Cranberry Point (Cedar Cove #4)(96)

Jon got out of the chair and started pacing back and forth. "Maryellen, please just say something."

She looked up at him, puzzled by his outburst. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. Anything. Just don't sit there staring off into the distance. I can't stand to see you like this."

"I'm grieving..."

"For the baby?"

She nodded. "And for us."

Jon leaned against the support column, as if he didn't have the strength to stay upright.

"Less than two weeks ago, you were willing to let Katie and me walk away. Remember?"

Jon didn't answer.

"I know what I did in contacting your parents was wrong," Maryellen whispered, "but I never set out to hurt you. All I wanted to do was help."

"I didn't want your help," he shouted, startling Katie who jumped and began to fuss until she found her thumb again.

With Maryellen's steady hand on her back, Katie quickly returned to sleep. "Let's talk about this another time."

"No." Jon was pacing again, back and forth, like a man possessed. His mouth thinned. "I told you before I don't need my parents, don't want them in my life. You and Katie are the only family I have."

If what he said was true, then he wouldn't have let her drive away that Saturday afternoon.

He held out his hands in silent pleading.

As she continued to watch him, he plowed his fingers through his hair, then straightened and seemed to come to some resolution. "Do you want a divorce?" he asked suddenly.

"No, but I wonder how long our marrage will last."

Her remark obviously shocked him, aid Maryellen felt she had to explain herself. "You so easily cast aside people who love you. If you can cut yourself off from your father and stepmother, then you can do it with Katie and me. In time you probably will."

"That isn't true." He fell to his knees in front of her, clasping her hands and gazing up at her intently. "Look at me, Maryellen. You and Katie are everything to me."

"Until I do something that upsets you."

He stood and put distance between them. "That's not true."

Maryellen didn't have the will to argue. She knew otherwise.

"Do you want me to tell you I'm willing to forget what my father did? Is that what you want me to say?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I want you to have peace," she whispered.

"Peace?" He repeated the word as if he'd never heard it before. "You want me to have peace or you want me to make peace with my parents?"

"Both," she said, "but until you find peace within yourself, you won't be able to deal with your parents."

"I was perfectly happy with my life until you came along."

Despite herself, Maryellen grinned. "You only thought you were."

"I don't need them."

"You kept their letters," she said softly.

"I meant to throw them away."

"But you didn't. It must've given you some kind of emotional gratification when they wrote letter after letter, and you never answered."

He narrowed his eyes. "You don't know what you're saying."

She shrugged. "Perhaps not."

"You want me to make peace with them and I can't. I won't. I'm sorry, Maryellen, but even for you I can't do it."

Such a lack of forgiveness was frightening to Maryellen. "I don't expect you to forget what they did, but forgiving is something else," she said.

He shook his head vehemently.

"You must feel a real sense of justification and righteousness knowing how badly they wronged you—and knowing that you're punishing them now."

His eyes blazed, but he held his tongue.

"I don't think I'll ever fully understand the full extent of your pain. Your family betrayed you. They chose your brother over you and you're angry."

"You're damned straight I am."

"You have every right to be. Perhaps they don't deserve your forgiveness, but don't you see what this bitterness has done to you? Don't you understand that until you can let go of this pain, you're incapable of experiencing real joy?"

She could tell he wanted to argue with her, but she didn't give him the opportunity.

"Now you're angry with me," she said, "and I admit it was wrong to go behind your back. But you let me walk away because that sense of righteous indignation was more valuable to you than your love for me."

He opened his mouth to challenge her, but apparently changed his mind. He paced, his steps speeding up, then slowing as he went through some internal argument. "What should I do?"

"Look in your heart. Work on your attitude, your unwillingness to release all this pain."

Jon shook his head, hopelessly this time, as if she was asking the impossible. "You make it sound so easy."

"I know it can't be."

He sighed deeply and his shoulders sagged in defeat. "You're welcome to keep in touch with them if you want."

"What about you?"

His jaw tightened. "I'll wait a while, but I'll try, Maryellen. For you and Katie, I'll try."