Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2 (39 page)

M
oving back to Cedar Cove was a mixed blessing, Faith Beckwith decided as she prepared for her first day of work. The Cedar Cove medical clinic had advertised for a part-time nurse and she'd been hired right away. Her entire life had changed in the blink of an eye—or so it felt. It'd all begun with the sale of her home in south Seattle.

A widow for three years, Faith had rattled around the big house in the Seattle neighborhood where she and Carl had raised their family. It really was time to downsize, but she'd assumed that because of market conditions the sale would take months. Instead, the first family who'd stepped over the threshold had made a full-price offer with the stipulation that she be completely out of the house by Thanksgiving. If not for the help of her two children, Scott and Jay Lynn, Faith would never have been able to make the transition to Cedar Cove so quickly. Thinking about the past few weeks—and the way her whole life had changed—gave her a breathless feeling.

Faith would've preferred to start her new job after January first, but it became apparent that if she didn't accept the position now, the clinic would hire someone else. Faith chose to start work.

With her children's assistance, she'd unpacked nearly forty years of her life in a rental house on Rosewood Lane, one that belonged to her high school friend, Grace Sherman. Except, as Troy had reminded her, it was Grace Harding now.

While Faith enjoyed living near her grandchildren, it also meant she was in close proximity to Sheriff Troy Davis. Her encounter with him Thanksgiving week had upset her. Living in a town the size of Cedar Cove made such meetings inevitable, she supposed. Still, she didn't expect to see Troy very often—especially if she was careful and Faith fully intended to be. She hoped to avoid any and all contact with Sheriff Davis.

The man had broken her heart, not once but twice. Okay, to be fair, her mother was responsible for the circumstances that had led to their breakup the first time. They'd been young; nevertheless, she still felt shocked that Troy could ever have believed she'd casually dump him for someone else after he went into the service. In retrospect, she wondered if he'd been so willing to accept her mother's lie because he was looking for an excuse to break off their relationship. Her mother had made it easy.

The second time she'd mailed him a sympathy card after hearing about the death of his wife, and they'd reconnected. Just when she'd made a commitment to him, to their relationship, he'd ended it. Well, enough was enough.

None of that made any difference now, she reasoned, annoyed that she was thinking about Troy at all.

Faith parked in the clinic lot, collected her purse and her lunch and walked inside, feeling excited—and a little nervous—about her first day. She was assigned to Dr. Chad Timmons, whom she'd liked on sight. He was certainly attractive, and she imagined he'd broken more than one heart.

Thinking about broken hearts brought her right back to the sheriff. Faith had to forcefully stomp on
that
thought. It might take some doing, but she was going to put him completely out of her life.

The morning went smoothly, and Faith discovered that she fit in well with the rest of the staff. Tuesdays and Wednesdays were apparently the least busy at the clinic, which was why she was scheduled for those two days this month. After the first of the year, she'd be working Monday, Thursday and Friday.

Her morning consisted of routine cases, innoculations and paperwork. She had one last patient to see before lunch—a twenty-nine-year-old woman by the name of Megan Bloomquist. Apparently Megan was distraught because she thought she might be pregnant. It seemed to be a case more appropriate for Pregnancy Crisis than the medical clinic.

“Hello,” Faith said, opening the exam room door. “I'm Faith Beckwith.”

“Hello.” The young woman sat in the chair with her ankles crossed. Her red-rimmed eyes were fearful. “You're not the doctor, are you?”

“I'm Dr. Timmons's nurse.”

The young woman nodded, clenching and unclenching her hands.

“I'm here to take your blood pressure and your temperature and find out how Dr. Timmons can help you,” Faith explained. She pressed the thermometer lightly against Megan's forehead. Her temperature registered and Faith noted it on the medical chart—normal.

Megan sniffled. “I think I'm pregnant and I…don't know what to do.”

Faith noticed the wedding ring on her finger. “You don't want the baby?”

“I do…” She covered her face with both hands and started to sob. After a moment she regained some control of her emotions. “Craig and I want children, but…but I had a miscarriage three months ago. I've only had one period since then.” She took out a small day planner to check the dates.

Faith felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she noted the details of Megan's last period. Troy's daughter was named Megan and she'd recently miscarried. Could it be? How was it that her very first day on the job, Faith would run into Troy's daughter? She struggled to hide her dismay.

“I took a home pregnancy test and it was positive.” Slowly Megan straightened. “But I just need to be sure, and my own doctor's booked solid.”

