The Inn at Rose Harbor

by Debbie Macomber

  Richard nodded ever so slightly. “Boxes.”

  “In boxes,” Josh clarified.

  Again the old man responded with a faint nod and pointed his finger at the ceiling.

  “He wants you to give him a moment,” Michelle said. “He can barely speak.”

  Richard’s gaze sought out Josh’s and he shook his head. Again he raised his finger.

  Josh looked over at Michelle, who was sitting on the other side of the bed. She was holding Richard’s hand, gently rubbing it with her own, as though to encourage him.

  “Back … far back.”

  “Okay,” Josh said.

  “Teresa’s name.”

  “Is on the boxes?” Josh asked.

  Richard closed his eyes as though completely drained of strength and slumped against his pillow.

  “We should let him rest now,” Michelle whispered.

  Josh agreed. Slowly he stood and stepped back from the bed.

  Michelle studied him. “Do you want to check this out?” she asked.

  He nodded, but his focus remained on Richard. The old man seemed to be resting peacefully. After a moment, Josh turned and followed Michelle out of the bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. His hand remained on the knob when he spoke.

  “Thank you for everything,” he told her. He wouldn’t have lasted a single day if not for her and it was important for her to understand how much she’d helped him. It made Josh feel that much worse about having misled her romantically.

  She shrugged off his appreciation.

  Michelle was responsible for him getting his mother’s Bible. And it went without saying that Richard wouldn’t have mentioned the boxes either if not for Michelle’s influence and calming presence.

  Michelle was already halfway out the front door before Josh joined her. Moving down the icy walkway, she led him to the side door to the garage and turned on the light.

  The car parked inside was the same one Richard had owned when Josh joined the military all those years ago. The only tools on the thick wooden workbench were a screwdriver and hammer.

  As kids, Josh and Dylan had often used the garage as a meeting area where they could talk without the fear of their parents listening in. They’d shared secrets and plans in this old building. The basketball hoop remained positioned at the front of the garage but the net had long since been removed. Or it might have rotted away, for all Josh knew.

  “Over here,” Michelle said. She rushed toward the back and then abruptly turned to look at Josh. “There aren’t any boxes here.” The garage was barren, unlike what Josh remembered. Richard must have gotten rid of everything other than the necessities. A rake and a shovel hung next to a stepladder on the wall.

  Josh glanced around and saw that Michelle was right. The garage was basically empty.

  “Above,” he said. “There’s a storage area up above.” He craned his neck to look up. “That’s what he meant when he raised his finger. He was trying to tell us to look up.” Josh retrieved the ladder and set it below the opening.

  Michelle held on to the two back legs as Josh started the climb. “Be careful,” she warned.

  He kept his attention focused upward until he reached the last rung of the ladder. He lifted the square lid that led to the storage area and slid it aside.

  “Here,” Michelle called.

  When he glanced down he saw that she’d found a flashlight. She handed it up to him and Josh switched it on. Standing on the top rung, he was able to look inside the storage area. Using the flashlight he surveyed the space and found a series of boxes crammed into the tight space. Reaching for a box, he read “Christmas Decorations” written in large letters with a thick black felt pen. Shoving that aside, he reached for a second box. That, too, was marked for Christmas. In fact every box appeared to be related to Christmas.

  “Find anything?” Michelle asked.

  “Not yet.” It looked like he was going to have to crawl up there to investigate further.

  “Look inside one of the Christmas boxes,” Michelle suggested.

  “Okay.” He opened the closest one, and sure enough discovered tree ornaments. “That’s not it,” he called down, knowing Michelle was curious.

  “Try another one.”

  Josh did and hit pay dirt. Inside the box was another smaller box. Penned by the same hand was his mother’s name. Excited now, Josh scooted it toward the opening.

  “Give it to me,” Michelle said, raising her arms to receive the box.

  Josh carefully lowered it into her waiting arms.

  “Got it,” she called out.

  Josh continued his search until he located three other boxes, each one with his mother’s name spelled across the top and tucked inside a box marked for Christmas. If he hadn’t looked inside as Michelle had suggested, he would have missed them entirely.

  “Let’s go back inside,” Michelle said.

  Cold now, Josh was eager to comply. He came back down, closed up the crawl space, and then folded the ladder, putting it back where he’d found it. Then he reached for two of the boxes, stacking them one on top of the other. Michelle took the other one. Bringing them into the house, Josh set them on the kitchen table.

  The first box contained items he barely remembered and had never hoped to see again. The first thing he pulled out was the blue padded baby book his mother had started for him after he was born. Reverently he opened it to find the newspaper clipping announcing his birth along with a copy of the birth announcement his parents had mailed to family and friends. The gentle slope and loopy letters of his mother’s handwriting caught him by surprise as a rush of emotion hit him.

  Turning the page, he discovered a picture of himself as a newborn with a scrunched-up red face and a tiny blue bow in his hair. He certainly hadn’t won any baby beauty contests.

  “You were handsome even back then,” Michelle teased.

  “Yeah, right.”

  He closed the book. He’d examine it later. Next he removed a small box that held a tiny blue baby outfit.

