1105 Yakima Street

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll go see the place.”

“Good.” He left money to pay for their drinks, then slid out of the booth.

Rachel stood and immediately felt dizzy. She would have stumbled if Nate hadn’t grabbed her elbow.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

She closed her eyes and tried to remember. “A while ago. I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. Listen, no arguments. Once you’ve toured the house, I’m fixing you something to eat.”

“You cook?”

“I’m surprised you don’t remember that I’m a man of many talents.”

His smile was just the salve she needed, his friendship the mainstay that would see her through this upheaval in her life.

She followed Nate to the Bremerton address he gave her. The house was in a nearby neighborhood, convenient to the navy base. The two-story structure, built after the Second World War, had a large front porch and shuttered windows. It was meant for a family.

Unexpected emotion swelled up inside Rachel as she looked at the house. Her mother had been a single parent and her aunt had never married. All her life Rachel had yearned to be part of a family. When she married Bruce, she’d felt as if she finally belonged. She had a husband and a stepdaughter and they were bonded together by love. It didn’t take long for that dream to shatter and now, once more, she was on the outside…?. The baby stirred, and she pressed her palm against her stomach, hoping her child would one day know the love of a father, a mother and a big sister.

“Would you like to come in?” Nate asked, again clasping her elbow as though he feared she might crumple onto the pavement.

Without answering, she accompanied him up the walkway to the steps.

“I do my best to keep the place neat, but you have to remember I’m a guy and housekeeping is low on my priority list.”

“I’ll remember,” she said, managing a glimmer of a smile.

The house wasn’t in bad shape. A few newspapers and magazines were scattered about but the sink was empty of dirty dishes and the living room free of clutter. The furniture, large and dark, wasn’t anything she would’ve purchased, but it would suffice.

“Let me show you the extra bedroom,” Nate said, steering her down the long hallway. He chuckled.

“What?” she asked, curious about what he found so amusing.

“I promised there’d be nothing romantic between us, and the first thing I do is take you to the bedroom.” He shook his head. “Sorry, the irony was too much for me.”

Rachel laughed softly. “I guess it does sound rather…compromising.”

The room he showed her was pretty basic. It might have been a hotel room for all the personality it revealed. A bed, a dresser and a nightstand were the only furniture. There wasn’t a picture on the wall or any indication that someone else had once occupied the room. The bedspread looked worn and was probably one Bob had purchased years before.

“Like I said, it’s nothing fancy.”

“Where’s your bedroom?” she asked, noting the number of doors leading off the hallway.

“Upstairs. Both of the other bedrooms are.”

That meant it wasn’t likely they’d run into each other in the middle of the night, which made her feel a little less guilty about the prospect of deceiving her husband.

“So,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed, “what do you think?”

“I…” She paused. Again, she imagined what Bruce would say if he found out where she was living. That would definitely complicate an already complicated situation. But then, as Nate had said, she didn’t need to tell Bruce the whole truth—at least, not right away. He only had to be told one thing: that she was safe.

“You really are a good friend, aren’t you?” She meant that. She believed in his genuineness, even though he’d been hurt by her choice of Bruce over him.

He grinned. “Anything for you, Rachel, you know that.”

“All right, I’ll do it. You’ve got yourself a housemate—but on one condition.”

“Sure.”

She met his eyes. “You can’t tell anyone I’m living here. No one, okay?”

Frowning, Nate rubbed his chin. “Since it’s Bob’s house I can’t keep it a secret from him, and I feel I should say something to Emily, but I can ask them not to mention it to anyone else.”

“Fine, you can tell Bob and Emily, as long as they’re willing to be discreet.”

“I’ll make that clear. But who do you expect me—or them—to tell?” he asked.

“Your friends. Or their friends. You’d be amazed at how quickly word gets around in Cedar Cove. You might casually mention it to one of your navy buddies and that person might know Bruce and an hour later my husband will show up on the doorstep. Bruce isn’t an aggressive or violent man, but he wouldn’t take kindly to the two of us sharing a house.”

“Okay, deal.” Nate extended his hand.

“I’ll keep my end of the bargain, as well,” she promised, shaking his hand. “I’ll do my best to be a good housemate. I’ll pay my rent on time and—”

“I wasn’t worried about it, Rachel,” he broke in. “I guess you can’t tell Teri, can you?”

Now, that was going to be painful. Rachel told Teri everything. She was her closest friend and had been for years. But Nate was right; she couldn’t leak a word of this to anyone, not even Teri. Bruce would certainly ask her, and Rachel couldn’t risk the chance that Teri would accidentally divulge the information. What she didn’t know, she couldn’t share.

“No, I don’t think I will,” she said. Hard as that would be, it was necessary.

