44 Cranberry Point by Debbie Macomber
“You heard?” Peggy asked softly.
The young woman nodded. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to leave out the milk.”
Peggy tried to reassure her with a smile. “I know you didn’t.”
“I’ll pick up another half gallon before I leave for work this afternoon.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Peggy gestured for Hannah to sit across from her. The girl looked shaken and Peggy hoped to comfort her.
“Did you sleep well?” Peggy asked.
Hannah’s nod was tentative. “My dad used to yell, too.”
The last thing Hannah needed was for Bob to do the same. “Bob didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I…know. It’s just that when I hear a man yell, especially one who’s around my dad’s age, it…affects me, you know?”
“Of course it does.” Peggy’s irritation with her husband rose.
“My father was an unhappy person most of my life.”
Hannah rarely mentioned her father. Peggy didn’t know whether that was because of her grief at his death or because her memories of his accident were too painful to talk about.
“Sometimes at night, when I was a little girl, I’d wake up to the sound of my father shouting.”
Peggy felt a moment’s shock-and a rush of pity for Hannah. Having lived with an alcoholic for years, she wondered if Max Russell drank, too. “Did your father have a drinking problem?”
Hannah shook her head. “Sometimes he drank too much, but it wasn’t a problem. Not a bad one, anyway. Some days he was mean for no reason. He used to shout at Mom and me for the littlest things.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He wasn’t a bad person, you know. I really loved my dad.”
“Of course you did.” Peggy wondered if Hannah fully understood what her father had experienced during the war.
“My mom stood by him through all the times we had to move and all the fights.” Tears filled her eyes. “It’s so wrong that she died, so wrong.”
“You moved around a lot?”
Hannah needed a minute to compose herself. She swallowed visibly. “Dad was never able to hold down a job for long. He’d be fine for a while, and then he’d drift into this…dark place.”
“Dark place?”
“That’s what Mom called it. He’d be happy, and suddenly it would be like someone had turned off the lights. I could always tell when it happened. So could Mom. She’d ask me to go to my room and I would because I knew what was going to follow.”
“What was that?” Peggy asked.
Hannah was silent for several minutes. “Nothing pleased him. The napkins had to be put on the table just so or he’d throw them on the floor. Dinners were a nightmare. Mom always did something wrong. The meat was tough, the vegetables were overcooked, the milk was too cold. Either the silverware wasn’t properly lined up or the saltshaker wasn’t full enough. Everything had to be perfect for Dad. Hard as she tried to please him, it was impossible. Dad found fault with the smallest thing.”
This was much worse than Peggy had realized.
“We moved at least once a year. Dad would sometimes use other names, and I had to remember what my name was because he’d change it.”
“Your dad used other names?”
Hannah’s head snapped up. Her eyes widened. “I never told the sheriff that. Please don’t mention it, all right? Dad hadn’t done it in a long time and I was afraid that if Sheriff Davis found out, he’d think my dad was a criminal or something.”
Peggy sighed, but she managed to swallow the exasperated response that sprang to her lips. It would’ve helped had the girl revealed this earlier. Apparently, there was still a great deal they didn’t know about Maxwell Russell-including why he’d come to Cedar Cove. A chill raced down her spine. They’d been on edge ever since the night someone had followed Bob home, although nothing had happened since.
“My mother was a saint,” Hannah whispered.
“She put up with your father’s moods all those years?”
Hannah nodded. “Sometimes I’d find her sitting on her bed reading his letters. She said it helped her remember what he was like before the war.”
Peggy understood why Tammy Russell had done that. Why she’d kept on hoping, and supporting her husband and-worst of all-putting up with his verbal abuse. She’d still loved him and wanted him to become, once again, the person he used to be. No matter how hopeless that desire.
Peggy understood because she’d done something very similar. She, too, had held on to memories of the past, letting them form her hopes for the future. Before joining Al-Anon, Peggy had tried to manipulate Bob into not drinking. She’d used pressure, guilt, punishment, anger and every other behavior she could think of. None of it had worked until she’d stepped aside, forcing Bob to deal with the consequences of his drinking. But through it all, Peggy had stood by her husband, just like Hannah’s mother.
“Dad was in one of his dark moods when the car accident happened,” Hannah whispered. “I wanted Mom to leave him, but she wouldn’t. I had a job…I could have supported the two of us, but she wouldn’t do it.”
“Oh, Hannah, I’m so sorry.”
“I am, too…Mom wasn’t supposed to be in the car with him that day. But he was so angry and unreasonable and he demanded that she go with him and then he had the accident-and Mom was killed.” Weeping openly now, she covered her face with both hands.
Peggy came out of her chair and wrapped her arms around Hannah’s shoulders, murmuring soft, meaningless words of comfort.
“If only Mom hadn’t gone that day, she’d be alive now.”
“I know, I know,” Peggy said.
“Dad was hurt so badly in the fire and Mom…didn’t have a chance. I wanted to die then, too…but the accident changed Dad.”
“In what way?”
Hannah lifted her head and rubbed the sleeve of her robe over her eyes. “He was calmer, less angry afterward.”
