The Inn at Rose Harbor, Page 2

  Contrary to what I’d been told about visitation dreams, Paul did nothing to reassure me he was at peace. Instead, he stood before me in full military gear. He was surrounded by a light that was so bright it was hard to look at him. Even so, I found it impossible to turn away.

  I wanted to run to him but was afraid that if I moved, he would disappear. I couldn’t bear to lose him again even if this was only an apparition.

  At first he didn’t speak. I didn’t either, unsure of what I could or should say. I remember that emotion filled my eyes with tears and I covered my mouth for fear I would cry out.

  He joined me then and took me in his arms, holding me close and running his hand down the back of my head, comforting me. I clung to him, unwilling to let him go. Over and over he whispered gentle words of love.

  When the lump in my throat eased I looked up at him and our eyes met. It felt as though he was alive and we needed to catch up after a long absence. There was so much I wanted to tell him, so much I wanted him to explain. The fact that he’d had such a large life insurance policy had come as a shock. At first I’d felt guilty about accepting such a large amount of cash. Shouldn’t that money go to his family? But his mother was dead, and his father had remarried and lived in Australia. They had never been especially close. The lawyer told me Paul had been clear in his instructions.

  In my dream I wanted to tell Paul that I’d used the money to buy this bed-and-breakfast and that I’d named it after him. One of the first improvements I wanted to make was to plant a rose garden with a bench and an arbor. But in the dream, I said none of that because it seemed like he already knew.

  He brushed the hair from my forehead and kissed me there ever so gently.

  “You’ve chosen well,” he whispered, his eyes warm with love. “In time you’ll know joy again.”

  Joy? I wanted to argue with him. It didn’t seem likely or even possible. One doesn’t heal from this kind of pain. I remembered how my family and friends had struggled to find the right words to comfort me. But there are no words … there simply are no words.

  And yet I didn’t argue with him. I wanted the dream to last and I feared that if I questioned him he would leave, and I wanted him to stay with me. A peaceful feeling had come to me, and my heart, which had carried this heavy burden, felt just a little lighter.

  “I don’t know that I can live without you,” I told him, and it was true.

  “You can and you will. In fact, you’ll have a long, full life,” Paul insisted. He sounded like the officer he’d been, giving out orders that were not to be questioned.

  “You will feel joy again,” he repeated, “and much of it will come from owning Rose Harbor Inn.”

  I frowned. I knew I was dreaming, but the dream was so vivid I wanted to believe it was real.

  “But …” My mind filled with questions.

  “This inn is my gift to you,” Paul continued. “Don’t doubt, my love. God will show you.” In the next instant he was gone.

  I cried out, begging him to come back, and my own sharp cry woke me. My tears were real, and I could feel moisture on my cheeks and pillowcase.

  For a long time afterward I sat upright in the dark wanting to hold on to the feeling of my husband’s presence. Eventually it faded and almost against my will I fell back asleep.

  The next morning, I climbed out of bed and traipsed barefoot down the polished hardwood floor of the hallway to the small office off the kitchen. Turning on the desk lamp, I flipped through the pages of the reservation book the Frelingers had given me. I reviewed the names of the two guests due to arrive that week.

  Joshua Weaver had made his reservation just the week before I took ownership. The former owners had mentioned it at the time we signed the final papers.

  The second name on the list belonged to Abby Kincaid.

  Two guests.

  Paul had said this inn was his gift to me. I would do my best to make both guests comfortable; perhaps, in giving of myself, I would find the joy Paul had promised. And maybe, given time, it would be possible for me to find my way back to life.

  Chapter 2

  Josh Weaver never thought he’d return to Cedar Cove. In the twelve years since his high school graduation he’d been back only once, and that was to attend the funeral of his stepbrother, Dylan. Even then he hadn’t spent the night in town. He’d caught a morning flight, rented a car, showed up at the funeral, and left directly afterward, arriving back in California at the job site the same day. He’d barely spoken to his stepfather.

