204 Rosewood Lane - Debbie Macomber [15]
“I’m Jon Bowman,” Jon said into the awkward silence. “I’ll leave you to visit. Nice seeing you again, Maryellen.”
“Bye,” she said, her feelings a mixture of surprise and regret. Anticipation, too, she admitted privately. And that was something she hadn’t felt in years.
Kelly watched him go. As soon as Jon was out of earshot, she asked, “Was that anyone special?”
“Just one of our artists,” Maryellen returned, not elaborating.
Kelly claimed the stool recently vacated by Jon. “How’s Mom holding up?”
“Better than I expected.” Making that first attorney’s appointment had been difficult, but her mother’s resolve had seen her through.
“Dad’s coming back, you know,” Kelly said.
Maryellen didn’t argue, although she’d long since abandoned hope that he would.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” Kelly challenged.
Maryellen had, in fact, given up. For whatever reason, their father had disappeared. When it came to men, she didn’t expect much, even from her own father.
Could Jon Bowman be any different? She wasn’t going to think about that now, she decided.
“Daddy will come back,” Kelly insisted again when Maryellen ignored the question.
“Time will tell, won’t it,” Maryellen said and reached for her coffee.
Three
She must be in the grip of some insanity, Justine decided as she stepped off the small commuter plane in King Cove, Alaska. It’d been almost two weeks since she’d heard from Seth and she couldn’t stand waiting another day.
She’d contacted the cannery where Seth and his father sold their fish and crab, but they didn’t have any information about the boat’s schedule. Justine had left a message with the frazzled secretary, although there was no guarantee Seth would ever receive it. She’d asked the woman to please let Seth know Justine would be arriving that weekend. She could only hope he’d gotten word of her impending visit.
Walking carefully down the steps of the ten-seater aircraft, Justine looked up expectantly, longing for Seth and praying he’d be at the small airport waiting for her. The wind stung her face, shocking her with its chill. The last weekend of September, and already there was evidence of winter’s approach in this cold Alaskan wind.
“Is someone meeting you, miss?” the pilot asked when Justine reached for her overnight bag in the cart outside the plane.
“My husband—I think.” But Seth wasn’t at the airstrip. She took a taxi into town and listened with half an ear while the driver droned on about life on the Alaskan coast. He dropped her at a waterfront motel with a partially burned-out neon sign that read TEL.
The room was small and plain and dreary with its utilitarian beige carpeting, stained in several places. The curtains and bedspread were a faded floral pattern that wouldn’t have been attractive even when they were new. She sat on the edge of the thin mattress, feeling sad and lost. Coming here had been crazy, a sign of how truly desperate she was. Now that she’d arrived in Alaska, she had to accept that this trip was a waste of time.
Her marriage had seemed right and perfect only a few weeks earlier, but now she was overwhelmed by doubts. She couldn’t believe she’d actually married Seth. She sighed, a long, heartfelt sigh. Quite simply, she needed to know he loved her. And since she’d only heard from him a handful of times, she was beginning to think he didn’t. Or rather, that his love was just a temporary passion, a desire he’d now satisfied.
Well, she could spend all weekend in the motel room feeling sorry for herself or she could try to find out where he was. Determined to locate her husband, she dressed in her warmest clothes and asked Betty, the lady at the front desk, for directions to the cannery. She was on foot, but it was only a short distance from the motel to the docks. The wind whipped her long hair about her face as she walked toward the water, her hands buried deep inside her pockets. Because it was late in the fishing season, plenty of boats were tied