Sweet Tomorrows

by Debbie Macomber

  “Basically, you suffered a traumatic event and the brain won’t allow you to move past it so that you relive that moment again and again each time with the same terror and shock.”

  “Yes.” Nick’s voice was little more than a husky whisper. “It’s like sinking into a black hole and I can’t pull myself out of it. Each and every time I relive that night, those last few minutes we were together keep going through my head. I’m drunk and singing and Brad was driving because I was too smashed to get behind the wheel. He was telling me it’s time I grew up. I laughed at him. I actually laughed and called him a Jesus freak. Brad shook his head and wanted to know when I was going to settle down and be the man he knew me to be.

  “I took offense at the question. I was older and more of a man than he’d ever be. I worked hard, played harder, and liked my life exactly the way it was.”

  Nick seemed lost in the memory, lost in the pain.

  “Brad was the responsible kid, the one who made my parents proud. I was the exact opposite. I got kicked off the football team for a bad attitude, while Brad was the star basketball player. I barely graduated from high school; Brad was valedictorian of his class.”

  The guilt was eating him up.

  “I had called him, woke him from a sound sleep in the wee hours of the morning, demanding he come get me. And being the kind of brother he was, Brad came to pick me up from the bar where I’d been partying with my buddies. My friends were in just as bad a shape as me and they needed to call for rides home themselves. I didn’t want to listen to his lecture and told him so and that’s when it happened. A car plowed into us…The irony of the situation is almost more than I can take.”

  Nick needed to sit down. He went pale and his entire body had started to shake. Taking hold of his arm, I led him to the table and sat him down, then scooted a chair so that I was facing him so close our knees touched. He reached out and took hold of both my hands, his grip so tight that I nearly cried out. He lessened the pressure and looked beyond me, recounting the details of that night.

  “The man who hit us was driving drunk,” Nick said, his voice a husky whisper. “He was driving the wrong way on the freeway. Brad swerved in order to miss him, swerved so that the impact was on his side instead of my own.”

  Nick’s knees started to bounce then and his entire body trembled. Not knowing how best to help, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his torso. Nick grabbed me as if I were a life preserver in a storm-tossed sea, his breathing erratic and uneven.

  “He died, Em, he died in my arms. I can’t forget the look in his eyes. That’s all I see, it haunts me, knowing I should have been the one who died. My brother was a good man; he had such a big heart. He worked with kids in the foster-care program and he loved them. He took the worst cases, the teens who struck out at the unfairness of life, and he loved them. He made a difference in their lives.”

  I could tell Nick was struggling to breathe and that another panic attack was coming on. I strengthened my hold and whispered reassurances to him, and because I didn’t know what else to do, I started to sing one of my favorite hymns: “Amazing Grace.” I have a decent voice, but I’m no singer. Still, my poor attempt appeared to calm him. Gradually his panting eased and the frantic rate of his pulse calmed to a steadier pace.

  He broke away and looked at me, his eyes bright and pleading. “I need you, Em, you’re the only one who has ever been able to help me. With God as my witness, I promise not to do anything more to hurt you. We’ll deal with this infertility issue. I don’t care. I can’t let you go.”

  I brushed the hair from his forehead and he rested his face on my shoulder. Knowing how fiercely proud he was, I accepted how difficult it must have been for him to come to me.

  “Don’t leave me, Em.”

  I kissed his temple and acknowledged that I was putting my own heart at risk. Despite that, I reassured Nick I wouldn’t leave him. I couldn’t find it in me to refuse. Being needed was a basic human condition. “I’m here, Nick,” I assured him.

  “Thank you.”

  After he calmed down we drank our coffee and sorted through the paint samples he brought and made a selection for the kitchen walls. By the time Nick left, he was himself again.

  Standing at the front door, I watched him walk away and realized he took my heart with him.

