1105 Yakima Street. Debbie Macomber
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it is,” the waitress announced, picked up the coffeepot and hurried into the kitchen.
“She’s almost as bossy as Goldie,” Bruce said, chuckling.
Goldie had been at the Pancake Palace forever, while Alicia, who’d started there maybe twenty years ago, was a relative newcomer.
Actually, a piece of apple pie did sound good. With all this stress—the pregnancy, the separation, the emotional upheaval—Rachel had lost weight she could ill afford to lose.
Alicia reappeared with the decaf and a thick slice of apple pie. “Enjoy,” she said.
“I will.” Rachel reached for her fork but didn’t try even a bite. She needed to hear what Bruce had to say, why he’d wanted to meet. Clutching the fork, she waited until Alicia was out of earshot. “You asked to see me.”
“Yes. It’s time you came home,” Bruce said starkly. “You’re my wife and I love you. You living somewhere else—it’s just plain wrong.” His voice fell. “I worry about you and the baby.”
She knew he meant every word, but nothing about their situation had improved. Judging by the incident at the mall, Jolene was as angry and caustic as ever. Rachel wasn’t wanted nor was she appreciated by her stepdaughter, and her husband wouldn’t deal with the girl’s hostility. Rachel refused to return to an environment that was unhealthy for her and her unborn child.
“What’s changed?” she asked. With great precision, she set the fork aside and studied Bruce.
He cupped his mug with both hands and stared down at it. “I have.” He took in a deep breath. “I failed you as a husband by choosing to ignore the obvious. I hoped the two of you would work it out on your own instead of doing what I could to help. If you come back, I promise I won’t let Jolene say or do anything disrespectful.”
“Bruce, that isn’t enough. I’m sorry but this isn’t going to be resolved just because you tell Jolene to respect me.” Besides, he might be able to control his daughter while he was in the house, although she doubted it, but there were plenty of times when she and Jolene were alone.
His sigh revealed his impatience. “Okay, tell me exactly what you want.”
“I want,” she said emphatically, “to get to the root of the problem and that means seeing a counselor. A family counselor,” she specified. “A professional trained to deal with situations like this.”
“Okay.” He drew out the word.
His reluctance was evident. He’d said yes to counseling a little while ago but it was obviously the last thing he wanted. Bruce had never been keen on the idea of pouring out their personal troubles to a stranger. For her part, Jolene had been violently opposed from the first. It was one of the factors that had led to Rachel’s leaving. “I’ve heard that before and nothing happened. I’d make an appointment and you’d find a reason to cancel or forget or—”
“I only canceled the one time.”
“You said you’d make the next appointment but you didn’t.”
He glanced down at the table. “I—I’ll go. No more excuses. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home.”
Rachel reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “That’s a start.”
“But I can tell you right now that Jolene won’t go,” Bruce continued. “And I don’t know how to get her to agree.”
“Still, a trained professional can teach us how to deal with her.”
Bruce frowned. “You really believe that?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
He held her look for a long moment, then shook his head. “I’ll go because it’s what you want, but I don’t hold out a lot of hope that someone neither of us knows is going to help in this situation.”
“In other words, you think counseling is a waste of time?” She spoke slowly, letting him know how much his comment discouraged her.
“The thing is, Rachel, if Jolene begs off, which she already said she intends to do, what will we get out of counseling?”
Sometimes Rachel had to wonder which one of those two was the parent. Bruce had more or less told her everything she needed to hear. Without even sipping her coffee or taking a bite of the pie, Rachel slid out of the booth. What was a waste of time was meeting Bruce. Despite what he’d said, nothing had changed, nor would it. Bruce just wanted their lives to go back to what he thought of as “normal”—the way they’d been this past year. But Rachel would no longer tolerate Jolene’s behavior toward her.
“Where are you going?” Bruce asked, standing, too. He grabbed for her hand as if to stop her.
“All you care about is talking me into moving back home, and you’ll say whatever it takes. Sweeping our problems under the carpet isn’t going to work.”
“I said I’d go to counseling,” Bruce insisted.
Rachel was sure he’d attend one or two sessions, but then he’d find some excuse to cancel. Jolene would simply refuse to go, and Bruce would be powerless to make her. Rachel wasn’t willing to accept half measures. When and if she moved back home, their circumstances had to be completely different.
“Don’t leave, Rachel. Please.”
“It was pointless for us to talk,” she said, tugging her hand free.
“I don’t understand what you want. I’ve offered to go to counseling and that’s not good enough. So what do you want?” he demanded, irritated now.
“I want my husband to be a man who honors my place in his life. A man who doesn’t allow his children to dictate what goes on in his household. A man who’ll cherish his role and mine—and frankly, at this moment, you aren’t that man. And I don’t know if you ever will be.”
Bruce blanched. “Don’t hold back,” he muttered sarcastically. “See how deep you can cut me. I came here hoping you’d be reasonable, hoping to convince you of my love….”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what, Bruce? I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to talk again.”
“Fine. All I ask is that you let me know when the baby’s born.”
“Of course I will, but until then I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of my life.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
While it was true that she might have a change of heart, right now she was dead serious. “I do mean it.”
And with that, Rachel walked out of the restaurant.
She didn’t sleep well that night or the next. Thursday afternoon she was with a client when she saw Bruce standing outside the salon. She turned her back, ignoring him.
Jane walked over to her and whispered, “Bruce is here.”
“I know.”
“He wants to speak to you.”
Rachel shook her head. Talking to Bruce wouldn’t help either of them. How many times were they supposed to repeat the same argument?
“Rachel, he’s only going to show up again and again. This is disruptive to you and to everyone here. I told you I didn’t want him back.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Do you want me to call security?”
Having Bruce escorted from the mall was further than she was willing to go. “No. I’ll talk to him.” Setting the curling iron aside, and excusing herself to her client, Rachel stepped outside, where Bruce stood waiting.
He’d buried his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet