waited until Olivia had left the kitchen before he reached for the phone. Bob Beldon was his AA sponsor and if ever Jack had needed to talk, it was now. Good thing Bob was on speed dial, because the way his hand shook, Jack wasn’t sure he could’ve punched in the right numbers.
Peggy answered, announcing the name of their bed- and-breakfast, Thyme and Tide.
“It’s Jack.”
Peggy instantly knew something was wrong. “Bob’s in the other room,” she said without asking for details. “I’ll get him for you.”
“Thanks.”
Half a minute later, Bob was on the phone. “Hey, Jack. It’s Bob.”
Jack felt as if his tongue had swelled to twice its size.
“Jack, are you there?”
“Yeah,” he finally managed.
“You weren’t at the meeting tonight.”
Jack leaned against the kitchen door. “I should’ve been. I need a meeting.”
“Is there alcohol anywhere near you?”
Leave it to Bob to get straight to the point. “Not that I know of.” Olivia might have a bottle of cooking sherry somewhere in the kitchen, but if she did, he wasn’t aware of it.
“Good.”
“Can you meet me?” Jack asked.
“Tell me when and where.”
Jack closed his eyes. He was terrified to leave the house—it wasn’t safe to go where there might be booze. Where he might pass a bar or a liquor store or even a grocery. Although he’d been dry for over fifteen years, he felt weak. Desperate. He needed a drink. He didn’t think he could get through this ordeal with Olivia if he couldn’t have one. The craving was like a knife twisting in his gut. One drink. The aching need refused to go away. One drink would make everything better. Ignoring the voices in his head was becoming more difficult. Too difficult. The whispers urged him toward oblivion with a promise he knew was a lie. A drink wouldn’t make anything better.
Still, it was how he’d once smothered his pain, and he hungered for the oblivion, the escape. Fear of what might happen if he gave in was the only thing that held him back.
“Do you want me to come to you?” Bob must’ve read his thoughts.
“Please.” Even getting out that one word was an effort.
“I’m on my way.”
Jack knew then and there that he couldn’t have found a better sponsor—and friend. He’d linked up with Bob years earlier while living in Spokane and working for the big regional paper, The Review. When Bob and Peggy moved back to their hometown and opened Thyme and Tide, Jack had visited. He’d fallen in love with the town, the landscape and the slower pace.
Up to that point, Jack had pretty much screwed up his life with alcohol, a bad marriage and a mangled relationship with his only son. Eric had moved to Seattle, and it seemed that if Jack was ever going to reconcile with him, his chances would improve if he lived in the area. So he’d come to Cedar Cove, taken a job with the local paper and got himself a place to live.
“Jack?” Olivia’s voice drifted out from the bedroom.
“In here,” he said, trying to pull himself together. Olivia had enough to worry about without him. Dragging in a deep breath, he went down the hallway to the master bedroom, determined to hide his fears. “Do you need anything?” he asked.
She sat up in bed, looking pale and lovely. Jack resisted the urge to hold her in his arms, to protect her and love her. She was frightened. How could she not be? He was scared out of his wits, too. If he lost Olivia, he didn’t think he’d survive.
“Did I hear you on the phone?” she asked.
Jack couldn’t lie. He’d rather she not know he’d called his sponsor, but he wasn’t going to lie about it. “Bob’s coming by. I thought I’d talk to him for a few minutes. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, no, go ahead.” She’d spent part of the evening with Grace and seemed fortified and optimistic afterward.
At the moment Jack could use a dose of that optimism. “I’ll probably be a couple of hours,” he said.
“Can I turn out the light, then?”
“By all means. You need to sleep.”
Olivia gave him a tentative smile. “We’ll get through this, Jack. I promise.”
He should be the one reassuring her, and he hated himself for being so weak. “Of course we will.”
Jack walked over to her bedside, bent down and kissed her, then switched off the lamp. Fearing she might overhear the conversation between him and Bob, he closed the bedroom door.
Halfway down the hallway, he stopped and leaned against the wall, covering his face with both hands, remembering. Remembering. Eric, his son, had leukemia as a kid. That was what had driven Jack to alcohol in the first place. That helplessness, that total dependence on others to care for his son, that inability to alleviate his suffering … Jack had barely made it then, and he wasn’t sure he’d make it this time. Eric had gone into long-term remission, but Jack didn’t know if he could watch someone else he loved endure all the pain and uncertainty. All the grief and fear.
He just couldn’t do it. He just might have to.
Instead of using the doorbell, Bob knocked quietly at the front door. Jack hurried to let him in. When he saw his friend, it was all he could do not to break down. His weakness shamed and humiliated him.
“I’ve been repeating the Serenity Prayer for the last hour,” Jack told him. “I think I’d be face-first in a bottle if I hadn’t.”
Bob nodded, and Jack was grateful that he understood. “You haven’t had a drink?” Bob asked.
“By the grace of God, no.” He was one sip away from a complete mental and physical breakdown. He couldn’t explain why alcohol tempted him when he knew what it did to him. Still, the pull was as powerful as an undertow, and Jack could feel himself being swept away with the need.
He 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?”
