Cranberry Point (Cedar Cove #4)(79)
"What did you tell him?" he demanded.
"I said no—all I did was mail them a letter to let them know about Katie and me and—"
"That's bad enough." He stood and brushed past her.
"Where are you going?"
Already halfway down the stairs, he glanced over his shoulder. "It seems I can't trust you, Maryellen."
"Can't we talk? Please don't do this."
Jon paused at the foot of the stairs. "There's nothing to talk about. I need time to think."
With that, he slammed out the door.
Brokenhearted, Maryellen slumped to the floor on her knees and hid her face in her hands. If Jon couldn't forgive his parents, it was unlikely he'd forgive her either.
Thirty-Nine
"Peggy," Bob shouted from the patio. "We're going to be late." He wasn't that keen on attending church this morning and would've gladly stayed home had Peggy agreed. However, he knew better than to ask.
His wife hurried out the back door and cast him an exasperated look. "I tried to talk Hannah into coming to worship service with us, but she isn't interested."
As far as Bob was concerned, Hannah was the lucky one. Peggy didn't want to hear it, though, so he attempted to console her. "Until recently, I wasn't interested in church, either, remember?"
Peggy nodded and climbed into the passenger seat. "I don't know what it is with the two of you."
"The two of us?" For the most part, Bob avoided Hannah, which wasn't that difficult. She worked odd hours at her dishwashing job at the PancakePalace. She was rarely home for dinner and frankly Bob preferred it that way. He'd tried to get along with their guest. Two or three times he'd made a genuine effort to talk to her, but Hannah was like a frightened rabbit; she ran for cover the moment Bob approached. He'd given up and settled for hoping that she'd leave soon.
Peggy frowned as she set her Bible in her lap. "Ever since Colonel Samuels phoned, both of you have been edgy and out of sorts."
"That's an exaggeration if I ever heard one," he snapped.
"No, it's not," Peggy insisted. "Hannah's as bad as you— worse, even. She isn't sleeping well. I know because I hear her roaming from room to room at all hours of the night. Of course, you're not much better."
Bob didn't argue; he'd been sleeping fitfully ever since the conversation with his former commanding officer. Bob couldn't explain the reason. It remained as much a mystery to him as his attitude toward Hannah. He'd tried to like the girl, but his negative reaction to her was visceral. Instinctive. Maybe it came from some innate revulsion to cringing, fearful personalities. He hated her clinginess with Peggy and he couldn't seem to change her aversion to him. Well, there was nothing he could do about it.
"Church would be a big help to Hannah." Clearly Peggy hadn't finished worrying about their guest's refusal to attend Sunday morning services.
Bob made a noncommittal grunt. The truth was, he'd had to drag himself out of bed that morning. Just as Peggy asserted, he hadn't been sleeping well. Little wonder. He was afraid that the moment he closed his eyes, the nightmare would return. It often struck without warning. Life would be perfectly agreeable if he could turn in for the night and have simple, pleasant dreams. Unpredictably he'd be thrust back into a Vietnamese jungle, gripped by terror. He hated every aspect of the dream. For years, he'd tried to drown out the noises of that day. The voices. Screaming. Shouting. Crying. Alcohol had only made it worse. If anything, the voices had gotten louder.
Sobriety wasn't helping all that much, either. The voices continued in a low drone that he ignored as much as possible. He'd been fairly successful until Maxwell Russell died in his home. Then the nightmare came back full force.
"Thank you so much," Bob muttered under his breath, angry with his old army buddy.
"Did you say something?" Peggy asked.
Bob shook his head.
Peggy glared at him. "You're certainly in a fine mood this morning."
He didn't bother to answer because she was right. And feeling the way he did, the last place he wanted to be was church.
"Bob," Peggy cried.
"What?"
"You just missed the turnoff."
Damn, she was right. "Let's skip church this morning, okay?"
"Not you, too?" Peggy whined. "First Hannah and now you."
"I don't feel like it today."
"We're almost there. Please, don't be difficult."
Not wanting to get into an argument, Bob sighed and found a place to turn the car around and head back toward Briar Patch Road
. Within five minutes, he slipped into an available space in the crowded church parking lot.
Organ music drifted out the open doors. Thankfully they were late enough to avoid all the handshaking and friendly chitchat. In case Peggy hadn't guessed, he wasn't in a sociable mood.
Of course, being late also meant they couldn't get a decent seat at the back of the church. Those who arrived early set claim to the back five pews. He and Peggy ended up sitting in one of the middle rows. That was acceptable, since at least they'd missed the "meet and greet."
Following the music, Dave Flemming stepped up to the pulpit and opened his Bible. Bob had left his at home. Peggy flipped to the book of Matthew, chapter six, the reference listed in the bulletin she'd picked up on the way in. Bob crossed his arms and closed his eyes. He had no intention of listening. He was here to keep the peace at home and for no other reason. For all he cared, the pastor could be talking about the inflated price of dot.com shares.