Love Letters: A Rose Harbor Novel

by Debbie Macomber

  “I love you, Roy.”

  “I know, baby, I know.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Me, too, but can we wait until the morning?”

  “Okay,” Maggie whispered.

  “Promise me one thing,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t ever leave me again.”

  Maggie grinned. “You got it.” She wrapped her arms around his middle and sighed, suddenly tired and depleted. “We’re going to be okay, Roy.” She felt it in every fiber of her being. Their marriage would survive, and they would grow stronger as a couple and as a family because of this.

  “I’m hoping we have a girl this time.”

  “And if it’s a boy?” she quizzed.

  “Actually, I’ll take whatever God gives us.”

  While it didn’t feel like it at the moment, Maggie was convinced that in time it would be true. “This baby is a gift, Roy, a precious gift.”

  “You would have had a hard time convincing me of that earlier, but I think you may be right.” He kissed her again, before he continued. “He or she has yet to be born and already this unborn child has shown me how to be a better husband.”

  “And me to be a better wife.”

  “You ready to go back now?” Roy asked.

  Maggie released a shuddering sigh and nodded. She was more than ready.

  Chapter 32

  First thing Sunday morning I fed my guests breakfast: fresh fruit, toast from bakery bread, crisp bacon, and an egg casserole, all of which were popular breakfast items. I couldn’t help but notice that the atmosphere was completely different this morning than it had been previously. Everyone appeared to be in a jovial, happy mood.

  Ellie and her mother were in good spirits and promised to get in touch soon to book rooms for a return visit the following month. Before Ellie had time to bring down her suitcase, Tom arrived. The two sat on the deck and talked for some time. I heard Ellie’s laugh and watched Virginia smile.

  “They get along so well, don’t they?” Virginia said, as I carted the dirty dishes into the kitchen.

  “They certainly seem to.”

  “I invited Tom to visit us in Oregon, and he accepted my invitation, and I think Scott will come with him.”

  This was quite a switch in Virginia’s attitude from what Ellie had mentioned earlier. The inn had worked its enchantment once again, healing wounded hearts, lifting spirits, blessing all who stayed. This was the promise I had gotten from Paul that first night, and it had certainly proved itself this weekend.

  The story was the same with the Porters. I was never quite sure of what was going on between the couple, although I was able to piece parts of the story together. Maggie herself had mentioned she was pregnant and she’d said it as though in shock, struggling to hold back tears, and then she’d disappeared. At first Roy had seemed more angry than concerned, but his attitude had changed after his chat with Mark, and he’d set off determined to find her.

  When Maggie returned with Roy, her suitcase in tow, I noticed a drastic change in them both. In some way I felt I needed to thank Mark for talking sense into Roy Porter. This morning I felt I was looking at two entirely different people. They acted like newlyweds, so deeply in love they couldn’t take their eyes off each other.

  The first thing Roy did when they sat down at the breakfast table with Ellie and Virginia was announce that Maggie was pregnant.

  “It’s our third,” he said. “We’re both hoping for a girl this time.”

  “Do you have names picked out?” Ellie asked, after congratulating the couple.

  “Not yet,” Maggie said, resting her hand against her abdomen.

  “Margaret for a girl,” Roy insisted.

  Right away Maggie waved her hand, dismissing his suggestion. “Names are still under consideration.”

  “We’ll be checking out right after breakfast,” Roy told me.

  “Mark asked me to stop by his place on our way out of town.”

  “He did?” That was odd, but I didn’t stop to question Roy, seeing that I had quite a bit of work to do before my family arrived for dinner later in the afternoon. Plus, I had guests checking in, but they wouldn’t arrive until later in the day.

  The house was empty before noon, and I started stripping down the beds. I had a busy Sunday ahead of me and wanted to get as much of the housekeeping chores finished as possible before starting the dinner preparations.

  I figured my family would arrive around three and we’d eat about five. The weather was perfect, sunny and bright. I glanced out the window a couple times and realized I was hoping to see Mark. Not much chance there. My guess was, I wouldn’t see hide nor hair of him all day. He’d as much as said so.

  Frankly, it was a relief. I’d regretted asking Mom to ferret out information about my elusive neighbor and handyman. Curiosity had taken root in me and I’d allowed it to get out of hand, making uncomfortable demands of someone I considered a friend. I’d since made peace with Mark’s need for privacy.

  That wasn’t the only reason I was eager for a breather from my neighbor. The kiss I’d blown Mark after his chat with Roy Porter had been an impulsive gesture. After a night of mulling it over, I still couldn’t imagine what had prompted me to do such a thing. I’d seen Mark’s eyes widen with surprise, but his shock was no greater than my own. It embarrassed me now, and I was afraid Mark would take delight in bringing it up in conversation. That would be just like him. Talking about it, analyzing it, was way out of my comfort zone, and if Mark insisted, I’d tell him so. Once that was decided, I immediately felt better.

  The phone rang in my office as I cleaned the kitchen, indicating a business call. Any personal call would come via my cell.

  “Rose Harbor Inn,” I answered, using my best professional voice.