  —

  It was still light out when Jo Marie walked into the inn that evening. Rover scooted to her side, tail wagging, glad to have her home once again. She leaned down to give him attention and then glanced toward me.

  “Everything okay here?” she asked.

  “Everything’s good,” I assured her without really looking at her. “No worries on the home front.” This was early for her. She usually didn’t arrive until after ten or later. “How are things progressing with Mark?” I felt they must be going well for her to be back already.

  She smiled and I could see the little lines between her eyes had relaxed. “Mark was moved out of intensive care this afternoon.”

  This was great news. “That’s wonderful.” Not so long ago the medical staff hadn’t given Mark much of a chance of survival.

  Jo Marie walked into the kitchen and noticed I’d set aside a dinner plate for her. I’d done it every night since she’d learned Mark was stateside. Most evenings the plate remained untouched. I’d made a special effort this evening, hoping that would tempt her to eat.

  She noticed the slice of my homemade chicken pot pie, and opened a drawer to take out a fork. “Join me,” she said.

  I was tempted to tell her about Nick’s visit, but burdening her with my personal problems wasn’t a good idea. Jo Marie had enough to deal with already without me weighing her down with even more.

  “I don’t want to eat alone,” she said.

  Hearing that, I basically didn’t have much of a choice. I said, “Okay.” I pulled out a chair and sat across from her. Rather than have her ask questions that would eventually lead to me telling her about Nick, I decided to ask a few of my own.

  “Remember when we talked about the special healing quality of the inn?”

  “Of course.” She was closely watching me.

  “You sensed I was hurting, didn’t you?”

  She took her time answering and then finally agreed with a nod. “You weren’t interested in discussing it and I didn’t push. But I did want to help you if I could and, more important, I wanted you to know this was a place of comfort and peace. By mentioning it I’d hoped you’d feel welcome and at home.”

  “I do. But I knew then, as I know now, that the inn can’t help me.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m infertile, Jo Marie. It isn’t like my stay here is going to cause a uterus to suddenly appear.”

  She smiled as if I’d made a joke, but I was serious. “Healing doesn’t always come in the ways we expect. It wasn’t like my husband was raised from the dead, either. I remained a widow and the unexpected happened. I fell in love again. I wasn’t looking for love, I wasn’t seeking it out. But there it was in the form of a handyman who was more of an annoyance than he ever was a lover. I found new life here and I believe you will, too.”

  I so badly wanted to accept that was possible; however, I was skeptical. Who could blame me?

  “I’ve seen this happen time and time again,” Jo Marie insisted.

  I’d heard that before and wasn’t sure I was up to another story of how some brokenhearted, defeated guest had shown up at the inn and miraculously had all their problems solved overnight. It was too good to be true. While the inn might have the potential to help others, I knew its powers for good weren’t available for me.

  “Nick was by this afternoon,” I said, avoiding eye contact.

  Jo Marie, who’d picked up her fork, set it back down. “I thought you told me that you’d decided not to see him again.”

  “I did.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  I could see she was concerned for me. “I tried, but then he convin
ced me otherwise. He had another one of his panic attacks and he feels I’m the only one who can help him.”

  Jo Marie’s frown deepened and she propped her elbows on the table as she carefully studied me. “You can’t hold his hand for the rest of your life.”

  “I know.” Hard as it was to admit, she was right. I might have pointed out that Mark needed her, too, but stopped for fear it would sound defensive, and I wasn’t.

  “Nick needs professional help.”

  “I agree, and that’s what I plan to suggest.” Counseling would take time and patience. I knew he’d refused it time and again.

  “Do it soon,” Jo Marie advised and reached for her fork once more.

  “I will.”

  She took a bite of the homemade chicken pot pie and her brows arched at the first taste. “Hey, this is good.”

  “I’m more than a pretty face, you know,” I joked, grateful to lighten the mood.

  We chatted as she ate and I told her I’d booked two guests that afternoon with stays later in the month. I could see Jo Marie was pleased with how well I’d filled in for her.

