For All My Tomorrows, page 1
For All My Tomorrows is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
2019 Debbie Macomber Ebook Edition
Excerpt from Window on the Bay by Debbie Macomber copyright © 2019 by Debbie Macomber
Copyright © 1989 by Debbie Macomber
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Debbie Macomber Books, an imprint of Debbie Macomber, Inc.
Distributed by Penguin Random House LLC.
DEBBIE MACOMBER BOOKS is a registered trademark of Debbie Macomber, Inc.
Originally published in paperback in the United States by Silhouette Books, New York, in 1989.
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Window on the Bay by Debbie Macomber. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.
Ebook ISBN 9781941824191
Cover design and illustrations: Kimberly Glyder
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Ballantine Books by Debbie Macomber
About the Author
Excerpt from Window on the Bay
Prologue
The mournful sound of taps cut through the coarse gray afternoon. Lynn Danfort stood tall and proud before her husband’s casket, refusing to release the emotion that clawed at her chest. Her two children were gathered close at her sides, as though she could hold on to them tightly enough to protect them from the reality of this day.
Seattle’s police chief, Daniel Carmichael, assisted by Ryder Matthews, neatly folded the American flag that rested atop the polished casket and calmly presented it to Lynn. She tried to thank the police chief but realized she couldn’t speak. Even nodding was more of an effort than she could make.
When they’d finished, Pastor Teed spoke a few solemn words, and then slowly, in coordinated movements, Gary Danfort was lowered to his final resting place.
Lynn repressed a shudder as the first shovelful of dirt slammed against his casket. The sound reverberated in her ears, magnified a hundred times until she yearned to cover her head and scream out for them to stop. This was her husband…the father of her children…her best friend…and Gary Danfort deserved so much more than a cold blanket of Washington mud.
Shot in the line of duty. Pronounced dead at the scene. At first Lynn had refused to believe her husband was gone.
The thick dirt fell again, and Lynn believed.
The tightening in her chest worked its way up the constricting muscles of her throat and escaped on a sob as the shovel was handed in turn to the men and women who had so proudly served with Gary. The trembling increased as each dull thump echoed like a somber edict in her tortured mind.
Hope was gone.
Dreams destroyed.
Death the victor.
Tears welled like hot liquid in the corners of her eyes, her first for that day. She’d wanted to be strong—it was what Gary would have wanted—but now she let them fall. The moisture seared crooked paths down her ashen cheeks.
A voice violated her pain. “It’s time to go.”
“No.”
“This way, Mrs. Danfort.”
Again she shook her head. “Please. Not yet.”
Her strength was depleted, and for the first time since she’d learned of Gary’s death, she needed someone—someone she loved, someone who had loved Gary. She looked around for Ryder. Her friend. Gary’s partner. Godfather to their children.
Her gaze scanned the crowd until she found him, standing in front of Chief Carmichael.
A protest swelled in her throat as she watched him pull his badge from his wallet and place it in the police chief’s palm.
Ryder turned to her then, his pain and grief as strong as her own. She could see that Chief Carmichael was trying to reason with him, but Ryder wasn’t listening. His gaze reached over the crowd of mourners until it found Lynn. Their eyes met and locked.
Lynn pleaded with him not to leave her.
His gaze told her he must. Regret clouded the harsh features as his eyes shifted to Michelle and Jason, her children.
Then, silently, Ryder Matthews turned and walked away.
Chapter 1
“Lynn, there’s a call for you on line one.”
“Thanks.” She reached for her phone and pressed it against her shoulder, securing it with her ear. “Slender, Too. This is Lynn speaking.”
“Mom?”
Lynn released a silent groan and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. It wasn’t even noon and this was the fifth phone call she’d received from the kids. “What is it, Michelle?”
“Jason ate the entire box of Cap’n Crunch cereal. I thought you’d want to know so you could take appropriate action.”
“I didn’t take it all,” Jason’s eight-year-old voice echoed from the upstairs extension. “Michelle ate some, too.”
“I didn’t.”
“Did, too.”
“Didn’t.”
“Michelle! Jason! I’ve got a business to run!”
“But he did, Mom, I swear it. I found the empty box stuffed in the bottom of the garbage. And we all know who put it there, so don’t try to lie your way out of this one, Jason Danfort. And, Mom, while I’ve got you on the phone, I think you should have a serious discussion with Jason about his Super Heroes Club.”
Lynn closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “Michelle, this conversation will have to wait until I’m through here. Where’s Janice?”