  “Oh hi,” the woman on the other end of the line said, as if she was surprised to hear a real person. “I’m calling about booking a room,” she said, and then quickly added, “Actually, two rooms.” She mentioned a date in early September, less than a month away.

  I checked my reservation schedule and saw that I had two rooms available.

  “It’s for my best friend and me,” the woman explained. “It’s our class reunion. I’m Kellie and my friend’s name is Katie.” She laughed as she said it.

  “You graduated from Cedar Cove High?”

  “We did. Time really does fly when you’re having fun. My mom and dad live in Arizona now and I’m in San Francisco, and Katie lives in Seattle. We could commute, it’s really not that far, but we didn’t want to have to worry about getting back to Seattle if the night gets late.”

  This should be interesting. Best friends coming back to Cedar Cove for a class reunion. “I’ve got you down for that weekend and have reserved two rooms for Friday through Sunday.”

  “Perfect. See you,” she said, and the line was disconnected.

  I stared at the phone for a moment and shook my head. I could hardly wait to meet Kellie and Katie.

  As I expected, my family arrived around three. Also as I expected, my mother was full of questions regarding Mark.

  “I’d hoped he would have a change of heart and join us for dinner,” Mom said, almost as soon as she was in the front door.

  “If you’re referring to Mark, then the answer is no. He won’t be joining us.” I hated to disappoint my mother. Really, there wasn’t anything more to say.

  My father was even more inquisitive about Mark. Clearly, my parents had been discussing my relationship with the handyman, which made for an uncomfortable conversation. Dad stepped into the kitchen and dipped his finger in the salad dressing, licked it, and then gave me a nod of approval. “You like this fellow, don’t you?”

  “Dad! Mark is a friend, nothing more and nothing less.”

  “Nothing else?” he pried, his thick brows arched with the question.

  “No,” I insisted, and busied myself getting the salmon ready for the grill in
order to avoid further questions.

  Unfortunately, their inquisitiveness started up again once my brother and his family arrived.

  “Mom said you’d invited some guy you wanted us to meet,” Todd said, looking about the room.

  “It’s Mark, and before you ask, he’s a friend. He’s done quite a bit of work around the inn, and he’s just a friend,” I repeated, emphasizing our relationship didn’t go beyond the bond of friendship.

  “I remember,” Todd said, brightening. “Mark’s that handyman who irritates you.”

  “I feed him cookies and that helps tame the beast in him,” I joked, and looked for a way to change the subject.

  Todd grinned. “You like him, though, right? I mean, that was what Mom seemed to insinuate.”

  I didn’t know how many times I was going to have to repeat that Mark wasn’t a potential love interest. “I like him as a friend.”

  Todd gave me that know-it-all look that said he read between the lines. Arguing would only convince him he was right, and so, hard as it was, I didn’t further the discussion by protesting overly much.

  Everyone left around seven, and even if I say so myself, dinner turned out fabulous. Better than I’d expected. I’m sure all the cooking I’ve been doing since taking over the inn has vastly improved my skills in the kitchen.

  My guests were out for the evening, and the inn felt especially quiet after my family left. In the end, I was eternally grateful Mark had stayed away. I would hate to think of the interrogation he would have undergone had he arrived unexpectedly. Thankfully, Mark seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to such matters.

  After brewing myself a cup of coffee I ventured outside to the alcove. Rover followed me and we sat in the chairs close to the fireplace. I’d come to love this little haven. Mark had strung lights around the frame, and as dusk settled I turned them on. Sipping my coffee, I had a one-sided conversation with Rover. He’d loved spending time with my brother’s two kids. He would have made a great family pet.

  I was chatting away when Rover lifted his head and I felt someone’s presence behind me. Twisting around, I found Mark.

  “Do you always talk to yourself?” he asked, plunking himself down in the chair next to me.

  “I was talking to Rover.”

  “Does he answer back?”

  I shrugged. “He does in his own way.”

  “Bet he doesn’t argue much.”

  “Not like some people I could mention,” I said pointedly.

  Mark grinned and leaned back in the chair, making himself comfortable.

  “Roy Porter mentioned that you’d asked him to stop by.” He hadn’t mentioned why, and I couldn’t help being curious.

  “I finished that cradle I’ve been working on for the last few months.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “I figured he and Maggie might put it to good use.”

  I could hardly believe it. “Mark, that cradle was a work of art and you gave it away?”

  He shrugged as if it was something small and quickly changed the subject. “How’d the dinner go with your family?”

  “Great.”

  “No questions about where I was or why I hadn’t bothered to show?”

  He had to ask! I could fib, but I don’t think it would have done much good. Mark would see right through me. “A few,” I said, hoping he’d leave it at that.

  Thankfully, he did, and we sat in relative peace for several moments, each taking in the beauty of the evening.

  “Question,” Mark said, breaking the silence.

  “Sure.” I wasn’t the least bit sure, because I had a feeling I knew what was coming.

  “You blew me a kiss.”

  I knew it, I just knew he would bring that up. “I was hoping you’d overlook that.”

  He’d gone still and serious. “Did you mean it?”

  “The kiss?” If I played dumb long enough, maybe he’d change the subject.

