8 Sandpiper Way

She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “I can see you’re going to be the kind of husband who says ‘I told you so.’”



“Was I right, or was I right?” he asked, leaning back enough to look her in the eyes, then kiss the tip of her nose.



The screen door slammed shut and Jolene bounded into the house. She came to an abrupt halt, sighing loudly. “Are you two going to get all kissy-face again?”



“Probably,” Bruce said.



“Do you want me to leave?” It might have sounded like a joke but Rachel knew it wasn’t.



“Not at all.” She reluctantly broke away. Jolene wasn’t comfortable with even the lightest of kisses between her father and Rachel. Bruce didn’t seem to notice, but Rachel certainly had.



“I’m hungry,” Jolene announced.



Bruce glanced at his watch. “Well, no wonder! It’s after eight.”



They’d started loading Bruce’s truck as soon as Rachel got off work at six. She’d packed as much as she could the night before, but the salon was extra-busy so close to the holidays. Trying to adjust her schedule, pack and move in with Bruce and Jolene, get ready for Christmas and her wedding, all within a few days, plus get the rental house clean, was too much—and yet Rachel wouldn’t have changed a thing.



“Let me drive this load to the house,” Bruce suggested next. “On the way back I’ll pick up something for dinner. What would you like?”



“Chicken!” Jolene shouted.



Bruce looked at Rachel. “Chicken sounds good to me, too,” she said.



“Should I come with you or stay with Rachel?” Jolene asked.



“I could use some more help packing up my bedroom,” Rachel told her.



“Okay. Bye, Dad.” Jolene hugged Bruce, then started to gather up empty cartons.



“Do I get a kiss goodbye?” Bruce asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.



Remembering Jolene’s response to the last kiss, Rachel said, “No.”



Bruce pouted. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be stingy.”



“I’m going to be sensible. We both have things to do.”



“Anything we can do together?” he teased.



“Bruce,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder to confirm that Jolene had left the room. “As much as I’d like to spend the rest of the night cuddled up on that sofa with you, I can’t.”



He sighed, kissed her cheek, then sauntered out, closing the door behind him.



“Dad gone already?” Jolene asked, dragging a cardboard box into the living room.



“Yes, but he won’t be long.”



Jolene set down the box and threw herself on the sofa. “It’s kind of weird.”



“What is?”



Jolene shrugged. “You marrying my dad.”



“You’re happy about it, though, aren’t you?”



“It’s okay, I guess.”



The lack of enthusiasm caught Rachel unawares. Dropping the tablecloth she was folding, she sat beside Jolene. “Maybe we should talk about this.”



Jolene hung her head. “Okay.”



“Are you worried things will change?”



“They will,” she said, then added, “They already have.”



Rachel had to admit she was right. Everything had changed—between her and Bruce, and between her and Jolene, too. Rachel was grateful for the girl’s honesty.



“You and Dad will probably have a baby,” Jolene muttered next.



Rachel and Bruce had discussed that very subject more than once. Because she was thirty-three, Rachel wanted to get pregnant within the first year. Bruce was in full agreement.



“I thought you wanted a brother or sister,” Rachel commented.



“I do…sort of,” Jolene said. “I used to think I did, but now that it might really happen, I know everyone will pay attention to the baby and—”



“And not you,” Rachel finished for her. She placed her arm around Jolene’s shoulders and brought her close. From the time Jolene was six, Rachel had been a constant in her life. She knew this child, loved her—couldn’t imagine loving her more than she already did.



Jolene shrugged again.



“Your father loves you, Jolene.”



“I know.”



“Baby or no baby, that isn’t going to change.”



The girl sighed, staring down at her hands.



“It isn’t going to change with me, either,” Rachel told her.



After a short pause, Jolene asked, “Will I have to call you Mom?”



“What would you like to call me?”



Jolene looked at her uncertainly. “I think of you as Rachel.”



“Then call me Rachel.”



“I want you to be my mother!”



“Jolene, call me whatever makes you the most comfortable.”



“But I had a mom,” she cried suddenly, startling Rachel.



“Of course you did, and Stephanie will always be with you and part of you.”



Jolene’s face was anxious. “I don’t want to forget her and I’m afraid I will.”



The anguish in her voice was heartbreaking, and Rachel knew she had to respond carefully.



“Oh, Jolene, you aren’t going to forget her. I can promise you that. Remember, I lost my mother, too.”



When her own mother died, Rachel had gone to live with her aunt—her mother’s older sister. Her father, unlike Bruce, didn’t want a youngster underfoot. He was a busy man with a job that often took him out of town. He’d died of a heart attack when she was in her early twenties. She first came to live with her aunt at the age of ten and was supposed to stay in Cedar Cove just until school was over. Her father had intended to make other arrangements, which in retrospect probably meant a boarding school.



