Debbie Macomber: 44 Cranberry Point

“Nonsense,” Bob insisted. “If anyone wanted me dead, I’d be six feet under by now.”

Maybe, but Peggy wasn’t willing to take chances with her husband’s life.

“Why don’t we arrange an extended vacation?” she suggested. It’d been years since they’d been away from the bed-and-breakfast, and they could use a break.

“For how long?” Bob asked.

“Until the case is solved,” Peggy told him, pleading with her eyes. This wasn’t the time to put on a brave front-not in her opinion, anyway.

“No way.” Bob’s quick refusal shouldn’t have come as any surprise. He’d been quite content to live in denial. Denial and featherbeds! Someone had to point out the very real possibility that he was in danger and because he was, so was she.

“I’m not leaving Cedar Cove.”

“Now, Bob…”

“I won’t let anyone or anything drive me out of my own home.”

A chill shot up Peggy’s spine. “But-”

“No, Peg,” he said, and his face hardened with resolve. “How long are we supposed to stay away? One month? Two?” He paused. “More than that?”

It wasn’t a question Troy could answer.

“Max was found dead over a year ago. I was supposedly in danger then, right?”

Sheriff Davis exchanged a concerned look with Peggy. “I understand what you’re saying, but we didn’t know then what we know now.”

“I’m not running! I spent half my life running, and I won’t do it again. If somebody wants me dead, then so be it.”

Peggy gasped.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her husband said, stretching his arm across the table to clasp her fingers with his. “I refuse to live like that, looking over my shoulder all the time.”

“Then perhaps you could compromise,” Davis said. “There’s no need to invite someone into your home who might want to harm you.”

“What do you mean?” Bob leaned closer, his stomach pressed against the rounded edge of the pinewood table. Peggy realized that despite his defiant words he was afraid. His body language revealed what he was unwilling to admit.

“I don’t know how many reservations you have for the B and B, but I’d advise you to not take any more.”

“We can easily cancel the ones we have,” Peggy murmured. Any number of businesses in town would welcome the additional bookings.

Bob directed his gaze at Peggy. “Would that make you more comfortable?”

She swallowed and nodded.

Bob continued to look unsure, as if even this one concession was more than he felt inclined to make.

“I’ve been worried ever since Jack and Olivia’s wedding,” she whispered.

A week earlier, Bob had stood up as Jack Griffin’s best man. That was just a day or two before they’d learned Max Russell had been murdered.

“All right.” Bob’s voice was heavy with reluctance. “We’ll cancel the reservations.”

“No guests,” Peggy said.

“No guests,” he confirmed, “until this matter is settled once and for all.”

This was going to hurt financially, but it didn’t matter. What did matter was having the reassurance that her husband was safe.

“I’ll do what I can to solve this quickly,” Troy promised them.

Peggy could only wonder how long that would take.

Cecilia Randall stood on the Navy pier and watched the aircraft carrier George Washington sail into Sinclair Inlet. After six months serving in the Persian Gulf, her husband, Ian, was finally home. Cecilia had often heard people talk about hearts swelling and dismissed the expression as exaggerated, sentimental. Now she knew what it meant, how it felt. Her heart swelled with love, pride and patriotism as the massive ship headed toward Bremerton.

The other Navy wives and hordes of friends and family crowded the pier. Colorful banners waved in the wind, along with Welcome Home signs. News helicopters from the Seattle television stations circled the area, taping the event for the five-o’clock broadcast. The joy and excitement around her was infectious, despite the dreary, cloudy day. Even the lead-gray skies and the threat of imminent rain didn’t dampen Cecilia’s mood. A band played in the background, and the American flag rippled in the breeze. It could have been a Norman Rockwell painting.

Cecilia’s dearest friends, two other Navy wives, Cathy Lackey and Carol Greendale, stood with her, each holding a toddler against her hip while madly waving. Cecilia hoped that before long she’d be a mother again herself.

“I think I see Andrew,” Cathy cried. She screeched with happiness and waved one arm wildly above her head. Then she pointed his daddy out to her young son.

Three thousand sailors, dressed in white Navy uniforms, stood along the rail, feet apart, hands behind their backs, as they lined the perimeter of the flight deck. At this distance it was impossible for Cecilia to find Ian. The wind whipped at her face and she shouted and waved. Perhaps Ian would see her.

“Take Amanda,” Carol said, heaving her three-year-old daughter toward Cecilia.

She gladly held the toddler. There’d been a time when even looking at this little girl brought her pain. Allison, Ian’s and her baby daughter, was born the same week as Amanda. Had she lived, Allison, too, would’ve been three years old. But she’d died after clinging to life for only a few days. Her death had ripped the marriage apart. If not for a wise family court judge who ignored convention and denied their divorce, they might have ended up like so many other sad marriage statistics.

“Ian, over here,” Cecilia shouted, as she thrust one arm high above her head. “Do you see your daddy?” she asked Amanda.

The little girl’s arms were tight around Cecilia’s neck, and she buried her face in Cecilia’s shoulder.

“There’s Daddy, there’s Daddy,” Carol said, pointing to the aircraft carrier.

Amanda looked up then, smiling, and Carol reached for her daughter again.

An eternity passed before the gangplank was lowered and the sailors disembarked, carrying their duffel bags. Soon there were reunions everywhere. Cathy spotted Andrew and ran toward her husband, weeping with happiness.

Cecilia searched frantically for Ian. Then she saw him, tall and fit and tan, his dark hair visible beneath his white Navy cap. The breath left her lungs at the sight of him and she burst into tears of joy.

Not a minute later, Cecilia was caught up in her husband’s arms. They clung to each other, tears still clouding her eyes as Ian brought his mouth to hers.

Their kiss was slow, sensual and filled with six months of longing and need. By the time they’d finished, Cecilia was weak and breathless. Ian was home; her world was complete once again. The universe could have dissolved around her and she wouldn’t have cared.

“I’ve missed you like crazy,” she whispered, holding on to him, her fingers massaging the nape of his neck. There was so much to say, so much that was in her heart. None of it mattered right then, however. All she cared about was the feel of Ian’s arms around her and the knowledge that he was home and safe and hers, if only on loan from the United States Navy.

“Oh, sweetheart, this has been the longest six months of my life.” He continued to hold her tight against him. Cecilia closed her eyes and savored this moment she’d been waiting for.

Ian had three days of shore leave and Cecilia planned to make full use of every one of them. The days-and the nights. His return couldn’t have been better planned. As far as she could tell, these next few days were her fertile period.

With his duffel bag over his shoulder, Ian reached for her hand as they walked toward the parking area. Apparently she still wasn’t close enough to suit him because he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her to his side. He smiled and his love washed over her like…like warm sunshine. That was all she could compare it to, the life-giving warmth so absent today. A light drizzle had begun and they walked a little faster, still gazing at each other.