Kitabı oku: «44 Cranberry Point»
44 Cranberry Point
Debbie Macamber
Make time for friends. Make time for Debbie Macomber.
CEDAR COVE 16 LIGHTHOUSE ROAD 204 ROSEWOOD AVENUE 311 PELICAN COURT 44 CRANBERRY POINT 50 HARBOR STREET 6 RAINIER DRIVE
BLOSSOM STREET THE SHOP ON BLOSSOM STREET A GOODYARN OLD BOYFRIENDS WEDNESDAYS AT FOUR TWENTY WISHES SUMMER ON BLOSSOM STREET HANNAH’S LIST
THURSDAYS AT EIGHT
CHRISTMAS IN SEATTLE
To Leslee Borger and
her incredible mother, Ruth Koelzer
Dear Reader,
If this is your first visit to Cedar Cove, welcome! All the people in town are eager to introduce themselves. And if you’re here for a repeat visit, welcome back. There’s been a lot going on in town. Charlotte, Jack, Olivia, Grace, Cecilia and the others are looking forward to bringing you up to date on everything that’s happened. You’ll also discover surprises along the way…as well as some romance and a few laughs.
I promise a final resolution to the mystery about the man who died in the Beldons’ B&B. After all, Peggy and Bob just want their lives to return to normal. But…there’s another mystery developing, and this one involves the McAfees.
If you’d like to drop me a note, just log on to my website at www.debbiemacomber.com and sign the guest book. If you’re interested in regular updates on the Cedar Cove characters, log on and click on the Cedar Cove button. As a bonus, I include the characters’ favourite recipes…If you’re not online but don’t want to miss out, you can write to me at PO Box 1458, Port Orchard, Washington 98366, USA.
Speaking of Port Orchard…If you happen to visit, you might notice a resemblance between my home town and Cedar Cove. Not the characters, mind you, but just about everything else. Towns like this are great to visit in real life—and between the pages of a book.
Now, please grab something to drink (Peggy Beldon would make you a cup of tea!), find a comfortable spot and begin your visit to Cedar Cove. I’m so glad you’re here.
Warmest regards,
Some of the Residents ofCedar Cove, Washington
Olivia Lockhart Griffin: Divorced from Stan Lockhart. Now married to Jack Griffin. Family court judge in Cedar Cove. Mother of Justine and James. Lives at 16 Lighthouse Road.
Charlotte Jefferson: Mother of Olivia, widow, lifelong resident of Cedar Cove.
Justine (Lockhart) Gunderson: Daughter of Olivia, married to Seth, mother of Leif.
Seth Gunderson: Justine’s husband. Co-owner, with Justine, of The Lighthouse restaurant.
James Lockhart: Olivia’s son and Justine’s younger brother. In the navy. Lives in San Diego with wife, Selina, and daughter, Isabella.
Stanley Lockhart: Olivia’s ex-husband and father of James and Justine. Now lives in Seattle and divorced from his second wife.
Will Jefferson: Olivia’s brother, Charlotte’s son. Married and lives in Atlanta.
Grace Sherman: Olivia’s best friend. Librarian. Widow. Mother of Maryellen and Kelly. Lives at 204 Rosewood Lane.
Dan Sherman: Grace’s dead husband.
Maryellen Sherman: Oldest daughter of Grace and Dan. Mother of Katie.
Kelly Jordan: Maryellen’s sister, married to Paul, mother of Tyler.
Jon Bowman: Photographer, chef and father of Katie. Engaged to Maryellen.
Jack Griffin: Newspaper reporter and editor of The Cedar Cove Chronicle. Recovering alcoholic, married to Olivia Lockhart. Father of Eric, who lives in Nevada with his wife, Shelly, and their twin boys.
Zachary Cox: Accountant, remarried to Rosie. Father of Allison and Eddie Cox. Lives at 311 Pelican Court.
Cliff Harding: Retired engineer and now horse breeder living near Cedar Cove. Divorced father of Lisa, who lives in Maryland. He has an on-and-off relationship with Grace Sherman.
Cecilia Randall: Navy wife, living near Cedar Cove. Accountant. Married to Ian Randall, submariner. Lost a baby, Allison.
Bob and Peggy Beldon: Retired. Own the Thyme and Tide Bed & Breakfast at 44 Cranberry Point. Have two adult children.
