Love Letters: A Rose Harbor Novel

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Love Letters: A Rose Harbor Novel Page 22

by Debbie Macomber


  Maybe I wasn’t doing as well as I’d assumed.

  Not knowing quite what to do, I reached for my phone and called my mother. I needed the distraction, and I wanted to put Mark’s comments out of my head.

  “Hi, honey,” my mother greeted, sounding cheerful and happy, in stark contrast to my current state of mind.

  “Hi.”

  A brief hesitation followed before Mom asked, “Is something wrong?”

  My mother could read me like a book; she always could. I hardly knew where to start.

  “Dinner is still on, isn’t it? Your father and I are looking forward to spending time with you.”

  “Yes, I wouldn’t cancel for the world … I thought I should tell you Mark Taylor won’t be coming.” I don’t know why I felt it was necessary to give her that information when I had so much else on my mind.

  “Oh, that’s a disappointment,” Mom said with a sigh. “I was looking forward to meeting him.”

  “I’m fine with it, Mom. I’d like for you to meet Mark, but it’s no big deal. He’s a handyman and that’s all.”

  “And a friend,” Mom added.

  “Right,” I returned, with no real conviction.

  Mom paused. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I quickly assured her. I didn’t want to get into it with my mother so soon after my confrontation with Mark. Nor did I want to tell her how much I missed Paul.

  “I know you’re disappointed that Mark won’t be joining us for dinner. I was looking forward to meeting him, and your father was, too. Perhaps another time. As for me getting a read on him, I think you’d be a better judge of him than I would ever be,” my mother advised.

  “I doubt that.” I’d already tried, with little success.

  “He’s obviously important to you—”

  “Mark? Important to me?” I said, cutting her off. “You’re joking, right? Mark is a handyman and I’ve hired him because he does good work, but mostly he frustrates me. I don’t need that kind of aggravation in my life, and, frankly, I’m through with him. Once this gazebo is finished, that’s it.” My mind was made up.

  “If you say so, dear.”

  “I say so.” And I meant it, too.

  I turned around and found a woman standing in the doorway leading into the kitchen. For an instant she startled me, and my hand flew to my chest. I didn’t know there was anyone else in the house, especially a stranger. She wasn’t a guest, and there wasn’t anyone else registered on the books.

  “Hold on a minute, Mom,” I said. I lowered the phone. “Can I help you?” I asked. Really what I wanted to know was how she got into the house, which to the best of my knowledge had been locked.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt your conversation,” she said. “I’m Virginia Reynolds, Ellie’s mother.”

  “Ellie’s mother,” I repeated. Oh dear, this wasn’t a good sign.

  “I was wondering if I could rent a room for the night.”

  Chapter 25

  After hearing the news that Maggie was pregnant, Roy went cold and silent. She glanced at him as he continued driving back to Cedar Cove and the inn, but he refused to look at her, his gaze steadfastly glued to the road ahead. His hands were so tightly wrapped around the steering wheel that his knuckles had gone stark white.

  Maggie wanted to say something, but really, what was there to say? When she’d discovered she was pregnant with each one of the boys, the emotions she felt were so completely different than what she was experiencing now. There’d been joy, excitement and happiness, anticipation and expectation. She felt none of that now. The one dominating emotion was dread.

  “How could you have let something like this happen?” Roy demanded.

  Anger curdled her stomach. Maggie’s instinct was to lash back and remind her husband he wasn’t so innocent in this fiasco. She wasn’t the only one who’d strayed. He could pretend he was the injured party, but she wasn’t about to put up with his verbal abuse.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that, Roy,” she said, with all the dignity she could assemble. Her clenched hands rested in her lap as she struggled within herself, fighting down nausea mixed with shock and dismay.

  Her husband went silent again.

  An eternity passed before he spoke. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “It?” she repeated.

  “This pregnancy, Maggie. Don’t be coy with me.”

  “A child is not an it,” she reminded him. That had always been a pet peeve of hers, as Roy well knew. This was a baby, a human being, a life that was growing inside of her.

