16 Lighthouse Road (Cedar Cove #1)

16 Lighthouse Road (Cedar Cove #1) Page 48

“The contractions are five minutes apart, and we’re on our way to the hospital.”

“I’ll meet you there. Do you want me to call Maryellen?”

“Thanks. She’s the next name on the list.”

After throwing on a pair of sweats, phoning Maryellen and making herself a cup of instant coffee, Grace was ready to head out the door in less than fifteen minutes.

“Buttercup!” She called her dog, needing to let her out in the backyard before she left.

The golden retriever ambled slowly out of the bedroom, obviously not pleased to have her sleep interrupted. “I’ll be back before you know it,” she promised, and then because she was just so excited, she announced loudly, “I’m about to become a grandma!”

Maryellen was at the hospital’s birthing center by the time Grace arrived. They met in the waiting area. Paul’s mother, Margaret, was there with her camera and cross-stitch project.

“I’ve been through this before,” she explained, settling down in a chair and taking out skeins of embroidery thread in various colors.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Maryellen muttered, cradling a cup of convenience-store coffee in her hands. “I haven’t been up this early since drill team in high school.” That comment was followed by a huge yawn.

“Where’re Paul and Kelly?”

“Back there.” Maryellen waved absently toward a set of double doors.

Grace was approaching the nurses’ station to ask for news when Paul appeared. “Kelly’s getting checked now to see how far she’s dilated. She’s doing great.”

“How about you?” Grace asked.

Paul nodded excitedly. “I’m ready for this.”

“He thinks he is,” Paul’s mother teased.

“Your life is going to change forever,” Grace told him.

“Believe me, I know that. Kelly and I very much want this baby.”

Before he left, Grace hugged her son-in-law, grateful to Paul. He’d been a wonderful help in the months since Dan’s disappearance. Grace knew he’d given Kelly unwavering comfort and support, as well as commonsense advice; she herself had leaned on him many times when something around the house needed fixing. Not once had he complained. She’d gradually become stronger, braver, more determined to get on with her life, but she didn’t think Kelly felt that kind of resolve yet—or resignation.

“How do you think Kelly’s going to deal with Dad not being here?” Maryellen asked, as if reading Grace’s thoughts.

Grace couldn’t answer that. Kelly had clung to the hope that her father would reappear as soon as her baby was born, absolutely refusing to accept that he’d abandon her at this crucial time.

“He isn’t coming,” Maryellen whispered, leaning forward. “Dad’s not going to walk through that door and there isn’t going to be a joyous reunion, is there?”

“Probably not,” Grace agreed. “Kelly will deal with it in her own way. Right now, though, she has enough to think about.”

“You’re telling me,” Maryellen muttered.

Grace leaned back in the hard plastic chair and closed her eyes, fighting off the urge to sleep. A part of her wanted to be with Kelly, but she also recognized that this special time was reserved for Paul and she didn’t want to intrude. Maryellen, long-divorced, had shown no interest in motherhood, nor had she revealed any desire to marry again. Grace sometimes wondered if Maryellen had put her emotional life on hold while concentrating on her professional life. Grace’s only concern was that Maryellen have no regrets about the choices she was making.

At seven-thirty, Kelly was ready to deliver. Paul brought them that update and then dashed out of the waiting room at lightning speed. Maryellen, Grace and Margaret gathered in the hallway outside the delivery room. Not long afterward, their tension was broken by the cry of an infant.

Paul appeared a few minutes later. “It’s a boy,” came his jubilant shout. “A boy!”

Grace didn’t know Margaret Kelso very well, but all of a sudden Maryellen and Grace were hugging Paul’s mother as if she were their closest friend. Tears of joy crept down Grace’s cheeks.

“Mother,” Maryellen chided. “Just look at you.”

“I have a right,” she laughed, wiping the tears from her face. “I’m a grandmother!”

At nine that morning, while Kelly slept, Grace sat in the rocking chair with this precious new life cradled lovingly in her arms. “Welcome, little Tyler Daniel Kelso,” she whispered, rocking gently. The commotion had died down. Margaret had taken her pictures and returned home to her husband. Maryellen had gone into the art gallery, refusing to allow a little thing like becoming an aunt—and getting hardly any sleep—to keep her away. Grace, however, was in no hurry to leave.

“Mom,” Kelly whispered from her bed. Grace glanced up to find her daughter watching her. “He’s so perfect, isn’t he?”

“Precious child.” Grace kissed Tyler’s forehead.

“You don’t mind that we named him after Dad, do you?”

Grace assured her she didn’t. “I don’t know where your father is,” she told her, “and there are no guarantees I ever will, but I’m sure of one thing. He loves you and he’d be very proud to know that little Tyler is his namesake.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I believe that with all my heart.”

