Debbie Macomber - 1022 Evergreen Place

“Christie?”

She knew James was waiting for her response.

“I … I don’t think I’m ready for marriage yet,” she murmured, and felt him tense. She didn’t expect him to be pleased but she couldn’t say anything different.

James didn’t respond right away. “I thought marriage was what you wanted,” he finally said. “What we both want.”

“I do … but not yet.”

He removed his arm and straightened. Leaning forward, he stared down at the floor, then asked, “When do you suppose you will?”

“I don’t know. Why? Are you planning to walk out on me again?” If so, she wanted to know that now.

“No. I plan to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

She’d heard that before. Her suspicions rose again; it sounded so promising, but then it always did … until she learned the truth.

“Why do you want to get married so quickly? Do we really know each other, James? I trusted you and look what happened.” She didn’t mean to keep throwing that one transgression in his face, but she was genuinely worried about it.

He stood and walked to the other side of the room. “I’d hoped we could let it go.”

Christie wished their situation was that simple. “Do we really know each other?” she repeated. “Sure, we’re attracted and it would be easy to become physically involved …”

“Okay.” He perked up at that.

How predictable men were. This was usually when other men she’d dated would suggest they “test” their relationship by setting up house together. Naturally they always moved in with her—because they could no longer afford rent. Granted, that wasn’t the case with James, but she realized he was growing frustrated, although he was the one who’d initially wanted to wait. He’d resisted jumping into bed a few months ago, when she’d been willing. Apparently their views on this subject had been reversed. Imitating a game-show host, she blared, “Wrong answer.”

The vehemence in her voice made his head jerk back. “You aren’t interested in sex?”

She laughed spontaneously. “I didn’t say that.”

“Okay,” he said with reluctance. “Then what’s the problem? You were certainly ready to do it with other men. Why not me?”

Christie blinked at the physical pain that struck her at his words. She pressed her hand against her heart until it passed. Then she drew in a deep breath and slowly expelled it before she stood.

“I think it’s time I left. Thank you for the tea.” She carried her mug to the sink. Her hand shook as she set it down and she tried to swallow the constriction in her throat. She turned to leave and found James blocking the door.

“I didn’t mean that,” he said, sounding utterly miserable.

He wasn’t the only one feeling bad. “Sure you did,” she said, putting on a bright face. “And why shouldn’t you? It’s true. I was all too willing to give myself to other men. There were a lot of them, too. And then I was stupid enough to tell you everything, thinking—oh, I don’t know, thinking that if you knew, we could put it behind us. Thinking you’d understand how important a clean slate was to me. And let me remind you, James, you turned me down a few months ago.”

“Yes, but …” He sighed. “You can trust me, Christie. You know I’d never intentionally hurt you.”

“I used to think so,” she muttered. “Now …”

He closed his eyes. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s best to hold off on marriage. I’ll tell you what—you let me know when you’re ready to forgive and forget, and we’ll talk again.”

“Good idea,” she said cheerfully. “And you do the same.”

His brows shot up, and he stepped aside so she could exit the apartment.

Christie walked past him and was halfway down the stairs when he said, “I don’t suppose this is a good time to mention that I’m going away for a few days.”

She paused, her foot midway between two steps. The only reason he’d told her this now was to get her attention. For all she knew, it might not even be true. “When did this come up?” she asked without turning around.

“An hour ago. It’s business. Bobby and I have some meetings in L.A.”

Which explained why Teri hadn’t said anything earlier. Questions buzzed in her brain, demanding answers. She wanted to know exactly how long he’d be away. What kind of business? And why did he leave it until now to tell her? But making an issue of this would’ve been too much like the old Christie, the insecure Christie, the woman who required constant reassurance.

“Okay,” she murmured, although she clenched the railing so tightly that her fingers ached.

“Should I call you when I’m back?”

She gave a quick shrug. “Up to you. Have a good trip.”

He sighed loudly enough for her to hear. “I don’t think I can.”

She turned to face him with a tentative smile. “No, I mean it, James. I want you to have a good trip.” She felt his gaze follow her as she descended the steps and walked to her car. She didn’t look back.

As she pulled out of Teri’s driveway, she couldn’t help wondering if she’d just rejected a marriage proposal from the only decent man who’d ever asked her.

On Thursday, Grace hurried into the Pot Belly Deli five minutes late. She’d arranged to meet Olivia for lunch at noon, but she’d had to deal with a patron’s inquiry. She didn’t like to keep her friend waiting.

Now that Olivia had finished her chemo, she was on the way to remission. She’d given herself the summer off to regain her strength before returning to the courthouse, where she was a family-court judge.

“Sorry I’m late,” Grace said, sliding into the chair across from her best friend.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

Grace smiled. “Oh, good. What am I having for lunch?”

“Cream of potato soup and a green salad with ranch dressing on the side. No scone.”

Olivia knew her likes and dislikes, which stood to reason after forty-some years of friendship. “And you?” Grace asked.

“A salad and scone.”

Grace threw her friend an accusing look. Olivia was still far too thin; she needed more than just a salad.

Olivia grinned. “And a slice of double chocolate cake.”

“Excellent.”

“With two forks.”

“Even better.”

“So, are you ready for Rover?” Olivia asked.

Grace leaned back in her chair. After months of preparation, the Reading with Rover program was about to launch at the library. She’d worked hard to get it set up. Children with below-grade-level reading abilities could come to the library, where they’d be paired with a dog. The dogs made the reading environment nonthreatening; kids could read simply for enjoyment. With a dog—and a silent companion—as their audience, they didn’t risk being embarrassed in front of their teachers or peers. Children loved dogs, and the dogs loved them back. She’d learned about the program in a professional journal and been intrigued.

“Am I ready?” Grace said, repeating the question. “I think so. I won’t know until this afternoon. So far, I have two teenage volunteers and two adults from the community.”

“How many dogs?”

“We’re starting with six dogs and six children between the ages of seven and eleven. They’re all at risk schoolwise.”

“The superintendent’s on board?”

“Oh, yes. The superintendent herself told me she’s impressed with the idea.”

Olivia reached for her tea. “I’m absolutely enthralled with the whole thing.”

“Me, too, and I’m so glad they all came from the animal shelter.”

Olivia glanced up. “Aren’t they trained? I thought you told me they were.”