Rose Harbor in Bloom Read online

  “Me, too … It was a year April twenty-seventh.” I needed her to tell me that this grieving would get easier, that I’d survive the same as she had. The way I felt just then, it seemed impossible. Death would be preferable to this agony.

  “I will tell you from personal experience, you will heal, Jo Marie. The scar of losing Paul will mark your heart, but you will heal.”

  Everyone insisted there was no possibility my husband had survived. My heart told me so, but in my stubbornness I refused to believe it, clinging to hope. And yet everything Grace said rang true. In time, the same as she did, I would heal. Paul had come to me that first night after I took over the inn. Like Grace, he’d assured me this inn would be a place of healing.

  “One day you might even fall in love again,” Grace went on to say.

  I laughed outright, seeing how long I’d remained single. “It took me thirty-six years to find Paul. If it takes that long again, I’ll be in my seventies.”

  “Life just might surprise you.”

  I never had been much good with surprises, but I had time to wait and see.

  Chapter 27

  A slow, easy smile came over George as he wrapped his arm around Mary’s shoulders and brought her head close to his own. “Our daughter is the class valedictorian?” Pride echoed with each word.

  “Yes. Oh, George, I’m so proud of her.”

  “I know it’s crazy, but I feel personally responsible for fathering such a brilliant child,” he added, and his voice shook with emotion.

  For a long moment, they simply held each other. Mary knew how he felt, because his emotion mirrored her own when she’d first discovered Amanda had been awarded top honors. Like mother, like daughter, even if she had no right to feel anything.

  “I’ve only known about Amanda for a few hours, and I think the buttons could burst off my shirt, I’m so proud.”

  Mary ran her hand down the side of his face, loving him with such intensity that it felt as if her heart would burst. The only thing she had contributed to their daughter, other than her DNA, was giving her life. Amanda’s adoptive family had nurtured and loved her. It was her adoptive mother who’d stayed up nights with a sick baby, who’d kissed her scraped knees, who’d sat with Amanda while she’d learned to read. Her family deserved the right to be proud of their daughter, and no doubt they were.

  “Now, what’s this about being unable to attend the graduation?” George asked, growing serious.

  “It’s a huge graduating class.”

  “And your point is?”

  Mary knew his look of sheer determination all too well. “Tickets are handed out to family and friends only. No one is allowed into the auditorium without a ticket.”

  “So we’ll get tickets.”

  “That’s the point, George. There are none to be had. I tried, believe me.”

  “Are you seriously going to allow that to stop you?” he challenged, and then amended his thought. “Stop us?”

  In any other circumstances, Mary would have gone toe to toe with the person who would try to keep her from attending that ceremony, but unfortunately, the cancer had taken the fight out of her.

  “We’re going to hear our daughter speak,” George insisted.

  “I don’t think I could bear a scene at the front door,” she whispered. “And I doubt that I could sneak in unnoticed.” Unfortunately, she stood out in a crowd with her bald head.

  “Not to worry,” George stated calmly. “I have connections. One way or another, I will have two tickets by tomorrow afternoon.”

  Mary could hardly believe it was possible. She thought just being in the vicinity would be enough. Hailey Tremont, the teenager who worked for Jo Marie, had fed her tidbits of information about Amanda, and so had Connor from the coffeehouse. She’d savored each tiny bit and hoped to hear more.

  Mary had learned that the following Monday’s newspaper would run a copy of the speech from the valedictorian. Being able to read her daughter’s thoughts was as good as Mary assumed it could be. To see and hear Amada herself with George at her side was more than she could have dreamed.

  George released her and wiped the moisture from his cheeks. Mary did, too, and then they looked at each other and started to laugh.

  “Look at us,” George said.

  “We’re nothing but a pair of softies.” Oh, how she loved him. She’d never stopped loving George, but seeing him, being with him intensified her feelings a hundredfold. Yet in less than forty-eight hours she would need to find the courage to leave him again.

  Both appeared caught up in their own thoughts as George started the car and headed back to the freeway on-ramp. Mary made an honest effort to stay awake until they arrived back at the inn, but it was a lost cause. She didn’t remember closing her eyes, but the next thing she knew, George was driving over the Tacoma Narrows Bridge.

  “Are you awake?” he asked in a whisper.

  “Yes … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be such poor company.” It was barely after three in the afternoon and she could hardly keep her eyes open.

  “Nonsense. You needed to sleep. Tell me the address of the inn.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Rose Harbor? I’ll put it in my GPS, and then you can rest and not worry about giving me directions.”

  “Oh, right, you haven’t come in from this direction, have you?” She reached for her purse. “I have the address here.”

  “I could probably find it. I know the general direction, but this makes more sense.”

  Had that really been only yesterday morning that she was reluctant to divulge her whereabouts? It seemed silly now, in light of everything she’d told him since then.