  “Anything other than bills in the mail?” she asked.

  Knowing if she went into her office she’d end up getting involved in the business at hand, I stood and retrieved the mail. I brought it in to her, taking only what wasn’t related to the inn, setting it on the table next to her plate. We’d had several discussions about my taking over for her at the inn. Jo Marie insisted on paying me, and I was equally adamant that having a place to live during this transitional time was payment enough. We’d agreed to disagree and had yet to settle the issue.

  Jo Marie reached for the hand-addressed envelope and I saw her face relax when she saw the return Seattle address. “It’s from Mary.”

  “A friend?” I asked.

  “A former guest.” She leaned back and looked squarely at me as if debating if she should continue.

  “What?” I asked, smiling. I was beginning to know that look. She wanted to tell me another story about another guest and was weighing whether she should or not.

  “Mary had such a wonderful story, I’d like to tell you about her, if you don’t mind. She’s one of my favorites.”

  One look told me she wanted me to hear this. “Tell me,” I insisted, and feeling better than I had all weekend, I relaxed in the chair and waited for Jo Marie to continue.

  “When I first met Mary she was undergoing cancer treatment,” Jo Marie started. “She was alone and quite weak. Soon after she arrived she arranged a meeting with a man named George. Right away I recognized the love in his eyes. He was crazy about Mary and deeply concerned when he realized how sick she was. Apparently, at one time the two had been lovers but something had happened that drove them apart.”

  “She came to make amends?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Mary was a career business woman. Early in her promising career she became pregnant with George’s child. She’d just received a large promotion, they’d split, and she moved to New York. Although George was against it, she’d decided on an abortion, but in the end hadn’t gone through with it, although she’d never told him she’d delivered the baby.”

  “Oh my. So she came to Cedar Cove to tell George what she’d done?”

  “No.”

  Once more I’d guessed wrong.

  “Mary came because she wanted to see her child one time before she died. Amanda’s adoptive parents lived in the area.”

  “So she made amends with George and saw her daughter all after her stay at the inn.”

  “Yes.”

  Again, I wanted to believe there was hope for happiness for me, but I remained a skeptic.

  Wait a minute. Jo Marie said Mary lived in New York. “Mary’s return address envelope says Seattle.”

  Jo Marie’s smile reached her eyes. It’d been some time since I’d seen her light up the way she did when she next spoke. “Mary lives in Seattle now.” As she spoke, Jo Marie reached for the envelope and ripped it open. She read the few lines and then glanced at me, looking more than pleased.

  “Mary and George are inviting me to dinner to celebrate the fact that Mary is one year cancer-free. She says dinner is plus-one and she hopes I’ll bring a man.”

  “Will you go?” I asked, knowing how preoccupied she was with caring for Mark.

  “I wouldn’t dream of missing this,” she said as she set the invitation aside. “The real question is who I’ll bring with me: Mark or Greg?”

  That really was the question, and I knew it was one that Jo Marie was going to have a hard time answering.

  It seemed every time I opened my eyes Jo Marie was at my bedside. Seeing her beautiful face was what had kept me alive. In the worst of it my entire focus, my will, my determination was set on making it back to her. Jo Marie had been with me in my fevered fantasy. Her voice came to me as clearly and loudly as if she were speaking through a microphone. One time I was convinced I’d heard her threaten me. She’d cried out that if I died she’d never forgive me. Just thinking about that made me smile.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  I opened my eyes and there she was again. I pulled my hand free of the sheet, stretched it out toward her. She gripped it with her own, curling her fingers around mine.

  “Good morning,” she whispered and, leaning over, kissed my forehead.

  “Morning.” I longed for the day when I could properly kiss her. I’d dreamed about that, too, kissing and loving her. I had big plans for this woman, plans for the two of us that would last the remainder of our lives.

  “Have you been here all night?” I asked.

  “No. I arrived a few minutes ago.”