Roy McAfee: Private detective, retired from Seattle police force. Two adult children. The McAfees live at 5 Harbor Street.
Corrie McAfee: Roy’s wife and office manager.
Troy Davis: Cedar Cove sheriff.
Pastor Flemming: Local Methodist minister.
Ben Rhodes: Retired naval officer. Member of the Senior Centre. Involved with Charlotte Jefferson.
Chapter One
Peggy Beldon walked into her newly planted garden, taking real pleasure in the sights and smells that surrounded her. This was her private place, her one true source of serenity. The fresh briny scent of the water off Puget Sound drifted toward her as she watched the Washington State ferry glide from Bremerton toward Seattle on its sixty-minute journey. This was a typical May afternoon in Cedar Cove-comfortably warm with just a hint of a breeze.
Peggy uncoiled the garden hose and moved carefully between the rows of leaf lettuce, sweet peas and pole beans. She had a strong practical streak, expressed in her vegetable and herb gardens; she satisfied her craving for beauty with the flower gardens in front. Looking back at the house that always had been her dream, Peggy smiled. She’d grown up in Cedar Cove, graduated from the local high school and married Bob Beldon on his return from Vietnam. The early years had been difficult because of Bob’s reliance on alcohol. But then, to her eternal gratitude, he’d discovered Alcoholics Anonymous; it had saved their marriage and quite possibly Bob’s life. Until AA, Bob had spent most nights drinking, by himself or with friends. When he drank, he became a different person, no longer the man she’d married. She didn’t like to think about that time. Thankfully, her husband had remained sober for twenty-one years.
Walking between the rows, Peggy gently watered the seedlings. Several years earlier, Bob had accepted early retirement and with the severance package, they’d purchased the house on Cranberry Point. Peggy had loved it for as long as she could remember. Situated on a point of land overlooking Sinclair Inlet, the two-story structure, built in the late 1930s, had seemed like a mansion to her. Over the years, it had changed owners a number of times and had started to deteriorate, since no one had cared enough to provide the maintenance it needed. By straining their finances, Bob and Peggy had managed to buy it for a price far below its current market value.
Her husband was a talented handyman and within a few months they were able to hang out a sign for their bed-and-breakfast. Peggy hadn’t known how much business to expect, how many guests would be attracted to the Thyme and Tide B and B, as they’d called it. She’d hoped, of course, that they’d make enough to supplement their retirement income-and they had. She was proud of the success they’d achieved. Their traditional home, warm hospitality and her cooking had brought them steady customers and a growing reputation. They’d even been reviewed in a national magazine, which had reserved its highest praise for the food, especially her baking. The reviewer had spent two whole sentences describing her blueberry muffins and homemade fruit cobbler. She had twenty blueberry bushes and eight raspberry canes, and she pampered them lovingly. Each summer she was rewarded with an ample supply for her guests and her family. Life had seemed about as perfect as it could get.
Then the unimaginable happened.
More than a year ago, a stranger had knocked on their door in the middle of a dark, stormy night. If it hadn’t been so clichéd she might’ve been amused, but this was no laughing matter. The man had rented a room and then promptly locked himself inside.
A hundred times since, Peggy had regretted not insisting he complete the usual paperwork. It was late, and he’d seemed so tired that they’d simply shown him to his room. They could deal with the necessities in the morning, over breakfast.
But by morning, the stranger was dead.
Ever since, Peggy had felt as if they were caught in some kind of whirlwind, tossed about by forces beyond their control. Bad enough that the man had died in their home, but then they’d learned that he’d carried false identification. Nothing was as it seemed. By the end of that day, after hours with the sheriff and the coroner, there’d been more questions than answers.
She saw Bob pull the riding lawn mower out of the garage. At the sound of the engine, Peggy paused in watering her seedlings, one hand shading her eyes. Even after all these years of marriage, she never grew tired of their life together. They’d survived the bad times with their love intact. And their attraction, too. Bob was tall and had kept his shape, his sandy brown hair neatly trimmed. His arms were already tanned from exposure to the sun. He loved his workshop and she was genuinely impressed by what he could do with a few pieces of oak or pine. She’d fallen in love with Bob Beldon as a teenager and she loved him still.
