Rose Harbor in Bloom

by Debbie Macomber

  “Mrs. Coryelle, come in, please.” It was rare for her to venture to my house.

  “No, no, I need to get back. One of those cable channels is running an all-day marathon of my favorite TV show and I don’t want to miss any of that.” She grinned, scratching the side of her head. “I’ve seen them all before, I know, but for the life of me I can’t remember how they end. Best part of my failing memory is being able to enjoy things again as if it’s the first time.”

  “What can I do for you?” I asked. Surely she hadn’t made the walk to tell me about television reruns.

  “Oh, yes, I nearly forgot,” she said, laughing softly. “The mailman put this envelope in my box, but it’s addressed to you.” She removed it from her pocket and handed it to me.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, and scanned the return address. It wasn’t a name I recognized at first glance, so I set it aside, more concerned about my elderly neighbor than opening the letter.

  “Let me walk back with you,” I said.

  “No need.”

  “I insist, and so does Rover.” I stepped onto the porch, and Rover immediately followed me. It didn’t take me long to walk the short distance between our houses. Mrs. Coryelle was a talkative one, and she filled me in on the television marathon, mentioning her favorite characters as if they were her personal friends. She was particularly enamored with Mark Harmon, who played the lead, chatting on and on about him and what a fine-looking man he was. “I might be eighty-three, but I recognize a handsome man when I see one.”

  “So do I,” I returned, remembering how attracted I was to Paul the first time we met.

  Once I saw her inside her home, Rover and I made our way back to the inn. I hadn’t finished everything I’d hoped in preparation for the open house. In retrospect, I wished I’d delayed mailing out the invitations and had waited until the inn was in the shape I envisioned. I probably would have canceled if several Chamber members hadn’t already mentioned how they were looking forward to touring Rose Harbor Inn.

  By the time I returned to the house, I’d nearly forgotten the letter. It was Rover who reminded me. He parked himself by the entryway table and barked. It took me a moment to realize what he wanted.

  “Oops, you’re right, the letter.” I said. Thankfully, his memory was a bit longer than mine.

  I reached for the envelope and carried it into the kitchen with me, setting it on the tabletop. Because Rover seemed so curious, I sat down and opened it. It was a couple of pages long, with a note attached.

  Dear Jo Marie,

  Forgive me. Paul asked me to give you this letter if anything were to happen to him while he was in Afghanistan. I’ve had it all this time and simply forgot about it. I know it’s probably hitting you out of the blue, and for that I apologize.

  An illegible name was scribbled at the bottom of the page.

  Turning aside the first page, I found a single sheet, a letter addressed to me in my husband’s handwriting.

  The letter was from Paul.

  Chapter 22

  Sun poured in over the waterfront gazebo as Annie’s grandparents stood holding hands and facing each other as they prepared to renew their wedding vows. Father Donovan looked out over the small gathering and opened his prayer book.

  One of Annie’s biggest concerns about this anniversary celebration had been the weather. Although she’d never gotten the story straight on exactly where her grandfather had proposed, Annie had gone with her grandmother’s version. Even if her grandfather insisted he’d popped the question during a Saturday matinee, the waterfront scene was far more picturesque and practical than renewing their vows in the parking lot at the movie theater.

  Kent and Julie were surrounded by their closest friends and immediate family. Annie’s mother and father, plus her aunt Patty and uncle Norman, stood in a semicircle around the anniversary couple. Annie and her cousins, along with their young families, were the outer edge.

  Oliver stood next to her. She tried to ignore him, but that wasn’t as easily accomplished as she would have liked.

  The elderly priest looked up from his Bible and smiled at the small gathering. His gaze then rested on Annie’s grandparents.

  “Kent and Julie, the two of you are prime examples of what it means to love and cherish each other.”

  Julie turned and looked deep into her husband’s eyes. Kent looked back, and Annie’s breath caught. Even now she wasn’t sure what she’d do if her grandfather started grumbling. Instead, she saw love radiating from him to his wife of the last fifty years. All he seemed to be able to see was Julie, and the love they had shared appeared to touch all who had gathered for this special moment.

  The pastor’s words were lost on Annie. Frozen, she watched as her grandmother’s lips moved, repeating the vows with such heartfelt meaning that her eyes clouded with tears.

  Tears sprang to Annie’s eyes, too. It was then that she felt Oliver reach for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers and giving her a gentle squeeze. She wanted to jerk her hand free but discovered she couldn’t make herself do it. He stood close, too close for her to be comfortable. Instead of stepping aside, the way she wanted, Annie remained exactly where she was. The citrus scent of his aftershave reminded her of oranges and lemons, and of the lazy summer night when she’d gazed up at the night sky with him close to her side on the blanket.

  He’d held her hand that night, too. She’d been young, thirteen, and even after all these years, as much as she didn’t want to, she thought of that night as one of the most memorable, romantic experiences of her life. She’d thought Oliver was the cutest boy in the universe and had pined after him all that summer.

  Annie supposed every girl thought back fondly on her first kiss, holding the memory of it against her heart. Oliver had ruined the moment for her, and she hadn’t forgiven him until now. How could she not, when his apology had been heartfelt and sincere?