  For that matter, Richard hadn’t bothered to acknowledge him. It was exactly what Josh had expected. Although Dylan and Josh had been close, his stepfather hadn’t seen fit to ask Josh to be one of his son’s pallbearers. The slight had cut deep. He’d come anyway to pay his respects to his stepbrother.

  Now Josh was back again and not out of any desire to spend time in Cedar Cove. This town meant nothing to him other than the fact that it contained his mother’s grave site and Dylan’s.

  Born just a year apart, Josh and Dylan had been tight. Dylan had always been a daredevil. Josh had marveled at Dylan’s complete lack of fear ever since they met. Still, it had come as a brutal shock when word reached him that Dylan had been killed in a motorcycle accident. That was five years ago now. Seven years after Richard Lambert had kicked him out of the house and forced Josh to find his own way in the world.

  Now it seemed it was the old man’s turn to meet his Maker. The sole reason Josh was back in town was because the Nelsons, who lived next door to Richard, had contacted him. Michelle Nelson and Dylan had been in the same grade in school, with Josh a year ahead of them. Following graduation, gentle-natured Michelle had gone on to become a social worker. Josh remembered that she’d had a big crush on Dylan, but she was overweight and Dylan hadn’t returned the sentiment. In his mind, Josh linked her thoughtfulness in looking after Richard to her affection for Dylan.

  “Richard is in a bad way,” Michelle had told him during their brief telephone conversation. “If you want to see him alive you’d better come—and make it soon.”

  Josh had no desire to see the old man. None. They shared nothing other than a mutual dislike. Josh agreed to make the trip for two reasons. First, he was between job assignments as a construction manager. He had just finished one project and was waiting to hear about the next. Second, while he didn’t consider it important, or really hope it was possible, it’d be nice to make peace with the old man. Then, too, there were certain things he hoped to collect from his stepfather’s house. While he was in Cedar Cove, he wanted to retrieve a few personal possessions that his mother had brought into the marriage. Nothing less than what should rightfully be his and certainly nothing more.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can get away,” Josh had replied.

  “Hurry,” Michelle urged. “Richard needs you.”

  Josh wagered his stepfather would keel over dead before he’d admit to needing anyone, particularly Josh. Apparently the neighbors had forgotten that Richard had taken delight in kicking Josh out of the house only a few months after his mother’s death. Josh had been just weeks away from his high school graduation. When he left he hadn’t been allowed to take anything more than some clothes and his schoolbooks.

  Richard had claimed Josh was a thief. Two hundred dollars had been missing from his wallet and he was convinced Josh had stolen it. The fact was, Josh knew nothing about the missing money, which left only Dylan. Richard would never believe his own flesh and blood was guilty, though, so Josh had accepted the blame. What he hadn’t expected was for Richard to demand he leave so close to graduation.

  In retrospect, Josh accepted that the missing money was just an excuse. Richard had wanted him out of the house and out of his life, and until now Josh had been more than willing to comply.

  He was back in Cedar Cove, but he felt no sense of homecoming as he eased his truck into the driveway of the address scribbled down on a piece of paper. The B&B had surfaced in a hasty online
search he’d conducted, looking for a location convenient to his stepfather’s house.

  One thing was certain: he couldn’t stay with Richard. As far as Josh knew, Richard didn’t even know he was coming, which suited him just fine. If everything went well, he’d be in and out of town in a day or two. He didn’t want to stay any longer than was absolutely necessary. And when he left Cedar Cove this time, Josh had no intention of ever looking back.

  Once he parked in the inn’s small lot, he climbed out of the truck, and reached for his overnight bag and laptop. The sky was overcast and it looked like rain, which was par for January in the Pacific Northwest. The charcoal-colored skies were an adequate reflection of his mood. He’d give just about anything to be somewhere other than Cedar Cove—anyplace that didn’t force him to confront the stepfather who had detested him.

  No need putting off the inevitable, he decided. He lugged his carry-on and his computer case up the porch stairs and rang the doorbell. Hardly a minute passed before a woman answered the door.