Now, however, she was worried. She didn’t want to think about the dead man, but it was unavoidable, especially after what they’d recently found out. Sheriff Davis had identified their mystery guest as Maxwell Russell. To say Bob was shocked would be putting it mildly. He’d been with Max in Vietnam. Dan Sherman, who was also dead, Bob, Max and another man named Stewart Samuels had belonged to that squadron. They’d gotten lost in a Southeast Asian jungle with tragic results.
Once the identity of the dead man was established, another shocking revelation had come to light. The sheriff, with the help of local private investigator Roy McAfee, had discovered that Max Russell’s death was no accident.
He’d been poisoned.
The water bottle he’d carried with him had been laced with odorless, tasteless Rohypnol, commonly known as the “date rape” drug. The dose had been large enough to stop his heart. Maxwell Russell had gone to bed, tired from a long day of travel, and he never woke up.
Bob rode past her on the lawn mower with a quick wave, and Peggy continued to water her garden, but a pang went through her. At this very moment Bob could be in danger, but he seemed content to ignore any risk rather than admit her concerns were legitimate.
As she set aside the hose, Peggy caught sight of Sheriff Davis’s patrol car coming down Cranberry Point. She immediately felt the tension between her shoulder blades. She hoped he planned to talk some sense into Bob.
Her husband must have seen the patrol car at the same time Peggy did because he cut the engine and climbed off the lawn mower. Sheriff Troy Davis turned into the driveway, then stepped out of his vehicle. In the beginning, when it looked like Bob might be a suspect in the murder case, Davis wasn’t nearly as welcome here as he was now.
The sheriff, who was probably a little heavier than he should be, took a moment to hike up his pants and adjust his gun before heading across the lawn to meet Bob. Unwilling to be left out of the conversation, Peggy shut off the water and hurried across the half-mown grass.
“Peggy.” Davis touched the brim of his hat and nodded in her direction. “I was just telling Bob it might be a good idea if the three of us sat down and talked.”
Peggy nodded in return, appreciating the fact that he wanted to include her.
Bob led the way to the patio, and Peggy was grateful she’d taken time that morning to sweep it off. The three of them sat at the round pine table Bob had built several years earlier. He’d painted it a deep gray-blue, a color that complemented the white siding. The striped umbrella was up and the patio was awash in sunshine.
“I thought I’d update you on my conversation with Hannah Russell.”
A couple of months earlier, after Max’s identity had been uncovered, his daughter had asked to meet with Bob and Peggy. It had been an uncomfortable meeting, but Peggy’s heart had ached for the young woman. She’d answered Hannah’s questions to the best of her ability.
For her part, there was little Hannah could tell them. All she knew was what her father had told her-he was taking a short trip, although he hadn’t divulged where. That was the last she’d heard. When he didn’t return to California, she’d filed a missing persons report with the police. A year had passed before she learned his fate.
“I feel so bad for her,” Peggy said. Hannah had lost her mother some time before and was now an orphan with no other family.
“She was pretty upset,” Troy admitted. “You can imagine how painful it was to learn her father was dead. But to discover he’d been murdered…” He shook his head.
“Did she have any idea who might’ve done this?”
“None,” Davis told them. “She asked me to thank you for your kindness. Talking with you helped her resolve in her own mind what happened to her father. Peggy, she mentioned the letter you wrote, and I could tell it meant a great deal to her.”
Peggy bit her lip. “How’s she getting on with her life?”
The sheriff hesitated. “I can’t really say. She said she no longer has any reason to stay in California and implied that she’s thinking of moving. I asked her to keep in touch and she promised she would.”
Peggy could understand the young woman’s feelings. With both of her parents gone, Hannah was rootless. Peggy sympathized with her desire to leave the area where she’d grown up, where she was surrounded by so many memories. Every place she turned, every place she looked, Hannah must be reminded of the parents she’d loved.
“What did you find out about Colonel Samuels?” Bob asked, eyes narrowed as he gazed at Troy Davis.
Stewart Samuels was the fourth man in Vietnam with Bob and Dan and Max. Peggy knew the sheriff had recently been in contact with him. The colonel had been cleared in Max’s murder, at least as far as Davis was concerned, but her husband obviously had doubts. While Bob and the other two were eager to be discharged, back in the early seventies, Samuels had stayed in the Army and risen through the ranks.
“At this point I don’t consider the colonel a suspect.”
“He’s some mucky-muck in Army Intelligence from what I hear,” Bob muttered, as if that should be motive enough.
