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be something wrong—she doesn’t seem herself. You haven’t noticed any changes in her behavior, have you?”
“None.” Grace tried to think, but nothing came to mind. The truth was, she hurried home from work every night to leap onto the computer. She realized guiltily that she hadn’t paid much attention to the dog since her correspondence with Will had begun. Often she didn’t bother to eat dinner until eight o’clock or later. Her time at home was precious because that was her only opportunity to connect with Will.
“Are you ready?” Grace asked, reaching for her purse.
“In a minute,” Cliff said. He continued to stroke Buttercup’s back, but Grace suspected he was gathering his thoughts rather than assessing her dog’s health. After a moment he stood.
“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” she said, unable to read his mood. This was the role she’d played far too often with Dan, doing whatever she could to put him in better spirits. So many times she’d failed. Seeing the same humorless expression on Cliff’s face depressed her. It brought back memories of her life with Dan.
“I need to ask you something,” Cliff said after a long pause.
“Anything.” Well, almost anything, she amended silently.
Cliff walked over to the window and stared outside. “We haven’t seen much of each other lately.”
“You’ve been busy,” she said with a shrug.
“True, and I suppose that’s the reason I didn’t notice earlier.”
“Notice what?” she asked.
“How emotionally distant you’ve become.”
Grace shook her head, denying it. “You’re imagining things.”
Cliff rubbed the back of his neck and turned to face her. “Funny you should use those words. That’s exactly what Susan used to say to me.”
Susan was his ex-wife. Grace raised her hands in a confused, helpless gesture. “What’s this all about? I thought we were going to spend the afternoon together.”
“So did I,” Cliff murmured. He straightened, and his face was austere. “I can’t play this game, Grace.”
“What game?” She was losing patience with him.
“There’s someone else. You think I don’t know, but it’s clear to me. I can tell what’s happening—I’ve been there before.”
“What?” she exploded in a fit of self-righteousness. “How can you say that? Even if it was true,” she continued, undaunted, “it’s my business. You don’t have any claim on me.”
Cliff’s smile was sad. “You’re right, of course.”
“Don’t be like this,” she pleaded. Now that he was here, she was looking forward to going out with him, enjoying his company.
He shook his head as if to say he should have seen it earlier. “At first I assumed you were pulling away from me because of Dan. I gave you time to grieve for your husband, just like you asked.”
“Cliff, please, you’re making a crisis out of nothing.”
“Am I?” he asked.
He sounded resigned, and she briefly had the urge to walk into his arms, but Grace didn’t like the way this conversation was going.
“You say there isn’t anyone else in your life?” Cliff challenged.
She looked him straight in the eye and lied. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” No one knew about her and Will. Not even Olivia, Will’s sister and her best friend. She couldn’t let word get out, especially now, when Will and Georgia were in the middle of their divorce.
“I was sure I was going to love you the first time we met,” Cliff said. “My admiration for you grew every time we talked. You handled the situation with your missing husband honorably, refusing to get involved with me until the divorce was final. I assumed… I believed in you.”
“You don’t now?”
“You’re forgetting something, Grace. My wife cheated on me for years. I know all the signs—the cheerful greeting, the denial, the outrage. I lived with it and tried to ignore it. I won’t again.”
Grace crossed her arms. This was getting tiresome. “You’re being ridiculous,” she said irritably.
“Am I?” he asked.
“Of course you are.”
“He’s married, isn’t he?”
“What are you talking about?”
Cliff stared hard at her. “You’re protecting him.”
“I can’t believe you’d say such a thing!”
Cliff started for the door.
“Can we leave now?” she asked, relieved this inquisition was over.
His hand was on the doorknob. “I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other again.”
Grace stared at him. “You don’t mean that.” Her heart sank and she realized how deeply her lies had offended Cliff. As he walked out the door, Grace stood where she was, too paralyzed by shock to react.
She recovered quickly and hurried after him. “Cliff,” she shouted. “Please, let’s talk about this.”
Either he didn’t hear her or he chose not to listen. Without looking back, he climbed into his vehicle and started the engine, then drove down the street and out of her life.
Twenty
Katie’s weak, mewling cry woke Maryellen abruptly. It was only quarter after one; she’d been asleep for barely an hour. Her eyes flew open and she got shakily out of bed. Gently lifting Katie from her crib, Maryellen held the infant over her shoulder and was instantly alarmed. Katie had been sick and fussy for two days and two tortured, sleepless nights. Now, if anything, she seemed worse.
Maryellen had stayed home from work with her the day before. The pediatrician had put Katie on antibiotics, but she was still miserable. Although she’d taken her nighttime feeding, she’d promptly vomited up the milk. Now she was burning with fever, restless and irritable.
Her eyes gritty from lack of sleep, Maryellen walked the floor, but couldn’t seem to comfort Katie. With effort she managed to get the six-month-old to swallow some liquid Tylenol; even that didn’t seem to lower her temperature.
By 2:00 a.m. Maryellen was exhausted and frantic. She’d already talked to the consulting nurse on the twenty-four-hour hot line, but she needed more than reassurance. She needed help. It was just too hard to do this alone. She hated to call Jon at this ungodly hour, but she simply couldn’t cope by herself.
The phone rang five long rings, and disheartened, she was ready to replace the receiver. Clearly Jon wasn’t home, which meant he was spending the night elsewhere. The thought so depressed her that she found tears springing to her eyes.
“Don’t,” she whispered to herself. “Forget about him.” She refused to speculate about where he was—or with whom. That would only add to her misery.
Just as she was lowering the receiver, a groggy Jon answered the phone.
“This better be good,” he grumbled.
“Jon? It’s Maryellen. I’m so sorry…but I didn’t know where else to turn.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Katie. She’s got quite a high fever, and is terribly congested. I took her to the pediatrician’s this morning. She has bronchitis and an ear infection.”
“Is she on medication?”
“Yes, but I don’t like