Rose Harbor in Bloom

by Debbie Macomber

  To my relief, the door handle turned, and I stepped into a mudroom, something I hadn’t noticed on my first visit.

  “Where are you?” I called when I walked from the mudroom into the kitchen.

  “Hallway.”

  The one word was clipped and impatient, as if he was upset it had taken me so long. Sure enough, he was sprawled out in the narrow hallway. His crutches were askew at an awkward angle several feet away. I frowned and then scooted down and sat next to him on the hardwood floor.

  “Are you going to tell me how this happened?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’ll gloat.”

  “Oh?”

  “That’s what women do. They take pleasure in telling a man ‘I told you so.’ ”

  “Really?” I found his attitude more amusing than irritating, but then, he was on the ground and unable to stand, while I, on the other hand, was free to move any which way I wanted.

  “Don’t try to deny it.” He scowled at me as if I’d been the one responsible for this latest fiasco.

  “In your vast experience with women, you know this for a fact?”

  “Yes. Now, are you going to help me or not?”

  “I’m thinking about it.” I was enjoying this, probably far more than I should.

  As if to prove how cruel I was being, Rover walked up to Mark and licked his face. I expected the handyman to shoo him away, but he didn’t. Instead, Mark tucked his free arm around Rover and brought him close to his side. “At least I can count on us men sticking together.”

  Without a lot of grace, I got back on my feet and picked up his crutches. It looked to me as if he’d tossed them down the hall in frustration, but seeing how grouchy he was, I decided against asking.

  “I can’t stand using those as leverage,” Mark growled, frowning. “I already tried. Several times.”

  “So you really have fallen and you can’t get up.” I couldn’t resist.

  His scowl darkened. “If you find this so amusing, you can go home right now.”

  “Testy, testy,” I murmured, wagging my finger at him. I stepped behind him and looped my arms under his and tried to hoist him upright. Mark wasn’t a big man, but he wasn’t easy to lift, either.

  “Stop,” he all but shouted. “You’ll hurt your back doing it that way.”

  “Do you have a better idea?” I asked.

  Exhausted, I slumped down on the floor next to him. I held my hand against my forehead as I tried to figure out the best way to get him back on his feet.

  “You okay?” he asked, studying me.

  “Yeah. Give me a minute to think this through.” His scrutiny was uncomfortable. It seemed as if he was looking straight through me. He was exhausted and short-tempered. One look told me how difficult it was for him to ask for help.

  “You didn’t sound like yourself when I called,” he commented, still watching me closely. “Did I, you know, interrupt anything?”

  “Like what?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know? A visitor?”

  “No.” Generally, I was more forthcoming with information, but I didn’t feel I could mention Paul’s letter. Mark frowned at me.

  “What?” I asked, pretending nothing was amiss. “Something’s wrong. I can sense it,” he insisted.

  “What are you, psychic now?” I snapped, unable to hide my irritation.

  His eyes widened at my heated response. “No.”

  I realized that I’d given myself away, and tried to cover it with an excuse. “It’s probably the open house. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I’m a bit out of sorts.”

  “A bit?” he challenged, arching one brow.

  I slapped his upper arm. “Listen, buddy, I could walk away right now and leave you here for the next twenty-four hours, so show some appreciation.”

  He didn’t take my threat seriously. “Let’s try this again,” he said, sitting up straighter. “Instead of you trying to lift me, let me use your arm for leverage.”

  His idea worked, but it wasn’t easy. By the time Mark was back on his feet, we were both so exhausted one would think we’d been scaling the sides of Mount Rainier.

  With Mark leaning against the wall, I handed him the crutches. He hobbled into the living room and collapsed onto his recliner. I needed to rest myself, and slumped onto the sofa. Rover leapt up and rested his chin on my thigh. I slowly petted him while I caught my breath.

  On a small table alongside his chair was a knife and a pile of wood shavings. I had no idea Mark did whittling. Whatever he was working on seemed intricate.

  “What’s that going to be?” I asked. Clearly it was a bird sitting on a tree branch.

  “An eagle.”

  We certainly had plenty of those around Cedar Cove. “It’s beautiful. Do you sell these pieces?” It would be perfect for a spot on my bookcase in my room.

  “It’s yours,” he said starkly. “I’m making it for you.”

  I jerked my head up and hardly knew what to say.

  “I have to do something or I’ll go stark raving mad. You’ve been great through all this and I’ve been a jerk. I wanted to thank you.”

  Again, I was dumbfounded. This thoughtfulness came from a side of Mark I’d never seen. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t go all soft on me now. It’s been a while since I did anything like this, so there’s no guarantee how it’s going to turn out.”

  “I’ll treasure it.”

  His reply was a gruff, dismissive snort, as if he was embarrassed.

  “Can I get you anything before I leave?” I asked after a couple of moments.

  He shook his head.

  “What about dinner? Do you want me to set it out for you?”

  “No, thanks.”

  I started to leave, but Mark stopped me before I reached the kitchen. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

  I turned back.