  “I bet that’s the outfit your mother brought you home from the hospital in. My mother saved mine, too.”

  As he dug deeper into the box Josh found a journal in his mother’s favorite color—lime green.

  “What’s that?” Michelle asked.

  “Mom’s diary. She kept one for as long as I can remember.”

  The second box held an equal bounty. He discovered a cookbook that had belonged to his father’s mother and a series of letters his parents had exchanged while dating.

  “Oh, Josh, this is amazing,” Michelle said.

  It was indeed amazing. The full significance had yet to hit him. Josh realized that these three boxes contained the missing pieces of his past that he had never expected to find.

  Earlier he’d been concerned about his high school letterman’s jacket, mostly because he’d paid for it himself and it had seemed so hard-earned. But he wasn’t any sports hero—the fact that Richard had destroyed it had annoyed him, but the truth was it didn’t hold much significance for him. Not like this.

  The contents of these boxes were directly related to him … to his heritage. Treasures from his past. It went without saying that Richard had purposely hidden them from him. After his stepfather’s death, the house would have been sold and the contents donated to a charitable organization. No one would have thought twice about boxes marked “Christmas.” It was unlikely anyone would have thought to look inside before giving them away.

  The only person who would value these items was Josh. Anyone else would likely have tossed them in the garbage bin but to him they were everything.

  “Richard disguised these boxes so you wouldn’t find them,” Michelle said and looked saddened by the thought. She was slowly beginning to understand the depth of Richard’s maliciousness toward Josh.

  Josh didn’t bother to comment.

  Michelle pressed her hand over his forearm. “You thanked me earlier, but I’m the one who should be thanking yo
u.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” he said as he tucked his mother’s journal back inside the box. Josh felt as if he were on an emotional roller coaster—with Richard and with Michelle, too. For years he’d comfortably ignored his emotions, stuffing them down rather than confronting them head-on. Now they seemed to be staring him in the face and so he did what was most comfortable. He pretended to feel nothing.

  Chapter 30

  Neal, the volunteer from the Cedar Cove Animal Shelter, filled out the necessary paperwork and handed it to me. I gave him my debit card and after I signed on the appropriate line, it was time for me to take Rover home. It dawned on me as I quickly scanned the shelter’s adoption papers that I had absolutely nothing at the house for a dog. Not a leash, nor dog food, a carrier, or anything else. To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t even sure what all I’d need. But I was fairly confident that the local pet store would be more than happy to fill in the blanks.

  “Can I leave Rover here for an hour or two?” I asked as I checked my watch. I assumed I had plenty of time to run to the store and back to the shelter.

  Neal’s eyes widened momentarily with surprise. “I thought you were eager to take Rover with you.”

  “I am, but I need to run to the store. I don’t have a leash or anything else.”

  “Well, sure. I’ll put him back in the pen until you return. Just a reminder—we close at four on Saturdays.”

  “Oh, I’ll be back long before then,” I promised. I intended to head to the pet store, get what I needed, and then return right away for Rover.

  As soon as I turned to leave, Rover, who was inside a carrier, released a long, low howl that startled me. “It’s all right, fellow, I’ll be back,” I said with as much reassurance as I could muster.

  “I’ve never heard him make that sound before,” Neal said, looking somewhat taken aback.

  I started to leave a second time and again Rover howled as though in terrible pain. He didn’t stop with one low howl this time, but continued with the pitiful, mournful cry that sounded as if he were in the throes of pain and terrible grief.

  Several people who were sitting in the waiting area glanced up. The manager, who’d been working with another couple, turned to Neal.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, clearly concerned.

  Neal did his best to explain. “The dog doesn’t want her to leave without him.”

  “Rover’s been adopted?” She looked surprised but pleased.

  “Yes …”

  “Then she should take him.”

  “Yes,” Neal agreed.

  I wasn’t sure what to do.

  “Rover doesn’t understand that you’re coming back,” Neal explained, speaking above the sound of Rover’s moans.

  “Oh dear.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Neal said, lowering his voice. “I’ll loan you this pet carrier as long as you promise to return it this afternoon. That way you can take Rover now.”

  “Sure, no problem.” At least I hoped it wouldn’t be a problem. My one concern was leaving him in the car while I went into the shop. But I doubted the pet store would object to me bringing a dog inside, especially if he was already in a carrier.

  I crouched down on the floor so that Rover could see me. He raised his paw against the bars and barked once as though to get my attention. Slowly he lowered his paw and regarded me with deep, dark, soulful eyes that seemed to plead with me not to leave him behind.

  “Don’t worry,” I whispered and thought myself ridiculous for believing a dog would understand.

  “I’ll walk out with you,” Neal said, lifting the carrier.

  I straightened, looped my purse strap over my shoulder, retrieved my car keys, and led the way into the parking lot. “Is this behavior common?” I asked Neal. As a volunteer, he must have seen literally hundreds of dogs find homes.

  “No,” he was quick to tell me. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Marnie, the manager, and I, feared we wouldn’t be able to place Rover. Until you, his behavior has made placement nearly impossible. I don’t know how to explain it. It isn’t possible, of course, but it’s almost as if he was waiting for you and he rejected everyone else until you walked through the door.”

