16 Lighthouse Road - Debbie Macomber [55]
The John F. Reynolds was gone and without a word from Ian. The fact that he’d left without notifying her was perfectly okay, Cecilia told herself bitterly. Their last meeting had been so horrible she didn’t care if she ever saw her soon-to-be ex-husband again.
“You all right, kiddo?” her father asked Saturday morning when Cecilia dropped in at the restaurant to pick up her paycheck.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” she snapped.
“No reason,” he said, and held up his hands as though warding off trouble.
She hadn’t meant to growl at him, but lately her father had developed this irritating habit of trying to be her friend, her confidante, and she rejected both roles.
“How’s school?” he asked, obviously attempting to make conversation.
“Why the concern all of a sudden?” she wanted to know. When she’d first mentioned it, all the encouragement she’d gotten was some offhand comment about how cool that was.
“No reason,” he said again. He turned away as if he regretted even asking.
Cecilia sighed, hardly understanding herself. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Bobby stared at her. “What’s bothering you, kid? You’ve been in kind of a bad mood the last couple of weeks.”
“That’s not true.”
He frowned, seemed about to protest, then shrugged. “Whatever.”
“It’s just that I’ve been working late, then getting up early for school.” A feeble explanation, but the most she was willing to give. Lack of sleep explained a lot, but not everything.
“So you’re still taking all those classes?” He seemed to think she would’ve lost interest by now.
“Yeah, I’m still in school.” And loving the challenge, despite the drain on her time and energy.
“Ian around these days?” her father asked cautiously.
“Apparently not,” she said, speaking in a nonchalant manner. “The John F. Reynolds left earlier this week.” It wasn’t as though she could ignore the fact. The media—both the local paper and the Seattle dailies, plus the TV news—had made a big issue of the repaired aircraft carrier departing for the second time within a month. Not only that, Cedar Cove had been full of talk about it.
“You speak to him lately?”
Cecilia noticed that Bobby stood several feet away from her. He seemed prepared to make a quick getaway if she snapped at him again.
“Ian and I are getting a divorce,” she reminded him.
“I know,” he said, “but I thought, you know, that you might be reconciling.”
Cecilia had started to believe the very same thing. After the night they’d gone to dinner, and the lovemaking, she’d been hopeful. Excited. It was similar to the way she’d felt when they’d first begun seeing each other. Then, when he’d left her apartment that night, everything had changed, and she couldn’t understand why.
“I wish you’d work it out,” Bobby told her, “you and him.”
Resentment swelled up inside Cecilia. “I wish you and Mom had tried harder, too, but wishing doesn’t do me a damn bit of good, does it?” With that, she grabbed her paycheck and slammed out the door.
She was angry, without justification. Her father irritated her, her coworkers annoyed her—everyone did lately—and that wasn’t like her. Bobby only wanted to be helpful and she’d immediately found fault with him. Not since her pregnancy had Cecilia been so out of sorts. She didn’t have that excuse this time; her period had showed up right on schedule—thank God. Her bad mood was simply…a bad mood, she decided.
After depositing her paycheck, she went to the grocery store and picked up the few items she’d need to see her through the week. Although it was an extravagance she couldn’t afford, she purchased a bouquet of spring flowers—for Allison. She hadn’t visited her baby’s grave in almost a month. Staying away was difficult for her. She’d had to make a real effort not to visit the cemetery every day. In the beginning she had.
She’d wanted to be more than a good mother; she’d wanted to give her daughter everything she herself had never had. Not material things, but attention and love and security. As it happened, she couldn’t give Allison