  Mary had never intended to tell George about Amanda. Seeing his reaction to the news made her realize how selfish she’d been. How cruel to keep this information to herself all these years. To be fair, she hadn’t wanted to invade his life. He’d married, and it seemed grossly unfair to his wife.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Do I wish that things had been different? Of course. But I’ll always be grateful to you for giving birth to my child. For loving her enough to allow a loving family to adopt her and give her a good life. Don’t apologize for that, Mary, but by all that is right, how could you not tell me? Didn’t I have a right to know?” He paused, exhaled sharply, and added, his voice tight and controlled, “What’s done is done, and considering the circumstances, you did what you thought was best.”

  He was far too good to her. That was his problem. He was simply too good to be believable. That he should still love her was a miracle she had never expected.

  When they arrived in Cedar Cove, Mary was awake enough to give him directions. They found the waterfront, and once they did, Mary was on familiar ground and they easily made their way to the inn.

  George turned off the engine and then in a firm voice instructed her, “Stay right where you are.”

  Mary hid a smile. At times he could be so bossy.

  George ran around the car and opened the passenger door and helped her out. With his arm around her waist, he led her to the sidewalk leading to the front porch.

  “For the last two days, I’ve sat outside and soaked in the sunshine.” It was there that she’d napped in the warmth of the unexpected spring, with flowers blooming all around her, their sweet scent perfuming the air. Rose Harbor in bloom was a magical place.

  “Shall we do the same?” he asked, patiently taking the porch steps one at a time, letting her set the pace. “I’d enjoy sitting in the sunshine with the woman I love.”

  “You have the time?”

  “Mary, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m savoring every minute we’re together.”

  “Then yes, let’s sit out here awhile.”

  “You’re not too tired?”

  She was, but like George, she relished this time together and didn’t want him to go.

  George guided her around to the side of the porch, and she sat in the wooden chair
. A dog barked from inside the house, and after a couple of minutes Jo Marie stepped outside with the short-haired dog at her side.

  “You’re back,” she commented, and glanced toward George. “Can I get you anything?”

  “George Hudson,” he said, stepping forward to introduce himself. “I think Mary would appreciate a blanket.”

  “Right away,” Jo Marie said, and disappeared. She was back in short order with a hand-knit afghan, the very one Mary had used previously.

  George settled into the chair next to her, with a side table between them.

  “The view here is lovely,” she said, drinking in the beauty of the blue sky, the Olympic mountain peaks, and the shipyard in the distance.

  “It is,” he agreed, but he was looking at her.

  Mary wasn’t accustomed to compliments. They made her uncomfortable, especially now, when she was very nearly bald and so terribly thin and pale. She did her best to ignore him.

  “The Olympic Mountains are stunning, aren’t they?” she said, turning the subject away from herself.

  “Beautiful,” he said, turning his attention toward the view.

  “Oh, yes,” and then because she was curious she asked, “Have you ever been to Hurricane Ridge?”

  “No. I’ve heard about it, though.”

  “Me, too,” she said, a bit wistfully.

  Mary had read about visiting the ridge in one of the travel brochures she’d picked up while waiting for the Bremerton ferry. Now the chance was taken from her. It wouldn’t be possible to make the long trip. Hurricane Ridge was less than a two-hour drive from Seattle and offered amazing views of the Olympic mountain peaks, wildflower-filled meadows, and excellent hiking trails. She’d read about the park in the Olympic National Forest and wished, as she had so many other things lately, that she’d taken the time … that she’d made the effort.

  Regrets. Full loads of those came as a side effect with the cancer.

  For several minutes, Mary and George chatted back and forth. George had a quick wit and a dry sense of humor, and she enjoyed bantering with him.

  After thirty minutes, he said, “You’re tired.”

  She didn’t argue with him. Once more, she found it difficult to keep her eyes open. She’d rested for only a few minutes during the drive, and her energy level was hovering near empty.

  “Let me see you to your room.”

  She nodded, wondering if she could make it up the stairs on her own strength.

  George lifted the blanket from her lap, folded it, and set it aside before he bent over and helped Mary to her feet. He seemed to sense that she needed more than his arm and brought her close to his side.

  The stairs were the challenge she’d feared they might be. He was patient, waiting on each step as she took them slowly and carefully. Mary extracted the room key from her purse, and he took it from her and unlocked the door to her room.

  “I can remember a time when you escorted me to my door and didn’t leave until late the next morning,” she whispered.

  “Don’t tempt me, Mary.”

  She laughed.

  “Do you think I’m joking?” he demanded.

  “Yes.” She wouldn’t lie.

  “Then you’d be in for a shock.”

  “Oh, honestly, George, I …”

  He pressed a finger to her lips before she could say another word. “You. Are. Beautiful. And I love you.”

  Emotion nearly overwhelmed her. “Thank you.” Whether it was true or not, it was exactly what Mary needed to hear. She reached for him, and George hugged her, holding her close and tight. A deep breath shuddered through her as she fought back the effect his words had on her.

  “I’m so tired,” she whispered.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I should have left you to sleep a long time ago.”

  “No …” She sank onto the edge of the bed and removed her jacket.