  “Mrs. Frelinger?” he asked. She was of medium height and much younger than he’d expected when he booked the reservation. Her thick brown hair was shoulder length with a part down the middle. Her eyes were a piercing shade of blue not unlike a summer sky. When he’d booked the reservation the woman on the other end of the line had sounded older, as if she were in her sixties. The woman standing before him was young, mid-thirties at most. She wore a colorful red bib apron over casual pants and a long-sleeve sweater.

  “Sorry, no, I’m Jo Marie Rose. I recently took over the inn from the Frelingers. Please, come in.” She stepped aside, making way in order for him to enter the large home.

  Josh entered the foyer and was instantly warmed. A small fire crackled in the fireplace and the scent of freshly baked bread set his mouth to watering. Josh couldn’t remember the last time he’d smelled bread direct from the oven. His mother had baked bread but that was years ago. “Something smells wonderful.”

  “I’ve always enjoyed baking,” Jo Marie said as if she needed to explain. “I hope you have a good appetite.”

  “I do,” Josh said.

  “You’re my first guest,” Jo Marie told him, welcoming him with a bright smile. “Welcome.” She rubbed her palms together as if she wasn’t sure what to do next.

  “Would you like my credit card information?” Josh asked, as he removed his wallet from his hip pocket.

  “Oh yes, that’s probably a good idea.”

  She led the way through the kitchen and into a small office. Josh suspected the area might have been a pantry at one time. He withdrew a credit card.

  Jo Marie stared at the card. “I’ll need to jot down your number for now—I have an appointment at the bank later.” Looking uncertain she raised questioning eyes to him. “If that’s all right?”

  “Not a problem,” he said and she wrote down his credit card information and handed the card back to him.

  “Would it be all right if I got the key to my room now?” he asked.

  “Oh sure … sorry! Like I said, you’re my first guest.”

  Josh wondered just how long she’d owned the business. Jo Marie must have read his mind because she added, “I signed the final papers just before Christmas.”

  “Where did the Frelingers go?” Josh didn’t remember ever meeting them when he’d lived in town, but he wondered why they would sell.

  Jo Marie returned to the kitchen and lifted the coffeepot, silently asking if he wanted a cup. Josh nodded.

  “Apparently the Frelingers have decided to travel across the country in their motor home,” Jo Marie explained. “It was loaded and ready to go the day I took over the inn. They handed me the house keys and were off to join their two daughters in California for Christmas as their first stop.”

  “They certainly weren’t letting any grass grow under their feet,” Josh said as she handed him a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Do you take sugar or cream?” she asked.

  “No, black is perfect.” He’d gotten accustomed to drinking it that way when he lived with Richard.

  “You have your choice of rooms,” Jo Marie told him.

  Josh shrugged. “Any one is fine. This isn’t exactly a pleasure trip.”

  “Oh?” She seemed openly curious now.

  “No, I’m here to set my stepfather up with hospice.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Josh raised his hand to stop her from expressing sympathy. “We were never close and frankly we didn’t have the best of relationships. This is more out of duty than anything else.”

  “If there’s anything I can do?” she offered.

  Josh shook his head. At this point there wasn’t anything to be done. If he could have, he would gladly have avoided this altogether, but unfortunately there was no one else to take responsibility for Richard.

  Jo Marie showed him a room on the second floor. It had a large picture window that overlooked the cove, and the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard was directly across the way. There were several ships and a mothballed aircraft carrier visible, and the sky reflected the battleship gray of the navy vessels.

  Richard had worked at the shipyard for most of his working career, Josh remembered. He’d served in the navy during the Vietnam war, and after being honorably discharged he had found work as a welder in Bremerton. Dylan had worked at the shipyard, too, until the accident that had claimed his life.

  Stepping away from the window, Josh didn’t bother to unpack his bag. He took out his cell phone and logged on to his email account to collect his messages, hoping for word on the next job. He hadn’t even seen Richard yet and already he was planning his escape.

