50 Harbor Street

Page 36

His assistant editor, Steve Fullerton, came up to his desk, carrying an insulated coffee cup. “Listen, Jack. I need to talk to you about the Lifestyle feature. We couldn’t get the photos and…” He grinned widely. “Hey, I’m glad you’re back.”
“Thanks.” Jack was embarrassed by the fuss his staff had made. His desk was covered with flowers and cards, and they’d hung a banner overhead with gold letters that said Welcome Back. It was nice to know he’d been missed.
By ten, he was completely immersed in the routine of getting out a daily paper. It seemed as if he’d never been away. He wrote an editorial and praised the quick response of the local EMTs who’d saved his life. His fingers flew on the keyboard. He’d always composed his best editorials under time constraints; in fact, Jack had spent most of his career under the gun and thrived with the pressure—or so he’d once believed. This recent scare made him rethink that assumption.
At noon, the Lifestyle article had to be dumped, they needed to come up with something new and there was a one o’clock deadline. Olivia would be furious if he stayed longer than he’d promised. He weighed her anger against his inclination to pitch in with everyone else. Jack was still trying to decide what to do when Bob Beldon strolled in.
“Jack,” Bob said, heading straight for Jack’s desk. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by, see how you’re doing.”
Jack frowned. Bob just happened to be in the neighborhood. Not likely. He knew this visit was no accident. “Olivia sent you, didn’t she?”
A chagrined look spread over Bob’s face and he nodded.
“That’s what I figured.” Leave it to his wife.
“She said I was to drag you out of here kicking and screaming if necessary. You aren’t going to make me do that, are you?”
Jack groaned in protest, but Bob was the best friend he’d ever have in this life. He knew when he was beat. Grumbling under his breath, he turned off his computer, then stood and reached for his jacket. He just hoped his wife and his friend knew how hard it was for him to walk away in the middle of a crisis.
The staff looked on in disbelief. He’d never abandoned them, never left before every deadline was met, every detail attended to. Steve Fullerton actually started a round of applause, and Jack gave a mock bow, waving on his way out the door.
“See you tomorrow, old man,” Steve called. “Try to stay alive for another few days.”
Jack wouldn’t admit it, but he was exhausted. During his recovery, Olivia had insisted he take a nap every afternoon. In the beginning he’d defied her because he resented being “ordered around like a kid.” Little good that did him, since he fell asleep anyway, and always slept at least an hour.
“What am I supposed to do with myself now?” Jack muttered as he and Bob went to the parking lot.
“I thought I’d invite myself over so the two of us could play a few games of cribbage. It’s been a while.”
The last comment was a reminder that Jack had been working too hard for too long. The job hadn’t started out like that, and yet within five years he’d managed to work himself into a heart attack.
“Cribbage sounds like a fine idea,” Jack said. “Just promise to be gentle with me. My skills are pretty rusty.”
“No mercy,” Bob teased. “For once, I have the advantage and I’m taking it.”
“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.” Jack laughed. It felt good to be with his friend, who was also his AA sponsor and all-around mentor.
Fifteen minutes later, the crisis at the office was forgotten as Jack stared at the cards in his hand, deciding which two to discard. He chewed on the end of a toothpick, a habit Olivia detested, and set aside the six and the three.
The phone interrupted his concentration. “Ten bucks says that’s Olivia checking to see if I’m home,” Jack muttered, glancing over the top of his cards.
Bob chuckled. “You’re on.”
Jack grabbed for the receiver. “Yes, sweetheart?”
Olivia gave a small gasp. “How’d you know it was me?”
Jack held out his palm to his friend, indicating that Bob should pay up. “Lucky guess,” he answered his wife. “I’m home, and my babysitter’s doing a fine job of looking after me.”
“Bob is not your babysitter.”
“Am I required to nap this afternoon?”
She ignored the question. “How did it go at the office?”
“Great, really great.” He dared not let her know how much he loved being back at work. The frantic pace stimulated him. Afternoon naps—even if he needed them—didn’t.
“Are you tired?”
He smothered a yawn. “No way. I’m sitting here in the middle of the day playing cutthroat cribbage with Bob Beldon. There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing.”
Not true. He’d rather be at work—or making love to his wife—but that was another area that appeared to be taboo since his surgery. The only time he’d mentioned the possibility, Olivia was the one who damn near had a heart attack. Absolutely no sex. Apparently even talking about it was off limits. As far as he could figure, he’d been cut off for the rest of his natural life. Sex wasn’t all, either. He hadn’t seen a piece of red meat in weeks.
“See how you feel after Bob leaves,” she suggested. “You sound a little cranky.”
There she went again, treating him like a five-year-old. “Shouldn’t you get back to work?” he asked, hoping to get her off the phone before he lost his temper.