“Who lives in the Washington D.C. area,” Sheriff Davis stated calmly. “I’ve had him checked out by a number of people. He’s highly respected. He’s been cooperative and willing to help in any way he can. Perhaps you should talk to him yourself, Bob.”
Her husband declined with a sharp shake of his head. Bob wanted as little to do with the past as possible. Coping with what had happened to Dan, who’d committed suicide, and to Max, had been hard enough. The less he had to think about the past, or its effect on the present, the better.
“Is Bob in danger?” Peggy asked bluntly. Her husband might prefer not to acknowledge the likelihood of a threat, but Peggy wanted a realistic assessment of their situation.
“I think he might be at risk,” the sheriff said quietly.
It wasn’t what Peggy had hoped to hear, but she was grateful for his frankness. They had to face the truth, however unpleasant, and take appropriate precautions.
“Nonsense,” Bob insisted. “If anyone wanted me dead, I’d be six feet under by now.”
Maybe, but Peggy wasn’t willing to take chances with her husband’s life.
“Why don’t we arrange an extended vacation?” she suggested. It’d been years since they’d been away from the bed-and-breakfast, and they could use a break.
“For how long?” Bob asked.
“Until the case is solved,” Peggy told him, pleading with her eyes. This wasn’t the time to put on a brave front-not in her opinion, anyway.
“No way.” Bob’s quick refusal shouldn’t have come as any surprise. He’d been quite content to live in denial. Denial and featherbeds! Someone had to point out the very real possibility that he was in danger and because he was, so was she.
“I’m not leaving Cedar Cove.”
“Now, Bob…”
“I won’t let anyone or anything drive me out of my own home.”
A chill shot up Peggy’s spine. “But-”
“No, Peg,” he said, and his face hardened with resolve. “How long are we supposed to stay away? One month? Two?” He paused. “More than that?”
It wasn’t a question Troy could answer.
“Max was found dead over a year ago. I was supposedly in danger then, right?”
Sheriff Davis exchanged a concerned look with Peggy. “I understand what you’re saying, but we didn’t know then what we know now.”
“I’m not running! I spent half my life running, and I won’t do it again. If somebody wants me dead, then so be it.”
Peggy gasped.
“I’m sorry, honey,” her husband said, stretching his arm across the table to clasp her fingers with his. “I refuse to live like that, looking over my shoulder all the time.”
“Then perhaps you could compromise,” Davis said. “There’s no need to invite someone into your home who might want to harm you.”
“What do you mean?” Bob leaned closer, his stomach pressed against the rounded edge of the pinewood table. Peggy realized that despite his defiant words he was afraid. His body language revealed what he was unwilling to admit.
“I don’t know how many reservations you have for the B and B, but I’d advise you to not take any more.”
“We can easily cancel the ones we have,” Peggy murmured. Any number of businesses in town would welcome the additional bookings.
Bob directed his gaze at Peggy. “Would that make you more comfortable?”
She swallowed and nodded.
Bob continued to look unsure, as if even this one concession was more than he felt inclined to make.
“I’ve been worried ever since Jack and Olivia’s wedding,” she whispered.
A week earlier, Bob had stood up as Jack Griffin’s best man. That was just a day or two before they’d learned Max Russell had been murdered.
“All right.” Bob’s voice was heavy with reluctance. “We’ll cancel the reservations.”
“No guests,” Peggy said.
“No guests,” he confirmed, “until this matter is settled once and for all.”
This was going to hurt financially, but it didn’t matter. What did matter was having the reassurance that her husband was safe.
“I’ll do what I can to solve this quickly,” Troy promised them.
Peggy could only wonder how long that would take.
Chapter Two
Cecilia Randall stood on the Navy pier and watched the aircraft carrier George Washington sail into Sinclair Inlet. After six months serving in the Persian Gulf, her husband, Ian, was finally home. Cecilia had often heard people talk about hearts swelling and dismissed the expression as exaggerated, sentimental. Now she knew what it meant, how it felt. Her heart swelled with love, pride and patriotism as the massive ship headed toward Bremerton.
The other Navy wives and hordes of friends and family crowded the pier. Colorful banners waved in the wind, along with Welcome Home signs. News helicopters from the Seattle television stations circled the area, taping the event for the five-o’clock broadcast. The joy and excitement around her was infectious, despite the dreary, cloudy day. Even the lead-gray skies and the threat of imminent rain didn’t dampen Cecilia’s mood. A band played in the background, and the American flag rippled in the breeze. It could have been a Norman Rockwell painting.
