The Inn At Rose Harbor Part 33

"I think you must be," she concurred, "because as soon as your hand was on your heart a look of serenity came over you."

"I'm healing too," I whispered.

"You?"

"I lost someone I loved very much."

Abby blinked and reached for her teacup again. "I'm so sorry; I really am. I've known the pain loss brings." We sat quietly for a few minutes, and then she glanced at her watch and then seeming surprised at the time she reached for her shawl and leaped to her feet. "I'm off to the wedding festivities."

I stood, too. "I'll keep the light on for you," I said and walked her to the front door as she gathered her coat and purse. I waved Abby off.

As she backed out of the parking s.p.a.ce a second dark vehicle pulled in.

Josh was back, too, but just from the way he climbed out of his vehicle I could see that his mood was as dour as Abby's mood was joyful. Apparently matters weren't going nearly as well for him.

Again Rover came to his feet the instant he heard Josh's car door close. My ever-ready guardian waited by my side as I held the front door open for Josh.

Rover barked furiously several times until I bent down and patted his head. "Josh is a friend," I a.s.sured him. Amazingly Rover seemed to understand and he returned to his post in front of the warm fireplace even before Josh walked inside.

"You're just in time for a late-afternoon snack," I announced as my guest entered the inn.

He paused just inside the front door as if he'd heard my invitation but hadn't a.s.similated it.

"There's a cheese platter and some wine available, if you're interested," I told him.

He removed his coat and hat and then ran his fingers through his tousled hair. "Wine would be nice."

I gestured toward the dining room. "I have both Merlot and Malbec in the reds and ..."

"Merlot."

As I poured the wine into a stemless winegla.s.s I asked, "So how did your afternoon go?"

He hesitated before he spoke. "My stepfather died a short while ago."

I set the wine bottle down with the finality of his words. "Oh, Josh, I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, accepting my condolences. "This morning I would have told you I wouldn't feel a blasted thing when the old man died. To my way of thinking he was finally going to get what he deserved in death. I had nothing good to say about him."

I did my best to disguise my surprise. "And now?" I pressed.

"And now ... I wish he'd lived longer. After all these years of bitterness, the two of us finally found common ground."

"So you made peace?"

Josh reached for the wine, sat down, and brushed the hair from his forehead. "Yes, I suppose you could say we made peace. Peace," he repeated as if hearing the word p.r.o.nounced for the first time. "For most of my adulthood I hated him. And he deserved it. After my mother died he threw me out of the house."

"How old were you?" I asked, already disliking this man for being so heartless.

"A teenager, just weeks from high school graduation."

"You did graduate though, right?"

"Yes, with help from friends who let me live with them."

How anyone could do that to a motherless boy I didn't know, but then I was only hearing one side of the situation.

"In many ways Richard shaped me into the man I am. I got tough because I had to be tough. The military was the best thing that could have happened to me at the time. I was forced to be a man and accept responsibility for my own life instead of relying on anyone else."

"Did you have any contact with your stepfather after you left the military?"

He looked away and shrugged. "As little as possible."

I sipped my tea. This was a difficult conversation and so very different from the one I'd just had with Abby.

"I was back in Cedar Cove for Dylan's funeral," he told me, "but that was years ago." Then he seemed to realize I had no idea who Dylan was, and he added, "He was my stepbrother. We got along fine. Early on I accepted that Dylan would always be the favored son and I was fine with that."

"What happened to your stepfather after he lost Dylan?"

Josh shook his head. "Frankly, I don't know. I didn't stick around Cedar Cove long after Dylan's funeral. I didn't hear from Richard for several years and probably never would have, if one of his neighbors, an old friend, hadn't contacted me."

So that was the reason he'd returned.

"I came, but not out of any concern for Richard. There were some things of my mother's I hoped to collect. The timing worked out at the job and this friend seemed to think it was important that I come. Personally, I thought it would be a waste of time, but I agreed to visit."

"And now?"

"And now I can honestly say I'm glad I came. Richard gave me a few of the things that my mother brought into the marriage and ... more."

Josh's gaze mellowed and I wasn't sure if it was the wine or the events of the afternoon. "Richard sincerely loved my mother."

"And so did you." Instinctively I recognized that the bond between these two men had been Josh's mother. Love for her was the thing that had finally brought them together. I found that thought comforting. Love had reached beyond the grave to touch Josh and his stepfather. Paul's love for me had done the same.

"I loved my mother very much," Josh murmured. "I wish now I'd taken the time to try harder with Richard." His words echoed with regret.

"But you made your peace with him?"

Josh nodded, and he appeared to be deep in thought.

"What now?" I asked.

"Once the coroner has released the body I'll see to the burial arrangements," he stated matter-of-factly.

"So you'll be staying on for the funeral?" I only had him scheduled for these three nights, but it would be easy enough to extend his visit, as I didn't have anyone else on the books until the following weekend.

"No, I'll be checking out on schedule."

My surprise must have shown because he added, "Richard requested there be no services. There's nothing here for me any longer. There never really was, but at least I'll have the things that once belonged to my mother."