Two

When the alarm rang at the Cedar Cove firehouse, Mack and his fellow firefighters jumped into action. The address was relayed as he leaped onto the fire truck, and the familiarity of it struck him immediately, although he didn’t have time to think about it. Not until the truck, lights flashing and sirens blaring, turned onto Eagle Crest Avenue did he realize the house belonged to Ben and Charlotte Rhodes. Mack had visited there often, taking his daughter, Noelle, to see her grandparents. The smoke billowing out of the house came from the back, where the kitchen was located.

Mack and the two other firefighters pulled out the hose, all of them supporting it, and raced toward the house. The fire engine carried five hundred gallons of water, which enabled them to get water onto the fire without the delay of hooking up to a hydrant. A second truck would arrive within minutes and those firefighters would engage the closest hydrant.

Mack’s heart pounded as he ran toward the rear of the house carrying the bulky hose. Already he could hear the second siren in the distance.

Ben and Charlotte, plus several of their neighbors, stood out on the sidewalk staring at the scene. Charlotte wore the horrified look of a woman who couldn’t believe what was happening. Ben stood next to her, his arm protectively around her shoulders. He seemed equally shaken.

Because he was busy working on the fire, Mack didn’t get a chance to talk to the elderly couple until the blaze was extinguished, which took only minutes. Thankfully the damage seemed to be confined to the kitchen.

The fire squad commander spoke to Ben while Charlotte wrung her hands. She seemed so distraught and anxious that Mack approached, hoping to reassure them all was well.

“Oh, Mack, I’m so grateful you’re here,” Charlotte said, her eyes brimming with tears, which threatened to spill at any moment.

“Everything’s fine,” he told her in a soothing voice. “The fire’s out.”

“This is all my fault,” she cried. “I’m sure I must have done something. Oh, why wasn’t I more careful? I get so easily distracted these days… .”

“The cause of the fire hasn’t been determined,” Mack said, trying to be diplomatic, although he suspected she was right. “Any number of things could be the cause.” With a house of this age, electrical problems weren’t uncommon.

“But I was the one in the kitchen,” Charlotte said in a small voice.

“It could’ve been an electrical short,” Mack said, hoping to calm her. He’d just finished speaking when a car pulled up on the other side of the street and Olivia Griffin got out. She wore a suit and heels and had obviously just left the courthouse, where she was a judge.

“Mom, Mom!” she called as she dashed across the street, barely watching for oncoming traffic.

Charlotte turned and hurried toward her daughter. They hugged fiercely for a minute, clinging to each other.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes,” Charlotte assured her, tears slipping down her pale cheeks.

“What about Harry?”

Mack hadn’t seen the family cat and he’d been too busy to remember Charlotte and Ben’s pet.

“Ben got him out of the house,” Charlotte explained. She glanced around as if unsure where he was currently hiding. “Oh, poor Harry, he must be terrified. He doesn’t usually go outside, you know… .” Her voice faded.

Mack’s experience with the cat was limited. Whenever he, Mary Jo and Noelle visited, Harry made it clear that he was willing to tolerate them, but no more than that. After accepting the respectful greetings he considered his due, he generally ignored them all and retreated to his accustomed place on the back of the sofa. His other favorite perch was the windowsill overlooking the front yard. Harry was probably hiding somewhere, under the porch or maybe in some bushes. If the cat didn’t show up soon, he’d help with the search.

The squad commander seemed to be finished speaking to Ben, who now joined the circle. “Mack,” the older man said, looking flustered. His white hair, normally carefully groomed, was in disarray, as if he’d rammed his fingers through it repeatedly. “Thank you,” he said, his voice husky, “for looking after Charlotte.”

Mack didn’t feel he’d done anything out of the ordinary.

“Mack, what about the damage to the house?” Olivia asked him.

“That’s being assessed,” he replied, “but there doesn’t appear to be any damage to rooms other than the kitchen.”

“I’m so grateful you got here when you did,” Charlotte murmured.

“Mom. Ben.” Will Jefferson, her son, hoofed it up the last part of the steep street and across the lawn. Apparently he’d run from the Harbor Street Art Gallery, where he lived and worked. It was only a few blocks away, but unfortunately they were all straight uphill.

“Everything’s okay,” Olivia told him. “Mom, Ben and Harry got out in time.”

“Thank God.” Will leaned over and placed his hands on his knees, wheezing as he attempted to catch his breath. “I didn’t know what to think when you called,” he said to Olivia.

“Mrs. Johnson left me a message at the courthouse,” Olivia told their mother, “and then I phoned Will.”

“I hope I didn’t upset you too much,” the next-door neighbor said, her brow furrowed. She stood a few feet away. “I saw the fire and phoned it in, but Ben had already taken care of that. Then I thought if it was my house I’d want my children to know what was going on, so I called the courthouse. I do hope that was the right thing to do.”