Cecilia’s dearest friends, two other Navy wives, Cathy Lackey and Carol Greendale, stood with her, each holding a toddler against her hip while madly waving. Cecilia hoped that before long she’d be a mother again herself.
“I think I see Andrew,” Cathy cried. She screeched with happiness and waved one arm wildly above her head. Then she pointed his daddy out to her young son.
Three thousand sailors, dressed in white Navy uniforms, stood along the rail, feet apart, hands behind their backs, as they lined the perimeter of the flight deck. At this distance it was impossible for Cecilia to find Ian. The wind whipped at her face and she shouted and waved. Perhaps Ian would see her.
“Take Amanda,” Carol said, heaving her three-year-old daughter toward Cecilia.
She gladly held the toddler. There’d been a time when even looking at this little girl brought her pain. Allison, Ian’s and her baby daughter, was born the same week as Amanda. Had she lived, Allison, too, would’ve been three years old. But she’d died after clinging to life for only a few days. Her death had ripped the marriage apart. If not for a wise family court judge who ignored convention and denied their divorce, they might have ended up like so many other sad marriage statistics.
“Ian, over here,” Cecilia shouted, as she thrust one arm high above her head. “Do you see your daddy?” she asked Amanda.
The little girl’s arms were tight around Cecilia’s neck, and she buried her face in Cecilia’s shoulder.
“There’s Daddy, there’s Daddy,” Carol said, pointing to the aircraft carrier.
Amanda looked up then, smiling, and Carol reached for her daughter again.
An eternity passed before the gangplank was lowered and the sailors disembarked, carrying their duffel bags. Soon there were reunions everywhere. Cathy spotted Andrew and ran toward her husband, weeping with happiness.
Cecilia searched frantically for Ian. Then she saw him, tall and fit and tan, his dark hair visible beneath his white Navy cap. The breath left her lungs at the sight of him and she burst into tears of joy.
Not a minute later, Cecilia was caught up in her husband’s arms. They clung to each other, tears still clouding her eyes as Ian brought his mouth to hers.
Their kiss was slow, sensual and filled with six months of longing and need. By the time they’d finished, Cecilia was weak and breathless. Ian was home; her world was complete once again. The universe could have dissolved around her and she wouldn’t have cared.
“I’ve missed you like crazy,” she whispered, holding on to him, her fingers massaging the nape of his neck. There was so much to say, so much that was in her heart. None of it mattered right then, however. All she cared about was the feel of Ian’s arms around her and the knowledge that he was home and safe and hers, if only on loan from the United States Navy.
“Oh, sweetheart, this has been the longest six months of my life.” He continued to hold her tight against him. Cecilia closed her eyes and savored this moment she’d been waiting for.
Ian had three days of shore leave and Cecilia planned to make full use of every one of them. The days-and the nights. His return couldn’t have been better planned. As far as she could tell, these next few days were her fertile period.
With his duffel bag over his shoulder, Ian reached for her hand as they walked toward the parking area. Apparently she still wasn’t close enough to suit him because he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her to his side. He smiled and his love washed over her like…like warm sunshine. That was all she could compare it to, the life-giving warmth so absent today. A light drizzle had begun and they walked a little faster, still gazing at each other.
“I love you,” she mouthed.
“I can hardly wait to show you how much I love you.” Then, as if the question had only now occurred to him, he asked, “You don’t have to go back to work, do you?”
She toyed with the idea of letting him worry, but couldn’t make herself do it. “As a matter of fact, Mr. Cox gave me all three days off.” She handed Ian the car keys, and he promptly unlocked their vehicle.
“I like your boss more and more.”
Cecilia did, too, especially now that Mr. and Mrs. Cox had remarried. The office became a much more relaxed place once the couple reunited. But it wasn’t the Coxes on Cecilia’s mind as Ian drove to their duplex. They met each other’s eyes frequently but didn’t speak much. Ten minutes later they were home.
“Did you bring back everything I sent you?” Cecilia asked in a husky voice when Ian parked in their assigned spot. They’d moved into military housing just before his most recent deployment, when a unit became available.
“That was very sadistic of you, wife,” Ian said, his eyebrows drawing together.
