Harbor Street (Cedar Cove #5)(77)

“And Chad blames you?”

Linnette sighed. “I feel guilty about it and yet why should I? I went so far as to tell Gloria that if she didn’t go out with Chad, I would—and that was the worst thing I could’ve said.”

“Does Chad get a say in this?” Roy murmured.

“Not really,” Linnette said. “Okay, he does, but I don’t care if he asks me out or not.”

“Would you care if Cal did?” Corrie inserted triumphantly.

“Cal?” Roy repeated. “Does every man you date have a name that starts with the letter C?”

“Cute, Dad, very cute.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Corrie said.

“Yes,” she admitted with another deep sigh.

“Have you seen him since he was at the clinic?”

Linnette shook her head. “I doubt I will, either.”

“Don’t you need to take out those sutures?” In Corrie’s opinion, this was the perfect excuse.

She shrugged. “Someone needs to. Either Cal will do it himself or Cliff Harding.”

“You could always go to him,” Corrie suggested.

“Is there a reason my presence is necessary here?” Roy asked in a bored voice.

“Yes, Dad, there is. When I asked you about Cal, you said if I was supposed to see him again, fate would send him back into my life. That’s what happened with you and Mom, right?”

“Right,” Roy agreed.

“Fate did bring him back, and this time I refuse to make the same mistake. I don’t know what’ll come of it, but I’m willing to find out. He isn’t a doctor with a lot of degrees, and I doubt he has a large income, but he’s about all the man I can handle.”

Delighted, Corrie smiled, but when she looked at Roy, she noticed that her husband wasn’t quite as pleased.

Thirty-Nine

Maryellen was at her wits’ end. Jon had set up a makeshift bed for her downstairs. Now, what had once been their living room had become the center of her universe—and her prison. The doctor didn’t even want her climbing stairs. Worse, Maryellen couldn’t lift anything that weighed more than a few pounds, which meant she was unable to hold her own daughter.

Fortunately, her sister was looking after Katie during the day, and Maryellen didn’t know what they’d do without Kelly’s help. Jon handled all the childcare plus most of the housework at night, and that was difficult enough.

Every morning he drove Katie into town and then he drove back in the afternoons to pick her up. In the meantime, Maryellen was trapped in the house, restless, bored and desperately afraid any unnecessary movement would bring on premature labor.

Her life assumed an unsettling routine. Jon woke by seven, came downstairs and put on coffee, then went back upstairs to dress Katie. After giving Katie her cereal, he brought Maryellen a cup of herbal tea. They tried to spend a few minutes together with Katie before he took her to Kelly’s. It was early spring, so ferns and early flowers were starting to emerge, and the opportunity for interesting nature shots was at its prime. Jon was often away from the house for hours. He needed to work in order to earn the money they desperately needed.

Maryellen knew he didn’t want her to worry about finances—as if that could be avoided. Naturally she was concerned. Without her working, they were forced to live on a single income. Jon’s sales increased every year, but he wasn’t yet at the level where he could support himself, let alone a wife and two children. Maryellen had encouraged him to quit as chef for The Lighthouse restaurant and devote himself to his career. Her plan had worked well until now.

The front door opened and Maryellen set aside the novel she was reading. Her attention had been wandering all morning; the hours dragged on endlessly. Jon walked into the house carrying the backpack in which he kept his camera equipment.

“I’m home.”

She tried to smile.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he slipped off his boots.

“Cranky,” she moaned. “You can’t imagine how awful it is to stay in bed like this.” Every place she looked, there was something that needed to be cleaned or finished, folded or put away. Jon tried, but he couldn’t manage everything on his own.

“How about if I make lunch?” he suggested.

“I’m not hungry.” She appreciated the offer and knew Jon was trying to please her. The fact was, she didn’t have much of an appetite these days. Why would she? The most exercise she got was walking to the downstairs bathroom and Dr. DeGroot had suggested she cut back on those visits as much as possible.

“You barely touched your breakfast,” Jon reminded her. He sat on the edge of her bed, his eyes revealing tenderness and care. “I’ll make your favorite—a toasted cheese sandwich and tomato soup.”

She smiled; for his sake she’d try to take a few bites.

Jon kissed her cheek and moved into the kitchen. “Did anyone phone while I was out?”

“No.” Maryellen crossed her arms. For the first couple of weeks, she’d received daily calls from Lois, needing advice or guidance. Those calls had stopped. Apparently her assistant, or one-time assistant, was comfortable as manager of the gallery now. Her mother usually tried to call during her lunch hour, and Maryellen was thankful for the distraction. But the library was often hectic around noon and her calls had dwindled down to maybe three a week.