1022 Evergreen Place - Debbie Macomber [111]
Mary Jo could well imagine. “Do you know why Joan hid the letters?” She asked the question that had haunted her all these weeks. Now she might finally learn the answer.
“Not really, other than the fact that Joan and her sister never got along.”
Mary Jo was disappointed that this part of the mystery would probably never be solved. For whatever reason, Joan’s relationship with her sister was difficult and that was as much of an explanation as they were likely to get.
“Not only that,” Jacob said, “she wasn’t keen on me, either.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know. She just wasn’t. Felt it was up to her to say what Joan should do and who she could see.”
“Tell me more about Joan,” Mary Jo said.
Jacob leaned back in his wheelchair. “She was a beauty. We met at a soda fountain here in Cedar Cove. I came over from Fort Lewis for a USO dance and stopped at the drugstore. She was working behind the counter and caught my eye. I had a soda and asked if she’d be at the dance. At the time, her sister worked there, too. It was later that they got jobs at the shipyard. Her sister told me to stay away from Joan.”
“Clearly you didn’t heed her advice,” Mack said.
“Wild horses wouldn’t have kept me away. I was smitten the first time I laid eyes on her.”
Mack looked at Mary Jo as if to say he understood the feeling.
“We met up at the dance and then again the following day. Joan had to sneak away from her sister and they had words afterward. It was too bad that Elaine and I started off on the wrong foot, but honestly, I don’t think it would’ve mattered. Elaine wasn’t a happy person. She tried to control Joan and to thwart our romance, not that it did much good.”
It occurred to Mary Jo that maybe Joan hadn’t hidden the letters all at one time but had kept them—and her diary—in the closet to prevent her sister from finding them.
“How did Joan die?” Mack asked.
“Cancer. I don’t think I’ll ever recover from losing her.” He paused. “But we had almost fifty years together. And my children are good to me. They visit when they can and the grandchildren, as well.”
Mary Jo could see that the old man was tiring. “We should go,” she said. “I’ll get someone to take you back to your room.”
“Would it be okay if we stopped by and visited every now and then?” Mack asked.
“I’d be very pleased to see you again.” He clutched the cigar box and the small diary. “I can’t thank you enough for going to the effort of finding me so you could return these letters.” He inhaled softly. “They’ll mean the world to my children—and to me.”
Mack stood and so did Mary Jo. Impulsively she bent down and kissed the leathery cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Why are you thanking me?” he asked. “You’re the ones who found me and brought me back my letters.”
“Thank you for writing them, and for showing Mack and me how much we owe the heroes of your generation.”
He dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense, I’m no hero.”
“I disagree,” Mack said. “I can understand why you’re called the ‘Greatest Generation’—because you are.”
The old man looked up at them and smiled. Then, raising his hand to his forehead, he saluted them.
Thirty-Two
Olivia slipped into the row of seats behind Grace Harding. The wedding of Faith Beckwith and Troy Davis was about to start. The large gazebo outside Justine’s Victorian Tea Room was filled to capacity as so many well-wishers had come to share this special day.
No sooner had she sat down than the music swelled and Pastor Flemming came forward. Faith and Troy stood, with their families and friends gathered in a semicircle around them. After a few words from the clergyman, Faith and Troy quietly exchanged their vows. The ceremony, while short, touched Olivia’s heart.
Jack was obviously moved, too. Her husband clasped her hand and she squeezed back. They’d both come to a fuller appreciation