Love Letters: A Rose Harbor Novel

by Debbie Macomber

  Ellie stumbled along, hardly able to make her way in the dark. Because she carried the popcorn, Tom held down the seat for her. She made herself comfortable.

  “Remember what I mentioned earlier about this dream I’ve been having?”

  “Dream?”

  “About kissing you?” His voice took on a husky whisper.

  “In the theater?” she whispered back, her smile so big it hurt her face.

  “Honestly, Ellie, I don’t think I can wait a second longer.”

  For that matter, neither could she.

  Chapter 10

  Maggie woke slowly, coming out of a dream so blissful she didn’t want it to end. Luxuriating in the warm feelings, she kept her eyes closed. The dream revolved around when she’d first started dating Roy. They were both college students and deeply in love with the future, so bright and perfect, spread out before them.

  At one time that idyllic happiness, that sense that nothing could ever tear them apart, had been real. Even now it was hard to believe that it had dwindled down to the point where the love that held them together was a slender thread.

  As much as she wanted to linger in the dream, Maggie forced herself to pull back to reality. The blanket over her was warm and comfortable. Reluctant as she was to wake, Maggie accepted that while it was tempting, she couldn’t nap forever.

  Roy was in the room. She could hear him sitting on the other side of the king-size bed in a comfy overstuffed chair. Apparently, he was on the phone, because she could hear him whisper, although she couldn’t make out the words. He kept his tone low.

  She didn’t want him to know she was awake, and she listened as intently as she could. Her fear, rational or not, was that Katherine was on the other end of the line. The thought of the other woman caused her to go instantly cold.

  “No,” Roy said, and then repeated it a bit more loudly now. “That won’t work.”

  What wouldn’t work? Maggie wondered. Was it possible after everything they’d been through that Roy was setting up a rendezvous with the other woman? Maggie hated the way suspicious thoughts immediately assaulted her. She couldn’t allow herself to give in to these fears. They would destroy her and destroy their marriage.

  At the same time, it helped her appreciate what Roy must be feeling about what had happened with her. She’d been so foolish, so stupid. It was hard to believe that she was capable of the crazy things she’d done after learning about Roy’s emotional affair with the other woman.

  She stretched, purposely letting her husband know she was awake. Right away Roy ended the telephone conversation.

  “I have to go,” he whispered. “No, I can’t talk later.” He was adamant about that, raising his voice.

  Maggie swallowed hard. It definitely sounded like a conversation her husband didn’t want her to listen in on.

  “Maggie’s waking up now. Good-bye.”

  Pretending to stir from sleep, Maggie raised her arms over her head and stretched again, arching her back.

  “Hi,” Roy said, coming to sit on the edge of the mattress. “You certainly did sleep.”

  She blinked up at him until she noticed the guilty look he wore. So it had been Katherine on the phone. Little wonder he hadn’t wanted her to overhear the conversation.

  Maggie had told him before and she meant it: Any contact with the other woman, no matter how innocent, would not be tolerated. Roy had given her his word that the affair was over. He’d severed the relationship and his ties with the business that employed Katherine.

  One of the many reasons Maggie had married Roy Porter was because she felt he was a man of honor. He would abide by his word. Until recently, she’d had no reason to doubt him.

  “How long did I sleep?” she asked, playing innocent.

  Roy checked his wrist and cocked his eyebrows as though he, too, was surprised. “Almost two hours.”

  That shocked Maggie. “Two hours? My goodness …” She hardly knew what to say. It was unheard-of for her to take a two-hour nap in the middle of the afternoon. By now it must be close to dinnertime. She sat upright and rubbed the sleep out of her face.

  “You were exhausted.”

  “I must have been.” The truth was, she hadn’t slept well in more than a month. Although she was physically drained at the end of each day, she found it almost impossible to sleep. No doubt that was due to the constant tension between them.

  “How are you feeling?” Roy asked. He leaned forward and brushed the hair from her face, his look somewhat guarded.

