Rosewood Lane (Cedar Cove #2)(99)

She boiled water and then left a pot of tea to steep while she changed out of her suit and into slacks and a sleeveless top. Her eyes stung from the tears she’d shed, but they were dry now. No sooner had she poured her tea than the doorbell rang. Grace half expected Olivia and would have welcomed her dearest friend. Her feelings were contradictory; she didn’t want to be alone, but she didn’t want company, either. Olivia would understand that.

But it was Cliff Harding who stood at her door, a bouquet of perfect yellow rosebuds in his hand.

She blinked, stunned to see him, and instantly, to her utter embarrassment, dissolved into tears. Covering her face with both hands, she wept aloud. Cliff opened the screen door and stepped inside, and immediately took her into his arms.

Grace clung to him. She felt the roses press against her back, the tiny thorns tearing the material of her blouse, and still she clung to him weeping and sobbing, her cries echoing in the empty house.

Cliff led her to the sofa. His arms encompassed her as her body shook with sobs.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when the tears were spent, she lifted her head and between deep breaths apologized. “I didn’t…mean to…do that.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said quietly.

Not understanding the comment, she raised questioning eyes to him.

“It feels good to be needed. No one’s needed me in a very long time.”

Grace pressed her head to Cliff’s shoulder and exhaled a wobbly breath. She gloried in his warmth, his solid strength. “I never expected it to end like this,” she whispered.

“I know you didn’t.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry, Grace, sorrier than you’ll ever know.”

“He wrote me a letter…. It helped explain. All the years I believed…I thought there was someone else, some other woman who could make him happy.”

His hand stroked her hair. “What about the friend who spotted him in town?”

“According to the sheriff, it couldn’t have been Dan.”

“A case of mistaken identity?”

Grace nodded. “It must be.” She blew her nose in a tissue, thinking she must look dreadful. “It explains the mangled Christmas gifts I found, too.” That was a sign of the depths his depression had reached. He felt unworthy of anything good in his life, to the point that he’d destroyed anything he loved, including the gifts his family gave him. His world was a bleak, black void. He felt trapped in the darkness and couldn’t find his way out.

“Did you learn where he got the cash to buy the trailer?”

“That I don’t know. We never had thirteen thousand dollars in all the time we were married. With Dan only working part of the year, we often went for months living on one paycheck, scrimping, going from payday to payday. We had to take out loans to pay for the girls’ schooling. I don’t understand how he managed to put that kind of money aside.”

“He must have planned this for years.”

Grace had thought that, too. “I don’t know if he intended to kill himself right away…. I think he just wanted to escape. Dan loved the forest. He felt more at peace there than anywhere else. His moods got much worse after he lost his job as a logger. I just assumed…”

“You assumed the depression was caused by the loss of his job, which is only natural.”

“I did,” she said. “I realize now that he lost whatever sense of peace he had when he left the forest. That’s why he bought the trailer. He intended to live there for a while, I think, mull over his life…” She sighed. “I’d like to think that, but how true it is I have no way of knowing. He returned to the house once. I’m positive of that.” Still, Grace didn’t understand why he’d come home so briefly. She felt a wave of pity for him and wished again that she’d been more perceptive.

“Can I do anything for you?” Cliff asked.

Grace shook her head. “I’m so tired. I haven’t slept more than two or three hours at a stretch since Dan was found.”

He grazed her temple with his lips. “Sleep now,” he urged.

She reached for his hand and held it. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I won’t. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise.” That was important to her for reasons she didn’t want to analyze.

“I promise.” He led her into the bedroom, and when she lay down on the bed, he covered her with a blanket, leaned over and kissed her cheek. Then he crept from the bedroom and turned off the light.

Grace closed her eyes and heard the door to her room close with a soft click. While sleep was tempting, all she really needed was to rest her eyes for a moment. But she instantly drifted off. Three hours later, when she woke, night had settled in and darkness surrounded her.

As she took a moment to orient herself, she heard someone in her kitchen. Tossing aside the afghan Cliff had spread over her, she climbed off the bed and came into the hallway.

“Cliff?”

“I’m here.” He appeared, wearing her apron along with an enticing grin. “I’ve made us dinner.”

“You cook?”

He shrugged. “Don’t expect anything fancy.”

The table was set, with everything neatly in place. A tantalizing scent wafted from the oven. He’d put the roses in a vase on the table and had used her best china and linen. His care sent a feeling of warmth surging through her.