Debbie Macomber - 16 Lighthouse Road

C ecilia Randall had heard of people who, if granted one wish, would choose to live their lives over again. Not her. Shed be perfectly content to blot just one twelve-month period from her twenty-two years.

The past twelve months.

Last January, shortly after New Years, shed met Ian Jacob Randall, a Navy man, a submariner. Shed fallen in love with him and done something completely irresponsibleshed gotten pregnant. Then shed complicated the whole situation by marrying him.

That was mistake number three and from there, her errors in judgment had escalated. She hadnt been stupid so much as nave and in love andworst of allromantic. The Navy, and life, had cured her of that fast enough.

Their baby girl had been born premature while Ian was at sea, and it became immediately apparent that she had a defective heart. By the time Ian returned home, Allison Marie had already been laid to rest. It was Cecilia whod stood alone in the unrelenting rain of the Pacific Northwest while her babys tiny casket was lowered into the cold, muddy earth. Shed been forced to make life-and-death decisions without the counsel of family or the comfort of her husband.

Her mother lived on the East Coast and, because of a storm, had been unable to fly into Washington State. Her father was as supportive as he knew how to bewhich was damn little. His idea of being there for her consisted of giving Cecilia a sympathy card and writing a few lines about how sorry he was for her loss. Cecilia had spent countless days and nights by their daughters empty crib, alternately weeping and in shock. Other Navy wives had tried to console her, but Cecilia wasnt comfortable with strangers. Shed rejected their help and their friendship. And because shed been in Cedar Cove for such a short time, she hadnt made any close friends in the community, either. As a result, shed borne her grief alone.

When Ian did return, hed blamed Navy procedures for his delay. Hed tried to explain, but by then Cecilia was tired of it all. Only one reality had any meaning: her daughter was dead. Her husband didnt know and couldnt possibly understand what shed endured in his absence. Since he was on a nuclear submarine, all transmissions during his tour of duty were limited to fifty-word family grams. Nothing could have been done, anyway; the submarine was below the polar ice cap at the time. She did write to tell him about Allisons birth and then her death. Shed written out her grief in these brief messages, not caring that theyd be closely scrutinized by Navy personnel. But Ians commanding officer had seen fit to postpone relaying the information until the completion of the ten-week tour. I didnt know, Ian had repeatedly insisted. Surely she couldnt hold him responsible. But she did. Unfair though it might be, Cecilia couldnt forgive him.

Now all she wanted was out. Out of her marriage, out of this emotional morass of guilt and regret, just out. The simplest form of escape was to divorce Ian.

Sitting in the hallway near the courtroom, she felt more determined than ever to terminate her marriage. With one swift strike of a judges gavel, she could put an end to the nightmare of the past year. Eventually she would forget shed ever met Ian Randall.

Allan Harris, Cecilias attorney, entered the foyer outside the Kitsap County courtroom. She watched as he glanced around until he saw her. He raised his hand in a brief greeting, then walked over to where she sat on the hard wooden bench and claimed the empty space beside her.

Tell me again whats going to happen, she said, needing the assurance that her life would return to at least an approximation of what it had been a year ago.

Allan set his briefcase on his lap. We wait until the docket is announced. The judge will ask if were ready, Ill announce that we are, and well be given a number.

Cecilia nodded, feeling numb.

We can be assigned any number between one and fifty, her attorney continued. Then we wait our turn.

Cecilia nodded again, hoping she wouldnt be stuck in the courthouse all day. Bad enough that she had to be here; even worse that Ians presence was also required. She hadnt seen him yet. Maybe he was meeting somewhere with his own attorney, discussing strategiesnot that she expected him to contest the divorce.

There wont be a problem, will there? Her palms were damp and cold sweat had broken out across her forehead. She wanted this to be over so she could get on with her life. She believed that couldnt happen until the divorce was filed. Only then would the pain start to go away.