“So he was easier to deal with?”
Hannah nodded. “I think Mom’s death was what did it. He was lost without her. He went through so much pain, you know, and all the surgery, and…and for the first time in my life, I felt I had a father. He talked to me and called me his little girl and said he loved me. And then…and then he was murdered.” She sniffled once.
Peggy could imagine what life had been like for Hannah. Until his accident, Maxwell Russell was a harsh, bitter man who often took his anger out on his wife and daughter. It was little wonder that Hannah vacillated between grief and guilt over the death of her father.
Chapter Thirty
Grace checked her watch for the third time in two minutes and used a deep-breathing method to calm her pounding heart. Cliff would be joining her at The Lighthouse any moment now and she was as nervous as if she were fifteen again, going out with a boy for the first time.
Tonight was their dinner date, the one Jack and Olivia, Charlotte, Maryellen, Jon, Kelly and Paul had bought at the Dog and Bachelor Auction. Her friends and family had forked out a whopping eight hundred dollars to arrange this, and Grace was determined to enjoy it. If only she could calm her nerves.
She smiled as she thought of Justine’s equally expensive new dog, a golden retriever like her own Buttercup. According to Olivia, the whole family adored Sadie.
And speaking of Olivia…Grace had arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes early in order to escape her best friend.
Olivia had spent half the afternoon with her, discussing every detail of Grace’s outfit, hair and makeup. Anyone might think Grace was entering a beauty pageant or attending the Academy Awards! Olivia’s interest was well-intentioned, but Grace had reached her limit, so she’d left the house early and gone straight to the restaurant.
When Cliff did appear, it was all Grace could do not to jump up from her chair. Swallowing suddenly became difficult. Cliff saw her then and walked across the room, his steps slow and measured, as if he felt resigned to this evening but not pleased.
“I should be the one thanking you,” he said as he pulled out his chair. “It’s good for my ego.” He paused, apparently reconsidering his comment. “Now that I think about it, wasn’t it Olivia who placed the bid?”
Grace nodded. No one had paid more for a bachelor; Cliff should feel flattered by that. “Justine and Seth love the dog, and apparently Leif’s quite taken with her, too.”
Cliff smiled at the mention of the dog. She smiled back, more naturally this time. Cliff couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her, which made her heart beat faster. Cliff looked more attractive than ever, and she gazed at him avidly. She saw him so seldom these days and when she did, it was a painful reminder of what might have been.
“How are you?” he asked, his voice low.
This wasn’t a casual question; she sensed that the moment the words left his lips. He wanted the truth.
“Lonely.”
Cliff lowered his eyes, although she’d noticed the worried expression he tried to hide.
His silence unsettled her, so she hurried to fill it. “I have a kitten now.” She offered this information eagerly, not just to appease his concern about her loneliness but because she knew he’d be interested. “I got him at the Farmers’ Market a month ago. I was doing one of my volunteer stints, and he was the last one left. I named him Sherlock because he’s constantly digging into things.”
Cliff grinned boyishly and his worried look fled. “What does Buttercup think of him?”
“Actually she’s happy to have the company. The two of them sleep together. I have pictures.” She reached for her purse and pulled out several photos of her animals, as well as her grandchildren.
“Sherlock,” Cliff murmured as he studied the first photograph. “The name suits him.”
“I thought so, too,” Grace said. “The others are of Tyler and Katie. I refuse to let you escape without updating you on my grandchildren.”
His grin deepened. “I just happened to bring a picture of April.” He slid one hand into his inside pocket and brought out a photograph.
The waitress came for their drink order, and Cliff suggested a bottle of Washington State Chardonnay. Grace nodded at his choice.
She stared at the picture of Cliff’s daughter and granddaughter. She’d met Lisa last Thanksgiving, when they’d flown to Maryland to be with his family. Cliff and his daughter were especially close.
After exchanging photographs, Grace looked at him. “And you?” she asked. “How are you, Cliff?”
“Busy.” He didn’t respond seriously the way she had; his reply was flippant.
She dropped her eyes in an effort to recover. In one word, he’d let her know she wasn’t allowed access to his world anymore. Despite his earlier sincerity, that brief glimpse of caring and concern, this dinner wasn’t going to change anything. Olivia and her daughters might as well have saved their money.
Grace’s spirits plummeted.
The waitress returned with their wine, uncorked it and poured a sample for Cliff to approve. After the tasting ritual and the pouring, she took their dinner order.
“I’m off to Texas to buy a horse next week,” Cliff said as if it was now his turn to fill the ensuing silence. “I hope so, anyway. I’ve had my eye on a particular quarter horse stud for quite some time.” He continued talking about the qualities that made this horse important to him. Most of what he said was beyond Grace’s slim knowledge of breeding and horses, but she listened attentively.
“Well, I hope your trip is successful,” she said when he’d finished.
Silence again. Their whole evening seemed destined to crawl from one awkward silence to another.
“I feel I can leave the ranch now that I have Cal,” he added.
