Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (135 page)

“It must've been a terrible time for you,” Beth said
sympathetically.

“The worst, but we made it through and I'm so grateful we
did.”

“I can imagine.”

“Some people are far too willing to give up on…” She let the
rest fade once she realized what she was about to say. Emily didn't want to
embarrass the divorced couple.

Kent moved closer to Beth. “I agree.”

“So do I,” Beth said, almost before the words had left Kent's
mouth.

They looked at each other, but the moment was broken by the
sharp peal of Kent's cell phone.

He answered it on the second ring, and although Emily couldn't
make out what was being said, the person calling him was clearly female—and
clearly upset.

“Yes, of course,” he said. “Yes, I know.” He closed his cell
with a snap. “I apologize, but I need to leave.”

He reached for his coat and, after a few words of farewell, was
out the door.

“I know it's none of my business, but who was that?” Dave asked
Beth.

“His…friend,” Beth said.

Emily looked at Dave just as he turned to look at her. So the
rumors of a female companion had been correct, and for some reason this woman
had stayed back at the B and B. There were more obstacles to a reconciliation
between Beth and her ex-husband than either of them had guessed.

Seventeen

“D
id you see the way Dad looked at Mom
during the service?” Bailey whispered to her sister in the darkened bedroom.
Sophie was in the twin bed next to hers. Although she'd turned out the lights
several minutes ago, Bailey was too excited to sleep.

“Yes, I know but—”

“They're falling in love all over again,” Bailey broke in. “I
can
feel
it.”

“Well, maybe, but…”

“But what?” Bailey muttered. Sometimes her sister could be
so…negative. Well, she refused to allow Sophie's skeptical remarks to dampen her
good feelings. For a time it seemed that everything they'd planned was about to
fall apart. Then, at the very last minute, their father had shown up at the
church…alone. It'd been perfect. Just perfect.

Bailey hadn't asked about Danielle and neither had Sophie.
Their dad had slipped into the pew next to Beth, and their mother had smiled
over at him and…

Oh, it'd been sheer bliss. Love radiated between them. If this
were a movie, a crescendo of music would have burst forth, and there would've
been joyful singing in the background. Actually, there
was
music, but it had come from the church choir. Still, the effect was
pretty satisfying.

“Can I talk now?” Sophie asked impatiently.

“Oh, all right.”

“I have a question.”

“Ask away.” Bailey sighed, suspecting that Sophie was going to
ruin Bailey's Christmas Eve by casting doubt on the likelihood of their parents
reuniting. Her father had introduced Danielle as a “friend.”
They
were the ones who'd made the assumption that she
was more than that.

“What about when Danielle phoned? Dad left in a mighty big
hurry after that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bailey admitted with more than a little
reluctance.

“He's still at Danielle's beck and call.”

“But we can't be sure of all the circumstances and—”

“There are no
buts
here,” Sophie
fumed. “I don't know what Dad sees in Danielle, but there's obviously
something.”

“Whatever it is, I trust Dad to do the right thing.” Bailey
rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Leave it to Sophie.... Now
she was worried again. Their father was smart—she hoped. Deep down, she couldn't
believe he was involved with Danielle. In fact, the more she thought about it,
the more certain she was. He might have brought Danielle with him, but from the
moment he arrived Kent only seemed interested in Beth. Danielle was far more
attached to her cell phone than she was to their father.

“Mark my words, Dad doesn't care about Danielle,” Bailey
insisted in a confident voice.

Sophie sighed loudly. “I wish I could believe that.”

“Maybe we should help him along.”

“Bailey, no!”

“No?”

“No,” she repeated. “If we step in now, it'll just complicate
everything. Dad has to do this on his own. Otherwise, we'll sabotage the whole
reconciliation.”

Bailey slowly absorbed her sister's words. Although Sophie was
younger—and not studying psychology—she could occasionally be really smart.
“Have you ever thought of going into diplomacy? You'd be great.”