Faith didn't bother to point out that home tests were pretty reliable these days. She could understand Megan's uncertainty after having a miscarriage.

She was startled to hear Megan say, “Craig and I decided that it might not be a good idea for me to get pregnant again.”

“Ever?” That seemed a rather drastic decision.

“Well, certainly not this soon,” Megan told her. “We…we were hoping for some definitive word on my health.”

“In what way?”

Megan lowered her head. “I might have MS. It's in the family and because there might be a genetic link…”

This could only be Troy's daughter. Looking away, Faith reached for the blood pressure cuff. “There are tests you can have that will reassure you,” she said briskly.

“Oh, I've had those tests.”

Faith waited.

Megan's shoulders drooped. “The MRI was inconclusive. You see, my mother was diagnosed with it when I was young, and it was after she'd miscarried several times. When I lost my pregnancy it occurred to me that it might be for the same reason.”

Faith checked Megan's blood pressure and wrote it down. Again, normal. After Troy had used his daughter as an excuse to end the relationship, Faith had done a bit of research on MS, looking at reputable Internet sites and talking to a few doctors she knew.

“It's funny you should mention MS, because I recently read an article about the latest findings and heredity as a potential cause.” Faith did her best to sound professional.

“You did?” Megan's eyes widened with interest.

“The article's about a University of Washington study. It states that the children of people with MS have a one percent chance of inheriting it.”

“Only one percent?”

“The Mayo Clinic site says the chances are four to five percent. Either way, those odds are in your favor.”

The young woman stared at her intently.

“I don't think you should be this concerned, Megan. Your mother would want you to live your life without this worry hanging over your head.” She gave the girl's arm a squeeze.

Fresh tears welled in Megan's eyes. “That's really wonderful news.”

“There could be any number of reasons you miscarried your first pregnancy. It doesn't mean it'll happen again.”

“Craig and I were devastated.” She blinked back tears. “My father, too…”

“It's never easy to lose a child,” Faith said gently. “I had a miscarriage myself. That was many years ago, of course. Both my children are grown and married with children of their own. Yet even now I sometimes wonder about that lost baby.”

“Losing the pregnancy came so soon after my mother's death,” Megan whispered brokenly.

“I'm sorry.” Faith took hold of Megan's hand, and the young woman gripped her fingers painfully hard.

Apparently unable to speak, Megan hiccupped a laugh. “That pregnancy wasn't planned, either. You'd think Craig and I would know how babies are made. I swear we do…It's just that…well, we didn't use the protection we should have.”

“Let's wait and make absolutely sure you
are
pregnant, okay?”

“Okay. I guess I have to believe that whatever happens, God doesn't make mistakes.”

“Dr. Timmons will be able to tell if you're pregnant, and we'll go from there.”

“Okay.” Megan's voice was a little stronger now.

“What you need,” Faith said next, “is something to help you relax.” She grinned. “And I don't mean drugs. Do you have any hobbies?”

“I do some scrapbooking, but I've been meaning to take up knitting. It's so popular now and if I really am pregnant, I'd like to knit a blanket for the baby—if I can hold on to this pregnancy.”

“Think positive.”

“I'm trying.”

“Knitting isn't hard to learn,” Faith said encouragingly.

“A friend showed me the basic stitches last year. I'm sure I won't have any problem picking it up again, but I don't remember how to cast on.”

“There's nothing to it.”

“Do you knit?”

Faith nodded. Her last project had been socks for Troy Davis. “I'll leave you now,” she said, lightly touching Megan's arm. “Dr. Timmons will be in to see you shortly.”

“Thank you. You've been very kind.”

Faith managed a smile before she left the room, a smile that slipped as soon as she'd closed the door. What were the odds of this happening? Faith would never have thought that eliminating Troy Davis from her heart and her life would be this difficult.

Her lunch break was an hour long. Faith had brought a sandwich from home and an apple. When she'd eaten, she still had ample time to run a few errands, so she headed for The Quilted Giraffe, the local fabric store. Her granddaughter wanted Faith to sew her a special dress for the Christmas Eve church service.

Faith had chosen her fabric—a green velvet Kaitlyn would love—when Megan Bloomquist approached her.

“Hello again,” the young woman said, looking far more peaceful now than she had earlier.

Faith knew from the notation Dr. Timmons had made in her chart that Megan was indeed pregnant. That should make Troy happy.

She was doing it again. This constant thinking about Troy had to stop!

“Hello Megan,” she said cordially, if a bit stiffly.

“It's all right that I talk to you, isn't it? I mean, I don't want to go against medical protocol.”