  “To me this child is an it,” he returned pointedly. “I don’t want it.”

  “In other words, you want me to get an abortion.” She couldn’t believe she would even make such a suggestion. Her heart pounded stronger and louder than a marching band drum corps. It astonished her that no one else seemed to be able to hear it, the sound deafening in its intensity.

  “You don’t mean that,” Roy insisted.

  “I don’t know what I mean anymore,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “It’s what you want. Admit it. An abortion would solve everything, right? We could do away with the baby and everything would go back to normal. That’s what you’re thinking, admit it, Roy.”

  “Okay, yes. It would solve everything.”

  She turned her head and looked out the passenger window. “Have we really been married all these years without you knowing me, Roy?” she asked in a whisper. “Do you really believe I could abort this child and that would actually help our situation?”

  He didn’t answer, and then finally he whispered, “Okay, you’re right. That wouldn’t work. If you went through with it, you’d never be able to live with yourself.” He sounded more reasonable now, and for that she was thankful.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “That doesn’t change how I feel about this baby. I don’t want anything to do with this pregnancy or this child. Nothing.”

  “Or me?”

  Again he paused, the silence so loud it felt as if he was shouting, and in some ways that would have been easier to tolerate than this … nothingness.

  He didn’t want anything to do with her? It took a while for the words to sink in, and even then she wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. He seemed to be suggesting that he wanted out of the marriage. The mere thought caused her blood to run cold. “But … we don’t know if this baby is yours or not.”

  “I’m not taking the chance, because I’m telling you right now, Maggie, I won’t raise another man’s child.”

  Maggie was about to argue when Roy cursed and immediately slowed down. Twisting around, Maggie noticed a cop car racing up behind them, lights flashing.

  “Were you speeding?” she asked.

  He glared at her, and that was answer enough.

  Roy pulled over to the side of the road and the state patrol vehicle pulled in behind him. Releasing his seat belt, Roy reached for his wallet and removed his driver’s license while Maggie opened the glove compartment and retrieved the registration card and proof of insurance.

  When the officer approached, Roy rolled down the window.

  “Good afternoon, folks,” he greeted.

  Roy didn’t answer.

  “Do you realize how fast you were driving?”

  Again Roy was silent and stared straight ahead as he handed the state trooper the necessary paperwork.

  “I clocked you at eighty-two miles an hour.”

  Maggie had no idea Roy was speeding to that extent.

  “The speed limit here is sixty.”

  This wasn’t going to be a cheap ticket.

  The officer took the paperwork back to his vehicle and returned a few minutes later with the ticket. He recited a list of instructions, but Maggie didn’t pay attention, and she doubted that Roy did, either. He seemed frozen in anger.

  As soon as the trooper left, Roy rolled up his window and merged with the other traffic.

/>   “I suppose the speeding ticket is my fault as well as everything else,” she said.

  Roy was silent for the next several miles. The tension was as thick as concrete and just as heavy, weighing on her, dragging her down until she felt as if she were sinking in thick mud.

  “What do you intend to do?” he demanded, shocking her by breaking the silence.

  “I … think that’s a question you need to answer, not me.” As far as Maggie could see, she didn’t really have a choice. She was pregnant, and she would give birth to this child, who was innocent.

  His silence told her everything she needed to know. He wanted out of the marriage. Maggie turned her head away and looked out the side window, closing her eyes. They’d come so far this weekend. They’d talked of forgiveness and a fresh start, and now this. A sense of hopelessness threatened to swallow her. That morning, only a few hours ago, she’d been positive that despite everything they would survive as a couple. It didn’t look that way now … it felt as if all was lost.

  “I think we can both agree that it’s over. I’m done, Maggie. Done. I can’t deal with this.”

  “You’re asking for a divorce?” she whispered, hardly able to believe her husband, praying he wasn’t serious and yet knowing he was.

  “The marriage is over,” he confirmed. “I won’t be put in this position, understand?”

