“I’d never keep you from that trip.”
“Wonderful. It’s a deal.”
“A deal.”
And, as if to seal it all under the light of the lamppost, Rowan turned me in his arms and cupped my face on both sides, his fingers tangling with the hair at the base of my neck. With his eyes holding mine, he leaned down and kissed me like there was only today and no tomorrow. Somewhere in the background, I swear I heard the melody from the theme song from Casablanca, “As Time Goes By.” Or maybe it was all in my head. Whoever penned the line “a kiss is just a kiss” hadn’t been kissed by this man.
“I love you, Jenna.”
“And I love you back, Rowan.”
Sighing, Rowan leaned his forehead against mine. His eyes were closed as he whispered, “It took you long enough.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Nope. Just savoring the moment.”
And then he kissed me all over again.
EPILOGUE
Jenna
Five years later
Early Thanksgiving morning I snuck out of bed, careful not to wake Rowan as he had returned home late after performing emergency surgery on a car accident victim the night before. I lovingly looked down at my husband, my heart filled to overflowing. Although I was tempted to wake him with a morning hug and kiss, I’d let him sleep as long as he needed to.
Once I had a cup of coffee and did my morning reading, I brought the turkey out of the refrigerator to let the bird sit at room temperature while I prepared the stuffing. It was this time of year that I missed my mother the most. She’d passed away the year before, at the age of seventy-nine, going quietly in her sleep. When we found her, she’d had this wonderful look of contentment on her face. In my heart, I knew the happy look on her face happened in the short space between life and death when she first saw my father. The instant she’d recognized him, she was complete again, and he’d reached across time and eternity to draw her close.
I remembered all those early Thanksgiving mornings I’d spent with Mom in the kitchen, working together to stuff the bird. I was grateful for all those lessons in cooking and in life that she’d shared with me over the years. I could feel her presence with me now as I added the chicken broth to the dried bread and the sautéed onions and celery.
The front door opened with Allie and Mackensie making a surprise entrance. They were as close as sisters, and by marrying Rowan I’d gotten a bonus daughter. They each had men in their lives, and I suspected I’d be planning weddings soon. I looked forward to that. As I believed, Allie had gotten her degree and now worked for the state of Washington as a social worker, and Mackensie had gone to graduate school to become a physician assistant. I knew how proud Rowan was to see her excel in the medical field and to follow in his footsteps.
“Why are you two here so early?” I asked, although I’d guessed.
“We came to help you with the turkey,” Allie said, as she pulled open the bottom drawer and brought out two aprons. She handed one to Mackensie.
Mackensie tied it around her waist. “Let me do that,” she said, using her hip to gently bump me away from the large bowl where I’d placed the dressing ingredients.
“We want to watch you put in the spices the way you used to watch Grams,” Allie explained. “One day we’re going to be doing this on our own, you know.”
“Not for a very long time,” Mackensie was quick to add.
“Hopefully not,” I said with a laugh.
“Hey, what’s going on down here?” Rowan asked, joining us in the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and kissed my neck before helping himself to coffee.
“I thought you’d sleep longer,” I said, surprised he was up this early after such a late night.
“And miss out on all the fun?” he joked. He finished with a yawn. It went without saying he’d be the first to succumb to a nap following dinner. Carrying the mug with him, Rowan wandered into the family room and turned on the morning news. “What time are Paul and Katelyn due to arrive?”
“Around three.” Paul and Katelyn had met at college. They married after graduation and gave us our first grandchild, Drake, now two years old. Paul was the proud owner of a restaurant in the Seattle area. Busy as he was, I didn’t expect him to stay longer than two or three hours, as the holidays were hectic at his establishment.
I’d always believed my son would be a success at whatever he undertook. He’d done as he’d promised and graduated from college with a degree in hospitality. Walter Owen had been a mentor and champion to him. I’d come to appreciate Walter and was grateful for the guidance and training he’d given Paul, and he’d become part of our extended family.
“Are Maureen and Logan stopping by?” Rowan asked.
“Yes, later. They’re having dinner with Misty, Matt, and their families, and then stopping by to have dessert with us.”
