Rosewood Lane (Cedar Cove #2)(62)

“The kiss was nice. Very nice.”

“Are you seeing him again?” Maryellen asked next.

“You’re as bad as Olivia.”

“Well, are you?” she pressed.

“Probably, although he hasn’t asked.”

The waitress arrived with two Cobb salads. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked and put down their bill before they could even respond.

Maryellen watched the girl leave. “I guess not.”

“I’m afraid you and Olivia are making more of this evening with Cliff than you should.” She plucked a napkin from the dispenser. “It was only one dinner and we haven’t arranged another.”

“But you’d go out again if he asked.”

“Yes—Oh, I don’t know—dating frightens me. Everyone seems to think it’s the right thing to do, but if that’s true, then why do I feel so damn guilty?”

“You shouldn’t. You’re divorced.”

Grace sighed. “Both you and Olivia have encouraged me to see Cliff, but I’m not sure I should….”

“Why not?”

“Oh, honey, don’t you know?” Her mother’s face was drawn with anxiety. “I need to know what happened to your father. There’s this knot in my stomach that’s been there since he disappeared.” She began to shred the paper napkin. “After I went to dinner with Cliff, I felt good. Kind of…liberated. Free. But it didn’t last. I could hardly sleep that night.”

“Mom, you’re divorced. You are free.”

“Perhaps legally, but I still feel married. Despite everything, I feel I belong with your father. I don’t know if that’ll change until I find out where he is and what drove him away.”

“Mom.” Maryellen’s hand covered her mother’s. “We might never know.”

“I realize that, but it doesn’t change how I feel.”

Charlotte sat in Dr. Fred Stevens’s waiting room, knitting furiously as the minutes ticked slowly by. She’d been seeing Dr. Fred for the past twenty years and she had complete faith in him. He’d been Clyde’s physician, and her husband, too, had trusted him implicitly.

“The doctor can see you now, Charlotte,” Pamela Johnson said, standing in the doorway that led to the examination rooms.

Charlotte tucked her knitting into her bag and followed the nurse. When they stopped at the scale, Charlotte slipped off her shoes and stepped on, eyes closed and breath held. Some information it was better not to know.

“You’re down five pounds,” Pamela announced.

“Really?” That made sense, though, seeing that her appetite had been nil for weeks. In the beginning, she’d assumed it was all the stress surrounding the holidays. Then Charlotte had noticed how drained she felt at the end of the day. Lately, climbing stairs seemed to strain her heart and there were all those problems with needing to get to a rest room quickly.

Pamela led the way into the first exam room. She asked a few preliminary questions and took Charlotte’s blood pressure. After making a notation in the chart, she placed it in a slot on the outside of the door.

“Go ahead and remove your clothes and put on the gown,” the nurse instructed before she left.

Charlotte examined the soft blue paper top. It was ridiculous to think such a thing could cover her. She so seldom needed an appointment other than her yearly exam that she couldn’t remember from visit to visit if the gown was supposed to open in the front or the back.

“Hello, Lottie,” Dr. Fred said, entering the room about five minutes later.

So few people called Charlotte by that name, it shook her for a moment. Naturally Dr. Fred used it because that was what Clyde had always called her.

“Hello, Dr. Fred.”

The physician sat on the stool as he read her chart, while she sat higher up on the examination table with her bare feet dangling. Looking down at her toenails, she was embarrassed to see that they needed a fresh coat of polish. Oh my, this was embarrassing. She tried to cover one foot with the other.

“What’s the problem?” Dr. Fred asked. He apparently hadn’t noticed her toes.

Charlotte described her symptoms. Tiredness, she explained, a lack of appetite and energy and that pesky problem with her bowels. The more she spoke, the more alarmed she became. “It sounds like I should’ve come in weeks ago.”

“I agree,” Dr. Fred said sternly.

“I’ve been so busy and then there was Christmas….” Her voice trailed off. Her excuses all rang false, even to her own ears.

After a routine exam, Dr. Fred had Pamela take several vials of blood. When she’d finished, he returned to the exam room. Thankfully Charlotte was dressed and prepared for the verdict.

“Well?” she murmured, not sure what to think. Perhaps all he had to do was prescribe iron tablets and she could go back to her regular life.

“I won’t know anything until I get the results from the blood tests.”

“Do you have any suspicions?” she asked, wanting answers.

“I have a few ideas, but I’ll wait for confirmation.”

“You were like this with Clyde, too,” she said impatiently.

“I’d be irresponsible if I indulged in speculation, wouldn’t I?”