  “It’s about Paul, isn’t it? My guess is that you heard back from that officer friend of his.”

  I stiffened. “No.”

  “Then it’s because you didn’t hear back.”

  “I really don’t want to talk about this, okay? I don’t pry into your private life.”

  He raised both arms as though I’d pointed a gun in his direction. “Sorry.”

  “It’s none of your business,” I continued, my voice quivering. “Leave it alone.” With Rover at my heels, I marched out through the kitchen.

  As if to punctuate my departure, Rover turned back and barked once at Mark, and then trotted after me.

  By the time I reached the house I realized how badly shaken Paul’s letter had left me. Mark was painstakingly making me a gift and I’d snapped at him and left in a huff.

  Rover sensed something was wrong as well, and whined softly as I put on water for tea. I enjoyed both coffee and tea, but when I was upset or out of sorts I chose tea. If ever there was a time I needed comfort, it was now.

  Sitting in the kitchen, with a teapot next to my china cup, I closed my eyes. Despite my best efforts, my thoughts refused to leave the letter. The last piece of communication I might ever receive from my husband.

  What had Paul said to me?

  Did I want to know?

  Curiosity was strong, but if I gave in and read the letter I would be as good as admitting hope was lost. I refused to do that.

  The lump that formed in my throat made it almost impossible to sip the tea. If anyone were to return to the house now, I wouldn’t be able to hide my emotions.

  What I’d told Mark about the open house was true. I’d never done anything like this before, and I was nervous. Frankly, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pull it off.

  Seeing that I’d already dispersed the invitations, it was too late to cancel, especially at the last minute like this. Yet here I was, an emotional mess. The more I thought about it, the more upset I got.

  Unable to remain still, I scooted out of the chair and started pacing the kitchen while rubb
ing my palms together. Rover was in his bed, and his head followed my movements.

  Not knowing what else to do, I walked into my office and reached for the phone, although I didn’t know whom I could call. Not my family. My parents worried about me enough as it was, and I didn’t want to add to their concern. While I had friends in Seattle, good friends, I wasn’t sure this was something I could talk to them about.

  Clenching the phone in my hand, I continued circling the kitchen. My thoughts whirled at an incredible speed while I tried to reason out the best course of action. If there were any.

  Then I remembered something I’d heard. Someone I knew right here in Cedar Cove. Someone who would understand. A woman I had met soon after I’d made the move. A woman I liked a great deal, and who had gone through something similar, although completely different. Her husband had disappeared, and it’d taken more than a year for her to discover where he’d gone and what he’d done. Perhaps she could offer me advice. I needed to look up the phone number, so I took care of that in short order.

  With a push of the button, the line connected. It was picked up almost right away. “Cedar Cove Library.”

  “Grace Harding, please.”

  Chapter 25

  Annie remained busy through the dinner buffet, making sure all the food was fresh and hot. Working with the caterers, she carted the food onto the warming trays and worked in the kitchen. As soon as the buffet line dwindled, Annie greeted her grandparents’ most recent guests whom she didn’t immediately recognize while refilling cups with coffee or tea. Oliver made himself useful as well, she noticed, although she tried to pretend he wasn’t in the room.

  All the while she couldn’t help thinking about the conversation she’d had with her brother. She wondered if what Peter had told her could possibly be true. Of course, all this talk of Oliver having a crush on her could be a figment of his overactive imagination. Peter had always been something of a pest, especially when they were kids. He might have made the whole thing up in order to stir up trouble. Annie immediately dismissed that thought. Peter was nothing like that these days. He was a husband, father, and responsible employee. They got along great.

  The band came onto the stage and played a medley of songs from her grandparents’ era. Annie recognized several as classics, many of which she enjoyed.

  It wasn’t long before her grandfather stood and reached for Julie’s hand. Her grandmother protested, her hand against her chest, and shook her head, but Kent bent forward and whispered something in her ear. Julie laughed, and then without a word of complaint stood and took her husband’s arm.

  Annie watched, transfixed, as her grandfather led her grandmother onto the dance floor and brought her into his arms. With more energy than she would have expected, Kent whirled his bride of fifty years around the dance floor. Annie couldn’t ever remember seeing the two of them dance. They were fabulous; their steps synchronized perfectly. Annie didn’t know if they’d taken classes, but they appeared to be in such harmony with each other that all she could do was stare. She wasn’t alone. The entire room watched, mesmerized.

  At the end of the song, Annie set down the coffeepot and clapped wildly. She wasn’t the only one. The entire roomful of guests spontaneously broke into applause. Her grandfather bowed, and in gentlemanly fashion escorted his wife back to their table.

  While other couples stood to dance, Annie started carting the dirty dishes into the kitchen. The next time she looked up, she saw her grandparents on the stage with the band. Both had tambourines and were slapping them across their open palms to the beat of the music. Amazed at their energy, Annie hurried back into the kitchen with another armload.

  Oliver stopped her on her return trip to the hall.

  “Enough,” he said, while his hands cupped her shoulders.

  She blinked up at him.