Had she not known him so well, Cecilia might think he hadn’t been amused by her small prank. The gleam in his eyes told her otherwise. For each of the last three weeks before he was due home, Cecilia had sent him one piece of a sheer negligee outfit. With the last piece, she’d included a note that promised she’d wear it for him when he got back. In his last e-mail to her, she could almost hear him panting.
“I hope you realize you’ve created a monster with that little trick of yours.”
“A monster I’m eager to tame,” she whispered, leaning over to kiss him.
“Oh, honey…” He broke off the kiss. “Let’s get inside-fast.”
“Aye, aye,” she said dreamily, saluting him.
Ian slid out the driver’s side and dashed around the front of the car. He opened the passenger door, helped her out and grabbed his duffel bag from the back. Giggling with excitement, they ran through the light rain toward their duplex. Ian was all thumbs as he struggled to unlock their door.
Cecilia had cleaned the place until it sparkled. The sheets on their bed were fresh and turned down, the bedroom shades drawn. After six months of separation she’d known they wouldn’t want to wait to make love.
As soon as they got inside, Ian dropped his duffel and reached out for her. Cecilia came willingly, throwing her arms around his neck. He hoisted her up and headed directly for the bedroom. The second they cleared the door, Ian kissed her again, his mouth open and moist, moving urgently against hers.
He released her and immediately started undressing.
“You want me to put on that black nightie for you?” she asked.
“Next time,” Ian said, his breathing shallow as he sat on the bed and quickly removed his shoes.
“One more thing…”
He gave her a questioning glance.
She knelt behind him on the bed and rested her chin on his bare shoulder. “I think there’s something you should know.”
“It can’t wait?”
“Well, it could, but I figure this is something you might want to know.”
“What?” he growled, turning toward her. He grabbed her around the waist, and his dark eyes bore into hers.
Cecilia smiled at her husband, smoothing her hands down his muscular shoulders, loving the feel of him. “I’m thinking this afternoon would be a wonderful time to make a baby.”
Ian’s eyes flared briefly. “I thought you were on the pill.”
Her smile broadened as she slowly shook her head. “Not anymore. I tossed them into the garbage six months ago.”
He frowned.
“With you at sea, there wasn’t any need for me to be on birth control. Besides-”
“You didn’t start again when you knew I was coming home?”
“Nope.”
“But-but you knew when I was due back.”
“I did…and I’ve been greatly anticipating your homecoming,” she purred.
“But, sweetheart, you never said a word! I don’t have anything to protect you from pregnancy.”
“Who says I want protection? What I want, sailor man,” she whispered, “is a baby.”
Ian went completely still.
“Ian?”
Her husband straightened, sitting on the side of the bed with his back to her. “Don’t you think this is something we should’ve discussed first?”
“We’re…we’re discussing it now.”
“At the last possible moment.”
“You don’t want a baby?”
Ian stood then and faced her. His shoulders were bare and his pants half unzipped. He rubbed his hand over his eyes as if her question had overwhelmed him. “I do want children, but not yet.”
“I thought-”
“It’s too soon, sweetheart.”
“It’s been three years.” Her desire for a child had grown progressively stronger in the months Ian had been at sea. It made sense to complete her schooling before getting pregnant again, but she’d done that and found a wonderful job. “I’m ready, Ian.”
His shoulders sagged. “I’m not…I can’t risk getting you pregnant.” He zipped his pants and picked up his shirt, yanking it on and shoving his arms into the sleeves. He fastened the buttons with record speed and scooped the car keys from the dresser.
Cecilia bit her lip. He was right; she should’ve mentioned it earlier. They’d communicated almost daily via e-mail, and phone calls whenever possible. There’d been ample opportunity to discuss the matter long before his arrival home.
Ian walked out of the bedroom, then turned back at the door. “Stay right there,” he said, pointing in her direction.
“Where are you going?”
His laugh was weak with impatience. “To the drugstore. Stay where you are, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”
It felt as if the sun had disappeared behind a dark cloud.
Perhaps, deep down, Cecilia had known this would be Ian’s reaction. Her husband was afraid of another pregnancy, afraid of what it would do to her physically and what it might do to them as a couple.
Cecilia understood why he felt that way because she’d faced those same fears herself. She’d believed-or wanted to believe-that Ian, too, had moved past them. Apparently she’d been wrong.
