She walked over, knelt down and picked one up and flipped it open. Her heart stuttered when she saw her mother smiling out of a picture, her arm flung around Lydia’s shoulders. The palm trees in the background, the line of breaking surf behind them and the turquoise of the water clearly showed Larissa this was not Hartley Creek.
Her mother wore capris, a bathing suit and the largest sun hat Larissa had ever seen. Probably one of their trips to Mexico, Larissa thought as she sat down on the floor, the album in her lap. She paged past a few more touristy photos—beach pictures, snorkeling and shopping photos.
The photos brought a smile to her lips and a gentle sorrow to her heart. Her mother was so happy. So healthy in these pictures. Larissa checked the dates on the photos, four years before her mother died.
She flipped through the album and then, puzzled, stopped at one of the pages. Her mother was wearing what looked like a hospital gown. An IV was attached to her arm. She sat on the edge of a bed and frowned at the camera, holding her hand up as if in warning.
Had she injured herself on this trip? Larissa couldn’t remember her mother talking about being in a hospital.
Larissa looked more closely at the picture. The room her mother was in looked more like a resort than any hospital Larissa had ever been in.
What was going on?
“Hey, honey, heard you were here,” Lydia’s cheerful voice called out as she entered the room.
Larissa looked up at her mother’s friend. Tall, slender and perpetually young-looking with her highlighted blond hair and tanned skin, Lydia never seemed to age.
“Just got here about forty minutes ago,” Larissa said, slowly getting to her feet, still holding the photo album. “I see you’re doing some changes in here.”
Lydia nodded, but when her eyes dropped to the book Larissa held, her smile drifted away. “Where did you find that?” she asked.
The faint note of panic in her voice only added to Larissa’s confusion.
“Just lying here on the floor,” Larissa said, feeling a beat of guilt. But another glance at the puzzling picture pushed that away. She held up the book, showing Lydia the picture.
“So, what’s happening here? Why is my mother in the hospital? What happened to her? Did she get sick on one of your trips?”
Lydia pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, then slowly lowered herself to the edge of the couch. She sighed lightly and gave Larissa a careful smile.
“You weren’t supposed to see that picture.”
“When was it taken?”
“About eight years ago. Shortly after your mother was diagnosed.”
“Did she have some kind of attack?”
Lydia eased out another sigh as she held her hand out for the album. “No. She didn’t. She was there on purpose.”
Larissa’s puzzlement only grew with each thing Lydia said.
“What happened in Mexico, Lydia? What aren’t you telling me?”
Lydia cleared away some of the books beside her and patted the empty spot. “Sit down, my dear. I need to tell you something very important.”
* * *
Nana sat back in her chair, her hands folded over one another. “What do you think you should do?” she said, her voice quiet, calm.
Garret leaned forward on Nana’s couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin settled on his hands. He looked over at his grandmother and the gentle smile playing over her lips.
“I don’t know. That’s why I came here.”
When Garret left the inn, he had stopped at his apartment, packed a suitcase and was going to drive to Calgary. He had called his financial adviser who asked him to please come and talk to him before he made any rash decisions.
But even before he went to Calgary, he wanted to make another, more important stop. Nana Beck’s place.
All his life Nana had been the voice of sanity and reason in his life. She had been his guiding light, his conscience and spiritual beacon.
Right now he needed all the above to make the right decision.
“I’m going to ask the obvious, but have you prayed about this?”
“I don’t know what I want, so how can I pray?”
“God isn’t a vending machine,” his nana said, her voice holding a gentle note of reprimand. “Prayer is not a matter of choosing what you want and then putting in your request. God wants us to communicate with Him, have a relationship,” his grandmother continued. “Not so He can give us what we want, but so that in the praying we acknowledge where our hope really lies. And right now I’m thinking that part of that hope is wound up in Larissa Weir.”
Garret released a dry chuckle. “A lot of that hope is wound up in her. I love her.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” Nana said. “But I’m not sure why that’s a problem.”
Garret looked over at his grandmother who sat back in her easy chair, her hand resting on the arms, her blue eyes holding his intently.
“Because she wants so badly to keep the inn and I know it can’t support us.”
“I thought things were going well. You were getting busier.”
“I thought so too but the numbers don’t look good. At least according to Orest.”
“You sound skeptical.”
“I don’t trust the guy. I’m so sure the inn can turn a profit, but he’s completely in charge of the bookkeeping.”
“Weren’t you getting an audit done by Albert?”
“We’re supposed to get the results back from him next week.”
“So why don’t you wait until then?”
“Because Jack Weir wants to buy my share of the inn and he wants to close the deal before we see Albert.”
“I understand.” She tapped her fingers. “What do you want to do?”
Garret sighed as his mind shifted back to the conversation he’d just had with Larissa. It was unsatisfying and he’d walked away not sure he’d said or done the right things.
“I want to be with Larissa, but I want to support her. To take care of her. But I also want to make her happy. “
“And you think that means keeping the inn?”