  Maggie studied her husband, fearing what she saw in him was guilt. She bit back the hard questions and accusations. As difficult as it was, she forced herself to swallow her suspicions and pretend she hadn’t heard any part of his conversation.

  “I’m feeling much better,” she said, faking a smile. Physically, she felt fine, but her heart ached. She couldn’t let this go. It would be easy to pretend, and frankly … maybe it was better not to know. If Roy had been talking to Katherine, Maggie would have an extremely difficult choice to make, and at the moment she didn’t feel capable of choosing a dinner entrée, let alone the fate of her marriage.

  She glanced at the digital readout from the clock on the nightstand. “It’s after six. You should have woken me.”

  “It’s fine, Maggie,” Roy reassured her. “You needed the sleep.”

  “What about dinner?” To her surprise, she discovered she was hungry.

  “Do you feel up to it?”

  She nodded, and Roy looked mildly surprised. “Well, great.” He stood and reached for his phone, which rested on the dresser top next to the chair where he’d been sitting. Maggie’s gaze fell on it, too, and once again she was faced with indecision, with doubts and fears.

  “I’ll run a brush through my hair,” she said, and climbed off the bed. She tossed aside the blanket, and to her amazement, Roy reached for it, folding it neatly and placing it at the foot of the bed. It wasn’t like her husband to think of doing something like that. Right away, she sensed he’d done it in an effort to avoid eye contact.

  Maggie closed the bathroom door and leaned against it while she tried to reason this out. If she allowed it, the conversation her husband had taken such pains to hide would ruin their weekend. She had to let it go or spoil everything these days away were meant to be.

  She refreshed her makeup and, after taking a moment to compose herself and her thoughts, joined Roy. When they came down the stairs, Jo Marie was in the kitchen with Rover.

  “Oh Maggie, you’re up,” Jo Marie greeted. “How are you feeling?”

  She offered the other woman a reassuring smile. “Much, much better, thank you.”

  “We’re going out for dinner,” Roy said. “Any place you’d like to recommend?”

  “Several,” Jo Marie said, and opened a kitchen drawer. “The brochure I gave you earlier lists area restaurants along with their signature dishes. If you mention you’re from the inn, you’re likely to be offered a discount.”

  “Great.” Roy took the folded sheet out of his hip pocket, read it over, and handed it to Maggie.

  She glanced at it and then tucked it in the outside flap of her purse. They might be able to use it again later. They weren’t scheduled to return to Yakima until Sunday afternoon, which gave them all day Saturday and part of Sunday. Their plans for the rest of the weekend were flexible. They could go into Seattle easily enough. Or drive to any number of local attractions.

  “What suits you?” Roy asked, as they left the inn.

  “Say again?”

  “For dinner. Did you take a look at the list of restaurants Jo Marie gave us?”

  “Oh.” She should have realized what he meant. “Anything is fine.”

  His gaze narrowed. “What if I want sushi?”

  That was a joke. Roy had gone to a sushi restaurant with a few guys from the job site. He’d taken a fancy to the wide variety of fish and flavors so unlike the meat and potatoes of his childhood. Maggie had given sushi a fair try but was
unable to get over the fact that they were eating raw fish.

  “I’d manage,” she replied, as she got into the car.

  Roy didn’t bother to hide his surprise.

  “What about Mexican?” he suggested, more serious this time.

  “Sure. Whatever.”

  Again, her lackadaisical response seemed to catch him by surprise. “You’re generally pretty picky about where we dine out.”

  “I’m not, either,” she insisted, disliking his tone. “You make it sound like I insist upon having my own way, and that’s simply not true.”

  “Whoa, hold on,” he said, raising his hand in a defensive posture. “I didn’t say anything of the kind.”

  “It was what you implied.”

  “It wasn’t what I meant.” Taking a moment, he went quiet and then exhaled before suggesting in a much calmer tone, “Mexican might not be a good choice if your tummy is queasy.”