“Thank you, Mom,” her daughter whispered, then closed her eyes.

Grace continued to rock her grandson, holding this much-loved child close to her heart. Dan was gone. His leaving had torn a gaping hole in her life. She’d lived with her husband’s disappearance all these months, struggling to find answers, knowing that might never happen. But just now, holding this grandchild, she felt as though none of that mattered.

In confronting her doubts and fears, Grace had learned something vital. Everything she needed for happiness lay deep within herself. Her grandson, this perfect little boy, gave her the inspiration and courage to go on. She wished her husband well, wherever he was, and whoever he was with. Then, eyes closed, Grace released Dan, mentally and emotionally. She was ready to let go even without the answers.

It wasn’t easy, but Justine couldn’t leave things as they were between her and Seth. She hadn’t seen him since that horrible night when Warren had confronted him at D.D.’s on the Cove. Never in all her life had she been so humiliated. She supposed she should be grateful because that night had opened her eyes to what she’d become.

Seth was back in town, although Justine didn’t know for how long. Realizing she’d lose her courage if she thought about this too much, Justine went over to the marina.

Seth was busy working on his boat, stripping paint. He seemed oblivious to her. Her footsteps were heavy with shame and dread as she walked down the dock toward him. She stood in front of his slot. Not sure what to do with her hands, she tucked them in the hip pockets of her jeans.

“Hello, Seth.”

He stopped his work and slowly turned to face her. His mouth was set and tight. “Hello, Justine.”

He didn’t seem receptive to her presence. But then, he didn’t have any reason to be. “I imagine you’re wondering what I’m doing here,” she mumbled.

“Not particularly.”

She ignored his lack of welcome. “I wanted to apologize for the other night.”

“No problem, it’s forgotten.” He returned to his task, as if everything had already been said. He certainly wasn’t eager to talk with her, which made this even more difficult than it already was.

“Do I…disgust you?” she asked.

He paused, glancing in her direction. “What I think of you or Warren shouldn’t concern you.”

“It does because…because, dammit, Seth—oh, never mind.” She bolted and got maybe half a dozen steps down the dock when she stopped abruptly. She had the horrible feeling that if she walked away from Seth now, she’d regret it for the rest of her life.

When she turned back, she was surprised to find he’d leapt onto the dock and was only a step or two behind her.

“You care what I think?” he demanded, his brow furrowed.

Her voice deserted her; she simply nodded.

“Fine, then hear me out.” Everything about him told her he was angry. His stance was confrontational, his fists clenched, his eyes narrow and hard. “You’re a fool if you marry Warren Saget, and I don’t suffer fools gladly.”

“I know.”

“You’re still going to marry him?”

“No,” she cried. “I broke it off with him that night.”

Seth’s head reared up. “You’re not seeing Warren anymore?”

“No.” She didn’t mention any of the things Warren had said and done to win her back, but there weren’t enough gifts in the world to accomplish that.

“I doubt he took the news sitting down.”

“He’s had trouble believing me, but he’ll accept my decision in time.” He wouldn’t have any choice.

“So what’s next?” Seth asked.

The answer was completely up to him, but Justine couldn’t tell him that, so she shrugged. A heartfelt shrug, conveying uncertainty…and hope.

“What did that mean?”

“What?” she asked innocently.

“That shrug.”

“I don’t know,” she said desperately. “I guess I’m just letting you know I’m here.”

He frowned. “Here?”

“You told me once that I should come to you when I broke it off with Warren—and well, I’m here.”

“I said that?”

“Close enough.”

“If you think I’m just going to—”

“Yes,” she interrupted.

“Then I’ve got news for—” He stopped. “What did you say?”

She squared her shoulders. “When? Just now? I said yes.”

“What was the question?”

“Well,” she said, exhaling slowly, “I didn’t quite give you time to ask, but what I said was yes. Meaning I’ll marry you.”

Her answer appeared to confuse him further. He stared at her for the longest moment and, still unsure of his reaction, Justine said nothing. He started toward her, then halted, then walked directly past her. He’d gone four or five feet before he turned back. “Are you coming or not?” he asked impatiently.

“Where are we going?”

“To get a marriage license.”

“Now?”

He smiled then, the most wonderful smile she’d ever seen. “I don’t believe in long engagements.”

Justine threw back her head and laughed. “As it happens, neither do I.”

The front door of 16 Lighthouse Road was open. Olivia sat out on the porch with her needlepoint in her lap, the portable phone at her side. The wicker rocking chair had been her mother’s and she loved spending summer evenings right here, enjoying the view and watching the sun set over the Olympics.