  He didn’t answer right away. “I’m afraid we’re wading into dangerous territory, Jo Marie, and it worries me.”

  Dangerous territory?

  “How so?” I asked, rather than head straight into flat-out denial.

  He clamped his hands together and went silent. It felt as if everything around us did the same. Even the breeze wafting the leaves ceased. The birds no longer chirped and the street traffic faded away.

  “Mark?”

  “My given name is actually Jeremy.”

  “Jeremy?” I repeated, confused now. “Then exactly where did Mark come from?”

  “It was my father’s name. He was a good man who worked hard his entire life, who loved my mother and his children. He believed in God and family and the American way.”

  “And Jeremy?” I asked, and as soon as I said the words I was sorry.

  “Jeremy is dead.” His voice was stark and hard.

  Now I really was confused. “Listen, it’s not important that I know. You don’t need to tell me a thing.”

  “I think it is important.”

  “Because I’ve been pressuring you? I’m sorry about that. Whatever reason you have for keeping it a secret is fine by me. It’s not my affair.”

  “It’s funny.”

  “What is?” Personally, I wasn’t finding anything amusing about any bit of this. I don’t know when I’d seen Mark more serious. He looked nervous and unsure. Everything about him said as much, the way he sat, leaning forward and gently rocking, the way he tapped his foot as if looking to run away from a past he didn’t want to confront.

  “What’s funny,” he clarified, “is that a couple days ago you couldn’t have gotten me to tell you this if you’d had me water-boarded.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  His eyes skirted to mine. “That kiss you blew me.”

  “The kiss?” I couldn’t imagine what that had to do with any of what he insisted on telling me.

  All at once Mark was on his feet, his hands inside his pockets. “You have to know the way I feel about you, Jo Marie.”

  My mind and my heart started racing. I stared up at him, my mouth dry.

  “I make every excuse imaginable to spend time with you.”

  He did? I found myself incapable of speech.

  “Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t.” It shocked me that I could be that oblivious, but then little things started adding up. His anger when he saw me climbing a ladder last spring, and how he’d kept Peter McConnell out of the inn and insisted he stay overnight at his house.

  My eyes and body language must have betrayed me, because Mark said, “I see you’re filling in the blanks.”

  “I … I didn’t know—”

  “Before you say anything,” Mark said, cutting me off, “let me tell you this thing I feel, this attraction, isn’t going anywhere. I’m nipping it in the bud right now.”

  My thoughts were spinning, and I placed both hands on top of my head, looking to make sense of what seemed impossible.

  “The only reason I’m telling you this now,” Mark continued, “is that I can see you’re starting to return those feelings, and it’s got to stop.”

  Return his feelings? That was how he’d read the meaning behind that silly throwaway kiss?

  “For the sake of argument, can you explain why you feel there could never be anything … romantic between us?” This was all pretty new to me, and I needed clarity.

  Mark started pacing the tight area inside of the alcove. “There are things about me you don’t know, things I don’t want to talk about.”

  “It’s okay, Mark. I’m sorry I pressed you for information you aren’t willing to share. It doesn’t matter to me what your past is.”

  “It matters to me,” he said, nearly shouting, and then he repeated himself, lowering his voice. “It matters to me.”

  I didn’t know what to say or how to respond.

  He crouched next to me and reached for my hand, gripping it with both of his own. His eyes hel
d mine. “You were married to Paul Rose, and he was a hero. He gave his life in defense of our country. He’s everything I’m not. I’m the antithesis of a hero, make no mistake in that. I’m blemished. Flawed. Broken. I’m crawling out of a black hole. By all that’s fair and just, I should be the one who died, not Paul.”

  Again, I was at a loss for words.

  He straightened and started to leave, but I leaped up, reached out, and grabbed hold of his elbow. We were only a few inches apart. From the time I took over the inn I’d seen a good deal of Mark Taylor, often two and three times a day, but he was right. I didn’t know him at all.

  “This doesn’t change anything,” I whispered.

  His eyes were filled with sadness. “You’re wrong.”

  “Not on my end.”

  His gaze didn’t waver, and I could see him struggle with indecision within himself. “Like I said, we’re headed into dangerous territory.”

  “Maybe so,” I agreed, and then I said it again. “Maybe so.”

  “I think it might be best if I moved on,” Mark told me, his voice low and serious.

  “You mean leave the area?” I couldn’t believe he’d even suggest such a thing. Then I remembered that he’d mentioned earlier that in the past he’d drifted from town to town. At the same time he’d also mentioned that he was content in Cedar Cove.

  “It’s time.”

  “What about the gazebo?” I asked desperately, trying to think of something, anything, to get him to reconsider. “You don’t seem the type to leave a project unfinished.”

  He hesitated. “All right, I’ll finish that, but then I’m leaving.”

  From the look in his eyes I could see nothing I said would be able to change his mind. I suspected it earlier, but now I knew the truth. Mark was running from his past.

  It seemed the healing powers of the inn weren’t strong enough to heal the man who had become my closest friend.

  To Steve and Robin Black,

  for their friendship, UPTick wines, and for gifting Wayne and me with our very own row of grapevines. May they produce an endless flow of wine!