  “Let the staff do the work you hired them to do.”

  “But …”

  “Come and enjoy the party.”

  Her mother and aunt Patty had said the same thing to her twice already. Annie knew they were right. She smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good.” Oliver reached for her hand and led the way, weaving in and around tables in a crooked, meandering path.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To the dance floor.”

  Annie hadn’t danced in years. The last time she could remember had been while she was still in high school. Her skills were nowhere close to what her grandparents could do. She was sure to look foolish.

  “I …”

  “No excuses.”

  “Oliver,” she protested, reluctance causing her to drag her feet.

  He ignored her objection and pulled her along until they were on the outskirts of the other dancing couples. Thankfully, the song ended just as he turned to take her in his arms.

  “This isn’t a great idea,” she felt obliged to tell him.

  He arched his brows in question. “Why not?”

  She bit into her lower lip and looked down. “The truth is, I’m not a very good dancer.”

  “You don’t need to be. Just follow me.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  The music started up again before Oliver had the chance to answer. Annie groaned when she realized it was a slow love song. This was even worse than a fast number.

  Oliver reached for her and gently brought her into his arms, wrapping one arm around her waist and gripping her hand. After a couple of moments he whispered in her ear, “Relax. I’m not going to bite you.”

  While that was true, she wouldn’t put it past him to nibble on her earlobe. She made a sincere effort to release the tension that held her in its grip. Not only was this unfamiliar territory, but this was Oliver. Despite that, after a few moments she grew more comfortable.

  “See, it’s not so bad, is it?” Oliver whispered again.

  “Not so bad,” she echoed. He made it easy for her to follow, and he stayed with the basic dance steps.

  “Ready?” he asked, as the tempo picked up.

  “Ready for what?” She was almost afraid to ask.

  Tightening his grip on her waist, he started to whirl around the room in sweeping circles, taking her with him.

  Annie gasped, strengthening her grip around him. “What are you doing?” she asked in a panic.

  “Dancing.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  He chuckled as though her comment amused him. “We’re doing great.”

  The song continued, and Annie sighed with gratitude when he effortlessly returned to the slow, uncomplicated steps he’d used earlier. Again, it wasn’t hard to follow his lead. He made it far too easy to find comfort in his arms.

  Because she was curious, she asked, “Where’d you learn that whirling move?”

  “You won’t believe me if I told you.”

  “You took dancing lessons?” Oliver didn’t seem the type.

  “In a manner of speaking, you could say that.”

  In a manner of speaking? Either he did or he didn’t. She looked up at him and found his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Are you going to tell me?”

  “If you must know, your grandfather is the one who taught me that little trick.”

  “You danced with my grandfather?”

  “No.” Oliver laughed. “According to him, it was the technique he used to sweep your grandmother off her feet.”

  “I imagine you’ve used that little dance-floor maneuver before on other unsuspecting partners,” she said, enjoying teasing him.

  Oliver’s finger touched her cheek, turning her face toward him. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Only with you, Annie, only with you.”

  This was information she didn’t want to hear. She looked away and did her best to ignore the soothing warmth she felt in his embrace. As much as she didn’t want to feel anything for the boy, now the man, she’d spent the last ten years despising, Annie did. The sexual current between them was strong, arcing with every mo
ve and impossible to ignore. At thirteen, she’d been crazy about him, and here she was, as an adult, and that same euphoric high hit her all over again.

  The song ended, and Oliver reluctantly released her. Annie used the opportunity to step away from him. He was about to say something when a distant preteen relative raced up to him.

  “Dance with me, okay?” Tammy Lee pleaded, and grabbed hold of his hand with both of her own. “Twirl me around the way you did Annie.”

  Oliver chuckled and said, “Now, that’s an invitation I can’t refuse.”

  “My turn next!” another cousin cried.

  It was apparent that Oliver would be occupied for the next several minutes. Annie was grateful for the breather, and not because she was winded. Her head whirled with what was happening between her and Oliver, and she had yet to sort it out.

  Her grandparents were seated at their table now, and seeing that they were alone, Annie joined them.

  “Oh, Annie,” her grandmother said, patting the seat of the empty chair next to her. “Sit with us for a few minutes.”

  Her grandfather scooted closer, and his gaze was warm and sincere when he spoke: “This has been a lovely party.”

  “It’s been just perfect,” her grandmother concurred. “More than either Kent or I had imagined … above all our expectations.”

  “I’m honored to do this for you,” Annie told them, and she was. A lot of hours and hard work had gone into this special anniversary party. She’d stressed over every detail. But it had been worth it a hundred times over just to see the way her grandparents’ eyes had lit up when they walked into the reception. They’d been shocked and amazed to see so many of their family and friends awaiting their arrival.

  Julie looked toward Kent. “I don’t know why we were so worried.”

  “We’re just a pair of old fools,” her grandfather muttered, leaning closer to Annie.

  “Speak for yourself,” her grandmother teased.

  Annie soaked in their praise. “I have to say I had no idea the two of you were such wonderful dancers.”