  He’d mentioned that it had been his first kiss, too. She felt his eyes on her, and despite the tumultuous memories of their youth, she met his gaze. The attraction was there, as strong and powerful as it’d been that summer night. It had always been there, she was forced to admit, despite her determined effort to ignore it.

  As dreadful as Oliver had been to her, she’d longed for him to kiss her again. Twelve years had passed and nothing had changed. She wanted to close her eyes, tilt up her chin, and receive his kiss. Their eyes held as the ceremony continued. Oliver couldn’t help but know what she wanted.

  Sucking in a deep breath, he bent his head to claim her lips just as her grandfather all but shouted, “I sure do.”

  A burst of laughter followed, pulling Annie out of the romantic dream that had somehow woven an invisible web around Oliver and her. Coming to her senses, she removed her hand from his, and after Father Donovan’s final words, she applauded long and hard.

  Oliver did, too, but not with as much enthusiasm as she did. When he finished, he wrapped his arm around her waist and edged her closer to his side. She sent him a disgruntled look, which he chose to ignore. This attraction wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

  This thing between Oliver and her was a by-product of breaking off her engagement with Lenny. Some part of her ego, the part that embarrassed her, needed to feel attractive and desirable. Oliver was just the one who happened to be handy. She didn’t want to believe that, but it was the only thing that made sense.

  The wedding party started to break up, and Oliver reluctantly moved from her side. “I’m driving your grandparents to the reception hall,” he said. Still, he didn’t move. Reaching for her hand, he raised it to his lips and whispered, “We’ll talk later.”

  “No, we won’t,” she returned, but he’d already left, and if he heard her, then he pretended he hadn’t.

  Annie didn’t have time to analyze what was going on between her and Oliver. Nor did she want her unwelcome feelings for him to distract her from what was important, and that was celebrating her grandparents’ marriage.

 
The reception was being held at the yacht club just down from the gazebo. It would be easier to walk the short distance than to search out another parking space. The walk, however, would probably be too much for her grandparents, and Oliver had volunteered to transport them.

  “Hey, sis, what’s with you and Oliver?” her brother, Peter, asked as she headed across the waterfront parking lot.

  “Nothing,” she answered, a little too brightly.

  “Okay, if that’s what you say. But I’m not blind. I saw the way the two of you looked at each other while Gramps and Grandma said their vows. For a moment there I thought the two of you were going to kiss right in front of everyone.”

  “It was your imagination,” she insisted, walking at a faster clip now. It mortified her to know others had been watching them. She couldn’t help but wonder how many other family members had seen her gaze longingly into Oliver’s eyes and practically beg him to kiss her.

  “Oliver’s a good guy,” Peter said, keeping pace with her. “If you decide to marry him, that would be fine by me.”

  “I’m not marrying Oliver.”

  Peter abruptly stopped. “Frankly, he’d make you a much better husband than Lenny,” her brother said, in what could be described only as hopeful happy anticipation.

  “Stop it, Peter,” she cried.

  “Well, it’s true. Lenny’s a loser.”

  “I sort of figured that out on my own.” It shocked her that no one in her family had mentioned their feelings about Lenny until after she’d broken off the engagement.

  “Well, thank goodness you wised up in time. You don’t seem that broken up about it,” Peter continued, keeping pace with her.

  “It’s been six months.”

  Annie had been too busy to think about her feelings toward Lenny and the fact that he would no longer be part of her life. In that moment, she knew without a doubt she was completely over him, otherwise she wouldn’t be this attracted to Oliver.

  “What about you and Oliver?” Peter asked. “I mean, he’s been stuck on you from the time we were kids.”

  “Oliver?” She didn’t even bother to disguise her shock. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “You mean you didn’t know?”

  “No.”

  “Good grief, are you blind? He pined after you like a lovesick dog most every summer, but you wouldn’t have anything to do with him. I was thinking you might have wised up and that is why you two were all goo-goo eyes just now.”

  “Goo-goo eyes?” she repeated and laughed. She hadn’t heard that term in years.

  “You can’t deny that you were. Oh, wait, you already did. So whatever.”

  “Whatever,” she repeated.

  “All I ask is that you give the guy a chance.”

  “Forget it, Peter.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Peter mumbled. “He’s more or less given up on you and heading for the South Pacific. It’s a shame, too. He’ll probably marry some girl there and never come back.”

  “Good,” she said, but even as she flippantly tossed out the word, her stomach tightened at the thought.

  Peter opened the door to the reception hall ahead of her, and Annie stepped into the room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light, and when she did, the first thing that came into view was Oliver helping her grandparents. He was so gentle with them, so patient and caring. Her grandfather must have told the same story ten times. It was about an incident that happened aboard his ship while he served in Vietnam. Annie could almost recount it word for word, and yet Oliver had listened intently each time as though this was the first he’d ever heard it.

  Then, as if he felt her gaze resting on him, Oliver turned and looked her way. When he saw her, he smiled softly. Julie said something, and he immediately turned his attention back to Annie’s grandmother.