“No, it's fine. Don't worry.” Faith felt that her response might have been a bit cool.

“Did you hear that I'm definitely pregnant?”

“I did. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” The young woman's happiness appeared genuine. “You were wonderful. Thank you for helping me gain some perspective on this.”

“Megan, really, I didn't do anything.”

“But you did,” she insisted. “I was an emotional wreck when I walked into the clinic and after speaking to you I felt a thousand times better.”

“I'm glad I could help.” Faith pulled the bolt of fabric off the shelf and carried it to a clerk to be measured and cut.

“I'm taking your advice,” Megan said, following her. “Look.” She lifted a small wire basket draped over her arm. Inside were knitting needles, several skeins of a variegated yarn in pastel colors and a pattern book that included a selection of baby blankets.

“You'll find that nothing calms you the way knitting does. In fact, there are studies that prove it.”

Megan smiled. “You like reading studies, don't you?”

Faith smiled back. “I guess I do.”

“The lady at the counter said she'd teach me how to cast on,” Megan said, “but she's been busy ever since so I've been waiting around until she's free.”

“Here.” Faith set her fabric on the cutting table. “I can show you.”

“Oh, thank you!”

Faith removed the needles from their packaging and pulled the yarn free from one of the skeins. In a few minutes, Megan had caught on.

While the woman behind the counter measured and cut the green velvet, Faith reviewed the pattern instructions with Megan to be sure she understood how to get started.

“I can't thank you enough,” Megan said when she'd finished.

With their purchases in hand, Faith and Megan walked to the front door together.

“I'd better get back to work,” Faith told the younger woman.

“Me, too. I work at the frame shop on Harbor. If you ever need anything framed, please let me know.”

“I will, thank you.” Faith almost mentioned that her son, Scottie, had recently had something framed at that very shop. But it was best for her emotional health not to encourage a relationship with Troy's daughter, so she walked away after a simple goodbye.

T
eri Polgar hadn't heard from her sister in well over a week. A year ago that wouldn't have been unusual. They rarely saw each other regularly until last summer, when things between them had started to improve. They'd had their share of differences; still did. But despite their difficult history, family was important to Teri. She and Johnny, her younger brother, were close. More and more, Teri found reasons to keep in touch with Christie, too.

A week without any form of communication from Christie wasn't typical these days. What bothered her more was that Christie hadn't returned any of her phone calls. Teri knew her sister wasn't shy about sharing her feelings. If Teri had done something to upset her, Christie would've let her know. All Teri could come up with was Christie's ongoing determination to avoid James.

“Bobby, I'm going shopping.” She didn't say for what. Bobby didn't concern himself with budgets. He had enough money for all their wants and needs; that was the only thing that mattered on the financial front. His life revolved around chess—and her. He was a master chess player, one of the world's best. He'd always watched over her with vigilance, and now that she was pregnant, Bobby doted on her even more than usual.

He barely glanced up from the computer screen. “I'll call James.”

“Bobby, no. I can drive to Wal-Mart on my own.”

The look he cast her was filled with doubt and worry.

She sighed. “Oh, all right.” It was easier to acquiesce than to argue. Bobby was far too protective, but how could she complain when he loved her so much? Ridiculous though it was to have a driver when she'd been driving all by herself since she was sixteen years old, she knew it set Bobby's mind at rest.

Within five minutes James, who lived on the property, had the car parked in front of the house, waiting for Teri. He stood by the passenger door formally dressed in his black suit and billed cap.

When Teri was first married to Bobby, she felt embarrassed to have a car and driver, especially in a town the size of Cedar Cove. However, she'd grown accustomed to it, and apparently so had everyone else. No one commented on it—not to her, anyway.

As she approached the vehicle, James held the passenger door open.

“Thank you, James,” she said as he helped her inside.

He stepped around the vehicle and climbed into the driver's seat. “Where to, Miss Teri?”

No matter how many times she asked him to drop the
Miss,
which made her sound like a preschool teacher, James persisted. After all these months she'd finally given up.

“I'd like to go to Wal-Mart, James.”

His back stiffened ever so slightly. “Wal-Mart, Miss?”

“You heard me.” Teri couldn't quite restrain a smile. James knew very well that Christie was currently employed as a cashier at the local Wal-Mart.

“Right away, miss.”

Teri relaxed in the luxurious leather seat as she listened to the soothing music coming from the speakers. “What are you playing, James?” she asked.

“Vivaldi, miss.
The Four Seasons.
”

She nodded. “I like it.”