Her aunt was a levelheaded woman, strict and orderly, but not without affection. She’d never married. After the school year she’d suggested Rachel continue living with her. Her father was only too willing to agree.



“When you and Dad get married, will I have to take down my mother’s picture?” Jolene asked.



“Of course not!” Jolene kept it on the dresser in her bedroom.



“I need it to remember.”



“I know you do.” Rachel smoothed the hair away from Jolene’s brow. “This has all come at you pretty quickly, hasn’t it? Your dad and me getting married, I mean.”



“I…I thought you were marrying Nate and moving away, and then all of a sudden Dad tells me he loves you and now you two are getting married. That was supposed to happen on Valentine’s Day and now it’s Christmas and you’re moving in with us.”



Hearing it from Jolene’s perspective, it did seem rushed. “Would you rather we waited until February?” Rachel asked. If that was the case she’d delay the wedding.



“I…I’m not sure.”



“We didn’t give you time to adjust to the idea,” Rachel murmured, feeling she’d failed Jolene.



“I want you to marry my dad. And I want you to move in with us….”



“Just not yet.”



“I…I don’t know.”



Rachel acknowledged the girl’s indecision. “I understand you’re feeling confused,” she said. “Things really have changed too fast for you, haven’t they?”



“Yeah,” Jolene agreed, and Rachel sensed her relief.



How foolish she and Bruce had been. Without meaning to, they’d excluded his daughter. They’d been so focused on their own emotions, Jolene had taken second place.



“Shall we think about this for a minute? What would you like to see happen?”



“I want you to be my friend again.”



Rachel hadn’t considered it that way. “I’ll always be your friend, Jolene.”



“I want you to be. Except…”



“Except what?” Rachel pressed.



“Except…I don’t like it when you and Dad kiss and stuff. It’s like I’m not even in the room, but I am and I see everything. It’s embarrassing. None of my friends’ parents kiss like that.”



Rachel figured the newness of the attraction between her and Bruce would wear off in time. But in the meanwhile, Jolene’s discomfort had to be taken into account. Rachel’s heart sank as she thought about this. It was all more complicated than she’d realized.



Rachel spent the next fifteen or twenty minutes listening to Jolene, encouraging her to express her concerns, trying to reassure her. When the front door opened and Bruce strolled in carrying a large white bag containing their dinner, he seemed to sense that something was wrong.



“Hey, you two, what’s up?”



Rachel looked at Jolene, whose eyes seemed to plead with her not to say anything.



“We’re just talking,” Rachel said.



Jolene squeezed her hand in thanks.



“Anyone hungry?” Bruce asked.



“I am,” Rachel announced with feigned cheerfulness.



“Me, too,” Jolene chimed in.



Bruce brought the takeout meal to the kitchen. The moment he’d left the living room, Rachel turned to Jolene again. “Let me talk to your father,” she said.



“He’ll be mad at me.”



“No, he won’t,” Rachel told her. “Leave everything to me.”



Jolene folded her arms, her expression downcast. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”



“About what?” Bruce stood in the doorway.



Rachel glanced at Jolene and then at Bruce. “Our lives are changing so quickly that Jolene’s having a hard time keeping up.”



“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.



Rachel had hoped he’d understand. “I’m thinking she’s probably right, and we may have let this whole marriage thing get ahead of us.”



Bruce stepped into the room. “What are you saying? Don’t forget, I’m a guy. You’re going to have to spell it out for me.”



“Well,” Rachel said, reaching for Jolene’s hand, “maybe we should wait until Valentine’s Day. That was the original plan and now we’re—”



“Delay the wedding?” he broke in. “No way!” Bruce shook his head vigorously. “I want us married, and the sooner the better.”



“There’s Jolene to consider,” Rachel reminded him.



Bruce regarded his daughter for a moment and then knelt down in front of her. “Are you upset about Rachel and me getting married?” he asked.



Jolene refused to meet his gaze. “A little,” she said in a small voice.



“I thought you liked Rachel.”



“I do! A lot.”



“So what’s the problem?”



The girl shrugged, as if unable to voice her feelings.



“I love Rachel,” Bruce told her gently. “And I love you, too.”



Rachel was proud of him for being so sensitive to his daughter. Jolene needed to know that she was still as important to Bruce as ever. She and Bruce shared an unusually close bond because it had been just the two of them for more than six years; Rachel’s constant presence in their lives would disrupt that, change it. And at twelve, a girl needed her father’s approval, his pride in her. Rachel was very conscious of not having received that and she refused to let the same thing happen to Jolene.