“I think it’s what she thinks. But in order to do that, in order to keep the inn going, I have to sell my investments and plow that money into the inn. And right now is not a good time to sell. I’ll get almost half of what I put in. And I’m not sure it will help.”
His grandmother sighed, then got up and walked over to his side, settling beside him on the couch. She put her arm over his shoulders, like she used to when he was much younger and much smaller. She had to reach up to do it now, though.
“It’s just money, Garret.”
“But I worked so hard to get it together,” he said.
“Did you do it all by yourself?”
Garret felt the faint rebuke in her voice and he knew she was right. While they were growing up his grandparents had always told him that money was a gift and a tool given to them by God. He had heard it but it had never really sunk in. Until now.
“Wouldn’t I be a poor steward if I simply threw good money after bad?” he asked.
“I keep hearing you say that you feel the inn can make you a living. It wouldn’t be poor stewardship if your money could make the difference.”
“Even if I do that, I don’t know if it’s enough to support Larissa. She’s been getting money from her grandparent’s estate. That’s the only way she’s been able to live off what the inn makes.”
“Do you know how much it is? Because from the way she lives, I don’t think she’s spending a lot of money. Her car isn’t exactly top of the line and I never see her in fancy clothes or shoes.”
“I never paid that much attention to the quality of Larissa’s clothes,” Garret said.
“Of course not. You’ve been distracted by other things,” his nana said with a smile. Then she took Garret’s hand in hers. “I think you know what you want to do. And right now, I think you need to let go of the idea that Larissa needs to live a certain way in
order for her to be happy. If she really loves you, then it won’t matter how much money you have or don’t have. How much money you make or don’t make,” she said, a stern note in her voice. “Right now I think you’re more concerned about the money than she is.”
Garret nodded, acknowledging the rightness of his grandmother’s comment, so similar to Shannon’s awhile back.
“So. We need to take care of one thing first,” his grandmother said, giving his hand a light shake. “We’re going to pray together and then you’re going to go talk to your money guy. On the drive to Calgary I’m sure you’ll discover what needs to happen.”
Garret looked over at his grandmother and smiled at her. “You’re a blessing to me, you know?”
“I try to be,” she returned with a smile. “And you’ve always been a blessing to me, too.”
Then she covered his other hand with hers and together they bowed their heads and put everything before the Lord.
* * *
Two days later Garret pulled up to the front of the inn. He’d spent the past few days getting everything in order and trying to phone Larissa. But she wasn’t at the inn and she wasn’t answering her cell phone.
He’d gone through all sorts of indecision as he tried to contact her, but in the end he knew what he wanted to do, not only for Larissa, but also for himself.
He walked up the walk, ignoring the windows on the upper floor that needed replacing and the faint sag in the veranda.
All in good time.
He pulled open the door of the inn, feeling a sense of coming home. It made him smile and it gave him the encouragement he needed to do what he had to do.
Thank you, Lord, he prayed as he looked around the lobby of the inn. Sheila looked up at him and waved. He returned her greeting, then walked over to the office door and opened it. On the way he had called and told Jack he would meet him here at the inn.
Garret stifled a jolt of regret as he stepped into the office and saw only Jack behind the desk. Though he had arranged this meeting between him and Jack, a small part of him had hoped Larissa would be there as well.
Still gone. He tried not to get panicky about her lack of communication.
Jack leaned back in his chair, his steepled fingers under his chin. “So, I’m assuming your little trip away from here was to help you make a decision?”
Garret nodded and dropped into a chair across from Jack. “Yes. I had to talk to my financial adviser.”
“And what did he tell you?”
“Before we talk about that, I want to know where Larissa is.”
Jack rocked a moment in his chair. “She needed a break. Too many things happening too quickly.” Then he leveled him a serious look. “Why should I tell you that?”
Garret felt it again. That old feeling of unworthiness. But then he remembered how Jack had kept him and Larissa apart the first time and he knew he wouldn’t be intimidated by this man again. “I love your daughter and I’m doing right by her this time. I’m not giving in to you. I’m not selling my shares of the inn to you. I know that you’ll turn around and sell the inn anyway, but not before you break off a few parcels of the land to subdivide it.”
Jack frowned. “How did you know that?”
“Pete Boonstra told me. Actually he dropped it in passing as I was talking to him yesterday about the real value of the inn.”
“And you needed to know that value because...” Jack frowned at him, waiting.
“Because I’m buying your shares of the inn instead.”
“Why would you want to do that? You know what the financials are and I know that you are a savvy businessman. I know you didn’t make your money by making poor business decisions.” Jack rubbed his temple with a forefinger, looking suddenly weary. “I’ve been trying to tell Larissa to let go of this inn for years, but she won’t.” He blew out his breath. “It will suck the life out of both of you, like it did out of my wife. And it won’t make you the money you’re used to as an engineer.”
“You’re right. It won’t, but you know, I’ve learned a few things along the way. To me buying this inn isn’t about choosing money. It’s about choosing to be with the woman I love and to be involved in what she loves. At all costs.”