James preferred classical and used his own CDs. Early on, she'd requested he find a country-western radio station instead, and to his credit, he'd done so. Only when she saw him insert cotton balls in his ears did she stop requesting anything other than the classical music he chose. She'd come to see beauty in it and not boredom.

She was fond of James, more than fond; she now considered him a friend, although she let him impose the limits on their friendship. She also felt he was perfect for her sister.

The problem was that Christie was so closemouthed about the relationship. James was even worse. The two of them were equally adept at keeping secrets.

When they pulled into the Wal-Mart lot, she saw dozens of cars circling, searching for a parking space. Christmas shoppers were out in full force, although it was a midweek afternoon and still early in the month.

“James, do you have plans for Christmas?” Teri asked curiously. She knew so little about him.

“Plans? No, Miss Teri.”

“You won't be traveling anywhere to visit family or friends?”

“No, miss.”

She forged ahead. “I hope you'll join Bobby and me, then.”

He hesitated.

“No need for a response just yet,” she assured him. “The invitation is open.”

“Thank you, miss.”

He parked by the front entrance, leaped out and came around to open her door.

“Give me an hour, James.”

“Yes, Miss Teri.”

She walked into the store, receiving curious looks and hearing a few veiled whispers. Okay, so maybe not everyone in town was accustomed to seeing her with a driver.

Checking the long row of cashiers, Teri saw Christie in Lane Ten. Without looking, she grabbed a handful of sale items, had a word with the manager and then stood in her sister's line.

She waited patiently for her turn, then set the Thanksgiving decorations she'd scooped up on the counter.

“Merry Christmas,” Christie said automatically before she looked up and saw it was Teri. “What are you doing here?” she demanded in a fierce whisper.

“You didn't return any of my phone calls,” Teri whispered back. “I didn't know if you were alive or dead.”

“Alive. I've been working a lot of extra hours. In case you hadn't noticed, this is the Christmas season.”

“I noticed.”

Christie's supervisor approached the register and placed a Closed sign behind Teri. “Lane Three is opening up,” she told the other customers. “Christie, take your lunch break now.”

“So soon?” Christie asked. “Shouldn't Cookie go first?”

“No, she shouldn't,” Teri inserted. “I asked your supervisor to give you your break so you and I could talk.”

“Teri!”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Fine. I should've known you wouldn't leave well enough alone.” Christie slapped the sales items in a white plastic bag and handed it to Teri, then collected payment. When she'd finished, Christie checked her watch. “This isn't going to take long, is it?”

“That depends on you,” Teri responded.

They decided to eat at the fast-food place near the store. Once they'd ordered, they were fortunate enough to find a vacant table, although the place was busy. Christie opened her container of chicken nuggets and the small peel-away top on the dipping sauce. Teri watched her sister with a look of envy.

Teri was being careful about her weight because of the pregnancy, so she'd ordered a Caesar salad. Her weight gain at her last doctor's appointment had been substantial. Okay, her diet hadn't been ideal. She cheated a bit now and then. Nevertheless, she didn't deserve to gain seven pounds in a single month. She'd protested loudly, but her obstetrician had dismissed her cries that the scale had been tampered with. Reluctantly Teri tore open the low-fat dressing packet and poured it over the romaine lettuce.

“I guess this has to do with James,” Christie said with the air of someone resigned to an unpleasant conversation.

“Well, actually…”

“He told you, didn't he?” Her sister bit savagely into a nugget.

Something had obviously happened between her sister and James, during their encounter last week, and Christie assumed Teri knew all about it. James, of course, hadn't said a word.

“Well…”

“First,” Christie stated emphatically, leaning forward. “I
wasn't
drunk.”

“Okay,” Teri murmured, wondering how to ferret out information without letting on that she had no idea what Christie was talking about.

“He's got to stop doing this.”

“I agree,” Teri said firmly. “This can't continue.”

Christie looked more than a little surprised to find Teri taking her side. “It's embarrassing, you know.”

“Absolutely.”

Christie leaned even closer and lowered her voice. “When James parks the limousine at The Pink Poodle, everyone stares out the window and asks questions. It's only a matter of time before someone figures out he's there because of me.”

This was beginning to make sense. “You mean he never goes inside?”

“Never.” As if her appetite had completely abandoned her, Christie pushed away the remaining chicken nuggets. “You wouldn't believe the way Larry and the others were gawking.”

“I can imagine.”

“Eventually James moved around to the side of the building where I'd parked my car.”

