Welcome Back to Cedar Cove

  Debbie Macomber

  Contents

  BEFORE THE STORY

  A CEDAR COVE DAD’S ADVICE

  A FRESH NEW YEAR

  DADDY’S GIRL

  BACK AD - It’s Better This Way

  BEFORE THE STORY

  It’s hard to believe that I wrote the first book of the Cedar Cove stories twenty years ago. The idea for this series came from you, my readers. From my first published book, I’ve found reader feedback vital. I was one of the first authors to have my mailing address listed in the book. As I remember, it took some fast-talking on my part to convince my publisher to allow me to do it. From day one, I read every piece of mail that came into the post office box. What my readers had to say was important to me, and always will be.

  Reader feedback has guided me over the course of my long career, and the Cedar Cove series is an example of that. Having written a number of series by that point, readers continued sending letters asking if I’d consider writing more, adding to the existing series. Here’s a secret about writers: we look forward, not back. It can be difficult for us to return to characters we’ve said good-bye to long before.

  It was with that thought in mind that I decided to write a small-town series, like the others, only this time I would continue until I felt that all the stories were told. I didn’t know how many there would be, and as it turned out, it became something like fifteen books, including novellas.

  The Cedar Cove series is special to me for many reasons, in addition to the fact that I spent so many years with these characters. The series was a turning point in my career. 74 Seaside Avenue was my first book to reach #1 on the New York Times list. No author will ever forget that moment. It was honor enough to make that list, but to reach the very top was a gift. A gift my readers gave me with their support.

  My editor’s teenage daughter, who has since gone into publishing herself, came up with the idea of using street addresses for the titles. Some of those addresses held special significance to me. The first book in the series was 16 Lighthouse Rd. I chose number sixteen because my father was born on the 16th of April. He was always a huge supporter of me and my books and I thought he’d get a kick out of that.

  The title for the second book, 204 Rosewood Lane, also has special significance. I grew up at 204 South 8th Avenue as a kid. 311 Pelican Court is the next book in the Cedar Cove series. Notice how the first number in the street address indicates the sequence of these titles?

  Even some of the cover art for the Cedar Cove books had special meaning to me. Both my daughter Adele’s house, and the home where Wayne and I have lived for nearly thirty years were featured on Cedar Cove covers. Adele has since moved, but it was her home that was originally shown on 311 Pelican Court and our home on 1022 Evergreen Place. The short story you’re about to read features the Cox family, who resides at 311 Pelican Court.

  For those of you who have read 311 Pelican Court, you’ll recall Zach and Rosie Cox had gone through a divorce and were awarded joint custody of their two children: Eddie and Allison. Judge Olivia Lockhart knew it wasn’t the two children’s fault their parents couldn’t get along, and she decided that instead of Eddie and Allison moving every few days, they would get the house, and the two parents would be the ones moving in and out. Twenty years ago, when the book came out, this was a shocking decree and caused quite a stir. I’d read about a judge who’d been brave enough to make this kind of decision and thought it was brilliant. I have never been one to waste a good idea.

  Despite feeling like I’d left all my characters at the right time and place, readers have asked, and I have thought about, where they might be now. Lately I’ve taken to writing short stories, some of which revisit characters I left behind long ago.

  So here, my friends, is the story about a grown-up Eddie Cox, called Ed now, who is having a few marital problems of his own.

  Enjoy,

  Debbie Macomber

  A CEDAR COVE DAD’S ADVICE

  “Hey, Dad. You called?” Ed held the phone close to his ear as his wife glared at him from across the kitchen.

  “Eddie, I wanted to see if you have any time to give your old man a hand. Any chance you can stop by Saturday morning and help me move a few things around in the garage?”

  Ed smiled to hear his dad’s voice. Now in his late twenties, Ed was only called Eddie these days by his parents and his sister.

  “Sure, what time do you need me?” Ed was grateful for an excuse to get out of the house. Things hadn’t been good between him and his wife, Emma, for quite some time. He’d been taking any opportunity to stay late at work, and weekends at home had become unbearable. He wasn’t sure what had happened to their relationship. And worse yet, he couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

  It had gotten to the point where Ed found himself using any and every excuse to escape Emma’s cold shoulder. Thankfully, there were no children involved, although that was something else Emma continually harped about. But Ed wouldn’t consider bringing a child into a marriage that felt like it was, at best, teetering on the edge of collapse.

  “Morning would be best,” his dad said. “But I’ll work around your schedule. Whenever you could get here will work. You know your mother – she’s got spring cleaning on her mind. She’s got me out washing windows today and told me this morning that it was time for me to get some clutter out of the garage.”

  Ed grinned. This happened every year with his mom. She’d get this cleaning bug and would rope his dad into the process. Ed admired the way his parents worked together and sincerely wished it could be that way with him and Emma. Perhaps one day, but he didn’t think it was likely. Not with the way things were now.