It was the third week of June. School had been out for a grand total of five days, and already Michelle and Jason were at each other’s throats. The high school girl whom Lynn was paying top dollar to look after the kids had revealed all the maturity of an eleven-year-old, which was Michelle’s age. One child responsible for two more. This wasn’t working, and Lynn’s options were limited.
“Janice is checking the garbage to see what else Jason’s hiding in there.”
“Mom, you can’t expect me to live like this,” her son interjected. “A man is a man. And a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”
“Right,” Lynn responded without thinking.
“You’re agreeing with him?” Michelle’s shrill voice echoed her outrage. “Mom, your son is stealing food and you seem to think it’s perfectly all right.”
“I’m going out on a mission,” Jason cried in self-defense. “I could be gone three or four hours doing surveillance. I’ll need nourishment, but if you’re so concerned about your stupid cereal, I’ll put it back.”
“Can you put a hold on this war until I get home?” Lynn demanded of the two.
Silence.
Lynn mentally calculated a list of effective threats that had worked in the past. Regrettably, her mind came up blank. She was a strong, effective businesswoman, but when it came to her children, she was at a loss as to how to deal with them—especially in matters such as stolen Cap’n Crunch cereal.
“Lynn.” Sharon Fremont, her assistant, stuck her head around the door. “Your aerobics class is ready and waiting.”
“Listen, kids, I’ve got to go. Please don’t fight, and don’t call me at work unless it’s an emergency.”
“But, Mom…”
“Mom!”
“I can’t talk now—I’ve got a class waiting.” Lynn checked her watch. “I’ll be home by four. Now be good!”
“All right,” Michelle muttered. “But I don’t like it.”
“Me, either. If I’m not home when you get here,” Jason whispered into the phone, “you know where to find me.”
“You think you’re so smart, Jason Danfort,” Michelle whined, “but I know your hiding place—I have for weeks.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Kids, please!”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“Yeah, sorry, Mom.”
Lynn replaced the phone. Michelle and Jason claimed they were sorry. Somehow she doubted that.
* * *
—
The house was suspiciously quiet when Lynn let herself in at three-forty-five that same afternoon.
“Michelle?”
Silence.
“Jason?”
More silence.
“Janice?”
“Oh hi, Mrs. Danfort.”
The fifteen-year-old appeared as if by magic, and every aspect of her peaches-and-cream complexion spelled guilt. The teenager rubbed her palms back and forth and presented a forced smile.
“Where are Michelle and Jason?” Lynn asked, and slipped the sweatband off her forehead. She hadn’t taken time to shower, preferring to hurry home dressed in her turquoise spandex leotard and top, in an effort to deter yet another world war.
“They’re both gone,” Janice announced, her eyes avoiding Lynn’s. “That’s all right, isn’t it?”
“It’s fine.”
“Oh good.”
Lynn reached for the mail, shuffling through the pile of bills and setting them back down on the counter unopened.
“Jason’s with his Super Hero friends, and Michelle’s over at Stephie’s.”
“That’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”
“Sure,” Janice said, and was through the door before Lynn could figure out why she wore the look of a cat burglar caught with a bagful of goodies.
Mulling it over, Lynn traipsed over to the fridge and took out a cold soda—her carbonated drink for the day. This was a family rule—no one drank more than one can a day; otherwise, her children would go through a twelve-pack by noon.
She sat, plopped her feet on the chair across the table from her, and took a sip, letting the cool liquid revive her.
“Mom,” Michelle called, as she raced through the front door. She stopped suddenly when she found Lynn in the kitchen.
“Hi, sweetie,” Lynn answered and smiled. “Did you ever solve the Cap’n Crunch caper?”
“Jason pulverized it into sand and poured the entire bag into his canteen.” She raised her eyes toward the ceiling in mute testimony to what she thought about her brother’s odd ways. “You’ve got to do something about him, Mother. That cereal was half mine, too, you know.”
“I know…I’ll talk to him.”
“You say that, and then nothing ever happens. He should be punished. That boy has no sense, and you’re not helping. He honestly thinks he’s the Incredible Hulk. Any other mother would put a stop to it.”
“Michelle, please, I’m doing the best I can. Wait until you’re a mother…there are just some things you have to make judgment calls on.” Lynn couldn’t believe she’d said that. It was like an echo from the past, when she’d battled with her younger brother and her mother had said those identical words to her.
“At least let me decide Jason’s punishment,” Michelle cried. “I know that boy better than anyone. Let me give him what he deserves.”
“Michelle…”
“Mom.” The screen door burst open and Jason roared into the kitchen, dressed like his hero, his shoulders arched forward as he knotted his fists and puffed out his chest to display his muscles. He let loose with a scream that threatened to crack the walls.