  “My stomach feels fine. I don’t know what happened earlier, but I’m feeling much better now.”

  “Okay, if Mexican food is what you want, then that’s what it’ll be.” He started the car’s engine but kept his hands tightly grasping the steering wheel. “Is something bothering you?”

  “No,” she returned, far more adamantly than she’d intended.

  Her husband exhaled sharply as if he knew she was lying but was unwilling to get involved in an argument.

  On the drive to the restaurant, Maggie kept her gaze focused on the scenery outside the passenger window, her head turned away from Roy.

  Neither spoke. It seemed to take an eternity to find the restaurant on the list. When they did pull into the parking lot for the Taco Shack it was full and Roy was forced to circle around once before he found an empty slot.

  “The food must be good for them to be this busy,” he commented.

  Maggie felt bad for the way she’d snapped at him. Reaching across the confined space, she placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I seem to be a bit out of sorts, don’t I?”

  For a moment, Maggie feared he wouldn’t accept her apology.

  “That happens with Jaxon, too, if he’s slept too long. Extra sleep seems to have the opposite effect than what one would expect.”

  Maggie appreciated him inventing a convenient excuse for her less-than-charming behavior. It was almost as if she wanted to pick a fight so she could throw the telephone conversation in his face. She didn’t know what was wrong with her to be this irrational. She had to credit Roy with keeping his cool; it couldn’t have been easy.

  To her surprise, there wasn’t a waiting list and they were seated in a booth within minutes after their arrival.

  “How about a margarita?” Roy suggested. “I know how you love licking the salt off the rim of the glass.”

  “Sure,” she said after a short hesitation, doing her best to be agreeable. The last time she’d overindulged in alcohol the results had been disastrous. One thing was certain, there wouldn’t be a second time. She’d sworn off drinking to excess ever again. One drink with her husband would be fine, though.

  The waiter came for their drink order and within only a few minutes their margaritas were delivered along with a basket of tortilla chips and a small bowl of salsa.

  The menu was several pages long, and Maggie took her time reading over the selections. She probably took longer than necessary. Roy made his decision almost right away and set the menu aside.

  “You aren’t going to order arroz con pollo?” he asked, which was what she generally liked.

  “No.” Again, the word came out clipped and abrupt. She tried to soften its effect with a halfhearted smile. “Not tonight. I’m in the mood for something different.”

  “Apparently so,” Roy murmured under his breath.

  She glanced up and found him studying her. Rather than meet his gaze, she quickly looked away. She reached for a chip, dipping it into the salsa. Right away, she noticed her husband’s frown. Rarely did she allow herself to indulge in the chips. For her it was far too easy to fill up on the greasy carbs. It wasn’t like her, and Roy knew it.

  The waiter returned for their food order and she blindly asked for a number three without even knowing what the combination was.

  Again, Roy frowned, and he gave the waiter his own choice. He waited until the other man was out of earshot. “Okay, Maggie, what’s up?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me. Something is bothering you.”

  Her automatic response was to deny it, but she couldn’t make herself do it. She spread the paper napkin across her lap and kept her head lowered. “You were on the phone when I woke.”

  “Yes. So?”

  “You were going to read, remember?”

  He stretched out his arms and took hold of his drink with both hands, giving the impression he was relaxed. Maggie knew otherwise.

  “I got tired of reading.”

  She took a moment to digest his answer. While she could get lost in a novel, it wasn’t that way with Roy. He was accustomed to physical activity. Sitting for any length of time was foreign to him, which was one reason he found traveling by plane uncomfortable.

  Looking up, Maggie held his gaze. This was the very conversation she’d wanted to avoid. Her husband knew her far too well and wouldn’t allow this to pass. He was determined to force it out of her.

  Keeping her back straight, she boldly met his eyes. “Who was it on the phone?”

  Maggie watched as his fingers tightened around the margarita glass until it was a wonder it didn’t snap in half and send the alcohol and ice sliding across the tabletop.