“You think so?” Sophie loved getting compliments.

Well, everyone did, but her sister was so transparent. She made
no effort to hide how much she enjoyed hearing nice things about herself. Bailey
could almost see Sophie's self-congratulatory little smile.

“Trust me,” Bailey said, returning to the subject at hand. “Mom
and Dad are going to remarry. I can feel it.”

“Well…we can wish.”

“Oh, come on,” Bailey urged. “
Believe
it.”

“You really buy into that positive thinking idea, don't
you?”

“Yes,” Bailey concurred. “And you should, too.” In her opinion,
it would go a long way toward raising Sophie's spirits.

“I'll consider it,” Sophie said.

Pulling the sheet and blanket up over her shoulder, Bailey
shifted onto her right side, her back to her sister. Despite Sophie's pessimism,
Bailey believed with all her heart. She remembered the look her parents had
exchanged in church that night. The look of love, of regret and the promise of
reconciliation.

Tomorrow morning, when it was Christmas, the biggest and best
present wouldn't be under the tree. It would be the fact that her parents still
loved each other and wanted to remarry.

On Christmas Day, they'd finally acknowledge their feelings,
and the rest of their lives would begin.

Bailey was sure of it.

Eighteen

“M
erry Christmas,” Bruce Peyton whispered
as he drew Rachel into his arms.

Smiling, Rachel arched her back and yawned. “Is it morning
already?”

“It sure is. I've got coffee brewing and Jolene's up.”

Rachel turned her head to look at the clock. “Bruce, it isn't
even eight.” She could easily have slept another hour. Or two.

“I know, but Jolene's anxious to get to the presents.”

With some effort, Rachel sat up. She was noticeably pregnant
now and the baby was more active every day. Thankfully the worst of the morning
sickness had passed.

The pregnancy had been unplanned and Jolene, her
thirteen-year-old stepdaughter, hadn't yet adjusted to her father's remarriage
when she was forced to deal with the news about the baby. The marriage itself
had resulted in a difficult transition for the girl, but the pregnancy
complicated everything that much more.

Her relationship with Jolene had grown tense. The stress became
too much for Rachel and eventually she felt she had no choice but to move out of
the family home. Only recently—just weeks ago—had she returned.

The counseling sessions had helped a great deal and they were
learning to coexist and work together as a family. Rachel was excited about
spending Christmas with her husband and stepdaughter. She and Jolene had planned
the dinner menu together and they'd spent most of yesterday in the kitchen,
preparing vegetables and side dishes and dessert.

During the afternoon they'd also made a breakfast casserole to
put in the oven Christmas morning while they opened gifts. And Jolene had baked
her first cinnamon rolls from scratch. Rachel hadn't told her, but this was her
first experience, too. The rolls had turned out well, if Bruce's lavish praise
was anything to go by.

All the while, Poppy, their new dog, had lounged in the warm
kitchen, with occasional bursts of activity and escorted trips to the
backyard.

“Would you like tea in bed?” her husband asked her.

“I'd love some.”

“And I'd love to bring you some,” he said, grinning. “In fact,
I'll do anything. I'd stand on my head in the middle of the street in a
snowstorm if it meant you'd be with me every Christmas morning for the rest of
my life.” Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers. “Merry Christmas, my
beautiful wife.”

“Merry Christmas, my silly husband.”

“I'll be back in a minute with your tea.” Bruce kissed her
again, and then he was gone.

Rachel sat up in bed and rearranged her pillows. She held one
hand over her stomach, letting her unborn daughter know how much she was loved.
Next Christmas, this little one would be crawling around, eager to tear open
packages. Rachel closed her eyes, savoring the vision of all the wonderful
things the next year would hold.

Bruce returned with a steaming cup of tea, which he handed her
just as Jolene burst into the master bedroom, carrying Poppy.

“Rachel, you're awake, aren't you?”

“I'm getting there.”

“Hurry up,” the girl said, holding the puppy close to Rachel.
“There are gifts out there just waiting to be opened.”