  Maggie squeezed her eyes closed as the pain rocked over her in harsh waves before she slowly nodded.

  “I won’t raise another man’s child.”

  “You’ve made that clear,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  “Don’t think a few tears are going to make me change my mind. I couldn’t be any more serious.”

  Maggie didn’t doubt him. “I believe you.”

  “I won’t pay child support, either. Got that?”

  “Got it, but you need not have worried. I wouldn’t ever ask that of you.” Maggie’s hand trembled as she brushed the hair from her face.

  “I’m glad we cleared that up.”

  Thankfully, he’d slowed down to the speed limit.

  “Anything else you want to say?” Roy asked her.

  “No,” Maggie whispered.

  “Good.” His voice was as cold as arctic ice.

  In retrospect, there was. “Actually, there is … something I want to say, that is.” Knowing any show of emotion would only anger him, she swallowed down her tears. “This very well could be your child, Roy.”

  He seemed to weigh her words. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Maggie nearly gasped but managed to stop herself. “It doesn’t matter?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, we’re finished.”

  The only thing left for Maggie to do was to accept his decision. “Baby or no baby, it was already doomed,” she told him.

  He didn’t agree or disagree.

  “The night I disappeared,” she whispered, “you told me you were worried sick … you said you called every hospital in town, contacted the police.”

  “I didn’t know what to think … when you didn’t come home, I was afraid something had happened to you.”

  “I nearly had an accident …” Even now she remembered slamming on the brakes, narrowly escaping being hit by a large truck, skidding to a stop and shaking so badly she knew she was in no condition to drive. “I could have been killed,” she whispered. “It might have been better if I had been.”

  The only outward evidence Roy showed of having heard her was slowing down to a near crawl. The driver behind them blasted his horn and Roy immediately picked up speed again.

  “Don’t say things like that,” he demanded.

  “It would be easier than living through this hell.”

  “Maggie.”

  “Don’t worry, Roy, I’m not going to do anything stupid.” And she wouldn’t. One impulsive act and she was about to lose her marriage. She wouldn’t fight Roy. He’d made his position clear and so had she. While he might declare his undying love, commitment, and devotion to her, he was willing to walk rather than travel this journey with her.

  When he pulled into the parking lot at the inn, Maggie was surprised. Lost in her own world and her thoughts of the future, she hadn’t paid attention to the landscape. She didn’t have a clue they were back at the inn until he turned off the engine.

  Roy continued sitting in the car, but Maggie couldn’t get out of it fast enough. Her husband remained inside as she hurried toward the front steps. The best thing for her to do now, she decided, was to pack up her things and leave. Driving back to Yakima with Roy would be intolerable. As far as she could tell, everything that had to be said had already been spoken.

  Her steps were slow and her vision blurred by tears as she climbed the porch steps. She paused and leaned against the porch column when unbearable grief struck her. Pressing a hand over her heart, she inhaled a deep breath and drew on her inner strength as she righted herself and continued into the house.

  As soon as she let herself in the front door, Jo Marie appeared. “I see you’re back. How was your—” she asked cheerfully, and then stopped abruptly. “Maggie, is everything all right? You’re so pale.”

  She managed a weak smile and shook her head.

  “Are you ill? Do you need the name of a doctor? There’s a good medical clinic here …”

  “No. It’s fine,” she assured the other woman.

  “Where’s Roy?”

  Maggie didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to answer. He might still be sitting in the car. For all she knew he could have driven off and left her for good.

  She climbed the stairs one at a time; putting one foot in front of another was all she could manage. By the time she reached the top of the first flight, she was breathless. Grief weighed her down, but pride carried her toward their room.

  Jo Marie stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching her, concern written on her face.

  Maggie went into the room and closed the door. Her suitcase was in the closet. She took it out and packed her things, which took only a few minutes. What she needed, she decided, was to escape, to get away. But not like she had before.

  It felt as if the walls were closing in around her, as if the room was growing smaller with every breath she inhaled, until she could bear it no longer.