  It was odd. I’d hoped that Rover would lose his ferocity now that he had a home with me. If not, it could be a serious problem with guests at the inn. That said, I didn’t second guess my decision for an instant.

  “Would it be all right if I stopped by the inn in a week or so to see how Rover is adjusting?” Neal asked as he loaded the carrier into the rear seat of my car.

  “Of course.”

  “I can’t help being curious.”

  As a matter of fact, I was interested in how Rover and I would adjust, too. I remembered Paul had loved dogs and when he originally enlisted in the military he’d hoped to work with the canine unit. But following basic training he’d gone into the Ranger program instead.

  As soon as he realized he wasn’t being left behind, Rover laid down in the carrier, head forward, and promptly closed his eyes. After saying good-bye and my thanking him, Neal returned to the shelter and I turned on the car engine. Before pulling out of the parking lot, I twisted around to glance at Rover.

  “Did Paul send you?” I asked again in a whisper.

  Rover lifted his head and cocked it quizzically.

  “Never mind; I have a very strong feeling that he did.” As I drove away from the shelter I felt sure that Paul had intervened in my life once again, this time bringing me this small companion. We would help each other, I believed.

  The stop at the pet store took longer than I anticipated. By the time I’d accumulated all the paraphernalia required for a dog an hour had passed. I’d never intended to be away from the inn this long, so I hurried back to the shelter to return the carrier. Rover had made the transfer to the new one I’d purchased without a qualm, almost as if he knew exactly what was required of him.

  Neal wasn’t around when I carted the carrier back into the shelter. I didn’t stay longer than necessary and hurried back to where I’d left the car. When I opened the driver’s-side door Rover looked up, saw it was me, and immediately put his head back down, resting his chin on his front paws.

  I drove directly back to the inn. At breakfast both my guests had said not to expect them for tea that afternoon. If life had taught me anything it was that plans change, though, and I wanted to be prepared in case either of them found themselves at loose ends and returned to the inn.

  After parking my car I was relieved to see that both my guests’ vehicles were nowhere in sight. I brought Rover out of the car and unzipped the carrier, attached his leash, and lifted him out.

  “You might want to acquaint yourself with the grass,” I told him. The woman who’d waited on me at the pet store said that Rover would want to mark his territory.

  He shivered in the cold and looked up at me doubtfully.

  “Do your thing,” I said, waving him forward, eager to get inside where it was warm.

  He twisted his head around and looked at me a second time with the same questioning look.

  “You know … relieve yourself,” I elaborated, gesturing with my hand once more.

  After a moment he apparently got the idea and lifted his hind leg against a bush. Then, as if he knew exactly where to go, he trotted toward the inn, leading me up the steps.

  “All right, all right,” I said, smiling to myself. I unlocked the front door and swung it open. “It’s a big house, you’re welcome to look around,” I told him.

  I unfastened the leash and expected Rover to immediately go exploring. To my surprise he sat down on his back haunches and studied me.

  “What?” I asked. This was the most peculiar dog.

  Rover just continued to stare up at me as though he was waiting—for what I could only speculate.

  “Well fine,” I muttered. “You can stay right here if you want, I’ve got things to do.” I traipsed back to the car and lugged in the two heavy ba
gs of supplies I’d purchased at the pet store. First things first, I made room in the pantry for the bag of dry dog food and the cans.

  I was still rearranging the storage area when I was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell. Immediately Rover barked ferociously and raced so fast into the entryway that his hind legs nearly went out from under him on the polished wood floor.

  I took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn’t be aggressive or overly protective with visitors. When I opened the door I was surprised to find Grace Harding from the library on the other side.

  “Grace,” I said, welcoming her. “This is a surprise. Come in.” I pulled the door farther open and then realized Rover was in the way, greeting her with a low growl. “Rover,” I said, chastising him, “this is a friend.” To my relief, he immediately backed off and sat down.

  “I apologize for stopping in unannounced,” Grace said. “Neal phoned and told me you’d adopted Rover and I was concerned.”

  “Concerned?” I straightened and led the way into the kitchen. Without asking, I automatically put water on the stove for a pot of tea. I hoped Grace would stay long enough to join me.

  Rover found the braided rug in front of the refrigerator, curled up, and watched me as I moved about the kitchen.

  “Rover is … a troubled dog.”

  “Really?” I hid a smile. What Grace and Neal didn’t know was that this dog and I had already bonded. I was pretty sure we understood each other.

  “Well, he certainly looks content now,” she added, and seemed surprised. “Neal said that Rover had the most unusual reaction to you.” She paused as though she expected me to fill in the blanks; only I didn’t know what to tell her. We had barely met and I wasn’t comfortable explaining that I had just come through a major loss, which was why my heart felt wide open to this small dog. It was impossible to know exactly what had transpired in Rover’s short life, but apparently he hadn’t had such an easy time of it either.

  Years ago I remember reading the story of a construction worker who’d been hurt on the job, losing the use of his arm. A friend had suggested he adopt a dog and he’d gone to the shelter. That dog chose him. I knew without a doubt that Rover had chosen me.