“Okay, okay,” Rachel said, squinting as Poppy licked her face.
“Give me five minutes.”

“That long?” Jolene whined, and then laughed out loud, sounding
young and carefree.

“You're certainly in a good mood,” Bruce teased, hugging his
daughter.

“Daddy, it's Christmas. Everyone's in a good mood on Christmas
Day.”

If only that was true. Memories of her childhood drifted into
Rachel's mind. After her mother's death, she'd gone to live with an unmarried
aunt who'd seen Christmas as a commercial wasteland and refused to partake in
anything so frivolous. There'd been no tree, no presents. It was just like every
other day, except that Rachel didn't have to go to school.

She'd listened attentively as her friends told of their
wonderful holidays and longed for the time when she'd celebrate Christmas with a
family of her own. And here it was, unfolding right before her eyes.

Setting her mug aside, she tossed back the covers and slid out
of bed. “Did someone say something about presents?” she asked.

Jolene placed Poppy on the floor, grabbed Rachel's hand and led
her into the living room. “I put the casserole in the oven.”

“Great. Did you preheat it to three hundred and fifty degrees
first?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You're going to be a terrific cook.”

“I already am,” Jolene said. “I made dinner the whole time you
were gone and I did a good job, didn't I, Dad?”

“Yup.” Bruce joined Rachel on the sofa. “Unfortunately, I
didn't have much of an appetite.”

Jolene sighed. “All he could think about was you and the
baby.”

“But Rachel's with us now, and that's what matters.”

“Hey,” Rachel said, “are we going to sit around all morning
discussing the past or are we going to open gifts?”

Her question got the desired results. “Open gifts!” Jolene said
with renewed energy.

Rachel went back to the bedroom for her robe and tied it
loosely about her waist as she slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers.

Bruce had a nice fire going in the fireplace, and Poppy lay
stretched out in front of it, snuffling in her sleep. The radio was tuned to a
station that played Christmas music without any commercial interruptions. The
casserole was baking in the oven, and the scent of bacon and cheese wafted into
the room. This was as idyllic a picture as Rachel could ever have conjured up in
some blissful fantasy.

“Who gets to open a gift first?” she asked, settling onto the
sofa with her husband.

“I have to sort through them all before we open any,” Jolene
said. “I'll hand everything out and
then
we open
them. One at a time,” she ordered.

“Then get to it, girl,” Bruce said with a laugh, reaching for
Rachel's hand.

Jolene walked over to the lighted tree, which they'd just
finished decorating yesterday, and got down on all fours, rooting through the
gifts. She pulled one out and sat back, checking the name tag.

“This one's for Dad,” she said and, stretching forward, passed
it to Bruce.

He held the rectangular package close to his ear and shook it.
“Who's it from?”

“Rachel,” Jolene said. “Looks like a shirt to me.”

“Don't spoil the surprise.”

“Dad, it's obvious.” Jolene grinned from ear to ear.

She disappeared again, foraging under the tree.

“What are you looking for now?” Bruce asked, setting the box at
his feet.

“A special gift,” Jolene said, her voice muffled.

“Who's it for?”

“Rachel, from me.”

“Oh, I love getting gifts.” Rachel smiled at Bruce. Considering
the months of tension between her and Jolene, she was pleased that her
stepdaughter was so eager to give her presents. She leaned her head against her
husband's shoulder. This was what she'd always hoped Christmas would be like,
surrounded by people she loved and who loved her.

“Here it is,” Jolene announced, scooting out backward from
beneath the huge tree.

Rachel took the package from her. It was the size and shape of
a shoe box.

“Can Rachel open it now?” Jolene asked her father. “Even though
that's not the rules.”

“That's up to Rachel.”

Jolene looked at her, eyes dark and serious. “Will you,
Rach?”

“If you want me to.”

“I do.” She sat on the floor as she waited for Rachel to unwrap
her gift.