“Not really—I’m on my lunch hour.”
“You’re interrupting our game,” he said. He suspected Olivia had given Bob instructions on how long he should stay. Although Olivia’s actions were prompted by love, everything she’d said and done since the surgery felt like a noose being tightened around his neck.
“Have a good afternoon, sweetheart, and I’ll be home soon after five.”
He wanted to tell her not to rush on his account, but it wouldn’t do any good. Olivia was on a mission and unfortunately that mission was to save him from himself.
Jack replaced the receiver, closed his eyes a moment in an effort to reduce his blood pressure, then picked up his cribbage hand.
“So how’d you know it was Olivia?” Bob asked, placing a ten-dollar bill on the coffee table.
“She’s smothering me with attention.”
“I don’t know,” Bob returned with a skeptical look. “I wouldn’t mind Peggy giving me a little extra TLC.”
“You’d mind this.” That was all Jack was willing to say on the subject.
True to her word, Olivia was home at twelve minutes past five. Jack knew for a fact that the drive from the courthouse to Lighthouse Road took exactly eleven minutes. That meant she was out the door at the stroke of five, in her car and racing away from the office.
Jack sat in front of the television. He found daytime TV asinine. It seemed largely populated by the stupid and the shameless. One more talk show or courtroom program and he was going to leap off a bridge.
“Hi,” she said, coming through the front door. Studying him for any signs of—what?—she removed her gloves and hung up her coat. “Did you have your nap?”
Jack clamped his jaw rather than comment.
“Is there anything I can get you?” she asked next.
“Yes.” His response was automatic. “I want a kiss. A real kiss.”
She hesitated for only a moment. “All right.”
“None of that peck-on-the-cheek stuff, either. I want—no, I need—a kiss from my wife.”
“Jack…I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“I happen to believe it’s a mighty fine one.” Slowly he got up from the chair. If she wouldn’t come to him, he’d go to her.
Olivia must have recognized the determination in his eyes because she backed away from him until she could go no farther. Pressed against the wall, her eyes wide with alarm, she whispered, “Jack…”
He didn’t allow her to finish. She stiffened when he brought his mouth to hers and kissed her for all he was worth. Her lips were soft and pliant, and it wasn’t long before he felt her relax. She sighed; soon her arms were around his neck and they were completely caught up in each other.
Jack was just beginning to wonder how difficult it would be to unfasten her blouse and free her breasts. He loved the feel of Olivia’s breasts; the weight of them in his hands was about as close to heaven as he figured he’d get. Suddenly the oddest thing happened.
Olivia started to weep.
These weren’t ordinary tears, either. Her shoulders heaved with sobs as she clung to him, kissing him as though she couldn’t stop. A moment later, she was crying so hard she had to pull away in order to breathe. With her head against his chest, her arms circling his middle, she continued to weep.
“Olivia?” he asked anxiously. He’d never seen her cry like this, never known her capable of this heart-wrenching kind of grief. His hands were in her hair as he tried to comfort her.
“I almost lost you,” she managed to say between hiccuping sobs. “Jack, oh Jack, please, please, don’t ever do that to me again.”
He closed his eyes and tightened his hold on her.
“All I could think about was losing you…I kept remembering the day Jordan drowned and…don’t leave me, Jack! Don’t leave me, I love you so much.”
“I would never leave you,” he assured her, still stroking her hair.
“I couldn’t stand it.”
“Never,” he promised. “I’ll never leave you, Olivia.” And, God willing, he’d keep his word.
Thirty-Eight
“Roy, would you fill the water glasses?” Corrie called from the kitchen. Their company was due any minute, and she was decidedly flustered.
They were having the Beldons over, and cooking for someone like Peggy Beldon was a challenge. Peggy’s skill in the kitchen was worthy of her own cooking show on the Food Network. What did one serve a culinary virtuoso?
After days of flipping through cookbooks, Corrie chose baked halibut with wild rice and fresh green beans. Dessert was coconut cake, using Charlotte Jefferson’s recipe. With this cake, Charlotte had apparently won the blue ribbon in the Kitsap County Fair five years running. Corrie didn’t doubt it. If the cake tasted half as divine as it looked and smelled, even Peggy would be impressed.
“Done,” Roy said, holding an empty water pitcher in his hand. “Anything else you need me to do?”
Corrie stepped back and surveyed the dining room. The presentation was elegant, if she did say so herself. A fresh flower arrangement sat in the middle of the mahogany table, which was covered with a pale-yellow linen cloth. Matching napkins were folded into the shape of birds about to take flight. Corrie had picked up this neat trick watching a Martha Stewart show a few years back. The simplicity of it had attracted her. Their very best china and silverware were laid out for their guests.