The scene was taking shape in Teri's mind. “So, when you came out, he figured you'd had too much to drink.”

“But he was wrong,” Christie insisted. “Wrong, wrong, wrong.”

Teri nodded sagely.

“Besides, I thought he'd left. One of the guys said he saw the car drive away. How was I supposed to know he'd only moved it?” Christie reached for her napkin and began to shred it. “If waiting for me wasn't bad enough, he followed me home.”

“Did anyone from The Pink Poodle see?”

Christie shrugged. “I don't know. I hope not.” She gazed at the strips of paper, then wadded them up. “Tell him something for me, will you?”

“Ah…I, uh…” Teri would rather not serve as a messenger between them, although she was certainly eager to keep track of what was going on.

Before she could argue, Christie raised her hand. “All you have to do is tell James I don't want to see him again.”

“You're sure about that?”

Her sister's hesitation was brief. “Positive,” she muttered. “I don't like him,” she continued as though convincing herself. “He's a stuffed shirt…. All that formality drives me insane.”

Teri frowned. That wasn't the impression
she
had.

“Don't look at me like that,” Christie said.

“Look at you how?”

“Like…like you don't believe me.”

She gestured vaguely. “I can't help remembering how worried you were when we found out James had been kidnapped.”

Christie swallowed and glanced away. When she did speak, her voice was almost a whisper. “He might be stuffy, but he's a real gentleman, you know?”

“Yes,” Teri agreed softly. She remembered her own reaction to James at their first meeting. So tall and frightfully thin, so formal and reserved. In the beginning his manner had irritated her until she realized what a good friend he was to her husband. He cared for Bobby, looked after him and saw that her absentminded husband reached his appointments on time. Bobby needed James, relied on him. And James had been a friend to her, too. Not only that, his actions during the kidnapping were nothing short of heroic, as Rachel could attest.

“Just a minute,” Teri said. “I want to make sure I understand what you're saying here. Because—as we've discussed before—you don't seem to like men who treat you with respect.”

“I…” Christie leaned away from the table, apparently studying something on the floor. She'd taken Teri's napkin and begun to shred it, too. “I don't know how to relate to a man who doesn't abuse me in one way or another,” she said bluntly.

“Listen, Christie…”

“Men have used me my entire life. You'd think I'd hate them all by now.” For a moment she looked as if she might dissolve into tears. “I meet one of these losers and I immediately want to fix his life and make everything right. I always figure that once I do, he'll love me and cherish me forever.” She gave Teri a watery smile. “How come I can see the pattern but I can't break it?”

“Guess what, Christie, we share more than the same genes.”

“But you have Bobby and he loves you and—”

“Talk about déjà vu.” Sighing, Teri placed both hands on her stomach. “I tried to send Bobby away. I felt the same things you do. I didn't want him to love me, and I did everything I could to keep him out of my life.”

Christie shook her head. “You're just saying that because you think it'll make me feel better. You've always made good decisions. You have a career and friends and…now you have Bobby and a real family.” Her gaze fell to Teri's stomach and her eyes softened with longing.

“And you're afraid you'll be stuck with losers for the rest of your life.”

Her sister didn't respond.

“So you reject any decent guy who comes around.” Teri didn't mean to sound sarcastic. “Listen, Christie, you say you want to break the pattern. James is your chance to do it.”

Christie still didn't speak.

“He's attracted to you.”

Her sister shook her head again. “No, he isn't. Otherwise—”

“Otherwise he wouldn't have driven down to The Pink Poodle and waited outside for you,” Teri said, cutting her off. “Why else would James do that?”

Christie gave an unenthusiastic shrug.

“He wants to talk to you,” Teri explained as if speaking to a third-grader. “
That's
why he did it.”

Gathering up the pieces of her second shredded napkin, Christie swallowed several times. “It's too late.”

“I doubt that.”

Her sister's eyes were suddenly hopeful.

“I can try to help,” Teri said. “If you want, I'll arrange an opportunity for the two of you to meet.”

“How?”

“Dinner,” she suggested. “Bobby and I can invite you both to dinner.”

Christie instantly dismissed the idea. “That would be awkward for everyone.”

True, Teri thought, but that way she'd have a close-up view of the proceedings. However, discretion won out over curiosity. “Okay, then, see James on your own,” she said mildly.

Christie seemed to be considering that. “You really think I should?” she finally asked.

“I do.” Teri offered her a smile of encouragement. She wanted Christie to experience the same happiness she'd found with Bobby. “Will you do it?” she prodded.