slow its
beat.

Zach winked at his son, who'd just joined them.

“I remember when we never used to see you and Mom kiss,” Eddie
reminded them.

Disbelief on his face, Anson looked from Allison to Eddie.

“My parents were divorced for a while,” Allison explained. “I'm
sure I told you.”

“You did, but…it's hard to believe, seeing them now.”

Eddie pulled out a stool on Anson's other side and propped his
elbows on the counter. “It wasn't a good year for our family, but it all turned
out okay in the end.”

Anson shook his head incredulously.

“It was a long time ago,” Eddie said.

“Not
that
long,” Rosie
countered.

“What happened?” Anson asked. “I mean, if you don't mind
talking about it.”

“Basically the divorce just didn't work out for us,” Zach
teased, his eyes meeting Rosie's. That had been a difficult period in their
marriage, but, as Eddie had said, it'd all turned out in the end, due in large
part to…