“James isn’t Catholic.”
“He’s converting.” Justine could see from the bewilderment in her mother’s eyes that she found it difficult to take in the news. The son she’d raised Protestant had converted to Catholicism overnight.
“He must love her very much,” Olivia responded thoughtfully.
“I’m sure he does.”
“So in other words, my son and this young woman I’ve never met were married in a Catholic ceremony without telling anyone from our family?”
“Yes,” Justine concurred.
“Why?”
Justine held her breath for an instant. “James wanted you and Dad there, but he was afraid you might disapprove.”
“For the love of heaven, why? Because Selina’s Hispanic? James knows us better than that.”
Justine shrugged. She disagreed with what her brother had done, but it was too late to worry about that.
“When will I meet her?”
“Mom, there’s more.”
Olivia set the cup back into the saucer.
“Selina’s pregnant, isn’t she?”
Finally, Mom. It took you long enough. “I talked to Selina myself,” Justine said cheerfully. “She sounds delightful. James is crazy about her and I’m sure she’s going to make him a good wife.”
Her mother didn’t look nearly as certain. “How far along?”
This was the hard part. “She’s due in four months.”
“Four months,” her mother echoed. “I’m going to be a grandmother in four months?”
“It seems that way.”
Her mother didn’t say anything for several moments, then her eyes glistened and Justine could tell she was struggling not to cry.
“Mom, does being a grandmother bother you so much?”
Olivia shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with the napkin. “Oh, no… I just wish my son had the courage to tell me himself.”
Justine hugged her close. “He’s waiting to hear from you now. Do you want me to dial the phone for you?”
Her mother nodded. “Please.”
Five
Cecilia arrived for work at four, an hour earlier than she was scheduled to start. The bar at The Captain’s Galley was already getting crowded. She slipped onto a padded stool, hoping for an opportunity to speak to her father.
“How you doin’, kiddo?” Bobby Merrick asked from the other side of the counter. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Cecilia hated it when he treated her like a customer. “Okay, how about a cup of coffee?”
“You sure you don’t want anything stronger?”
“Positive.” In some respects, her father had never grown up, still dressing and acting like he had as a young man. He had shoulder-length graying hair, and his wardrobe consisted of wildly printed shirts that he wore with jeans. While that didn’t bother Cecilia, there were times she wanted and needed him to be a father. This afternoon was one of those times.
He brought her a mug of stale black coffee, waited on someone else, then drifted back to visit with her. “Heard from your mother lately?” he asked.
After her parents’ divorce, Bobby—which he insisted Cecilia call him—had left New Hampshire and moved first to New Mexico, then Arizona and had gradually drifted north to Washington State.
“She phoned this weekend.”
“She’s well?” To the best of her knowledge, her parents hadn’t spoken to or seen each other in years, until last May, when her mother flew out for Cecilia’s wedding. Now all of a sudden Bobby was asking about her.
“Mom’s doing fine.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, leaning against the bar. “She’s one hell of a woman.”
That being the case, Cecilia wondered why he’d abandoned them both, but she didn’t want to bring up any unpleasantness. She understood her father. He couldn’t tolerate conflict of any kind. He wanted people to love each other and get along, as he’d frequently explained to Cecilia. He couldn’t function if anyone was upset with him; he even disliked being around other people’s arguments. When a situation became too intense for him, he simply moved on.
He’d asked about her mother, but he hadn’t sought her out, hadn’t called or written her in years. That made sense. He didn’t want to hear about difficulties or disappointments—especially if he’d caused them. When Allison Marie died, he’d stayed away, emotionally and physically. He was incapable of giving Cecilia the support she’d needed so badly; he didn’t have it in him. It’d taken her time to reach this conclusion. She could be angry with him, perhaps should have been, but it wouldn’t have done any good. Bobby was Bobby, and she either had to accept him or do without a father, lame as he was in that role.
“I was out at Olympic College this afternoon.”
“You were?”
“Yeah, I signed up for an algebra class and for English.” It was the 101-level, basic stuff, but she had to start somewhere. For the first time in a very long while, she was looking toward the future instead of dwelling on the past.
“Algebra?”
“I was always good with numbers.” Math was something she enjoyed and she’d done well at it in high school. She liked the sense of order mathematics offered her. Everything fell neatly into place, and problems all had solutions. Perhaps that was what appealed to her most.
“How are you going to use algebra?”
Cecilia didn’t know that yet, but this was more a refresher course than anything that would lead to a career. “It’s important that I know how to solve for x,” she said, just for fun. “That’s how I can unlock the secrets of the universe. Like Einstein, you know. It all starts with x.”
Bobby’s eyes widened. “Really?”
It was a joke, and he’d taken her seriously. “Sure. Well, sort of.” Clearly he wouldn’t have been any help with high-school math if he’d been around. “What do you think about me taking these classes?” she asked, seeking his encouragement.
His returning look was blank. “Hey, that’s cool.”
Cool?
She’d done it again. Once more she’d set herself up for disappointment. She should’ve known Bobby’s response would be inadequate at best.
He waited on a customer, and Cecilia slipped off the stool, ready to start her shift at the restaurant.
“We’ll talk later,” Bobby called after her.
She nodded. This was about as deep as any conversation went with him. The man just didn’t get it, and nothing she said or did was going to change that.
Before long, the restaurant started to fill up. Escorting customers to their tables, answering the phone and manning the cash register kept her busy. She preferred it that way. It was when she had time on her hands that her thoughts automatically drifted to Ian. The John F. Reynolds had pulled out of Cedar Cove two days earlier. She’d watched it on the evening news, which had shown the massive aircraft carrier gliding through the protected waters of the cove.
Cecilia had sat intently in front of the television. She couldn’t have stayed away even if she’d wanted to. Ian was gone. Deployed for six months. She wondered if he’d write. She could go to the library and e-mail him