“Do you think you can give Larissa what she wants this time around?”
Garret hesitated, sending up another prayer for wisdom, for patience and for strength.
“I don’t think Larissa is the girl she used to be and I’m not the man I used to be. But I’m leaving the decision up to Larissa. I’m not assuming what she needs anymore. I’m letting her make up her own mind about what will happen. Whatever she wants to do with this inn, I’ll stand by. I love her more than I ever thought I could love someone and I believe that covers a lot. I believe, with God’s help, we can make this relationship work.”
Jack looked him in the eye and shrugged. “Maybe you can,” he returned. Then he looked over Garret’s shoulder.
Garret felt a prickling at the back of his neck. When he turned around he saw Larissa standing in the doorway, a suitcase at her feet, her hand over her mouth. From the look in her eyes, he guessed she had heard some of what he said.
His heart turned over in his chest and he walked to her side and took her hands in his. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for the past two days.”
“I left my cell phone here. In the office,” she said, her voice quiet. Then she shook her head, her bright eyes holding his. “That’s not what I wanted to say.”
“Let’s go somewhere else to talk.” He took her arm and led her away from the office and away from her father. They walked out the front door in silence to the bridge over the creek.
He stopped there, still holding her hand, still trying to absorb the fact that she was here. That she had heard the declaration he had wanted to make to her face.
The river burbled beneath their feet, the steady flow of water reminding Garret of the flow of their lives as he clung to her hand. He and Larissa had been through a lot to get here and he wasn’t letting her go.
He reached up and stroked a strand of hair away from her face. “I missed you,” he said quietly.
“Where did you go?”
“I had some important business to take care of.” He took a chance and brushed a kiss over her forehead. Then she leaned against him, wrapping her arms around him.
“I heard what you said to my father.”
“About the inn?” he said, deliberately misunderstanding her.
“That and the rest,” she said with a gentle smile.
Garret let his fingers drift over her beloved face, his eyes following the path of his hand, noting the changes that had happened during the intervening years. “I do love you, you know. I always have,” he said, as he traced the curve of her lips, the line of her jaw.
She caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, holding his gaze, her own steadfast. “I’ve always loved you too. I never stopped thinking about you, wishing things had gone differently—”
He touched a finger to her lips to stop whatever else she might say. “Whatever happened, happened for a reason. I sincerely believe God had better things in mind for us. Maybe we both needed to learn some hard lessons. I know I did.”
“What lessons did you need to learn?” she asked, her tone puzzled.
He was quiet a moment, still uncertain how much she would understand. But if they were going to move ahead, he knew he had to be honest with her. “I needed to learn what really matters. That money doesn’t give you freedom or power in spite of what I had seen. I needed to learn that money is a gift from God and that we are entrusted with it. And I needed to learn that when you went against your father’s wishes, I knew that I could trust you completely.”
Larissa stood up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. He returned it and for a few blissful moments all was forgotten. The only people who existed in this world were the two of them, here in this place that had created a sense of home and belonging.
Then Larissa let her hand rest on his shoulder, her expression suddenly serious.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger.
Larissa pulled back, giving him a plaintive smile. “I left after you did to stay at a bed-and-breakfast that a friend of my mother runs. They were very close. For the last four years of my mother’s life they would go together to Mexico. For a break, my mother always said.” She stopped there, pressing her lips together as she shook her head.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
She drew in a slow breath. “I always thought it was a holiday. But while I was staying at Lydia’s B and B I saw some photo albums from one of their trips. Lydia had been looking at it before I came and had forgotten about it. Apparently I wasn’t supposed to see it. In the album I saw a picture of my mother sitting on what looked like a hospital bed. I asked Lydia what that was about and very reluctantly she told me the truth about the trips she and my mother made to Mexico. It was for alternative treatments for my mother’s cancer. Treatments that were very experimental and very expensive.”
She stopped and Garret felt as if pieces of a puzzle were slowly falling into place.
“Did she ever tell you about them?”
She shook her head. “Apparently not even my father knew. Lydia said he would have talked her out of doing them. So I called Orest and asked him if he knew. After much sighing and hemming and hawing he told me that the treatments had been so expensive my mother had taken out a loan she didn’t want my father knowing about.” Larissa’s voice broke and she stopped there, lowering her hand as if retreating. “That’s why the inn couldn’t make any money. Orest was juggling accounts trying to pay the loan without making it look like he was paying it.”
“So he wasn’t taking money.” Garret felt a moment of shame that he had practically accused the older man of stealing, but what else could he have thought?
“No. But he was covering for my mother’s mistakes.”
Sensing her shame and the echoes of older pain and loss, Garret drew her close. “It doesn’t matter. Not now.”
“Yes, it does,” Larissa mumbled against his chest. “Why didn’t she tell me about the treatments? Or my father? How could she be so selfish and not think we should be involved?”
Homecoming Reunion Page 17