Michelle plugged her ears and cast her mother a look that spoke volumes.
“Jason, please,” Lynn pleaded, placing her fingertips to her temple. “If you’re going to save the world, do it outside.”
“Okay,” he answered with a grin, and cheerfully lowered his weapon.
Her son was dressed in his camouflage pants and a grimy green sweatshirt. His face was smeared with something green. His knees were caked with mud, and he looked as if he’d battled long and hard all afternoon.
“So how’s the war going?”
“We won.”
“Naturally,” Michelle said in a know-it-all voice that caused Jason to slowly turn in her direction and give her the evil eye.
“Not in the house,” Lynn reminded him.
“Right,” he answered slowly, baring his teeth at his sister.
Michelle placed her hand over her chest. “I’m shaking in my boots with pure terror at the thought of you coming to get me.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed into menacing slits. “You better do something about her, Mom, or she’s going to suffer a slow, painful death.”
“Jason, I don’t like you talking like that.”
“Answer me this,” he cried with indignation. “Does Edward Norton have to put up with a big sister like this one?”
“You’re not Edward Norton.”
“Not yet,” he said forcefully. “But someday I’m going to be.”
Lynn prayed this was a stage her son was going through, because, like Michelle, she’d about had it with Jason’s antics.
“When are we leaving for the picnic?” Michelle asked, glancing toward the bulletin board.
“Picnic?” Lynn echoed. “What picnic?”
“The one Dad’s ol’ police buddies invited us to—the one with the notice on the bulletin board.”
Lynn dropped her feet and whirled around to check her calendar. “Is today the twentieth?”
Both Michelle and Jason nodded.
“Oh great,” Lynn muttered. “I’m supposed to bring potato salad.”
“Do what you always do,” Jason suggested. “Buy it at the deli. Why should today be any different?”
Lynn reached for her drink and hurried toward the stairs, taking them two at a time. She stripped off her top and reached blindly toward the shower dial when she noted the bathroom counter. Something stopped her, but she didn’t know what. Something wasn’t quite right.
In a flash, she recognized what was different. Reaching for a towel to cover her torso, she stormed out of the bedroom. “Michelle. Jason. Front and center—pronto.”
Both kids came racing into her bedroom.
“All right,” she said, her voice wobbling, “which one of you got into my makeup?” Her gaze narrowed, and what she saw on her son’s face answered her own question. “Jason…that’s my green eye shadow all over your face! My expensive green eye shadow.”
“Mom, your shower’s running,” Jason said, pointing in that direction. “You’re wasting precious liquid, and you always say how we should conserve water. Remember the drought a couple years ago—you wouldn’t want to start another one, would you?”
“He used my eye shadow,” Lynn announced to her daughter, while she returned to the bathroom to turn off the shower. The day had started off badly. First Michelle and Jason had found every excuse known to mankind to call her at the office, and now this!
“If you look real close, you’ll note the black under his eyes looks a lot like your eyeliner, too,” Michelle said once Lynn reentered the room.
“My eyeliner, too?”
A look of betrayal crossed Jason’s young features. “Okay, Michelle, you asked for this. I wasn’t going to tell, but now you’re forcing my hand.”
Michelle stiffened. “You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered.
Jason squared his shoulders. “Michelle and Janice were in your room this morning, Mom. I felt it was my duty to find out what they were doing—”
“Jason…” Michelle’s frail voice rose an octave, pleading.
“They were trying on your bras. The real fancy lace ones.”
“Oh my goodness.” Lynn sank onto the foot of her bed. Nothing was sacred anymore. Not her makeup. Not her underwear. Nothing. And, worse, she was paying a teenage neighbor girl to snoop through her drawers.
“Mom,” Michelle moaned. “I need a real bra…You haven’t seemed to notice, but I’m filling out my training one.” She paused and turned to face her traitor brother. “Get out of here, Jason. This is woman talk.”
“Trust me, Mom, she doesn’t need anything. She’s as flat as—”
“Jason!” Lynn and Michelle cried simultaneously.
He jerked up both hands. “All right, all right. I’m out of here. I felt you needed to know the truth…I was only doing my duty as your son and as Michelle’s brother.”
Lynn’s fingers were trembling as she ran them through her thick brown hair. She reached behind her head and released the clip that held her hair neatly in place.
“You and Janice aren’t allowed in my bedroom, young lady,” she said. “You know that.”
Michelle buried her chin in her shoulder blade, looking miserable.