  “What makes you ask?” His question was deceptively calm.

  “I heard part of the conversation.”

  “Did you, now?”

  She swallowed hard. “Yes … the part about you not being able to talk later and how that wouldn’t work.”

  “And you automatically assumed I was speaking to Katherine.”

  Refusing to answer him, Maggie lowered her gaze.

  “I wasn’t. That was Alex on the phone, the project manager. There’s another problem on the job site. Alex did what he could, but he needed my advice. He offered one suggestion, but I know what it’s like to deal with these labor unions, and quickly realized his idea wouldn’t work and told him so.”

  “Oh.”

  “As for the part when I told him I wouldn’t be able to talk later …” His voice was tight and barely controlled.

  When she did look up, Maggie noticed how he’d clenched his jaw. “Yes,” she urged, needing to know.

  “It was about preserving this weekend with you. He wanted to call me tomorrow, and I told him he couldn’t. I’d promised you I’d do my best to leave the job behind.”

  “Oh.” Maggie felt horrible. A hard knot formed in her throat and her bottom lip started to quiver. She bit into it in order to keep it still until she regained her composure. “I owe you an apology … again.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me right away?” he demanded.

  Her voice wobbled when she spoke. “I … was … afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of what?”

  Surely he knew, surely he understood. “Of the decision I would be forced to make if it was Katherine.”

  He reached across the table and took hold of her hand. “I’ll say it again, Maggie, but this is the last time. It’s over. I will never speak, text, Facebook, tweet, or use any other form of communication with Katherine again. You have my word of honor.”

  Unable to speak, she nodded several times.

  “Can we put this behind us? Please?”

  Again she nodded, but frankly she didn’t know if it was possible. She could forgive him and could only pray that in time she would learn to forgive herself.

  Chapter 11

  The inn was empty and silent. My guests were out for the evening and the house felt cavernous. I felt a bit lost and out of sorts with nothing pressing to occupy my time. The incident with Paul’s sweats
hirt lingered in my mind. As if that wasn’t enough, I realized I’d forgotten what Paul’s voice sounded like. No. Not that, too. Determined to try, I closed my eyes and strained to remember, yet as hard as I tried I couldn’t pull the memory of his voice back into my head. His scent was gone, and his voice was no longer part of my memory. It hit me then as strongly as the moment I got word that my husband’s helicopter had gone down in a fiery crash: I had lost Paul. He was gone from me. Never again would he be a part of my life, this side of heaven.

  I was accustomed to living without my husband. When he was deployed we communicated every day. Although he was literally half a world away, we were together in spirit and in heart. His death had come as a harsh blow, nearly crippling me with grief and heartache. I clung to each memory, to every detail, treasuring each one, holding onto them, clenching them in my fist, determined to keep them as close as I could, and now they were slipping away despite all my efforts.

  As the months progressed, I’d found a fragile peace with my husband’s death. But now I realized it was a lost cause. His sweatshirt, the sound of his voice. This was more than I could bear, more than I dared let my mind dwell on—otherwise, I’d break into tears.

  As I did most evenings, I walked through my small flower garden, checking on my roses. I needed the distraction more than ever. I clipped a few and arranged them in a vase for the inn’s foyer. When I finished, I watered my vegetable patch. My tomatoes were coming along nicely, and the pumpkins, although green, showed promise for later in the fall. The snap peas and green beans were coming into their own. Both the spinach and leaf lettuce grew in profusion. I thoroughly enjoyed my small garden space along the south side of the house.

  I had Mark to thank for it. He was the one who’d turned up the earth for me. It’d been no small task, especially with his leg in a cast. It’d taken several days and patience on both our parts.

  I found a few ready-to-eat tomatoes, so I picked those, plus a large batch of spinach, and brought both vegetables into the kitchen. I hadn’t eaten dinner and decided to make a batch of Italian wedding soup. I had most of the ingredients on hand, and what I couldn’t find I’d substitute with something else.