“Great.” Rowan plopped down in front of the television with his coffee. He liked to ease into mornings, something I’d learned after we’d married. I gave him his quiet time the same way he did me.
While the girls watched, I assembled the poultry seasoning, sage, and other spices and added them to the bread mixture and tested the moistness. They gathered around me, as if it was a science experiment. It was the same way I had once stood close to my mother when she added the final touches to the stuffing.
Putting on a disposable glove, I stuffed the bird, bathed it in butter, and had Rowan place the twenty-pound hen in the oven to slowly cook to a golden brown.
The girls left with the promise to return at about two o’clock to help with the final preparations.
Rowan had his coffee and the morning newspaper when I sat down next to him on the sofa to relax for a few minutes.
“There’s an ad here for discounted airfare to Paris,” he said, glancing over at me.
“Paris,” I repeated. Before either of us married and before Tori delivered her daughter, Maureen and I had found last-minute bargain airfare and on the spur of the moment flew to Paris with barely twenty-four hours’ notice. We feared if we kept putting it off we’d never go, and so we threw caution to the wind and went. It was crazy and wonderful. Paris was everything we always knew it would be. And with Maureen’s list in hand, we toured every site we’d originally planned. Truly the trip of a lifetime.
For our honeymoon, Rowan and I had visited Italy, and I’d fallen in love with Florence. We’d spent three glorious days there, and another three in Rome. While I loved Paris, I would return to Florence in a heartbeat.
“Would you like to return to Paris, this time with me?” my husband asked, placing his arm around my shoulders and bringing me closer to his side.
Leaning my head against his shoulder, I thought about his question. “No, the trip with Maureen satisfied the promise we’d made to each other back in our college days. There are other locations I’d like to visit.”
“Like?”
“How about New Zealand or Australia?”
“That can be arranged.”
I grinned, suspecting that was exactly what Rowan had been hoping to hear. His inquiry made all the more sense when opening my Christmas gift the following month.
The aroma of the cooking turkey filled the house, and the quietness that Rowan and I had grown accustomed to was soon filled with the laughter of our combined families. Drake clung to his mother’s leg, holding tightly on to the yellow blanket that I’d knit him.
The house was full as Allie and Mackensie worked in the kitchen, laughing and chattering as Christmas music played softly in the background. Paul and Rowan had the television on, watching a football game, while Katelyn kept Drake busy.
I remembered the days when the house had felt so empty—when I could hear the echo of loneliness shortly after Allie left for college. At that time, I’d look out from my window
on the bay, unsure of how I’d fill my days, uncertain of my future.
My nest was no longer empty. These days it was filled with a loving husband, our children, a grandson, laughter, and plenty of love. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
To Sheila and Norm Crighton
for all the laughter, fun, and Scotch
BALLANTINE BOOKS FROM DEBBIE MACOMBER
Window on the Bay
Cottage by the Sea
Any Dream Will Do
If Not for You
A Girl’s Guide to Moving On
Last One Home
ROSE HARBOR INN
Sweet Tomorrows
Silver Linings
Love Letters
Rose Harbor in Bloom
The Inn at Rose Harbor
BLOSSOM STREET
Blossom Street Brides
Starting Now
CHRISTMAS NOVELS
Alaskan Holiday
Merry and Bright
Twelve Days of Christmas
Dashing Through the Snow
Mr. Miracle
Starry Night
Angels at the Table
Be a Blessing
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DEBBIE MACOMBER, the author of Window on the Bay, Cottage by the Sea, Any Dream Will Do, If Not for You, and the Rose Harbor Inn series, is a leading voice in women’s fiction. Thirteen of her novels have reached #1 on the New York Times bestseller list, and five of her beloved Christmas novels have been hit movies on the Hallmark Channel, including Mrs. Miracle and Mr. Miracle. The Hallmark Channel also produced the original series Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove, based on Macomber’s Cedar Cove books. She is also the author of the cookbook Debbie Macomber’s Table. There are more than 200 million copies of her books in print worldwide.
debbiemacomber.com
Facebook.com/debbiemacomberworld
Twitter: @debbiemacomber
Instagram: @debbiemacomber
Pinterest.com/macomberbooks
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