44 Cranberry Point

"I wanted to talk to you at the wedding, but you stuck to your bodyguard all day long."



Obviously he was referring to Cliff.



"Just hear me out," he said.



"No!" She could hear the desperation in her voice. "The best thing you can do is just go."



"Who is he?" Will demanded. "Is it the guy you were with last Thanksgiving?"



"Cliff is twice the man you'll ever be." Cliff knew the meaning of honor and decency. Even though he wasn't happy in his marriage, he'd stayed for the sake of his daughter because it was more important to him that her world remain secure. Grace could only imagine how difficult that had been.



"I'll prove to you how much of a man I am." Will glanced over at the hotel across the street from Mr. Wok's, the Chinese restaurant, as he placed his hand on her shoulder a second time.



"Leave me alone!" she said, almost shouting. Outraged she slapped his hand off her shoulder.



"At least talk to me. We can spend a quiet afternoon together and discuss this like reasonable adults."



"There's nothing to discuss!" She shook her head vehemently. "Just go. Olivia will be here any minute."



Will heaved a sigh. "I can't leave until you promise to meet me. What about tonight?"



"No!"



"We need to talk," he insisted again.



"I believe the lady said she wasn't interested."



Grace whirled around to find Cliff standing behind her. He'd come into town earlier than she'd expected. He had his checkbook in his hand and she realized he must have stepped out of the bank.



"The bodyguard?" Will asked her in a whisper.



"I would appreciate it if you left," Grace said calmly and clearly although her heart was pounding crazily.



"I believe the lady would prefer it if you left now," Cliff said. He slid his checkbook in his hip pocket, taking a protective step toward Grace.



Will glared at him for a long intense moment. "Frankly this doesn't involve you."



"If it involves Grace, then it involves me," Cliff said coolly.



"I asked you to stay out of this," Will muttered, moving closer to Grace.



Placing himself in front of Grace, Cliff stood shoe to shoe with Will and eye to eye. They scowled at each other, neither willing to back down.



Then, for no apparent reason, Will swung wildly at Cliff.



"Cliff!" Grace cried out a warning. She needn't have worried; Cliff could take care of himself.



He easily sidestepped the punch and delivered one of his own, catching Will in the jaw. The force of the blow sent Will Jefferson staggering backward. He lost his balance, collapsing onto the asphalt. Almost immediately his jaw started to swell, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.



Grace brought her hand to her mouth, unsure what to do. Thankfully she saw that Olivia was rushing toward them.



"You saw what happened," Will shouted, pointing at Cliff. "He attacked me!"



"I saw everything," Olivia cried, running the last few steps.



Will's eyes blazed with righteous indignation. "I'm suing you for every cent you own. Olivia, call the sheriff. I want this man arrested on assault charges."



Olivia had her arm around Grace's shoulder. "As I said, Will, I witnessed what happened."



Will stood and brushed himself off. "Stay here so the sheriff can take your statement. I want this... this bully prosecuted."



Olivia frowned at her brother. "You might have a change of heart when I testify that I saw you throw the first punch. From where I was standing, Will, it seemed Cliff was protecting my friend from your unwanted advances."



"I... I—" Will clearly didn't know what to say.



"Go home, Will," Olivia said sadly. "You've behaved atrociously and I'm ashamed of you."



Will stared openmouthed at his sister.



"Let's have our lunch," Olivia said and slipped her arm through Grace's. "Will, I'll talk to you later. I have a few things to say." She smiled at Cliff, but Grace could see that it cost her an effort. "Cliff, would you care to join us?"



"No, thanks." He shrugged carelessly. "I'm heading back to the ranch." His gaze briefly held Grace's before he started toward the parking lot.



"Will I see you later?" Grace called after him.



Cliff turned and shook his head. "Another time perhaps."



Will smiled despite his torn lip. Grace could tell exactly what he was thinking—he might not have her for himself, but he'd done what he could to keep her from Cliff.



Forty-Six



The phone call came when Bob was least prepared to deal with it. He was still shaky; the need for a drink lingered, as intense now as it had been in his first week of sobriety. All that held him together was his love for Peggy, his determination and his AA meetings.



The call let him know Colonel Stewart Samuels was on his way to Cedar Cove and would arrive within the hour. He'd made hotel reservations at the local Holiday Inn Express near the waterfront.



"Are you all right?" Peggy asked when Bob replaced the receiver.



He didn't answer because he couldn't. At first Bob felt numb, but once his blood started flowing again, he felt a deep sense of dread. He wanted this entire mess to vanish, to go away once and for all. This was what he'd feared since leaving Vietnam. Everything he'd struggled to forget, everything he'd hoped would remain forever buried, was about to be exposed. Never had he experienced such vulnerability. The sins of his past were about to tear his life apart. But not only his—Peggy's too.



Two of his fellow soldiers were dead and that left him and Colonel Samuels. It was a distinct possibility that his life was at risk and that the other man could also be a target. He felt almost fatalistic about it; in a way he'd been expecting retribution for those killings in the jungle since the day it all happened.



