"If and when you decide you need help," Roy said, "you let me know and I'll see what I can find."

"Thanks, Dad," Mack said.

"Yes, thank you so much, Mr. McAfee."

"Call me Roy."

Or Dad, Corrie wanted to say, but didn't; she'd annoy Mack, not to mention Roy, and embarrass Mary Jo, if she did. But she knew her son and every indication she saw said that Mack was in love with this girl.

The baby began to whimper, and Mary Jo immediately pushed back her chair. "Noelle's teething. She's had a difficult week."

"I'll take her," Mack offered, getting up.

While they discussed who should comfort the baby, Corrie leaned toward her husband. "Look at them," she whispered. "They act just like a married couple."

"Corrie," Roy said in a warning voice. "Keep out of this."

"I think they need help. You know, to realize how they feel about each other."

"If so, it shouldn't come from us."

Corrie didn't agree, but there wasn't much she could do. Roy obviously felt she'd interfered enough.

When Mack and Mary Jo returned to the table, he held Noelle in his arms while Mary Jo rubbed a numbing gel over the baby's gums.

"She's usually a happy baby," Mary Jo said apologetically.

"Of course she is," Corrie said. "Listen, would you two like me to watch her so you could go out for the rest of the evening?" Perhaps if she gave them some time alone, they'd reach the same conclusion she had. Roy might not think the young couple needed her assistance, but in Corrie's view they did.

Mack glanced at Mary Jo. "What do you think?"

Mary Jo thanked Corrie with a smile. "I don't want to leave Noelle when she's this fussy, but I appreciate the offer."

Corrie's spirits sank.

Mack got to his feet and started to clear the table. "Any dessert?" he asked, peering into the kitchen.

"Ah..."

"I thought you baked a cake," Roy said. "Didn't you tell me that earlier?"

"Yes, well-it didn't turn out."

"It's inedible?" Roy asked, looking disappointed. Thanks to his sweet tooth, he didn't understand what she was trying to hint.

"I didn't say that."

"Corrie, just bring out the cake," Roy said.

"Mom, who cares what it looks like? It's what it tastes like that matters."

"It tastes fabulous," she told them. Fine. They'd asked for this, so she wasn't going to deny them dessert.

She left the table and returned with the dessert plates and silverware, then went back into the kitchen to carry out the four-layer coconut cake. Charlotte had given her the recipe and it had become a family favorite. Corrie set the cake in the center of the table for all to admire.

Roy stared at it and his eyes veered back to her. The lettering on the cake, written in bright red frosting, said, Congratulations, Mack and Mary Jo.

"Shall I cut the first slice?" she asked.

Mack nodded politely. "Please."

"I'll cut through the part that says congratulations," she teased. "I guess this is what I get for being such a know-it-all."

"Oh, Corrie, it was such a sweet thing to do," Mary Jo told her.

"I wish we were at the point that we could tell you we had wedding plans," Mack said. He looked at Mary Jo, who stared uncomfortably down at the table. "But we, uh, have a few things we need to work through."

"I...I-" Mary Jo started, then stopped, as if she felt she needed to say something but wasn't sure what.

"You don't owe us any explanations," Roy assured Mary Jo. "If you decide to become part of our family, we want you to know we'll welcome you with open arms."

"And Noelle, too," Corrie said.

Mary Jo looked up, and Corrie was surprised to see the glint of tears in her eyes. "Thank you both," Mary Jo whispered. "It means a great deal to me."

"Can we drop the subject now?" Mack asked pointedly.

Corrie nodded. She'd been so positive this dinner had one specific purpose, only to discover she'd been way off base. Instead of celebrating with Mary Jo and her son, as she'd expected to, she'd embarrassed them. Fortunately, they were gracious about it. She regretted causing them any discomfort, but maybe she'd given them something to think about.... She hoped so, anyway.

They stayed for another hour after dinner. Mary Jo helped her clean up, and they chatted in a companionable fashion about the letters and the diary. Corrie packed up the leftovers to send home with them.

It didn't escape her notice that Mack was deep in conversation with his father when she and Mary Jo joined them in the living room.

