Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection (Books 1-12 & 2 Novellas). Debbie Macomber

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ took reassurance from her closeness.

      Arms still around each other, they walked back toward the waterfront. Jack wasn’t ready to leave. The day was glorious and his heart was full. His son’s life was on the right path now. He valued the months they’d had together, despite the irritations, which in retrospect seemed very minor.

      “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages,” Olivia complained.

      “And whose fault is that?” Jack enjoyed teasing her. With the mood between them so good, now might be the time to declare his feelings, but again he hesitated. He’d put it off for so long that whenever he thought about it, he experienced a feeling of panic.

      “As much as I loved having James and everyone at the house,” she was saying, “I’m grateful to have my own life back.”

      “I’m grateful to have you back,” he said. “I don’t want to sound selfish, but I missed you.”

      “I missed you, too.” She turned her head and her lips grazed his cheek.

      Jack’s heart accelerated. “You mean that?”

      Olivia laughed, the sound light and sweet. “Of course.” They continued to stroll arm in arm, oblivious to others around them. He loved having Olivia all to himself, and despite what he’d said, he didn’t feel the least bit selfish.

      “Stan’s confided something in me,” she suddenly told him.

      Jack frowned; the last person he wanted to discuss was her ex-husband. “Oh?” he said, doing his best to appear interested.

      “Apparently he and Marge are having problems.”

      Jack could understand that. The man was cagy. Okay, so Jack was prejudiced but he disliked Stan Lockhart, and with good reason. “He’s not getting a divorce, is he?”

      “I hope not.”

      “Me, too.” Alarm bells rang in Jack’s head. Bob had suggested Jack was making more of this ex-husband situation than warranted. His gut told him otherwise.

      “I’m worried about him,” Olivia went on to say.

      “Worried about Stan?” Jack made that sound like a waste of time. “He’s a big boy—he can take care of himself.”

      “Yes, I know he can, but this has really thrown him.”

      “Marital problems are never easy.” Jack strove to seem wise and mature, generous, too, in his assessment of the other man’s troubles. He didn’t wish Stan ill, but he wanted one thing made clear: Olivia was off-limits.

      “Poor Stan,” she murmured, shaking her head.

      Jack turned her into his arms. “If you want to feel sympathy for anyone, let it be me.”

      “You need my sympathy?”

      “Yes.” He grinned. “I twisted my ankle this morning and the pain is so bad.” He started to walk with an exaggerated limp.

      “Jack!” She broke away and slugged his shoulder. “You’re a fake if ever I saw one.”

      “Ouch.” He rubbed his upper arm. “That hurt.”

      “Good. It’s what you deserve.”

      “If you give Stan sympathy, then you have to give me some, too.”

      Olivia laughed. “It’s not a competition.”

      “Listen, I’m serious. It wouldn’t surprise me if Stan wanted you to help him through this.”

      “Jack, you’re being ridiculous.”

      “I don’t think so.” The playfulness left him and he shoved his hands deep inside his pockets. “What would you say if I confessed that I’ve fallen in love with you?” he asked.

      Olivia didn’t answer for a long while. Jack stopped walking and turned to study her. She looked at him steadily. “I’d say you sound like an insecure little boy and that you’re trying to score points in some imaginary contest with my ex-husband.”

      Jack clenched his jaw. “That’s what I thought.” Then, because he didn’t feel it would do any good to continue this conversation, he asked, “Are you ready to leave now?”

      “If you are.”

      “I am,” he said. In fact, he was more than ready.

      Grace dug the pitchfork into the soft earth and turned the sod. She hadn’t planted a garden in years. Where she’d once tended zucchini and tomatoes had long since been transformed into lawn. Cliff had offered to rototill the patch, and now she was digging up the turf so he could prepare the soil.

      Buttercup, who was busily chasing butterflies behind her, barked when Troy Davis’s patrol car turned into the driveway. Grace stood, removing her garden gloves before she walked over to the gate to greet him.

      “Hello, Troy,” she called.

      “Grace.” He touched the rim of his patrol cap. “You got a moment?”

      “Of course. Come inside.” Her stomach churned with anticipation. She wanted to ask if this visit had anything to do with Dan, but she’d already been through that earlier in the year. “Do you have another body you want me to look at?” she said, trying to make light of the incident.

      “Not this time.”

      “Coffee?” she asked.

      Troy shook his head and took a seat in the living room. “Sit down, Grace.”

      The seriousness of his tone told her something was terribly wrong. She sat nervously on the edge of the sofa cushion. “Is it Dan?”

      Troy nodded. “We got a report from a couple of hikers about a trailer up high in the woods.

      “Dan’s trailer? Is he there?”

      “Dan’s body is. He committed suicide.”

      Grace gasped and her breath froze in her lungs. For a long moment she couldn’t breathe. She should’ve been prepared for news such as this, but nothing could have diminished the shock of learning that her husband was dead.

      “He left a letter addressed to you.” Troy reached inside his shirt pocket and brought out an envelope, which he handed to her.

      “Suicide—but when?”

      “Best we can figure, he’s been dead more than a year. He shot himself last April.”

      “But that’s not possible!” she argued. “John Malcom spotted him in May, don’t you remember? So it can’t be Dan’s body. I’m sure of it.” She was desperate to prove the body was that of someone else. This had to be an elaborate hoax. It simply wasn’t possible that the dead man could be her husband.

      “Grace, the letter is dated….”

СКАЧАТЬ