By the time Bob returned to the States following his stint in Vietnam, he was already drinking heavily. When he married Peggy, he'd managed to keep away from alcohol for a while. But that control was short-lived and within months he'd found solace in having a few beers with his buddies after work. It hadn't taken him long to progress to the hard stuff.



After Vietnam he'd vowed never to speak of that terrible day again. With one exception, he'd kept his word until recent events had made that impossible. He hadn't found it easy dredging up those memories, voicing them. God help him, he'd like to forget Vietnam ever happened.



"Bob." Peggy placed her hand on his arm, breaking into his thoughts.



"I'll be fine," he said hoarsely.



She continued to stare at him doubtfully. He'd never told her how close he'd come to having a drink that night or how her phone call had saved him. Bob didn't consider himself an especially articulate man and certainly not a poetic one, but he thought of Peggy as his harbor, his place of safety.



"Stewart Samuels is on his way," he said as casually as he could. "He'll be here within the hour."



Peggy stiffened.



Bob nodded and realized his wife was as ill-at-ease as he was himself. "When he arrives, I think it'd be best if the two of us talked privately."



Peggy bit her lip. "I'll put on a pot of coffee and make an excuse to leave."



"I'd appreciate it." He brought his arms around her and hugged her close. "I appreciate you." Closing his eyes, Bob breathed in the scent of her hair and the light fragrance of her cologne. Peggy was his life; without her he was nothing. He only hoped she knew how deeply he loved her.



When the white rental car pulled off Cranberry Point and into their driveway, Bob's stomach was twisted into knots. The man who stepped out from behind the wheel bore little resemblance to the officer Bob remembered. Samuels was tall and lean with salt-and-pepper hair cut in a close-cropped military style. Although he wasn't in uniform, he moved in a manner that suggested a soldier's discipline.



Bob walked out the front door to greet him. His heart felt like a sledgehammer pounding against his chest as he moved slowly toward the man he'd once known. The man who'd been his squad leader.



They met halfway and for a long moment stared at each other as if unsure of what to say. Finally Stewart Samuels extended his hand. "Hello, Beldon."



Bob nodded and thrust out his own hand, replying formally. "Colonel Samuels. Welcome to Cedar Cove."



"Thank you."



Neither moved. Samuels broke eye contact first, glancing around at the large two-story house with its brilliant green lawn and flower beds vibrant with color. Peggy's garden was still in bloom, her herbs scenting the air.



"I'm glad you came," Bob said, although that was a patent lie. Samuels was the last person he wanted to see, but it was either face the truth now or regret it for the rest of his life.



Samuels laughed as if he recognized Bob's words for the falsehood they were. "It's time we figured out what's going on here."



Bob agreed as he led the other man into the house. "Past time." He held open the screen door and let Samuels precede him. "Peggy's got coffee on. I thought the two of us should talk privately."



Samuels made no comment. As soon as they reached the kitchen, Bob introduced him to Peggy, who smiled graciously and welcomed him to their home. She poured their coffee and left.



Bob carried their coffee to the oak table in the breakfast nook. He stretched out his arms and cradled his mug with both hands. "The years have been good to you."



Samuels sat across from him, facing the cove. "To you, too."



"Things didn't go so well with Dan," Bob murmured, staring down at his coffee.



Samuels nodded, still gazing out at the water.



"And from what Hannah told us about Max, he didn't fare much better." So much had come to light recently; her life with her father had gradually been revealed, and it was a life that made Bob want to weep with pity. Every day Peggy seemed to have something more to tell him. Hannah continued to avoid Bob, but he now saw that he wasn't the only one. Frightened and shy, the girl kept her distance from most men. He felt equally awkward with her, to a degree he didn't really understand, but he made a greater effort to be tolerant.



"We've both had a lot of years to think about this. Time hasn't made it any easier, has it?"



Bob shrugged. "I tried to forget. The bottle didn't help. Without AA and my wife, I'd be dead by now."



"How long have you been sober?"



"Twenty-one years."



"Good."



"How about you?" Bob asked. Each man had dealt with the tragedy in his own way. Bob had relied on alcohol, Dan had gone deep within himself and Max had drifted for years, never settling in one place or one job.



"Nothing I could say or do has the power to change what happened," Samuels admitted. "I blamed myself. I was the one in charge, the one responsible. I couldn't bring those villagers back from the dead, but I could dedicate my life to my country. I've served the military to the best of my ability."



Bob slowly raised his eyes to study the other man. Looking at him closely he saw haggard features that revealed the torment of the years. His mouth thinned and he swallowed hard.



"I know what you mean," Bob said quietly.



"I'm glad you suggested we talk, but for another reason." Samuels paused long enough to sip his coffee. "After I learned about Max's death, I decided to find out what I could. Two men dead within such a short time made me wonder whether you and I were at risk, too."