  The first one that popped up was an email from Michelle Nelson, Richard’s next-door neighbor. She’d sent it only a couple of hours earlier.

  Josh read the message.

  From: Michelle Nelson ([email protected])

  Sent: January 12

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: Welcome Home

  Dear Josh,

  I’m expecting you to arrive in Cedar Cove anytime now and I wanted to make sure we connected first thing. My parents are visiting my brother in Arizona—he’s a new father—and I’m staying at their home to feed the dog and keep close tabs on Richard. I’m off work the next couple of days so give me a call once you’re settled in at the B&B and I’ll go with you to see Richard if you’d like.

  Michelle

  360-555-8756

  Josh settled against the back of the chair and folded his arms over his chest. He remembered how Michelle’s obvious infatuation with Dylan had been an embarrassment to his stepbrother. Still, Dylan had never been cruel to Michelle like some of the other boys in school had been, taunting her with names and off-color remarks and jokes.

  He appreciated her offer to accompany him when he went to visit Richard for the first time. It would be great to have another person there to act as a buffer. Josh punched out the phone number Michelle had listed, and she picked up almost right away.

  “Michelle, it’s Josh.”

  “Oh Josh, my goodness, it’s so good to hear your voice. How are you?”

  “Good.” Michelle’s enthusiasm felt like a balm. He hadn’t expected anyone to be pleased that he was in town. While Josh had had plenty of friends in high school, he hadn’t kept in touch with any of them. Following his high school graduation he’d joined the army and headed almost immediately for basic training. Then he’d linked up with a construction company and worked his way up to project manager. He didn’t mind the travel, so he bounced from town to town and from job to job, never staying longer than a few months in any one place. He’d seen a good part of the country and hadn’t put down roots anywhere. In time, he’d settle down, he supposed, but he didn’t feel the burning need for that to happen anytime soon.

  “You sound wonderful,” Michelle continued, her voice soft with what seemed to be remembered affection.

  “So do you,” he murmured. Josh had a
lways liked Michelle, even though he’d felt sorry for her because of the extra weight she carried. “I suppose you’re married by now with a passel of kids,” he joked, confident that she’d found someone who would appreciate her. He remembered her as being generous and kind. It didn’t come as any surprise that she’d become a social worker, looking after others.

  “No, unfortunately.” Her voice echoed with regret and a tinge of sadness.

  Josh was sorry he’d asked.

  “What about you? Did you bring your wife and children with you to see your old stomping grounds?”

  “No, I’m not married either.”

  “Oh.” She sounded surprised. “I asked Richard about your family and he didn’t know.”

  No reason he would—they hadn’t spoken in years. “How’s the old man faring these days?” he asked in order to change the subject.

  “Not so good. He’s both stubborn and foolish. He insists he doesn’t need any help from anyone, although he’s willing to let me take him meals and check in on him every now and again.”

  Same old Richard: unreasonable, cantankerous, and constantly in a bad mood. “Does he know I’m coming?” Josh asked.

  “I didn’t tell him,” Michelle said.

  “Would your parents have mentioned it before they left for your brother’s?”

  “I doubt it. None of us were sure whether you’d show or not.”

  Apparently the Nelsons knew him better than he realized. “I wasn’t sure I would either,” he admitted.

  “Stop by my parent’s house first,” Michelle offered. “I’ll meet you there and we can go over to Richard’s together.”

  “I appreciate the offer,” he said.

  Michelle hesitated and when she spoke her voice went soft, almost wistful. “I’ve thought about you often through the years, Josh. I wish … I wish we’d had more of a chance to talk at Dylan’s funeral.”

  Josh couldn’t remember seeing Michelle there although she would have surely attended. His own participation had been so brief there hadn’t been time to really talk to anyone. It’d stung that Richard had discounted the strong relationship Josh and Dylan had shared. It was just another slight to add to all the rest, but as it stood now, Josh was Richard’s only living relative.