  “Problem is Rosie recently read this book that makes a big claim: that cleaning out clutter is directly tied to a person’s ability to lose weight. I don’t know how that would work for her, since I’m the one climbing up and down ladders to pull down storage bins. She has me making runs to St. Vincent de Paul’s with the donations, too. So, I’m the one working up a sweat,” he said with a chuckle.

  The two men set a time to meet Saturday morning. When Ed got off the phone, he found Emma staring at him from the kitchen where she was preparing dinner. It used to be they cooked together. Lately, however, she didn’t seem to want him in the kitchen. Fine, her loss.

  “What did your dad want?” she asked.

  “Mom’s on her annual spring-cleaning binge, and Dad needs help removing some stuff from the garage.”

  “But you promised to paint the bedroom this weekend,” Emma said, frowning in his direction. “And our own garage is a mess. Have you looked at it lately? I can barely get my car in any longer.”

  That was rich in irony, as it was Emma’s exercise equipment taking up most of the space. Yes, he had a few boxes stored on the floor that needed to be put up on the shelving unit, but it was that ungodly expensive machine that was the real problem. The one she just had to have. But Ed knew if he mentioned it, there was sure to be another argument and that was something he hoped to avoid. As he had so often in the past, Ed swallowed down his words rather than start a fight.

  But he couldn’t stop thinking about the monstrosity in the garage. He resented that high-end stair climber. Emma had claimed it was necessary to get for them to stay in shape. Ed got all the exercise he needed working construction. The price was extravagant, but in the end, he’d reluctantly agreed, wanting to keep the peace. Most days now, that machine sat idle. And Ed noticed charges on their credit card bill for membership at a local barre studio where Emma met up with her friends every week to take classes. The machine grated on Ed’s nerves every time he saw it, especially since his new truck sat out in the rain and the pollen, while that and Emma’s other workout gear took up his side of the garage. What a waste of good space, not to mention money.

  “I’ll get to the bedroom, just not this weekend.”

  “That’s what you said last weekend.”

  “I had a softball tournament.”

  “Then what about the garage? When can you get to that?”

  He tried ignoring her.

  “Did you hear me?” Emma demanded.

  “I heard you.”

  “Well?”

  “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he muttered, sarcastically.

  His wife whirled around, presenting him with a view of her back.

  “First thing I’ll do is get rid of that stair climber that you insisted on having,” he added.

  Emma cringed and turned back around to give him a glare that could melt concrete.

  “If you want the garage cleaned, then that will be the first thing to go, seeing how you seem to have lost interest.”

  Without another word, Emma returned to finishing their dinner preparations. He could see that his words had hit their mark.

  They ate in silence. As soon as she was finished, Emma excused herself and went into their bedroom. He was left with the dishes. Ed didn’t mind. He welcomed the silence.

  When he was done, Ed sat down in front of the television and waited until Emma had fallen asleep before he joined her upstairs. It’d been a month or longer since they’d made love. She seemed to find every excuse under the sun to bow out of any intimacy with him. The last time he’d mentioned their love life, that had led to yet another argument, and he’d sarcastically told her to let him know when she was “available”. Until then, he wouldn’t touch her. She didn’t seem to be in any hurry to cross that bridge, which said everything.

  On Saturday morning, Ed was out of the house before eight, eager to help his dad before Emma hounded him with a to-do list around their own house. Emma seemed just as glad to escape, causally mentioning she was headed to her sister’s place. He let himself into his parents’ house at 311 Pelican Court, where he’d spent most of his childhood. Ed found his dad sitting at the kitchen table reading the morning newspaper. His mom was at the stove preparing breakfast.

  “Hi, honey,” she greeted her son. “You hungry?”

  Ed kissed his mother’s cheek. “Whatcha cooking?”

  “Oatmeal. It’s good for your father’s bowels.”

  “Rosie!” Zach objected. “Don’t be talking about my bowels.”

  She laughed. “Well, it’s the truth. I’m just keeping you regular. Would you like some, Eddie?”

  Ed held up both hands as if someone had pointed a gun at him. “I’ll pass, but thanks anyway.”

  “There’s cinnamon rolls, if you’re interested,” his mother offered, and Ed happily took one.

  His dad lowered the newspaper. “How come he gets sweet rolls, and I don’t?”

  “Because you’re watching your weight.”

  His father answered with a soft snort. “The one watching it is you, my love.”

  “Only because I want you to live a long, healthy life.”

  “Understood,” his dad returned. He caught Ed’s gaze and whispered. “Grab me one of those rolls for later.”

  “I heard that,” his mother called.

  Ed laughed. How he wished he could banter with Emma like this. Lately, she took everything he said as a complaint, turning even the most innocent comment into an insult, as if he was trying to pick a fight. He’d finally decided that the less he said, the better.

  Despite his refusal, his mother set a bowl of oatmeal for him at the kitchen table, where he sat across from his dad.

  “Mom,” he protested, wiping the crumbs from the cinnamon roll off the corner of his mouth. “You know I’m not a fan.”

  “Eat. You’re looking thin. What is Emma feeding you, anyways?”

