1105 Yakima Street - Debbie Macomber [95]
He exhaled slowly. He wished she’d told him sooner. “Have you called her?”
Jolene’s long hair fell forward as she hung her head. “No. I was going to a couple of times, but I didn’t. She…she wants to move.”
Bruce leaped off the sofa. His daughter was only now telling him this? Jolene had seen Rachel a week ago last Monday. He’d hoped to pry information out of her, but Jolene had remained stubbornly tight-lipped. Eventually he’d given up. All he’d been able to learn was that Rachel had read his letter.
“Moving? Where?”
“She mentioned Portland.”
“When?”
Jolene shrugged. “I…I don’t know. I asked her not to leave.”
“What did she say?” He found it difficult enough with Rachel living in Bremerton, which was just across the cove but felt like it was on the other side of the world. Portland would be so much harder.
“Nothing. She didn’t tell me when she plans to go.”
“You don’t have any idea?”
“I asked her to stay,” Jolene reiterated.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Jolene refused to meet his look. “But I’d rather she went to Portland.”
“Jolene!” Bruce couldn’t help it; he exploded. Pacing the room, he tore at his hair like a crazy man, tempted to slam his fist against the wall.
“If you felt that way, why did you even ask her to stay?” he demanded.
Jolene didn’t immediately answer. “You,” she said in a small voice.
“If you’re so concerned about me, then Rachel would be back in this house where she belongs.” He jabbed his index finger at the floor.
“You don’t want me here anymore, do you?” she shouted, hiding her face in her hands.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I want you here. You’re my daughter—I love you.”
“But you love Rachel more.”
“I don’t love her more. I love her, too. She’s my wife and she’s carrying my child.” His pacing continued. “A child I might never get to know because of this whole mess.” Unable to bear it, he stormed out. With nowhere else to go, he went into his room, closing the door, and sat on the edge of his bed. He felt like crying but was too numb, too drained by his anger.
He had no idea how long he’d been there when he heard a knock on the door.
“What?” he snapped.
Jolene opened the door and stood framed in the hallway light, holding her cell. “Rachel is on the phone. Do you want to talk to her?”
“You called her?”
“Yeah. You shouldn’t be moping around on Thanksgiving. I knew you’d want to talk to her. You do, don’t you?”
Bruce swallowed painfully and nodded. “Very much.” The words were thick with emotion.
Jolene handed him the phone and then left, closing the door quietly behind her.
Bruce waited until the door had clicked shut. “Happy Thanksgiving,” he said, doing his utmost to sound upbeat and positive.
“Same to you. Jolene said the two of you are about ready to eat.”
Eat? Bruce had no appetite. He’d be lucky to manage a roll, let alone an entire meal. “I bought us one of those prepared turkey dinners from Albertson’s. They’re supposed to be halfway decent.” But nothing compared to the home-cooked meal they would’ve enjoyed if Rachel was with them.
“So I’ve heard.”
“What about you?” he asked, wondering if she’d be joining Teri Polgar or one of her other friends.
She hesitated. “I’m cooking today.”
“Turkey and all the fixings?”
“Yes…for my roommate and some friends.”
“That’s nice,” he said dully.
“They’re away from home and family, so we pooled our resources and decided to have our own Thanksgiving celebration.”
“So you’re living with a female navy—what?—officer?” Bremerton was filled with navy personnel.
“Not exactly.”
“Navy, though, right?” He didn’t mean to turn this call into an inquisition, but he couldn’t help being curious. Rachel had told him so little about her living arrangements.
“Yes, navy.”
“A man?” he pressed, and could tell right away that she didn’t appreciate his questioning her.
“It doesn’t really matter, does it, Bruce?”
“No, I suppose not.” He did his best to pretend it didn’t. Then he suddenly realized where she was staying and it nearly destroyed him. His hand almost crushed his daughter’s cell phone. “You’re living