“How is Cal?” she asked. Their conversations never used to be stilted like this. They always had a million things to say to each other, sharing pieces of their lives. Except for what she hadn’t shared-her Internet romance with Will Jefferson. Would she never be forgiven for that?
Cliff started to chuckle, and she glanced up.
“What?” Grace smiled, too, although she didn’t know why.
“The Dog and Bachelor Auction,” he said. “Do you remember that Corrie McAfee bid on him for her daughter?”
“Oh-yes.” She’d found it difficult to keep track of which bachelor had gone to whom, although she’d received personal satisfaction from Stan Lockhart’s fate. She noticed he hadn’t been around town as much lately and in Grace’s opinion, that was a good thing.
“Did you read in the paper that thanks to Charlotte and Ben, the town’s worked out a deal with Puget Sound Medical and Dental to set up a clinic?”
“Speaking of Ben…” Grace closed her mouth.
“What about him?”
She shook her head, angry with herself. “Nothing…It’s just that Olivia is worried about her mother and Ben.”
“Why?”
“Well, no one ever heard of him until recently.”
“No one had ever heard of me, either,” Cliff reminded her.
“But you aren’t dating a judge’s mother. In her line of work, Olivia has reason to be suspicious-but I’m sure nothing will turn up.”
Cliff picked up his water glass. “Nothing will turn up where?”
In her uneasiness, Grace had already said more than she’d intended. “Forget I said that.” She hoped he’d simply put this conversation out of his mind.
No such luck. “Olivia’s having a background check done on Ben?” he asked bluntly.
Grace felt dreadful, but she couldn’t lie to Cliff again. “Yes. Please don’t say anything.”
“You think I’d tell Charlotte this?”
That made her feel even worse, since Charlotte and Cliff were friends. “No…Cliff, please, I should never have said anything.”
He hesitated, then agreed with a shrug. “All right.”
“I heard Linnette McAfee’s been hired to work at the clinic.” It was an obvious change of topic, but he accepted it readily enough and she sighed with relief.
“That’s what I understand.”
“Since Linnette’s moving to town, maybe she’ll have a chance to get to know Cal.” She gestured vaguely. “More than she could on just a dinner date.”
“Cal’s a good man,” Cliff said casually. “I think getting out more will do him a world of good.”
“I like him,” Grace said although her contact with Cliff’s trainer had been limited to a few short conversations. His shyness and stuttering made communication difficult. Instinctively, she wanted to finish his sentences, to spare him the embarrassment of stammering. But on honest reflection, she supposed her impulse to help had as much to do with her own discomfort as with any perceptions of his.
“He likes you, too.”
Instantly Grace’s heart lightened.
The waitress approached the table with their first course, shrimp bisque for Grace and Caesar salad for Cliff.
“How are Maryellen and Jon?” he asked as he set down his wineglass.
“Happy and deeply in love.” In that instant, Grace wished she could withdraw the words. Talking about love was painful; under different circumstances, those words could have referred to them. “They hope to have another child,” she said after a pause.
“What about Kelly and Paul?”
Grace sighed. “Kelly still isn’t pregnant and she’s starting to get worried.”
“I’m sure there’s no cause for concern.”
Grace agreed, and they lapsed into silence again.
The waitress returned to collect their first-course dishes and bring their entrées. She also refilled their wine. Grace took her first taste of sole topped with a creamy shrimp sauce, and Cliff cut into his prime rib. They both made enthusiastic noises about the excellence of the food.
By the time they’d finish
After dinner, Grace drove home, even more lonely and depressed. It was hard not to weep and to berate herself-and humbling to admit she’d failed yet again. Olivia and the girls had paid that money for one reason and one reason only. They’d hoped, as Grace had, that Cliff would have a change of heart. He hadn’t.
The phone rang at eight o’clock on Saturday morning. Grace was feeding her animals. Automatically she scooped up the receiver and held it to her ear while she doled out the dog and cat food.
“Well?” Olivia demanded. “How’d it go?”
Grace resisted the urge to break into tears. “We had a very nice dinner, but that’s it.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Olivia,” Grace said with an exaggerated sigh. “I was there. I might as well have had dinner with a statue.” She switched the phone to her other ear. “The closest I got to seeing the old Cliff was when he showed me a picture of Lisa and her little girl.”
“Give him time.”
“No.” Grace was surprised by the strength of her conviction. “I’m not going to grovel. I made a mistake. I’m sorry. If Cliff Harding can’t get past that, then it’s his problem, not mine.”
Olivia was silent for a long moment. “Grace is that really you?” she finally asked.
“Of course it’s me.”
“You sound so…emotionally healthy.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“I do,” Olivia assured her.
Obviously Cliff had chosen to get on with his life-minus Grace. She would let him and at the same time get on with hers.
With a renewed sense of vigor, she weeded and watered her small garden.
At noon, a florist’s delivery van parked outside her house. Pulling off her garden gloves, Grace walked around front, wondering if the driver had mistaken the address.
“Ms. Grace Sherman?” The deliveryman held a beautiful bouquet of roses, carnations and irises in a variety of pastel shades.