Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
her a jalapeño.
She shook her head vigorously. “I’m glad you made the move, too.”
Very glad!
In the wee hours of Sunday morning, Cecilia poured herself a soothing glass of milk and sat at the small table in her tiny kitchen. She rested her bare legs on the second chair and leaned back, closing her eyes.
After a night on her feet, her toes throbbed. It’d been much worse when she was pregnant. She remembered how badly her ankles had swollen nearly every night. From the first, the pregnancy had been hard on her. She hoped subsequent pregnancies wouldn’t be as difficult, then realized there wouldn’t be any more. Never again did she plan to risk that kind of emotional pain.
She sipped the milk, hoping it would help her sleep. The John F. Reynolds had pulled back into the naval shipyard earlier in the day, just as predicted, leaving Cecilia to wonder if she’d hear from Ian.
Probably not. She was mentally reviewing the reasons they should stay away from each other when the phone rang.
Startled by the unexpectedness of it, Cecilia grabbed the receiver.
“Hello.”
Silence.
Great, a prank call. If she could afford caller ID, she would’ve phoned right back and given the pervert a piece of her mind.
“Hi.”
Ian.
She was too breathless to respond.
“I tried calling you earlier, but you weren’t home,” he said.
“I was at work.”
“I know. I thought of stopping by The Captain’s Galley, but I promised you I wouldn’t.”
She supposed he was letting her know he’d kept his word. “I just got home a little while ago.”
“That’s what I figured. I didn’t wake you or anything, did I?”
“No.”
“How are you?” he asked.
Cecilia could hear background traffic and supposed he was calling from a pay phone. “I’m okay.” Nothing had changed in the week since she’d seen him.
“You heard the John F. Reynolds had to turn back, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t mention that news had drifted into town on Wednesday—four days ago.
“I don’t know how long we’re going to be in port, but probably not long.” He paused, then added, “I’d like to see you. Would you be willing to meet?”
Cecilia squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t thinking clearly enough to answer him. Her heart leapt at the offer, but her head told her it would be a big mistake.
“I was at the college this week,” she told him, avoiding his question for the moment.
“Olympic College?”
“I signed up for two classes.”
“Cecilia, that’s great!” At least Ian was willing to encourage her, even if her father wasn’t. “What else is new?”
“I’ve been working in the bar on weekends, to help pay off the credit card bills.” And all the attorney-related expenses, too. “I got paid on Friday and since I’m current with everything, I thought I’d put the extra money in the bank.”
“Good idea.”
“That’s what I thought, until I went window shopping.” It’d been almost a year since she’d gotten anything new—a few maternity outfits she’d recently given to charity. Last week, the temptation to spend her extra cash had been overwhelming. The spring clothes looked so appealing. There were new books she wanted. Cosmetics. A gorgeous pair of shoes. She sighed. “Everything started calling my name.”
“So you decided if you were going to spend it, you’d make sure it was on something productive.”
Ian did know her. “Yes.”
“Good for you. When are your classes?”
“Early mornings, three days a week.” She was lucky to get in, since school had already started. The early classes meant she wasn’t going to have a lot of time for sleeping in. That was all right, though. The months after she’d buried Allison, all she’d done was sleep. She’d welcomed the oblivion it offered, the release from pain.
“Are you driving to school?”
Cecilia laughed. “Of course I am.”
“You don’t have the most reliable car.”
Her 1993 Ford Tempo had almost a hundred-and-fifty-thousand miles on it. “I’ll be fine,” she said, knowing she sounded defensive. “If I run into problems, I can always take the bus.” It wouldn’t be a short trip nor would it be convenient, but it was manageable.
Ian paused, as if silently debating with himself. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“You want to see me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Do I need a reason? You’re my wife.”
“We’re separated.”
“Don’t remind me,” he muttered.
Cecilia’s hand tightened around the receiver. “We didn’t speak for months. Remember? Why is it so important that we see each other now?”
“I have something I want to ask you,” he said.
“Ask me now.”
“No.” He was adamant about that. “I’d rather do it in person.”
“When?” She knew all these questions of hers were nothing more than a delaying tactic.
“Soon. Listen, Cecilia, I don’t know how long I’ll have before I’m deployed. I’ve got a proposition for you.” When she didn’t reply, he said, “Okay, okay, you’re right, we are separated, but you’re the one who wanted that.”
By the time he’d moved out of the apartment, Ian had been in full agreement. Now he’d decided to heap all the blame for the separation on her shoulders.
“Fine, you don’t want to see me,” he said shortly.
Cecilia sighed. “It isn’t that.” The truth of it was she did want to see him. More than anything.
“Then set the day and time.”
Cecilia closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her brow as she tried to think.
“Do you want my attorney to contact your attorney?” he asked.
“No!” she flared, angry he’d even suggest such a thing.
“Then tell me when I should come over.”
“You want to come here?” That put a whole new slant on the invitation.
“Fine, we can go somewhere else,” he said. “Anytime, anyplace. You just tell me. I’m not asking again, Cecilia.” His voice held an edge that hadn’t been there earlier.
“All right,” she whispered. “How about next week? Someplace in Bremerton? You choose.”
His relief was palpable, even over the phone. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
But it was, damn hard, and Ian knew it.
“When are you free to meet?” she asked, barely able to get the words out.
“I’ll let you know. All right? It depends on what’s happening with the John F. Reynolds, but it’ll be soon.”
This wasn’t