  Annie couldn’t believe what her brother had said was true. Had Oliver really cared for her all these years? Every summer he’d made an effort to talk to her but she’d rebuffed him, convinced he would use the opportunity to win her attention simply so he could embarrass or humiliate her later.

  The caterers had arrived, and Annie left to make sure everything was going according to schedule. The reception would take place first for those who could stay only a short while. The three-tiered cake resembled a wedding cake. In addition, Annie had ordered two sheet cakes.

  One cake displayed a photo of Kent and Julie on their wedding day fifty years ago. They looked young, happy, and so deeply in love. The second sheet cake had a more recent photo of the couple.

  Later in the afternoon the buffet dinner would be served. Annie had reviewed the menu countless times, choosing fresh Northwest ingredients, salmon and then chicken for those who couldn’t eat seafood. There were salad greens with sliced early strawberries from California, almonds, and goat cheese. And her grandfather’s favorite side dishes: potatoes in three different variations, plus two other salads, fresh green beans, and rolls still warm from the bakery oven.

  The party would end with dancing. To this point, the event had gone off without a hitch, and Annie was grateful.

  After speaking to the caterers, Annie turned to leave the kitchen and nearly ran headlong into Oliver. He steadied her by gripping her shoulders. Otherwise, she would have stumbled backward.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  Annie’s mouth went dry as she stared up at him. Her heart beat like a drum in a rock band. Hard, loud, and strong. It surprised her that no one else could hear it.

  “I don’t believe it,” she said, thinking about the conversation with her brother. If Oliver had a crush on her, her brother would have taken delight in razzing him. She hadn’t heard a word, and she’d visited her grandparents practically every summer of her childhood and teen years, until college.

  Oliver frowned. “Believe what?”

  Annie hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud. Shaking her head, she broke contact and stepped away from him. “Never mind.”

  “No,” he insisted. “Tell me.”

  Straightening her shoulders, she stared back at him. “I have better things to do than stand here and argue with you.”

  As though dumbfounded by her behavior, Oliver stepped aside. But before she walked past him, he caught her arm. “What’s bothering you?” he asked.

  “You,” she whispered, knowing she was being unreasonable and unfair. From the moment he’d arrived Oliver had been a huge help to her grandparents and to her. Annie wasn’t sure how she expected him to respond, but his smile took her completely by surprise.

  “I’m under your skin, then?”

  “No … Don’t you realize we have nothing in common?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Okay, if you want me to spell it out, then I will. You’re opinionated and stubborn and … and that doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

  “And it confuses you because you want me to kiss you again.”

  “Yes,” she cried without thinking, and then decided that his knowing how strongly she was attracted to him wasn’t a good idea. “I mean no, absolutely not.”

  He shook his head as though her answer amused him. “If that’s what you want to believe, then go ahead.”

  “I don’t trust you.” And really that was the crux of the matter.

  Once more, he took hold of her shoulders and turned her so they were eye to eye. “If you don’t hear anything else I say, Annie, hear this: I’m not Lenny. Understand?”

  She bobbed her head and was eternally grateful when the caterer called her away with a question. Annie more than welcomed the distraction. As she met the other woman, she realized how badly shaken the encounter with Oliver had left her. If the caterer noticed, she didn’t comment.

  Family and friends started drifting into the reception hall, and soon Annie was busy making sure everyone was greeted. Her grandparents had been adamant that there be no gifts, but if someone felt the urge, then they offered the name of their favorite charity, an orga
nization that helped homeless families. Soon cards stacked the table next to the cakes.

  Annie’s youngest cousin, Catherine, served the cakes, and another cousin, Eva, was in charge of pouring coffee and tea. Her aunt and uncle, along with her parents, circled the room, visiting and making sure everyone was comfortable.

  Her mother and aunt Patty had done a great job of assembling photos of her grandparents through the years. The photographs arranged in albums and displayed in frames around the hall were a big hit.

  Earlier in the year, her grandmother had given Annie a few items that had been wedding gifts that she still used. It astonished Annie that her grandmother had not only held on to these gifts but also that they were still in use. Annie had them on display as well, along with the names of those who had gifted them. Her favorite was an apple-shaped cookie jar. The lid had a small chip in it that Peter had put there when he was five, trying to steal a cookie.

  Annie was too busy talking with the visitors to pay much attention to Oliver. That was a blessing in disguise. When she couldn’t stand it any longer and sought him out, she noticed that he was doing what he could to make sure everyone was comfortable. Had he always been this helpful? she wondered.

  Soon the food was being set out for the meal, and once again, Annie headed for the kitchen. She was close to the entrance when Oliver waylaid her.

  “I have things I need to do,” she said, looking to step around him.

  “Fine, but I want it understood that before this day is over the two of us will talk.”

  “Ah …”

  “Before this day is over, Annie.”

  She wanted to argue, but she wasn’t given the opportunity. Oliver was already gone.

  Chapter 23

  Mary was tired. She tried to hide how drained she felt both emotionally and physically, but George knew. Neither one of them had eaten much lunch. They’d barely touched their food, which had been so beautifully prepared. Mary ate little because her appetite was gone, and George because her news had shocked him. They hadn’t spoken again of the child as George absorbed the information.