Christmas In Cedar Cove: 5-B Poppy Lane

Lynn sighed and said nothing.

“I have the feeling none of this is really about Paul,” Ruth said with deliberate patience. She hadn’t known Lynn very long; they lived separate lives and so far they’d never had a problem. As roommates went, Ruth felt she was fortunate to have found someone as amicable as Lynn. She didn’t want this difference of opinion about Clay—and Paul—to ruin that.

The other girl once again looked pointedly at her watch, as if to suggest Ruth say what she intended to say and be done with it.

“I don’t want to see Clay,” she said emphatically.

“You might have told him that.”

“I tried.”

Lynn glared at her. “You should’ve tried harder.”

Ruth laughed, but not because she was amused. For whatever reason, Clay had set his sights on her and wasn’t about to be dissuaded. Complicating matters, Lynn was obviously interested in him and feeling guilty and unsure of how to deal with her attraction.

“Listen,” Ruth said. “I didn’t mean to hurt Clay. He’s a great guy and—”

“You shouldn’t have lied to him.”

Ruth raised her eyebrows. “When did I lie to him?”

“Last week you said you were going to visit your grandmother in Cedar Cove and that was why you couldn’t go out with him this weekend. I overheard you,” she murmured.

Oh, that. “It was a white lie,” Ruth confessed. She definitely planned to visit her grandmother, though. Helen Shelton lived across Puget Sound in a small community on the Kitsap Peninsula. Ruth had spent Thanksgiving with her grandmother and visited for a weekend before Christmas and then again close to Valentine’s Day. Her last visit had been early in March. She always enjoyed her time with Helen, but somehow the weeks had slipped away and here it was April already.

“A lie is a lie,” Lynn said adamantly.

“Okay, you’re right,” Ruth agreed. “I should’ve been honest with Clay.” Delaying had been a mistake, as she was now learning.

That seemed to satisfy her roommate, who started to get to her feet. Ruth placed her hand on Lynn’s forearm, stopping her. “I want to know why you’re so upset about this situation with Clay.”

“I told you…. I just don’t think this is how people should treat each other.”

“I don’t like the way Clay’s put you in the middle. This is between him and me. He had no right to drag you into it.”

“Yes, but—”

“You’re defending him?”

Lynn shrugged. “I guess.”

“Don’t. Clay’s a big boy. If he has something to say, then he can come to me all on his own. When and if he does, I’m going to tell him again that I’m no longer interested in dating him. I’m—”

“Stuck on some gun-wielding—”

A look from Ruth cut her off.

“Okay, whatever,” Lynn muttered.

“What I want you to do is comfort him,” Ruth said, patting Lynn’s arm.

“I could, I suppose.”

“Good,” Ruth said, hoping to encourage her. “He might need someone to talk to, and since you’re sensitive to his feelings, you’d be the perfect choice.”

“You think so?”

Ruth nodded. Lynn stood up and went inside to get her books; she left with a cheerful goodbye as if they’d never had an argument. With her roommate gone, Ruth leaped off the step and across the porch to the mailbox. Lifting the top, she reached inside, holding her breath as she pulled out the electric bill in its white envelope, a sales flyer—and a hand-addressed air mail letter from Sergeant Paul Gordon.

Two

April 2

My Dear Ruth,

We’ve been out on a recon mission for the last four days and there wasn’t any way I could let you know. They seemed like the longest four days of this tour, and not for the reasons you might think. Those days meant I couldn’t write you or receive your letters. I’ve been in the marines for eight years now and I’ve never felt like this about mail before. Never felt this strongly about a woman I’ve yet to meet, either. Once we were back in camp, I sat down with your letters and read through each one. As I explained before, there are times we can’t get online and this happened to be one of those times. I realize you’ve probably been wondering why I wasn’t in touch. I hope you weren’t too concerned. I would’ve written if I could.

I have good news. I’m coming home on leave….

Ruth read Paul’s letter twice. Yes, he’d definitely said he was headed home, to Seattle, for two weeks before flying to Camp Pendleton in California for additional training. He hoped to spend most of his leave with her. His one request was that Ruth make as much time for him as her studies would allow and, if possible, keep her weekends free.

If Ruth thought her heart had been beating hard a few minutes earlier, it didn’t compare to the way it pounded now. She could barely breathe. Never had she looked forward to meeting anyone more.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Ruth picked up the small framed photograph she kept on her nightstand. Paul’s image was the first thing she saw when she woke and the last before she turned off her light. In four months, he’d become an important part of her life. Now, with his return to Seattle, their feelings for each other would stand the real test. Writing letters and email messages was very different from carrying on a face-to-face conversation….

At the end of his letter, Paul suggested they meet at 6:00 p.m. on Saturday, April 16, at Ivar’s restaurant on the Seattle waterfront. She didn’t care what else was on her schedule; any conflicting arrangement would immediately be canceled.

Rather than begin her homework, Ruth sat down and wrote Paul back, her fingers flying over the computer keys as she composed her response. Yes, she would see him there. Nothing could keep her away. While she was nervous at the prospect of meeting Paul, she was excited, too.

Her letter was coming out of the printer when the phone rang. Absently Ruth grabbed the receiver, holding it against her shoulder as she opened the desk drawer and searched for an envelope.

“Hello?”

“Ruth, it’s your grandmother.”

“Grandma,” Ruth said, genuinely pleased to hear from Helen. “I’ve been meaning to call you and I haven’t. I’m sorry.”

Her grandmother chuckled. “I didn’t call to make you feel guilty. I’m inviting you to lunch.”

“When?”

“In a couple of weeks—on Sunday the seventeenth if that works for you. I figured I’d give you plenty of time to fit me into your schedule. I thought we’d sit out on the patio, weather permitting, and enjoy the view of the cove.”

Her grandmother’s duplex was on a hill overlooking the water with the lighthouse in the distance. Her grandparents had lived in Cedar Cove for as long as Ruth could remember, and Helen had stayed there after her husband’s death. Because Ruth had been born and raised in Oregon, she’d visited the small Washington town often through the years. “I’ve wanted to get over to see you.”

“I know, I know, but unless we both plan ahead, it won’t happen. In no time you’ll have your master’s degree and then you’ll move on and we’ll both regret the missed opportunities. I don’t want that.”

“I don’t, either.” Her Grandma Shelton was Ruth’s favorite relative. She was highly educated, which wasn’t particularly common for a woman her age, and spoke French and German fluently. She’d worked as a translator from the 1950s through the ’80s, specializing in French novels, which she translated into English. Her father hadn’t said much about his mother’s life prior to her marriage, and one of the reasons Ruth had chosen to attend the University of Washington was so she could get to know her grandmother better.