The young couple left soon afterward. Corrie watched as her son backed out of the driveway and headed down Harbor Street.

"So?" Corrie asked, turning away from the window to look at her husband. "What did Mack tell you?"

"What makes you think he told me anything?"

"Roy McAfee, don't you dare do this to me! I have every right to know what's going on between Mack and Mary Jo."

"And you think I know?"

"Yes. I saw the way you and Mack had your heads together, so tell me what he said."

Roy sighed. "He loves Mary Jo."

"Of course he does! I think he fell in love with her the night she had Noelle."

"And he loves the baby."

"That goes without saying. He's practically her dad."

Roy nodded. "But Mary Jo has a few issues she needs to work out and until she does Mack doesn't feel he can propose."

She recalled that Mack made some remark along these same lines. "Issues? What kind of issues?" she asked.

Roy picked up the television remote. "I'm afraid they have to do with David Rhodes."

"That jerk has a lot to answer for," Corrie muttered, crossing her arms. Every time she heard the man's name she felt irritated. How anyone as decent and honest as Ben Rhodes could have fathered such a...a creep was beyond her.

"Mary Jo's afraid of what might happen if David gets involved in Noelle's life."

"She has reason to be."

"So she's doing nothing, which only perpetuates the problem."

"What does Mack suggest?" Corrie asked, then answered her own question. "Mary Jo has to find the courage to stand up to David."

"Yes," Roy agreed, "and until she does, their lives aren't going to move forward."

"Oh, dear," Corrie whispered. "I am right, though. He does love her."

"He does." Roy gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, it'll all resolve itself in time."

Corrie's fear was that this process might take much longer than it should.

Eighteen.

"Da-ad, I need your help." Holding her math book, Jolene sat on the sofa arm.

"Algebra? You think I know this stuff?" Bruce asked with a short laugh.

"I would hope so," Jolene said. "You're the adult."

"Yes, but it's been a lot of years since I was in school."

"Just look, okay?"

Rachel had finished the dinner dishes-by herself, since it was easier that way-and was enjoying the exchange between Bruce and his daughter. If Jolene was counting on his mathematical skills, then the girl was in trouble.

"I don't understand why I have to do this," she lamented.

"You're going to need it in life," Bruce argued, not sounding convinced.

"Why? You don't," Jolene said.

Bruce ignored that. He reached for his glasses, a recent acquisition, and opened the textbook she'd handed him to the page she'd marked. Next, he appeared to be studying the problem as if staring at it long enough would miraculously produce the answer.

"Get me a pencil and paper," he commanded with the urgency of a surgeon requesting a scalpel.

"Just a minute." Jolene hurried back to her room.

As soon as she was gone, Bruce turned to Rachel, who hovered in the doorway. "You'd be much better at helping her than me."

"She asked you."

"I'm going to look like a dope when I can't figure this out."

Rachel snickered softly. "Well, you know what they say about the shoe fitting."

He scowled but didn't get a chance to comment before Jolene returned with a pencil and yellow pad.

"I still don't get why this stuff is so important," she muttered.

"You need to solve for x," Bruce said.

"I know that, but why?"

"Not y, x."

"Daddy, you're confusing me."

"Good, because I'm confused, too." He sent Rachel a look that pleaded for mercy.

As much as she wanted to step in, Rachel didn't dare. The request had to come from Jolene; otherwise, the girl would reject Rachel's offer and resent her for having made it.

After several minutes, Bruce threw in the towel. "Sorry, kiddo, I can't do this."

"I have the final at the end of the week and I'm going to flunk," Jolene cried, as if leaving this one problem unsolved would ruin her entire academic career. "I'll never get into college if I can't pass Algebra I."

"You've got years and years before you need to worry about college," Bruce said, but if he hoped to reassure his daughter, his words fell flat.

"How can you say that?" Jolene wailed. "I have to get this right, I have to."

"Ask Rachel," Bruce suggested.

Jolene glanced in her direction. Pretending not to notice, Rachel began to wipe down the kitchen counters, which she'd already done once.

"Rachel," Jolene said hesitantly, "do you think you could figure this out?"