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mistakes she’d made. The worst one had come from the best intentions. Maryellen had tried so hard to heal the riftbetween Jon and his parents, and it had nearly destroyed her relationship with her husband.
    She found it impossible to rest, and yet that was what the doctor had ordered—bed rest for the remainder of this pregnancy. She was forbidden to climb stairs or exert herself in any way.
    Yet how could she lie around when so much needed to be done? Leaning against the sofa, she closed her eyes and fought back depression. It’d never been like this when she carried Katie. That pregnancy had been normal in every respect.
    Then she’d miscarried their second child. The emotional costs of this third pregnancy had yet to be calculated. Still, they both desperately wanted their child. All Maryellen could do was follow her doctor’s instructions, try not to worry and pray that the baby would be born healthy and whole.
    Because she was bedridden, everyone had pitched in. Her mother, especially, helped as much as she could, coming by twice a week with dinner and looking after Katie as often as her own busy life would allow. This gave both Jon and Maryellen a much-needed break. She hated to intrude on her mother, since Grace and Cliff were newly married and just now setting up house together. Grace had her own adjustments to make without taking on Maryellen’s problems.
    The phone rang and Maryellen grabbed it, eager for any distraction.
    â€œHello,” she said, hoping her voice disguised the self-pity she’d fallen into.
    â€œIt’s Ellen Bowman. Is everything all right?”
    Her mother-in-law’s sympathy nearly overwhelmed her, bringing her close to tears. Maryellen felt dreadful, about as low as she’d been in her entire life, other than during her brief first marriage. “I’m okay,” she managed to tell her.
    â€œAnd Jon?” Ellen asked hesitantly.
    â€œHe’s…” Maryellen was willing to stretch the truth about her own state of mind and health, but she couldn’t lie about her husband’s. “Not well, Ellen. He’s not doing well at all.”
    Her mother-in-law grew quiet. “Joseph and I thought that might be the case. I know Jon’s angry. He’s made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t want anything to do with either of us. His attitude’s killing his father. But I know you’ve tried to talk to him, and we both appreciate your efforts more than we can say.”
    Maryellen had paid a high price for interfering between Jon and his parents and she dared not do it again. She and Jon had actually separated for a time, just before the miscarriage, because of her attempts to effect a reconciliation. Afterward, they’d sidestepped the whole issue. But earlier in the month,soon after she’d begun her regimen of bed rest, Jon had conceded that they didn’t have any choice other than to ask his family for help.
    Yet he hadn’t made the phone call, hadn’t contacted them in any way, at least not that Maryellen knew about. Instead, they struggled from day to day until she feared their lives were about to implode. Neither Jon nor Maryellen could continue living with this constant, unrelenting stress.
    â€œJon was going to phone you,” Maryellen said. “He told me.”
    â€œHe was?” Hope elevated Ellen’s voice.
    â€œHe hasn’t, because, well, because he’s afraid, I think, and proud. Too proud.”
    Ellen laughed softly. “He’s like his father in that regard.”
    Maryellen smiled and tried to relax. This nervous tension was bad for the baby, bad for her, bad all around. At her last appointment, Dr. DeGroot had emphasized the importance of staying calm. When he’d said she should try to keep her life stress-free, she’d nearly laughed out loud.
    â€œJoseph and I ordered the Cedar Cove Chronicle mailed to us here in Oregon,” Ellen said, “and