  Not knowing what to do or where she would go, Maggie stood, her legs wobbly. It came to her that she would need her purse. Funny the things that came into her mind. She opened it and removed the room key and placed it on the mattress. The key would no longer be necessary. Nor was her wedding band, which she removed and placed on the nightstand on top of the novel her husband had been reading.

  Then there was the letter, the love letter Roy had written her while in college, the one that claimed he would always love her. No need for her to keep that any longer, either.

  Removing the letter from the envelope, Maggie set it on the pillow and then went into the small bathroom and washed her face.

  When she came out of the room, Jo Marie remained at the foot of the stairs.

  “Maggie,” she said, her voice heavy with concern. “Is there anything I can do?”

  She shook her head. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

  Jo Marie hugged her. “I’m thinking this isn’t a happy discovery.”

  “Not for my husband.”

  Jo Marie held her look. “He drove off.”

  “I thought he might … he’ll be back,” she assured the innkeeper.

  Jo Marie followed her to the door. “Where are you going?” she asked. “What should I tell Roy?”

  “Don’t tell him anything … I won’t be back.” Once again she managed a smile. “Thank you for everything … the inn is lovely, and so are you.” And that was all she had to say.

  Chapter 26

  I felt sick at heart. Something was drastically wrong between Maggie and Roy for her to leave the way she had, dragging her suitcase, her shoulders slumped as if every step was a burden too heavy for one soul to carry. When I hurried a
fter her to ask if she needed a ride, she shook her head. I persisted and asked if she knew where she was headed. She didn’t have an answer for me; she said she wasn’t sure where she would go. I tried to talk some sense into her, but it did no good. I followed her halfway up the driveway and realized I wasn’t going to be able to change her mind.

  The worst part of it was that by the time she left, Roy had, too. He hadn’t returned, and the only phone number I had was Maggie’s cell, so I had no way of reaching him to explain what had happened to his wife.

  Maggie was pregnant. Apparently, this was unwelcome news to have caused such a drastic reaction. I wanted to help, but I wasn’t sure I could or if I should even try. This was the area of being an innkeeper that was most unfamiliar to me. I didn’t want to intrude or overstep my bounds, but at the same time I wanted to be helpful.

  If what was happening to Maggie and Roy wasn’t enough of a concern, there was Ellie and her mother. Virginia had rented a room, and shortly thereafter Ellie and her mother had sat outside, talking intently. Their body language told me they wanted nothing more than to be left alone. I didn’t know who or what they were discussing but guessed this had something to do with Tom. My presence wasn’t appreciated, and so Rover and I left them to their own devices.

  My first thought was to retreat to the covered area on the side yard, where I often sat in the cool of the evenings. The three-sided structure was part of an outbuilding from a homestead that dated back long before the inn was built. The Frelingers, the previous owners, had made it into a cozy retreat. Many a night I’d sat out there and started a fire in the fireplace. This spot held a special significance to me, as it was in that very place where I first felt Paul’s presence with me. It was cooler there, shaded from the sun by the shake roof, and would have been ideal if not for one thing.

  Mark was back. He was in the yard where I wanted the gazebo built and was busy doing something there. I was fairly certain he didn’t see me, which was just as well. If I ventured out it was sure to invite conversation, and frankly, I wasn’t in the mood for company; to be exact, I wasn’t eager for Mark’s company. Our talk from earlier that afternoon weighed on my mind. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he was right. I had been in a cleaning frenzy lately, rearranging cupboards, organizing my spices, sorting through my bedroom drawers. He was right about something else, too. This restlessness had to be connected to the desolation of accepting my husband’s death. I realized that I’d grown uncomfortable dealing with my grief and so I’d ignored it by pretending all was well. I’d gotten so good at it that it’d become second nature now. The cleaning had become a distraction, as had my curiosity regarding Mark’s mysterious background. I’d been determined to dig up whatever I could find on him because if I concentrated on him then I wouldn’t have to think about what was really on my mind. And that was the death of my husband.

 

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