6 Rainier Drive. Debbie Macomber

sofa, her temporary bed. The family living room had become her prison as the pregnancy moved into its final trimester. Jon was gone for the afternoon with Katie, their three-year-old daughter, so the house was quiet, peaceful. Maryellen knew she should try to rest. The problem was, she couldn’t.

      Worries assailed her from all sides. She worried about her unborn baby and this difficult pregnancy. She worried about the pressures her husband was under as he struggled to support their family now that The Lighthouse, where he’d once worked as chef, was gone. She worried about his photographic career, her marriage and all the mistakes she’d made. The worst one had come from the best intentions. Maryellen had tried so hard to heal the rift between Jon and his parents, and it had nearly destroyed her relationship with her husband.

      She found it impossible to rest, and yet that was what the doctor had ordered—bed rest for the remainder of this pregnancy. She was forbidden to climb stairs or exert herself in any way.

      Yet how could she lie around when so much needed to be done? Leaning against the sofa, she closed her eyes and fought back depression. It’d never been like this when she carried Katie. That pregnancy had been normal in every respect.

      Then she’d miscarried their second child. The emotional costs of this third pregnancy had yet to be calculated. Still, they both desperately wanted their child. All Maryellen could do was follow her doctor’s instructions, try not to worry and pray that the baby would be born healthy and whole.

      Because she was bedridden, everyone had pitched in. Her mother, especially, helped as much as she could, coming by twice a week with dinner and looking after Katie as often as her own busy life would allow. This gave both Jon and Maryellen a much-needed break. She hated to intrude on her mother, since Grace and Cliff were newly married and just now setting up house together. Grace had her own adjustments to make without taking on Maryellen’s problems.

      The phone rang and Maryellen grabbed it, eager for any distraction.

      “Hello,” she said, hoping her voice disguised the self-pity she’d fallen into.

      “It’s Ellen Bowman. Is everything all right?”

      Her mother-in-law’s sympathy nearly overwhelmed her, bringing her close to tears. Maryellen felt dreadful, about as low as she’d been in her entire life, other than during her brief first marriage. “I’m okay,” she managed to tell her.

      “And Jon?” Ellen asked hesitantly.

      “He’s…” Maryellen was willing to stretch the truth about her own state of mind and health, but she couldn’t lie about her husband’s. “Not well, Ellen. He’s not doing well at all.”

      Her mother-in-law grew quiet. “Joseph and I thought that might be the case. I know Jon’s angry. He’s made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t want anything to do with either of us. His attitude’s killing his father. But I know you’ve tried to talk to him, and we both appreciate your efforts more than we can say.”

      Maryellen had paid a high price for interfering between Jon and his parents and she dared not do it again. She and Jon had actually separated for a time, just before the miscarriage, because of her attempts to effect a reconciliation. Afterward, they’d sidestepped the whole issue. But earlier in the month, soon after she’d begun her regimen of bed rest, Jon had conceded that they didn’t have any choice other than to ask his family for help.

      Yet he hadn’t made the phone call, hadn’t contacted them in any way, at least not that Maryellen knew about. Instead, they struggled from day to day until she feared their lives were about to implode. Neither Jon nor Maryellen could continue living with this constant, unrelenting stress.

      “Jon was going to phone you,” Maryellen said. “He told me.”

      “He was?” Hope elevated Ellen’s voice.

      “He hasn’t, because, well, because he’s afraid, I think, and proud. Too proud.”

      Ellen laughed softly. “He’s like his father in that regard.”

      Maryellen smiled and tried to relax. This nervous tension was bad for the baby, bad for her, bad all around. At her last appointment, Dr. DeGroot had emphasized the importance of staying calm. When he’d said she should try to keep her life stress-free, she’d nearly laughed out loud.

      “Joseph and I ordered the Cedar Cove Chronicle mailed to us here in Oregon,” Ellen said, “and we read about the fire at The Lighthouse. We know Jon went back to work there.”

      “Yes, it’s terrible news.” Without his job as chef, Jon was left with only his photography earnings to support the family. His work was displayed in a Seattle gallery and sold well, but the money he made wasn’t nearly enough to cover their living expenses, particularly now that Maryellen no longer had medical insurance.

      “Jon’s not working anywhere else, then?”

      “His photographs are selling nicely,” Maryellen felt obliged to tell her. “He’s so talented.” It was through his art that Maryellen had first come to know Jon Bowman. He’d brought his photographs for display at the Harbor Street Gallery, where she was employed as manager. They were among the most popular in the gallery.

      Unlike some of the other artists, Jon preferred to keep a low profile. It wasn’t until after Katie was born that she’d learned this man she loved had spent time in prison. In order to save their younger son, his parents had lied and Jon had been sentenced for a crime he’d never committed.

      “Joseph and I want to help,” Ellen insisted. “What can we do?”

      “I’m not sure…” She didn’t feel comfortable stating the obvious—that she needed someone here, in the house, looking after Katie, preparing meals, cleaning.

      “There’s something wrong,” Ellen said sharply. “What is it?”

      “I’m—I’m having problems with the pregnancy,” she admitted. “I’m on complete bed rest.” The baby gave her a hard kick as if to remind her.

      “What about Katie? You can’t possibly be taking care of her if you’re confined to bed.”

      “I’m not. I can’t. She’s with her father,” Maryellen said. Jon was doing his best to sell his work and take care of their child, run the household, and everything else.

      “But how can he do that?” Ellen asked, clearly concerned.

      “He can’t.” Maryellen was unwilling to explain further.

      “We’re coming,” Ellen announced. “You both need us.”

      Maryellen sighed, feeling a surge of relief and simultaneous anxiety about Jon’s reaction. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

      “You didn’t,” Ellen said. “Our son will just have to swallow his silly pride. His family’s at stake here. As far as I’m concerned, this is God’s way of bringing us all back together. Jon can’t very well ignore us now. He’s our son, and Katie and this new baby are our grandchildren.” Ellen sounded like a force to be reckoned with.

      “Let me talk to him first,” Maryellen urged.

      “You do that if you want, but it doesn’t make the least bit of difference what he says. Joseph and I are coming to Cedar Cove, and that’s that. Leave everything to me, Maryellen,” she insisted in a determined voice. “I’ll be in touch.”

      They ended the conversation and afterward Maryellen did feel better. She didn’t know what she’d say to Jon. Maybe she wouldn’t broach the subject, after all. Maybe she would leave everything to Ellen and Joseph. She was so weary of fighting him on this. He’d relented once and agreed to ask his family for help and then done nothing. She couldn’t face that battle again.

      Just as she was beginning to think it was time for Jon and Katie to return home, she heard a car pull into the yard. Trying to look rested and relaxed, she attempted a smile, waiting for her husband and daughter to walk into the house.