Cedar Cove Collection (Books 1-6). Debbie Macomber
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much of a reader.
As Grace reached the front of the store, she noticed that the lineups were long. She chose one, then got the current copy of People magazine and flipped through that while she waited. The truth came to her as she approached the cashier—she dreaded going home.
The realization left her breathless. They were low on milk, but it certainly hadn’t been necessary to make a special trip. She could easily have waited a day or two. Since she was here anyway, she’d thrown several packets of pasta into her cart, plus toilet paper and a couple of yogurts…as though to justify being to the supermarket at all. In fact, she’d been delaying the inevitable.
Dan had been in such a bleak mood lately. There seemed to be problems at work, but that was only a guess because her husband refused to talk to her about anything beyond the mundane. Any other inquiries were met with one-word replies. Television was vastly more interesting than sharing any part of himself with her.
Grace wanted to discover what was wrong, but he snapped at her whenever she tried. Every night it was the same. Walking into the house after work was like standing in an electrical storm; she never knew when lightning might strike. Because Dan was uncommunicative and morose, she chatted endlessly about this thing and that, in an effort to lighten his mood—and to forestall his outbursts of anger. They always came without warning.
Dan listened to her remarks, nodded at the appropriate times, even smiled now and again. But he contributed nothing to the conversation. The quieter he was, the harder she tried to draw him out, to no avail. Practically every evening he settled in front of the television and didn’t move until it was time for bed.
This was no marriage. They might as well be college roommates for all the love and affection they exchanged.
Their marriage had never fulfilled Grace’s expectations. She’d been eighteen and pregnant with Maryellen when she married Dan. He’d enlisted in the Army and almost immediately been shipped to Vietnam. The two years he’d been away were hell, for him and for her. When he returned, Dan was a different person from the young man who’d left. He’d become bitter and cynical, prone to rages; he’d also experimented with drugs and when she refused to allow them in the house they’d briefly separated.
For Maryellen’s sake, they’d managed to patch things up long enough for Grace to get pregnant a second time. Later, because of their daughters, Dan and Grace had tried hard to make their marriage work.
The war still haunted him and for years Dan used to be awakened by nightmares. He never spoke of his experiences. Those, along with everything else, were hidden away inside his head. Throughout their marriage, Grace had continually hoped things would improve. Once the girls were in school, once she finished her own studies and got the job at the library, once the girls graduated from high school—surely then everything would be better. Year after year of hoping, of looking for signs…
It wasn’t all bad. There’d been good times, too. When the girls started grade school, Grace had entered Olympic College and later commuted into Seattle to attend the University of Washington. Dan had been wonderfully supportive, working two jobs and helping with all their daughters’ assorted activities.
Maryellen and Kelly had both been difficult teenagers, but they’d turned into responsible young women. Dan deeply loved his daughters. Grace never questioned his devotion to them, but she seriously doubted he was still in love with her.
These last few years had been hard on his pride. His career was over, and his job with the tree service wasn’t nearly as satisfying as logging had been. Her salary now paid a larger share of the expenses, and she suspected that bothered him—not that he’d actually said so. But then, they didn’t talk about money, mainly because she avoided any subject that might distress him.
Although she was half an hour later than usual, Dan didn’t comment when she walked into the kitchen, carrying her groceries.
“I’m home,” she announced unnecessarily as she set the sack on the countertop.
Dan had already positioned himself in front of the television, watching the local news. His boots were off and his sock-covered feet rested on the footstool that matched his old overstuffed chair.
“I thought we’d have taco salad for dinner. How does that sound?”
“Great,” he answered without enthusiasm.
“How was your day?”
“All right.” His eyes didn’t waver from the television screen.
“Are you going to ask about mine?” she asked, growing irritated. The least he could do was show some interest in her and their life together, even if it was just a token effort.
“How was your day?” he muttered, his voice impassive.
“Terrible.”
No response.
“Aren’t you going to ask why?”
“You can tell me if you want.”
The man she’d lived with for thirty-five years couldn’t have cared less. Grace couldn’t stand it any longer. Each attempt to draw him out was met with denial and accusation. If she was unhappy, it was her fault, not his—that was his argument the last time she’d tried to talk to him.
Walking into the living room, Grace reached for the remote control and muted the sound. Sitting down on the footstool, she faced her husband.
“What?” he demanded, annoyed that she’d disrupted his news program.
Grace stared at him. “Do you love me?”
Dan laughed as though she’d made a joke. “Love you? We’ve been married for thirty-five years.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“What do you want me to say? Of course I love you. I can’t believe you have to ask.”
“Is there someone else?”
He sat back and looked hard at her, then shook his head. “That’s a ridiculous question.”
“Is there?” she repeated.
“No. When’s dinner going to be ready?”
Grace had another question first. “Do you remember the last time we made love?”
“Are you keeping track?”
She wasn’t fooled. Answering a question with one of his own was a familiar trick of his. “No, but I can’t remember. Can you?”
“I hate it when you do this.” He shoved the footstool forcefully away and got up, burying his hands in his pants pockets. “If we’re going to have an argument, let’s make it over something worthwhile. I didn’t realize you were so insecure that you need to be told I still love you.”
“What I need is some affirmation that you want to be in this marriage.”
“I had no idea you were so paranoid.” He walked to the other side of the room.
“I’m not!”
“You suggested I’m having an affair.”
She didn’t believe it, and in fact, there was no real evidence, but she’d felt it might shock him enough to get his attention.
“What do you want from me?” he asked irritably.
“Some sign of life,” she cried.
He glared at her. “Did it ever occur to you that I might be tired?”
“Too tired to talk?”
“I’ve never been a conversationalist. You knew that when you married me. I’m not going to change at this stage of my life. I don’t know what’s bothering you, Grace, but get over it.”
“That’s not fair! I’m trying to get you to take some responsibility for what’s happening to us.”
“You’re