Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (61 page)

Chad had left ten messages on her phone. She hadn't answered even one. His final message was that this was the last time he'd contact her. He'd obviously meant it. Gloria hadn't heard from him in the two weeks since.

That was what she wanted. Wasn't it?

Yes, she insisted to herself again. It was!

Then why, oh, why, couldn't she stop thinking about him? She'd spent so many sleepless nights pounding her pillows, fighting to get his image out of her mind, that she was about to go mad.

Yes, he was attractive, but so were lots of other men. The simple truth was: No man had ever affected her as powerfully as Dr. Chad Timmons.

All her life Gloria had been a reserved and private person. She didn't freely share her thoughts or feelings with others. Yet an hour after meeting Chad, she'd practically spilled out her entire life story. She'd shared her
emotions, her doubts and fears. At that time, that first night, she'd even told him why she'd moved to Cedar Cove. No one else knew. Only Chad. That he could so easily strip away her defenses alarmed her. Terrified her.

Now, after two weeks of silence, she still couldn't get him off her mind. She had to do something, but she was helpless to know what.

Holding her breath, she rang the doorbell and waited for her birth mother to answer. Roy was gone; Gloria had seen him drive away as she turned onto Harbor Street. She remembered that Corrie sometimes took Tuesdays and Thursdays off and hoped she'd be at home.

She was.

“Gloria! What a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in.”

Gloria stepped into the family home and glanced at the photos lining the mantel. The one of her, in her sheriff's uniform, stood next to Linnette's and Mack's high school graduation pictures. The professional family photograph on the wall above the fireplace showed Roy and Corrie maybe fifteen years earlier with their two children and a dog, who must have passed into doggy heaven. She didn't even know that dog's name.

“I was just emailing Linnette,” Corrie said.

“How's she doing?”

“Terrific,” Corrie told her. She walked into the kitchen and over to the coffeepot and refilled her mug. “Would you like some?”

Gloria shook her head. “Would it be all right if I had a glass of water instead?”

“Of course.” Corrie immediately opened the cupboard above the coffeepot and took down a glass, which she filled with ice and water and brought to Gloria.

She sat on the stool and drank half the water before
setting the glass on the counter. Her throat felt dry, her skin clammy. “I…I need some advice.”

Corrie dragged a stool to the other side of the counter. “I'm happy to help in any way I can,” she said, sitting down.

“I…met someone a few years back.”

“Male?”

Gloria avoided eye contact and nodded. “I barely knew him and we…” Admitting what she'd done was more difficult than she would've guessed.

“You went to bed with him,” Corrie said matter-of-factly.

Gloria nodded again. “I was embarrassed and shocked by my behavior and chose not to see him again.” Her hand tightened around the water glass. “He made numerous efforts to contact me…. I rebuffed each one until he finally gave up.”

“Why, exactly, did you refuse to see him?”

“First, like I said, I was embarrassed. Second, I felt vulnerable around him. Emotionally vulnerable.” She paused. “There was another…complication. Another woman, someone I cared—care—about was interested in him. So even if I'd been willing to risk a relationship with this man, I felt I had to step back.”

Her mother seemed to understand. “Do you still have strong feelings for him?”

Gloria shrugged. “I must, because I can't stop thinking about him—but there's more to the story.”

“The other woman?”

“No, she's out of the picture.” She had to hope Corrie wouldn't guess that she was talking about Linnette.

“Okay, fill me in on what happened next.”

Gloria could hardly believe the water glass didn't shatter in her hand from the pressure. She made a concerted but unsuccessful effort to relax.

“About a month ago, this man…he let me know he was moving away and…” She closed her eyes and inhaled. “I asked him to stay. He agreed and we went on a second date.” The lump in her throat felt huge and she tried to swallow it. “The same thing happened all over again.” She said this last part in a harsh whisper.

“You spent the night with him?”

Gloria hung her head. “Yes. I woke up embarrassed and…and furious with myself. I don't think either of us planned it but…it just…happened. Again.”

“Have you seen him since?”

Her birth mother seemed to intuitively ask the right questions. “No, and I don't want to.”

Corrie smiled knowingly. “Because you're afraid.”

“Yes, and can you blame me? The only thing we have in common that I can see is our…our sexual interest in each other. He also knows too much about me. I don't talk about myself with other people—it makes me uncomfortable.”

“But you do with him?”

“Yes.”

“Are you in love with this man?”

If Gloria had the answer to that, she wouldn't be sitting in Corrie's kitchen seeking advice. “I…I don't really know. I think I might be, but I don't know my own heart. I feel so confused. I'm not sure of myself anymore or how to react.” She shook her head and her hair fell forward. Tucking it behind her ears, she realized her hands were trembling.

“What would you like me to tell you?” Corrie asked.

“I…I don't know.”

Corrie reached across the counter and took one of Gloria's hands in her own. “I think you owe it to this young man and to yourself to talk to him.”

“What should I say?”

“I can't tell you that. But it seems to me that you're running away from him and, more importantly, from yourself. You tried that once and it didn't work, did it?”

“No,” she said miserably.

“When you thought you were about to lose him, you asked him to stay. That tells me you do have feelings for him.”

“He left ten messages for me. In the tenth message he said he was finished and that I wouldn't hear from him again—and I haven't.”

“You need to talk to him,” Corrie said a second time. “Even if you agree never to see each other again, you need some closure. Some way of acknowledging what happened so you can both move on.”

Gloria knew her birth mother was right. She'd recognized all along that this was what she needed to do, but she'd wanted confirmation from someone she trusted. Corrie wasn't her real mother; Gloria's mother had died in a plane crash. But she was certain the woman who'd nurtured and raised her would have said the same thing.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Corrie squeezed her hand. “Anytime. Will you let me know how it goes?”