  I glanced at the clock in the room and noticed it was barely six.

  Her gaze followed mine. “I wanted to be here when you woke,” she explained.

  This woman. I don’t know what I’d ever done to warrant her loving me. I couldn’t stop looking at her. Even now I found it unreal that she was actually at my side. She must have left the inn around five, battling the heavy commuter traffic. Often she didn’t leave the hospital until nearly ten at night.

  “When I arrived you were asleep and you had this sexy smile. You want to tell me what that dream was about?”

  I could feel my smile return. “You, naturally.”

  “Really?” She sounded skeptical.

  “Yeah. I remember you talking to me while I was struggling to get out of Iraq. Actually, you were shouting at me, mad as a wet hen. The memory was as vivid as if you were standing over me while I struggled with the desert heat.”

  “What was I saying?”

  Even now I could hear her voice echoing in my ear. “You were threatening me.”

  “Threatening you?” She looked amused, her eyebrows cocked with suspicion. “Are you sure that was me?”

  “Oh yes, it was definitely you.”

  “What did I say?”

  I grinned again. “You claimed there’d be consequences if I died on you.”

  Pulling up a chair close to my bed, she sat down and reached for my hand. “Guilty.”

  “That was real, then?”

  “Yup. It was the first day I learned you were at Madigan. The only reason I was told you were in the States was because no one expected you to last more than another few hours that day.”

  “Guess I fooled them,” I joked. This wasn’t the first time I’d cheated death. I wasn’t looking for another opportunity. All I wanted out of life now was to marry this beautiful woman and raise a passel of kids. The thought filled me with happy anticipation. Still, there were complications. I’d been sent into Iraq with a mission above and beyond finding Ibrahim but had been unable to see it through. What that meant for the future, I didn’t know.

  “You feeling good enough to talk?” Her amusement faded and her eyes grew dark and serious.

  “What’s on your mind?” I asked.

  “I’d like some answers.” She continued
to rub her thumb over the top of my hand and lowered her gaze.

  I dreaded this discussion. Now was as good a time as any to get it over with, I supposed. “I’ll answer what I can, but you need to understand there are certain things I can’t tell you.”

  She nodded and seemed aware of my limitations when it came to explaining pertinent facts about the mission. Her gaze pinned me to the bed.

  “You had government help getting in and out of Iraq, didn’t you?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  Her mouth curved up, as if she knew more than I realized. “I know you did. Milford said as much.”

  I remembered the name. Milford had been Paul Rose’s commander. It went without saying that Jo Marie must have hounded the officer until she got the information she wanted.

  “Your trip into Iraq was about more than finding Ibrahim.” This was a statement of fact. “You had another mission. I don’t expect to know the details, but I would like you to confirm that I’m right.”

  The mention of my mission brought a heaviness to my chest. Nothing had worked out as planned, no thanks to the bullet I’d taken. I wasn’t sure what that would mean for my future. When I looked to Jo Marie, I realized she was waiting for my answer. “You know I can’t confirm or deny that.”

  She snickered. “The fact you won’t is answer enough.”

  I grinned. Smart girl.

  “Did you succeed?” she asked, lowering her voice to a soft whisper.

  “Jo Marie,” I flared. She knew I couldn’t speak of it, and I didn’t want to admit that I’d failed.

  “Okay, okay, it doesn’t matter, because you’re through.”

  “Through?”

  “You’re finished with the military,” she announced flatly, leaving no room for argument.

  “My, my, aren’t you the bossy one.”

  “I’m not joking, Mark.”

  I could tell she was serious, but it wasn’t as easy as that. I’d made concessions and struck a deal with the army in order to get back into Iraq. Being a man of my word, I intended to fulfill my duty. Yes, I had doubts and hesitations; I didn’t have a crystal ball, nor could I predict the future. I’d made a commitment, and as a man of my word, I needed to see it to the end and make it happen.