"I'm pleased for you, Josh."

"Yes, I'm pleased, too." He took another sip of his wine and then set the gla.s.s on the table. "I better head over to the funeral home before they close. I don't imagine much is required of me, but I feel I should check in." He stood and hesitated as if he'd just thought of something.

Before I could ask if there was anything more I could do, he turned and went upstairs to his room, taking the stairs quickly as if in a rush.

Chapter 34.

The wedding ceremony was lovely. Abby sat with her extended family and watched as her father reached for her mother's hand. While Roger and Victoria exchanged vows, Abby saw her mother dab at her eyes, a tissue clenched in her hands.

Abby felt tears blur her own vision a couple of times herself, but they were tears of joy, of shared happiness for her brother.

The dresses the maid of honor and bridesmaids were wearing were all various shades of lavender, each in a style most flattering to the woman who wore it. Abby thought fondly of Angela as she took in the dress styles, remembering her friend's wedding plans and sketches. The church was decorated with lavender pew bows and the altar was surrounded by white and green calla lilies. The colors, the music, the words ... it was all just so lovely, so perfect.

At one point during the service, Steve Hooks, Roger's former roommate, turned and caught Abby's gaze. Then, completely out of the blue, he winked at her. Silly as it was, Abby felt herself blus.h.i.+ng uncontrollably. She was over thirty, well just over, a mature woman. Far too mature to let a wink from a handsome man fl.u.s.ter her to this extent. Nevertheless she was flattered and excited.

The wedding reception was held at the country club, and Abby drove there separately so she could leave earlier than her parents if they wanted to stay late.

As soon as they arrived at the reception, they were given their dinner table a.s.signments. To Abby's surprise she found she wasn't sitting with her parents or any of her cousins.

"You're not at our table?" her mother protested, and seemed about to call for the matre'd, when Steve Hooks approached.

"Mrs. Kincaid, I hope you don't mind, but I asked to have Abby at my table."

Her mother opened her mouth to protest and then quickly snapped it shut.

"That is," Steve continued, looking at Abby, "if Abby doesn't mind."

"She doesn't mind," Linda Kincaid said, far too quickly.

"Mother, I can speak for myself."

"Do you mind?" Steve asked, his eyes holding hers.

Abby would like to meet the woman who could refuse him. She nearly melted in a puddle right at his feet. "Ah, no problem. I don't mind." Her tongue appeared to twist into huge knots whenever she tried to speak to him. Oh how she wished she'd come up with something witty and clever.

"I know I've probably upset the entire seating chart, but I figured this might be the only chance Abby and I had to talk. I refuse to be thwarted."

This time Abby didn't bother to speak-she simply nodded. In gentlemanly fas.h.i.+on, he pulled out a chair for her and then claimed the seat next to hers.

"It was a beautiful wedding, wasn't it?" she said, reaching for the lavender-colored linen napkin and unfolding it over her lap. If she could keep her hands busy then perhaps there was a chance she would get through this dinner without acting like a naive teenager on her first date ... although that was exactly how she felt.

"The wedding," Steve repeated. "Yes, it was very nice."

The three other couples who were a.s.signed to their table joined them. Steve made introductions, and Abby realized that he'd arranged for them to be seated with Victoria's family and friends, which was fine. She wondered just how many nameplates he'd altered in order to get the two of them to sit together. His efforts flattered her.

Soon the other couples were deep in conversation, giving the two of them a bit of privacy to chat and get reacquainted.

"Did I hear right," he asked, "that you live in Florida?"

Abby nodded. "Port St. Lucie. And you?"

"Vero Beach."

"Oh my gosh, we're practically neighbors."

"If only I'd known earlier," he mumbled under his breath.

"Really?"

"I would have called; we could have gotten together. I had a.s.sumed you'd be married by now. We were just starting to get to know each other when you were in that car accident, and afterward you just closed up. Roger said you needed s.p.a.ce. The last time I saw you I asked you to give me a call when you were up to company."

Abby had never contacted him, and while she didn't recall that specific conversation, she hadn't been ready. What she did remember was the number of times he'd tried to connect with her. She'd thwarted every one. Abby had to give him credit, though: he hadn't given up easily.

"I don't understand why you never married," he said.

"How do you know that?" she asked, teasing him. It did feel like she was back in high school again, flirting with him like this.

"You mean you did marry? You're divorced?" He frowned, clearly confused.

"Answer my question first," she said.

"How did I know?" he repeated and then answered in the same breath. "How else? I asked."

"So you made inquiries about me?"

"I cornered Roger so fast it would have made your head spin."

Abby laughed, loving the way he made no effort to disguise his attraction. Truth be known, she felt it, too. It was as if all those years had melted away and they were both in college again.

"How is it you never married?" she asked, turning the question around on him.

"How do you know I didn't?" he asked, playing her game. "Did you ask?"

Abby hedged, but only a little. "I didn't."

He looked disappointed, his lower lip jutting out just slightly in a rather handsome pout.

"Roger volunteered the information before I had the opportunity."

"In other words you would have asked, if your brother hadn't been so quick to tell you."