74 Seaside Avenue

“It’s a bit late for caffeine, don’t you think?” she asked coldly.



“It’s decaf.”



“Oh.” As if that was a good reason, she moved aside, and he stepped into the house.



“Yours is black, just the way you like it.” Pulling it from the cardboard holder, he handed it to her.



Then he barged into the living room unasked, where he sat at one end of the sofa. She sat at the other, sipping her coffee.



She’d turned off the movie, and the silence between them seemed to reverberate. Since he’d been the one to arrive on her doorstep, Rachel figured he should speak first.



Eventually he did. “I apologize for whatever I said or did this evening.”



She nodded. Sipped her coffee. He knew exactly what he’d done.



“Do you want to tell me why you got so angry?”



“No.” After admitting she’d broken off her relationship with Nate, she’d hoped, she’d believed, he would declare his feelings. He hadn’t, and now she understood why. If anything, he’d gone out of his way to show her how little she meant to him.



“If I said something to offend you, please let me know.”



Her back ramrod-straight, Rachel stared at the wall across from her. “You didn’t.”



He looked uneasy, and there was another awkward moment of silence. “I guess I should leave, then.” He got to his feet, placing his cup on the coffee table.



Still clutching hers, Rachel walked him to the front entrance.



“I miss being your friend,” he told her.



She didn’t acknowledge his remark. Friend. Surrogate mother. Occasional dinner companion. All fine things but not enough.



“Goodbye, Bruce,” she said quietly and closed the door.



Thirty-Nine



Martha Evans’s heirs had completed their search and made an official report; several pieces of expensive jewelry had gone missing. They’d provided the sheriff’s department with descriptions and Troy Davis had spent the morning gathering information. The first person he spoke to was Dave Flemming. The pastor had discovered the body and while he’d had opportunity, he certainly didn’t have motive.



Troy liked Dave and had never considered him a suspect. Once again, Dave had answered his questions in a forthright manner and, in fact, had made a real effort to be helpful. Troy appreciated that.



His other big case currently was the one involving Bobby Polgar and the alleged kidnapping. That now seemed to be under control.



He was in a good mood, and the main reason was Faith. At the end of the day, he’d be seeing her again. They got together every week, either here or in Seattle. Tonight they were meeting halfway, at a restaurant in Tacoma.



He hadn’t mentioned any of this to Megan yet. Yes, he was a coward. His daughter was having a hard time because of the miscarriage, and he wanted to give her a chance to heal, physically and emotionally, before he said anything about Faith. He wanted them to meet; Christmas would be perfect for that, he thought. Megan might not approve of a relationship so soon after Sandy’s death, but once she got to know Faith, she’d come to love her.



Sitting back in his chair, he was reviewing the Evans case when one of the deputies knocked on his door.



“Your daughter’s here, Sheriff.”



This was a surprise. “By all means, let her in,” Troy said.



When Megan stepped into his office he saw immediately that something was wrong. She looked pale and shaken, her cheeks streaked with tears.



Troy came around his desk to guide her toward a chair. “Megan, honey, what is it?”



She didn’t seem capable of speaking. Holding a damp, wadded-up tissue to her face, she took deep, shuddering breaths.



“Is it Craig?”



She shook her head.



“The…miscarriage?”



The mere mention of that made her close her eyes and grimace with pain. “I…I went to the doctor this morning.”



Fear shot through him. “Is everything all right?”



“No.”



Troy needed to sit down himself.



“I should’ve thought of this. I’ve been so oblivious. You, too, Daddy.”



“Oblivious to what?”



“Dr. Franklin wants me to have a test.”



“What kind of test?”



She hiccuped a sob. “Daddy,” she whispered, her voice cracking with pain and fear. “He wants me to be tested for MS.”



The shock of it slammed through him. Not once had he considered this. Not once. Realizing his daughter might be at risk for the disease that had robbed Sandy of a normal life—it was almost too much to take in.



“Dr. Franklin explained that the cause is still unknown, but there might be a genetic factor. He…he said that women are more likely to get it and that statistically my chances are higher because Mom had it.”



Troy could barely function, barely think. He’d seen firsthand what Sandy had endured. Every day had presented new challenges. Every month Sandy had lost more ground. And while she faced it all with a hopeful spirit, in the end the disease had claimed her life. The thought of his only child going through that was more than Troy could tolerate.



“How am I supposed to tell Craig this?” Megan asked, weeping openly now.



Troy couldn’t answer her.



“Mom miscarried babies, too, didn’t she?”



Still unable to find his voice, Troy nodded.



“I think I’d rather be dead than go through what Mom did,” Megan said in a low voice.