  Ed shrugged, unwilling to admit the tension at home had killed his appetite. By the time he sat down to dinner with Emma, he was stressed out and on edge. He wasn’t the only one, Emma looked like she’d lost a few pounds herself. And it wasn’t due to that stair climber.

  “Speaking of Emma, I was hoping she’d come with you.”

  “She went to visit her sister.”

  They’d barely said a word to each other that morning. The tension between them was so strained that a tightrope walker could use it as a cable to cross the Grand Canyon. And the gulf between them felt that wide, too. He wondered silently if there was any way to close the gap. He was beginning to think it was a lost cause.

  “You two decide when you’re going to give us a grandchild?” his mother pressed.

  “Rosie, that’s a personal decision,” her husband interjected. “They’ll have a family when they’re good and ready.”

  “Sweetheart, you can’t blame me for asking. Allison told me just yesterday that she and Eric don’t plan to have any more children. Finley and Jordan are it for them. If we’re going to have any more grandkids it will need to come from Eddie and Emma.”

  “It’s up in the air,” Ed murmured, trying to appease his mom. At the rate their marriage was going, it didn’t seem likely. Something in his voice must have alerted his father to his troubles, because Zach caught his eye with a concerned look.

  His dad waited until they were alone in the garage before he said anything, starting off with a casual, yet direct, inquiry. “Everything okay with you and Emma?” he asked, as he shoved a heavy box to one side.

  Ed initially wanted to blow off the question and claim everything was fine, but for whatever reason, he didn’t. Deep down, Ed didn’t like the way he’d been acting toward his wife, nor the way Emma had been treating him. Something needed to change. One of them had to make the effort, and it looked like it would need to be him. The problem was, Ed wasn’t sure where to start.

  “Not really,” Ed replied, hoping to keep the defeat out of his voice, but knowing his dad had already read him like a book.

  “You want to talk about it?” his father asked, watching him closely.

  Ed barely knew where to start. He stood with his hands in his pockets as he lowered his head. “Not sure what to say. I blame that blasted piece of exercise equipment Emma wanted. I thought it was a waste of money and told her so. Against my better judgement I gave in. Emma had to have it, and now it sits in the garage, gathering dust while my truck gets pelted by the weather and everything else nature throws at it. Every time I see the contraption, my jaw tightens, and then I stupidly make sure Emma knows how I feel. And then she reacts, and it’s snowballed to the point where we’re barely talking. I don’t know how one little fight took over everything, but I looked up one day and it felt like my whole marriage was falling apart.”

  His father sat down on a box he’d recently moved off to the side. “You might remember a time when your mother and I were constantly at odds.”

  It wasn’t like Ed could forget. He was young when his parents broke the news that they were divorcing and seeking joint custody. He even remembered the name of the judge who had been assigned to their divorce suit – Olivia Lockhart. In her wisdom, she’d agreed to the joint custody parenting plan, but insisted that his parents would be the ones doing the shuffling between homes, not Ed and Allison. His father had rented an apartment, and when it was his dad’s turn to have them, his mom would go live at the apartment, and his dad would come back to their home. Eventually, his parents had reunited, but not without a bit of intervention by Ed and his sister.

  “I remember like it was yesterday. What changed things around for you and Mom? How did you two come to your senses and make your marriage work again?” Any words of wisdom would be welcome at this point, Ed figured. He was at his wit’s end, and in all honesty, he blamed himself. Things had progressed to the point that he wasn’t sure they could go back.

  His dad took his time answering. “At first, I blamed your mother. Once you kids started school, it seemed like she was out of the house most of the time, doing volunteer work at church and in your classrooms. I wanted her to be around more. At that point, I hadn’t come to the realization that I was just as much at fault. I’d become consumed with building my career and was as inaccessible to her as she was to me. We’d slowly drifted apart and lost our connection to each other.”

  As Ed recalled, there was far more to it than his parents being overly busy. There’d been a lot of tension between them. He and Alison had felt like they were walking on a knife edge most of the time, but he kept quiet, interested in hearing what his father had to say.

  “We finally sat down and listened to each other. I mean, truly listened, not just with our ears, but with our hearts, too. I felt that she needed to prioritize her time better, and she resented the long hours I spent away from the family. We acknowledged how much we missed each other. We were miserable, and we could see what the divorce had done to you kids.”

  “Emma and I are barely talking,” Ed finally admitted.

  “That’s not good, son.”

  It wasn’t good, and Ed knew it. “It isn’t only me who’s unhappy. I can tell Emma’s feeling the same way. You think it would help if we separated?” He hated the thought of it, yet at the same time, he wasn’t sure they could continue down the path they were on without further damage to their marriage.

  “Do you love her?”

  Not needing to think twice, he nodded affirmatively. “I do.”

  He’d been crazy about Emma. In the beginning, they had lived across the state from each other. Emma in Spokane, in eastern Washington, and him in Cedar Cove, outside of Seattle. Every minute apart had felt like an eternity. He couldn’t wait until the weekends when they could be together. He’d known almost from the moment they’d met that she was the one for him.

 

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