Gloria promised she would and left soon after.

That afternoon, she waited outside the medical clinic for Chad. She wore her uniform, since she had to report for duty in thirty minutes. She was on swing shift and, through a quick phone call, had learned that he was on the early rotation. That gave them twenty minutes together at most. The time limitation suited her fine; she'd say what needed to be said, then leave with a clear conscience.

Chad saw her the moment he stepped out the clinic door. He hesitated briefly before heading in her direction.

Her own reaction to seeing him caught her by surprise. She hadn't expected to feel anything. But she did.
Her heart seemed to trip into double time and her throat closed. This wasn't going to be easy and Chad would probably go out of his way to make it as awkward as possible.

“Took you long enough” was his only greeting.

“I thought we should…acknowledge what happened,” she said, consciously quoting Corrie. She kept her hands on her hips, feet spread, the stance she used when pulling over speeders.

“Yes, I suppose we should. Do you want to meet me somewhere so we can talk in private?”

Gloria shook her head. “Here is fine.”

“In the parking lot?”

“I have to be at work soon.”

“The parking lot?” he reiterated.

“Yes.”

“So this'll be short and sweet.”

“Well, yes.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I guess that tells me everything I need to know.”

Rather than ask what he meant, she started in on her prepared speech. “Clearly there's a strong physical attraction between us.”

“You think?”

She ignored his sarcasm, although it irritated her. “I can't explain why you affect me the way you do.”

“But you don't like it.”

“I don't think we're right for each other,” she finally told him.

“Yeah, sure.”

“There's no need for sarcasm, Chad,” she returned pointedly. She'd been correct about one thing; he intended to punish her, make this as hard as he could.

“You might not think so, but it's either that or…”

“Or what?”

He started to walk away from her. “You drive me crazy, Gloria. I've never met anyone like you. You're hot one minute, and when I say
hot,
we both know what I mean. Then the next minute, you can't get away from me fast enough.”

Gloria couldn't very well deny his accusations.

“The night we had dinner, things got out of control. I hadn't intended to bring you back to my apartment. I told you what would happen if we went inside and if I remember correctly you didn't voice any objections.”

She swallowed and looked away, embarrassed because what he'd said was true.

“I woke up the next morning happier than I could remember being in a long time—only to discover you were gone.”

She couldn't meet his eyes.

“Then I found your note. What a shock. ‘Don't call me again. Last night was a mistake.'”

Gloria stared down at her shoes.

“It might've been a mistake for you, Gloria, but I refused to think of it that way.”

She had nothing to add.

“Hot one minute, cold the next. I tried to reason with you. I lost count of how many messages I left you.”

“Ten,” she said, then wished she'd kept her mouth shut.

“Ten,” he repeated. “Ten messages, and how many weeks of silence?”

“Two.” There, she'd done it again, letting him know she'd counted each and every one of those tortured days.

“And now you're telling me to take a flying leap into the nearest cow pasture, right?” His stance remained guarded, defiant.

“I think it's for the best not to see each other again.”

“That figures. Well, go ahead, Gloria, run away and pretend there's nothing between us if that makes you feel better. Trust me, after this last episode, it doesn't come as a surprise.”

She blinked at the vehemence in his voice, the hardness in his face.

“I'd rather we parted as friends,” she said.

He went still, then shook his head. “Sorry. If you want to water this relationship down to ‘friends' in order to make it palatable, then feel free to do so, but it doesn't work for me.”

“How…what are you talking about?”

“Friends, you say? First, I don't know what
you're
talking about. Friends are people I trust. You've burned me twice, and I don't feel that friendly toward you. If this is the way you treat your so-called friends, I pity them. I pity you.”

Gloria's stomach tensed. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I…I thought, you know, that if we passed each other on the street we could…be polite. And if I ever came to the clinic, we could be cordial to each other.”

He rolled his eyes. “That isn't going to happen, so don't worry about it. Fine, you want to be
friends,
we'll be friends.”

He stepped away from her and started across the parking lot to his car. Every instinct demanded she follow him and make things right between them. Yet she remained rooted to the spot.

She stood frozen for several minutes, warring within herself. Chad climbed into his car and drove off, and still she stood there, not knowing what to do.

Corrie had said she needed to “acknowledge what happened” and move on. Chad had agreed. But if that was what she'd sought, she'd failed miserably. Instead of
ending their affair on a friendly note, they were more at odds than ever.

Somehow she made it through her shift and, at eleven that night, went home. Although she was mentally and physically exhausted, she couldn't fall asleep. Many hours later, she downed two over-the-counter sleeping pills and pulled the sheet over her head. The sun had begun to rise, and morning light slithered into her bedroom through the gap between her curtains.

Gloria rolled onto her left side and bunched up the pillow. Ten minutes later she was on her right side and then she rolled onto her back.

She glanced at the clock and wondered how long it would take for the sleep aid to kick in. She closed her eyes, but when she did, all she could see was Chad standing defiantly before her. He didn't say a word, yet she felt his disappointment and his pain.

She felt her own.

All at once she threw aside the covers and sat up as his words echoed in her mind. She'd suggested that being friends meant that if they ran into each other again, they'd be cordial. Chad had said that wasn't going to happen. He hadn't meant he wouldn't greet her.

What he was telling her, she realized now, was that he wouldn't be around for her to greet. He was leaving town.

The Tacoma hospital had told him they'd hire him any time he wanted the job.

Chad was leaving Cedar Cove. And her.

Twenty

M
ack finished his five-mile run and walked the last block to the duplex to cool down. Cool down physically from the exertion of the run and emotionally from his churning thoughts.