already did.” She held out her hands for his inspection. The pale rose polish sparkled in the sunlight. “What can I do?”
“Nothing out here. I wouldn’t want you to risk damaging one of those fingernails.” He leaned on the shovel. “Why don’t you unpack? I’ve got boxes shoved in every conceivable corner.”
“Out of sight, out of mind?”
“Not exactly,” he said with a chuckle.
Maryellen took his advice and decided to start in the master bedroom. The kitchen could wait; besides, that area was Jon’s domain. He was the cook in the family, although she was willing to do her share of meal preparation. Marriage to her was a partnership, and Maryellen had every intention of being a good wife. If that meant chopping pounds of onions, well…she’d do it. In fact, she’d do anything to make her marriage as strong and healthy as possible.
She climbed the stairs to the bedroom, then paused in the doorway, hands on her hips, as she surveyed the room where she’d soon be sleeping. The photograph Jon had taken of her months earlier hung on the wall by the bed. It showed her in a rocking chair nursing Katie when their daughter was a newborn. He’d managed to capture the wonder and awe and love she felt, holding this tiny being inher arms. She’d hardly been conscious of Jon’s presence at the time, so absorbed was she by Katie.
It gave her immeasurable joy to place her clothes in the closet next to Jon’s. She carefully pushed his shirts aside and her hand lingered there. In two days’ time, she would be Jon Bowman’s wife. She felt a renewed sense of anticipation-and a surge of love for the man who’d fathered her child.
She opened the dresser drawers and started rearranging his things and making room for her own. That was when she found the letters. Tucked in with old receipts, maps and loose change were a number of envelopes. Most had been opened but a few remained sealed. Curiosity got the better of her and she pulled out a sheet, but then she paused. She refused to begin her marriage with an act of deception-snooping through letters that were addressed to Jon, not to her. Unsure what to do, she stacked them in a neat pile and set them to one side.
She heard the front door open and Jon calling up the stairs. “I’m ready for a break. How about you?”
She walked out of the bedroom to stand at the railing and looked down. “Be with you in a minute. I’m just finishing up here.”
“Okay.”
“I found a bunch of letters in a drawer. Is there any place you want me to put them?”
He frowned, hesitated and then shrugged. “Toss ’em.”
“In the garbage?”
Nodding, he turned and walked into the kitchen.
“Who are they from?”
“No one important,” he shouted back.
“An old girlfriend?” she pressed.
He snickered loudly enough for her to hear him all the way up the stairs. “Hardly. Just get rid of the whole bunch.”
Maryellen dumped the letters into the plastic garbage bag, but then she couldn’t resist. She plucked out the top one and looked at the return address. It was from the small coastal town of Seal Beach, Oregon. Years ago Maryellen had driven through it along Highway 1. She’d stopped for gas and lunch, and for some reason she’d never forgotten the town.
“Who do you know in Seal Beach?” she called down, reluctant to drop the matter. She began to descend the stairs, still clutching the letters.
Jon stepped out of the kitchen. “You aren’t going to let this rest, are you?”
She slid her hand down the smooth oak banister as she walked. “I can’t help being curious. You’d feel the same if it was me.”
Jon shook his head, scowling. “I should’ve ditched those a long time ago. They’re from my parents.”
“Some of them haven’t even been opened.”
He stared up at her. “My father and stepmother are out of my life, Maryellen. They made their choice and I made mine. I want nothing more to do with either of them. Now, please just get rid of
“Nothing out here. I wouldn’t want you to risk damaging one of those fingernails.” He leaned on the shovel. “Why don’t you unpack? I’ve got boxes shoved in every conceivable corner.”
“Out of sight, out of mind?”
“Not exactly,” he said with a chuckle.
Maryellen took his advice and decided to start in the master bedroom. The kitchen could wait; besides, that area was Jon’s domain. He was the cook in the family, although she was willing to do her share of meal preparation. Marriage to her was a partnership, and Maryellen had every intention of being a good wife. If that meant chopping pounds of onions, well…she’d do it. In fact, she’d do anything to make her marriage as strong and healthy as possible.
She climbed the stairs to the bedroom, then paused in the doorway, hands on her hips, as she surveyed the room where she’d soon be sleeping. The photograph Jon had taken of her months earlier hung on the wall by the bed. It showed her in a rocking chair nursing Katie when their daughter was a newborn. He’d managed to capture the wonder and awe and love she felt, holding this tiny being inher arms. She’d hardly been conscious of Jon’s presence at the time, so absorbed was she by Katie.
It gave her immeasurable joy to place her clothes in the closet next to Jon’s. She carefully pushed his shirts aside and her hand lingered there. In two days’ time, she would be Jon Bowman’s wife. She felt a renewed sense of anticipation-and a surge of love for the man who’d fathered her child.
She opened the dresser drawers and started rearranging his things and making room for her own. That was when she found the letters. Tucked in with old receipts, maps and loose change were a number of envelopes. Most had been opened but a few remained sealed. Curiosity got the better of her and she pulled out a sheet, but then she paused. She refused to begin her marriage with an act of deception-snooping through letters that were addressed to Jon, not to her. Unsure what to do, she stacked them in a neat pile and set them to one side.
She heard the front door open and Jon calling up the stairs. “I’m ready for a break. How about you?”
She walked out of the bedroom to stand at the railing and looked down. “Be with you in a minute. I’m just finishing up here.”
“Okay.”
“I found a bunch of letters in a drawer. Is there any place you want me to put them?”
He frowned, hesitated and then shrugged. “Toss ’em.”
“In the garbage?”
Nodding, he turned and walked into the kitchen.
“Who are they from?”
“No one important,” he shouted back.
“An old girlfriend?” she pressed.
He snickered loudly enough for her to hear him all the way up the stairs. “Hardly. Just get rid of the whole bunch.”
Maryellen dumped the letters into the plastic garbage bag, but then she couldn’t resist. She plucked out the top one and looked at the return address. It was from the small coastal town of Seal Beach, Oregon. Years ago Maryellen had driven through it along Highway 1. She’d stopped for gas and lunch, and for some reason she’d never forgotten the town.
“Who do you know in Seal Beach?” she called down, reluctant to drop the matter. She began to descend the stairs, still clutching the letters.
Jon stepped out of the kitchen. “You aren’t going to let this rest, are you?”
She slid her hand down the smooth oak banister as she walked. “I can’t help being curious. You’d feel the same if it was me.”
Jon shook his head, scowling. “I should’ve ditched those a long time ago. They’re from my parents.”
“Some of them haven’t even been opened.”
He stared up at her. “My father and stepmother are out of my life, Maryellen. They made their choice and I made mine. I want nothing more to do with either of them. Now, please just get rid of
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