Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2 by Debbie Macomber Page A

Carroll, his high-school sweetheart. Faith had mailed him a sympathy card? He smiled and almost before he could rationalize what he was doing, Troy reached for the phone. Directory assistance gave him the Seattle number he sought and without hesitation he dialed it.
    Not until it began to ring did he consider what he should say. He’d never been an impulsive man. But he didn’t need to think about what he was doing. Instinctively he knew this was right.
    â€œHello,” a soft female voice answered.
    â€œFaith, this is Troy Davis.”
    The line went silent, and Troy felt her shock.
    â€œTroy, my heavens, is it really you?”
    She sounded exactly the same as she had when they were high-school seniors. Back then, they’d talked on the phone for hours nearly every night. They’d been in love. The summer after their graduation, he’d gone into the service. Faith had seen him off with kisses and tears, promising to write every day, and in the beginning she had.
    Then the correspondence had abruptly stopped. He still had no idea what had gone wrong. Soon afterward, a friend told him Faith was dating someone else. It’d hurt, the way she’d handled their breakup, but that was easy to forgive now. They’d both been so young. Besides, Troy wouldn’t have married Sandy if Faith hadn’t severed their relationship. And he couldn’t imagine his life without Sandy….
    â€œI got your sympathy card,” he said, explaining the reason for his call. “How did you know?”
    â€œMy son lives in Cedar Cove,” Faith said. “I was visiting him and the grandkids, and I saw the Chronicle. I always read the obituaries and…”
    â€œThat’s where you read about Sandy?”
    â€œIt is. I’m really sorry about your loss, Troy. I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me. That’s why I didn’t mail the card right away.”
    Troy didn’t know what else to say until he glanced down at the sympathy card and reread her short message. “What did you mean when you said Sandy stole me away?” His memory of their breakup was quite the opposite. Faith had dumped him.
    Her laugh drifted over the phone. “Come on, Troy. You have to know you broke my heart.”
    â€œWhat?” He shook his head in bewilderment. She couldn’t have forgotten the callous way she’d treated him. “As I recall, you’re the one who broke up with me.”
    There was a silence. “How can you say that?” she said. “You quit writing to me.”
    â€œI most certainly did not,” he returned. He’d always wondered what had happened and wasn’t too proud to admit she’d hurt him badly. But none of that was important anymore. Hadn’t been in years.
    â€œHold on,” Faith said. “One of us seems to have developed a selective memory.”
    â€œThat’s what I was thinking.” Strangely, Troy found he was enjoying this. He knew beyond a doubt that the selective memory was Faith’s—but he was willing to forgive her.
    â€œYes,” she said, “and it’s not me.”
    â€œWell, then,” he said, “let’s review the events of that summer.”
    â€œGood idea,” she concurred. “Practically as soon as we graduated from high school, you went into basic training.”
    â€œRight.” Troy was with her so far. “I remember clearly that you promised me your undying love when we said goodbye.”
    â€œI did and I meant it.” She spoke without hesitation. “I wrote you every single day.”
    â€œIn the beginning.” He’d lived for Faith’s letters, and when she’d stopped writing he hadn’t known what to think.
    â€œEvery day,” she reiterated, “and then you stopped writing.”
    â€œMe?”
    â€œYes, you.”
    Troy grew quiet. “I didn’t stop writing you, Faith.”
    â€œI didn’t