was hanging on by a thread and that thread was Bob.
“Sit down and tell me what’s happened.” Bob led him to the sofa.
Jack slumped down, burying his face in his hands.
Bob pulled the ottoman closer and sat on it.
“Olivia went in for a routine mammogram,” Jack began, his voice faltering slightly.
“Cancer?” Bob asked.
“We don’t know yet. Not for sure. The Women’s Clinic called her back for a second test, a more extensive one, and then for an ultrasound.”
“You’ve seen the doctor?”
Jack nodded. “We went this morning. He has to do a biopsy.”
Bob exhaled loudly. “You’re afraid.”
Jack nodded again. “I don’t think I truly realized how much I love Olivia until this morning.”
To his surprise, Bob smiled. “Olivia said almost those same words to me when you had your heart attack.”
Now that their situations were, in effect, reversed, he could appreciate how hard it had been on his wife. The problem was, love opened you up to that kind of pain. He’d never expected to fall in love again when he moved to Cedar Cove. Even less had he expected to find someone who loved him.
He’d been attracted to Olivia right away. Sitting in her courtroom and watching her deny a divorce—that got his attention. Most family court judges were jaded by the day-in-and-day-out bitterness of marriages gone bad. Not Olivia. She’d seen that the young couple was still in love and she’d intervened. Her compassion had stirred him. Her toughness had impressed him.
Jack knew that if Olivia hadn’t denied that divorce, the couple would have gone their separate ways and carried around that pain for the rest of their lives. She’d forced them to deal with the grief of losing their child, forced them to resolve their differences.
Without knowing it, Jack had fallen in love with her that very morning. In fact, he’d written an entire column in the Cedar Cove Chronicle about her unusual stand. His attention had embarrassed her but she’d eventually forgiven him.
When they got married, Jack felt as though his life had begun again. He was crazy about her, although their relationship had never been easy. They were about as different as two people could get.
“Jack?”
Startled, Jack glanced up to see Bob staring at him. “You won’t know for sure if it’s cancer until they do the biopsy, right?”
His heart pounded against his ribs. “It’s scheduled for this week.”
“You want a drink now?”
“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “A strong drink. Strong enough to take away this ache.” Preferably hard alcohol, Scotch or brandy, something that would melt his teeth.
“A drink’s going to help?” Bob asked.
They both knew the answer to that. “No. But that doesn’t make me want one any less.”
Bob cocked his eyebrow. “One?”
Jack didn’t have to be told that one drink, even one sip, was a fantasy. For alcoholics like Bob and him, it never ended there. Jack had sat through enough meetings to know that. Lived it long enough to recognize the truth when he heard it. This was the lie so many alcoholics tried to believe: that they were strong enough to have one drink, just one, and then walk away. But that wasn’t how it worked for people like him.
“You need a meeting to get your head on straight,” Bob said. He stood up to take his wallet out of his hip pocket, then pulled out a small booklet and unfolded it. “There’s one in Bremerton that starts in ten minutes. I’ll drive.”
Jack nodded. They’d be late but that didn’t matter. A meeting was a meeting. He’d feel better after talking about this with other men and women who understood the addictive power of alcohol.
“Let me say goodbye to Olivia.” Carefully opening the bedroom door a moment later, he paused, hesitant to wake her if she was asleep. Light spilled from the hallway into the bedroom.
“Jack?” Olivia rose up on one elbow. “Is everything all right?”
“It is now. Bob and I are going out for a while.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later.”
“Will you be okay by yourself?” he asked. “I can call Grace if you want.” She was the kind of friend to Olivia that Bob was to him. Any time of the day or night, Grace would be willing to help.
Olivia shook her head. “I’m fine.”
Walking into the room, Jack sat on the edge of the bed and gathered Olivia in his arms. As they clung to each other, he felt her tremble.
“I need a meeting,” he whispered.
“I know, Jack. Go.” She stroked the back of his head, her fingers light against his hair.
It was the same way she touched him after they’d made love. The gesture brought emotion bubbling to the surface and Jack hid his face in her shoulder.
“Wake me when you get back,” she whispered.
“Okay.” He left her then, reluctantly.
Bob was waiting for him by the front door. Jack grabbed a fleece jacket from the hall closet and together they headed into the cold. A sporadic rain had begun, matching his mood, darkening an already dark sky. When they reached the address, they hurried into a church basement that smelled of stale coffee and damp coats. Jack was quickly immersed in the familiar and comforting routine of the meeting; it was exactly what he’d needed, he told himself an hour later.
During his first weeks of sobriety, he’d gone to thirty meetings in thirty days. He’d needed every one of those meetings. That was how he’d made it through the first month—one day at a time and on some days one minute at a time. Alcoholics Anonymous had given him a structure. And Bob had helped him at every step, listening, encouraging, cutting through the bull and self-pity. When his head was clear enough to listen, Bob reminded him that no one had poured the booze down his throat. No one had forced him to drink. He had to take responsibility for his own life, his own happiness.
By the time he let himself into the house, it was two o’clock. He, Bob and a couple of other people from the meeting had gone out for coffee afterward and they’d talked for another hour. Jack felt almost sane again.
He slipped off his jacket and hung it in the hall closet. Olivia had trained him well, he thought. Smiling, he started toward the bedroom. When he walked inside, he was surprised to see his wife sitting up in bed, a book lying open on her lap. She blinked at him, obviously a bit disoriented.
“Oh! I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I can tell.” Moving to the side of the bed, he kissed her. He’d meant it to be light and easy, but the kiss quickly turned into something more, something urgent.
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