16 Lighthouse Road. Debbie Macomber

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Well, hello there,” Charlotte Jefferson said as she peeked inside the small private room at Cedar Cove Convalescent Center. “I understand you’re a new arrival.”

      The elderly, white-haired gentleman slouched forward in his wheelchair, staring at her with clouded brown eyes. Despite the ravages of illness and age—he was in his nineties, she’d learned—she could see he’d once been a handsome man. The classic bone structure was unmistakable.

      “You don’t need to worry about answering,” she told him. “I know you’re a stroke patient. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Charlotte Jefferson. I stopped by to see if there’s anything I can do for you.”

      He raised his gaze to hers and slowly, as though with great effort, shook his head.

      “You don’t have to tell me your name. I read it outside the door. You’re Thomas Harding.” She paused. “Janet Lester—the social worker here—mentioned you a few days ago. I’ve always been fond of the name Thomas,” she chattered on. “I imagine your friends call you Tom.”

      A weak smile told her she was right.

      “That’s what I thought.” Charlotte didn’t mean to be pushy, but she knew how lonely it must feel to come to a strange town and not know a single, solitary soul. “One of my dearest friends was here for years, and I came to visit with her every Thursday. It got to be such a habit that after Barbara went to be with the Lord, I just continued. Last week, Janet told me you’d just arrived. So I decided to come over today and introduce myself.”

      He tried to move his right hand, without success.

      “Is there something I can get you?” she asked, wanting to be helpful.

      He shook his head again, then with a shaky index finger pointed at the chair across from him.

      “Ah, I understand. You’re asking me to sit down.”

      He managed a grin, lopsided though it was.

      “Well, don’t mind if I do. These dogs are barking.” She sat in the chair he’d indicated and removed her right pump in order to rub some feeling back into her toes.

      Tom watched her, his eyes keen with interest.

      “I suppose you’d like to know a little something about Cedar Cove. Well, I don’t blame you, poor man. Thank goodness you got transferred here. Janet said you’d requested Cedar Cove in the first place, but got sent to that facility in Seattle instead. I heard about what happened there. All I can say is it’s a crying shame.” According to Janet, Tom’s previous facility had been closed down for a number of serious violations. The patients, most of whom were wards of the state, were assigned to a variety of care units across Washington.

      “I’m so glad you’re here in Cedar Cove—it’s a delightful little town, Tom,” she said, purposely using his name. She wanted him to feel acknowledged. He’d spent time in a substandard facility where he’d been treated without dignity or compassion. In fact, Janet had told her the staff there had been particularly neglectful. Charlotte was shocked to hear that; she found it incomprehensible. Imagine being cruel to a vulnerable person like Tom! Imagine ignoring him, leaving him to lie in a dirty bed, never talking to him…. “I see you’ve got a view of the marina from here,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “We’re proud of our waterfront. During the summer there’s a wonderful little festival, and of course the Farmer’s Market fills the parking lot next to the library on Saturdays. Every so often, fishing boats dock at the pier and sell their wares. I swear to you, Tom, there’s nothing better than Hood Canal shrimp bought fresh off the boat.”

      She hesitated, but Tom seemed to be listening, so she went on.

      “Okay, let’s see what I can tell you about Cedar Cove,” she said, hardly knowing where to start. “This is a small town. Last census, I believe we totaled not quite five thousand. My husband, Clyde, and I both came from the Yakima area, in the eastern part of the state and we moved here after World War II. Back then, Cedar Cove had the only stoplight in the entire county. That was fifty years ago now.” Fifty years. How could all that time have slipped away?

      “Cedar Cove has changed in some ways, but it’s stayed the same in others,” she said. “A lot of people around here are employed by the Bremerton shipyard, just like they were in the forties. And naturally the Navy has a real impact on the town’s economy.”

      Tom must have guessed as much, with the Bremerton Naval shipyard on the other side of the cove. Huge aircraft carriers lined the waterfront; so did rows of diesel-powered submarines. The nuclear ones were stationed at the submarine base out in Bangor. On overcast days, the gray flotilla blended with the slate colors of the sky.

      Tom jerkily placed his right hand over his heart.

      “You served in the military?” she asked.

      The older man’s nod was barely perceptible.

      “God bless you,” Charlotte said. “There’s all that talk about us being the greatest generation, living through the depression and the war, and you know what? They’re right. Young people these days don’t know what it means to sacrifice. They’ve had it far too easy, but then, that’s just my opinion.”

      Tom’s eyes widened, and Charlotte could tell he agreed with her.

      Not wanting to get sidetracked, she paused, gnawing on her lower lip. “Now, what else can I tell you?” she murmured. “Well, for one thing, we’re big on sports in Cedar Cove. Friday nights in the fall, half the town shows up for the high-school football games. This time of year, it’s basketball. Two years ago, the softball team took the state championship. My oldest grandson—” She hesitated and looked away, sorry she’d followed this train of thought. “Jordan showed real promise as a baseball player, but he drowned fifteen years ago.” She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to mention Jordan and wished that she hadn’t. A familiar sadness lodged in her heart. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over his death.”

      Tom, feeble as he was, leaned toward her, as though to rest his hand on hers.

      It was a touching gesture. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to talk about this. My daughter lives in Cedar Cove,” she continued, forcing a cheerful note into her voice. “She’s a judge—Judge Olivia Lockhart—and I’m proud as can be of her. When she was a little girl, Olivia was a skinny little thing. She grew up tall, though. Very striking. She’s in her early fifties now, and she still turns heads. It’s the way she carries herself. Just looking at her, people know she’s someone important. That’s my daughter, the judge, but to me she’ll always be my little brown-eyed girl. I get a lot of joy out of sitting in her courtroom while she’s presiding.” She shook her head. “Here I am talking about myself instead of Cedar Cove.” If she’d had questions to answer, Charlotte would’ve found this easier; unfortunately, it wasn’t possible for Tom to ask.

      “We’re only a ferry ride away from Seattle, but we’re a rural community. I live in the town proper, but plenty of folks have chickens and horses. Of course, that’s outside the city limits.”

      Tom nodded in her direction.

      “You’re asking about me?”

      His answering smile told her she’d guessed right.

      Charlotte smiled, a bit flustered. СКАЧАТЬ