He shook his head vehemently.
"You must feel a real sense of justification and righteousness knowing how badly they wronged you—and knowing that you're punishing them now."
His eyes blazed, but he held his tongue.
"I don't think I'll ever fully understand the full extent of your pain. Your family betrayed you. They chose your brother over you and you're angry."
"You're damned straight I am."
"You have every right to be. Perhaps they don't deserve your forgiveness, but don't you see what this bitterness has done to you? Don't you understand that until you can let go of this pain, you're incapable of experiencing real joy?"
She could tell he wanted to argue with her, but she didn't give him the opportunity.
"Now you're angry with me," she said, "and I admit it was wrong to go behind your back. But you let me walk away because that sense of righteous indignation was more valuable to you than your love for me."
He opened his mouth to challenge her, but apparently changed his mind. He paced, his steps speeding up, then slowing as he went through some internal argument. "What should I do?"
"Look in your heart. Work on your attitude, your unwillingness to release all this pain."
Jon shook his head, hopelessly this time, as if she was asking the impossible. "You make it sound so easy."
"I know it can't be."
He sighed deeply and his shoulders sagged in defeat. "You're welcome to keep in touch with them if you want."
"What about you?"
His jaw tightened. "I'll wait a while, but I'll try, Maryellen. For you and Katie, I'll try."
In that moment, the cloud of depression that had hung over her since the miscarriage lifted. She held open her arms to Jon and was quickly engulfed in his embrace, with Katie between them.
"I can't ask for more than that," she whispered.
Fifty
Bob had been prepared to dislike Stewart Samuels, but in the days since he'd arrived in Cedar Cove, he'd had ample opportunity to gain a healthy respect for the other man.
Because of a meeting with some old friends from the police academy, Roy had been out of town. As soon as Corrie notified him that Samuels was in Cedar Cove, Roy had altered his travel plans and was due to get back late Monday morning.
By unspoken agreement, Stewart Samuels and Bob didn't discuss Maxwell Russell. For the most part, Hannah had stayed out of sight during Stewart's visits to the house. When Bob asked Peggy about it, his wife was eager to make excuses for her. For some reason, Samuels frightened the girl, but that didn't really surprise Bob. He supposed it was because of Hannah's wariness around men. She preferred her own company and often stayed in her room, where she read or watched television. Peggy was the only one with whom she seemed to feel comfortable.
Roy arrived a little after one on Monday afternoon, and to Bob's surprise Troy Davis, the local sheriff, showed up with him. Stewart Samuels was already at the house when Bob answered the door. He led the two other men into the living room.
"Sit down," Bob instructed everyone when the introductions had been made. Peggy quickly distributed coffee, then sat down next to Bob. He took her hand and they entwined their fingers.
Roy reached inside his pocket, pulling out a small notebook. "I have a couple of questions, if you don't mind?" He looked at the sheriff as if seeking his approval.
"I'll answer them if I can," Samuels assured him, leaning forward slightly.
Roy nodded, his pen poised. "Tell me about the first time you met Russell after his accident."
"We didn't meet. Everything was handled over the phone."
"That can't be," Peggy said and then instantly shrank back as if she wanted to retrieve the words. "I'm sorry. Go on."
Samuels shrugged, obviously a little puzzled at the outburst. "I'm sure I'm right about this, Peggy. Max had the physician contact me to ask for my assistance in getting him into a veterans' facility. He needed extensive plastic surgery. Apparently he had only limited health insurance."
"You never went out to California to see him following the surgery?"
"Never." Samuels was adamant. "I did speak to him a few times, however."
"When was that?" Troy asked.
"I can't recall the exact dates, but it was after he'd undergone surgery, which I understand was successful."
"What did he want to know when he phoned?"
"Actually I was the one who called him," the colonel explained. "The hospital social worker reported on his progress and suggested Max get some counseling. He suffered from post-traumatic stress syndrome. I urged him to sign up for the sessions."
"Did he agree?"
"Yes. The doctor told me later that Max had a number of appointments and they seemed to be going well. I was encouraged the next time I talked to Max himself. I only spoke with his counselor once, but she seemed pleased with his progress."
"Do you know of any reason he'd want to visit Cedar Cove?"
"None, except..." He hesitated and gazed down at his folded hands. "It might've had something to do with the therapy sessions—some desire to reconcile himself to what happened in Nam." Samuels paused. "As I recall, he was tight with Dan Sherman back then."
"Did he mention that he intended to visit Dan?" Roy asked.
"No. Like I said, I only talked to him two or three times."
The sheriff spoke next. "When did you learn he'd been murdered?"