“No!” Troy jumped to his feet. “Don’t talk like that!” He wasn’t easily frightened, but hearing Megan even suggest she’d rather be dead filled him with shock and fear.



His daughter’s weeping grew louder, and Troy thought his heart would break.



“When will you be tested?” he asked.



“Next week. The doctor’s scheduled an MRI, which he said is the most definitive means of making a diagnosis. He told me there’s also a good chance I don’t have it.” She shredded the tissue in her hands. “But, Daddy, what if…”



Troy couldn’t deal with this. He couldn’t accept that Megan, his only child, might have the same disease as Sandy.



Megan tried again. “What if I do have MS?” She tensed as she spoke the words. “The minute Dr. Franklin said I should be tested, certain things started to add up in my mind.”



“What things?” Megan had always had an active imagination, and she could have built all of this up, exaggerated symptoms. It made sense. She’d recently lost her mother and miscarried her first child. Little wonder she was distraught.



Megan went very quiet, as if formulating the best way to explain. “My eyes have been bothering me,” she said.



A chill raced down Troy’s spine. Shortly before they were married, Sandy had gone through a brief spell during which her eyes had given her trouble. The symptoms had disappeared and they’d both attributed it to stress. Only later did they learn that problems like double vision could be an early sign of the disease. Of course, that’d been nearly forty years ago, when much less was known about multiple sclerosis or its treatment.



“We’ll get through this,” Troy assured his daughter. “We will,” he said fervently. “You and Craig and I.”



She looked up at him with anxious eyes, and he could see how much she wanted to believe him.



Troy wanted to believe it, too.



Before Megan left, they hugged for a long time. Later he noticed that his shirt was damp with her tears.



The possibility—no matter how slight—of Megan’s having MS meant that his daughter needed him, and he had to be there for her, the same way he’d been there for Sandy. It meant Troy would have to make changes in his life, and the biggest change involved his relationship with Faith.



Alone in his office he gazed, unseeing, out the window for an hour, trying to make sense of what was happening. He was in shock, and yet he felt that his thinking was completely clear. Before he could back down, he reached for his cell phone.



Faith answered right away. “Troy! What a pleasant surprise.” Generally, he didn’t call in the middle of the day.



Her joy was like a knife piercing his heart. “Hello, Faith.” Closing his eyes, Troy could hardly force himself to speak. “I won’t be able to see you tonight,” he finally said.



“Oh, Troy, I’m sorry to hear that.” Her disappointment made his own that much sharper. But any relationship with him would be filled with broken dates and frustration. Megan had to be his priority. Being sheriff made constant demands on his time, as well. It wasn’t fair to expect Faith to wait in the background or to settle for the occasional stolen minutes he could offer.



“I’m sorry, too,” he mumbled.



“I know you’d never cancel a date for any frivolous reason.”



He didn’t respond.



“I guess I’ll have to tell you my news over the phone,” she said, “instead of waiting for this evening.”



She remained irritatingly cheerful. “What news?” he asked.



“I would’ve said something sooner, but I wanted it to be a surprise. I sold my house!”



This was the last thing Troy wanted to hear. “Oh,” he said flatly. He had no idea how he’d cope with seeing Faith in town—on the streets, in the stores, everywhere.



If she heard the reluctance in his voice, Faith ignored it. “I should’ve done this before now. It was ridiculous to live in such a huge place all by myself.”



Troy said nothing.



“My son’s thrilled,” she went on to tell him. “Scottie’s looking for a house for me. At least you and I won’t be spending all our time on the road now,” she added with a laugh.



“Faith, listen, I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’ve decided it might not be wise to continue seeing each other.” How he managed to get the words out, he didn’t know. His heart screamed that he should stop. That he should withdraw the words, pretend he’d never said them.



He couldn’t.



Bracing his hand against his forehead, he leaned his elbow on the desk.



A short pause followed his announcement.



“Have I done something to upset you?” Faith asked softly. If her joy had irritated him earlier, her pain left him raw.



“No.”



“Then can I ask why you’ve made this decision?”



He thought about that, too, and how unjust he was being. “No.”



She took a moment to absorb his remark. “I’m not a teenage girl anymore, Troy. Our relationship went wrong all those years ago through no fault of ours. I don’t want it to happen again. Now, please tell me what’s wrong. I deserve to know that much.”



She did, and he had to tell her. “It’s Megan.”



“Your daughter…”



“My daughter might have MS.”



Faith gasped. “Oh, Troy. I’m so sorry.”



“I’ve never told her about you and I can’t now.”



“No, I don’t suppose you can,” she agreed sadly.



“When you move to Cedar Cove…” He couldn’t ask her not to move because it wasn’t his right to do so. But at the same time, seeing her around town would be agony.