  One by one, George took off her shoes and then lifted her feet onto the mattress and covered her with the quilt that was folded at the bottom of the bed. Bending down, he very gently kissed her forehead.

  “I’ll call you later, okay?” he said.

  “Of course.”

  Exhausted as she was, Mary fell into a deep, restful sleep before George had even closed the door. She woke an hour later, feeling worlds better. A few minutes later, after she was back from using the restroom, someone tapped gently against her door.

  “Who is it?” Mary asked.

  “Jo Marie. I have a tray for you.”

  Mary blinked back her surprise. “I didn’t order anything.” As far as she knew, the inn didn’t provide room service.

  Mary opened the door, and the innkeeper walked in, carting a wooden tray. On it rested a large pot of tea with a cup and saucer, a plate of store-bought Fig Newtons, a bright shiny apple, and a Butterfinger, her favorite candy bar.

  “Your friend asked me to bring this up to you as soon as you woke.”

  All her favorite snacks. George remembered even that, every detail.

  “He also ordered your dinner to be delivered at seven tonight. I told him I’d be happy to cook for you, but he insisted on this.”

  “Chicken with spicy noodles,” Mary whispered.

  “Yes.” Jo Marie sounded surprised that she’d know. They’d often shared a bowl. Their favorite restaurant had been in the international district in Seattle.

  “I believe he intends to fatten me up,” Mary said, and reached for the candy bar.

  “Enjoy,” Jo Marie told her. “Feel free to call me if you need anything.”

  “I’m good, thank you.”

  She walked the innkeeper to the door and watched Jo Marie walk down the stairs before turning back and pouring herself a cup of tea. Peppermint. That, too, was her favorite.

  To her surprise, Mary managed to eat a cookie and half the candy bar, and take a bite from the apple along with half a pot of tea. It was the most she’d eaten at one sitting in weeks. Months. For George’s sake she made a show of eating but had no real appetite.

  At half past seven that evening, her cell phone chimed. Anticipating George’s call, she’d set it on her nightstand.

  “Mary? Did I wake you?”

  “No, I’ve been up for hours, reading. Thank you for my afternoon snack and for dinner.”

  “How were the noodles?”

  “Incredible. You ordered these locally?”

  He chuckled softly. “What do you think?”

  “George, don’t tell me you had these sent all the way from Seattle.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

  The man was unbelievable. She grew serious then, because his actions made her return to New York on Monday all the more difficult. She had no choice but to go back. “Don’t spoil me.” She was serious.

  He hesitated. “I guess that means I shouldn’t tell you that I managed to scrounge up two tickets to the high school graduation ceremony.”

  She was almost afraid to believe him. “You’re not teasing me, are you?”

  “No.”

  “How? Where?”

  “I told you I had connections, remember?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t think it was possible … From everything I heard, there was no way to squeeze another person into that auditorium.”

  “Well, they managed to squeeze in two more. We’re going to see our daughter graduate.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, so overwhelmed it was difficult to speak.

  “I’ll be there at one tomorrow to pick you up. Sleep well, my love.”

  “You, too,” she managed, and then before he could hear the tears in her voice, she disconnected the phone call.

  Chapter 28

  The anniversary party was winding down, and Annie could see that after all the excitement of the day her grandparents were tired out. She found her mother, who was busily chatting with a cousin and her family, giving them directions for the dinner in Seattle the following day.

  “I think it might be best if we took Gran
dma and Grandpa back to the inn,” Annie said, once she had her mother’s attention.

  “Not to worry, honey. Oliver has already seen to that.”

  “Oh.” Annie looked up, and sure enough, she found Oliver escorting the anniversary couple out the door.

  She couldn’t help being disappointed. Annie had hoped the two of them would have some time together alone. If he left the party, she might not see him again until morning.

  “That’s all right, isn’t it?” her mother asked.

  Her mother must have read her look of dismay.

  “Oh, sure, that’s great … not a problem.”

  “You did a truly wonderful job, Annie. Dad and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Her mother’s praise warmed her heart.

  Before her parents left, Annie and her mother briefly hugged. Most all of her out-of-town relatives would head back to the inn, but her parents would return to Seattle.

  Annie stuck around to write out the final checks to the caterer and the band. She sat at the head table while the crew dismantled the room, folding up the chairs and tearing down the tables. The door to the yacht club opened, and bright sunshine flooded the room.

  Annie looked up as Oliver walked in. He’d changed into casual clothes and wore slacks and a light jacket. Her heart reacted immediately. This strong attraction caught her unaware. She wasn’t prepared to deal with it, and try as she might, she couldn’t hide her smile.

  “You didn’t really think I’d leave you here alone to deal with all this, did you?”

  Instead of answering his question, she asked one of her own: “How are my grandparents?”

  “Exhausted, excited, grateful, happy. They couldn’t stop talking about the friends they saw and all the people who came.”

  “That’s great.” It was exactly the way Annie had hoped they’d feel.

  “They couldn’t stop talking about you, either, how wonderfully planned the party was and on and on and on.”

  Annie almost felt sorry for Oliver having to listen.