Silver Linings

by Debbie Macomber

  Meet for coffee? Starbucks on 45th. 10?

  Sure. See you then.

  By the time Katie arrived Christian had secured a table. He stood and hugged her when she approached.

  “You’re even prettier in the daylight,” he said. “I ordered you a pumpkin spice latte. I should have asked what you wanted—is that okay?”

  “That’s perfect.”

  They chatted for nearly an hour and Katie felt herself beginning to relax. Christian was nice and they seemed to get on well enough. But the spark just wasn’t there. Katie wasn’t sure if he realized it or not, but she definitely did.

  On the drive back to her apartment, she couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever feel that connection to another man the way she had with James. As hard as she tried to let go of him, she was beginning to think that she might never be able to move on. In letting go she would have to relinquish the way he’d made her feel, the love he’d given her. She didn’t know if it was possible to find someone who loved her as much as James had.

  Had. Past tense. He was marrying Emily and she had to accept it.

  One day, she promised herself, she would fall in love with someone equally wonderful.

  Once back at her apartment, Katie started in on her cleaning that she did on Saturday mornings. She dragged out the vacuum and went at it with a vengeance. It’d been a while since she’d done the bedroom carpet. As she ran it around her bedroom set, she hit a solid object stored under her bed, causing another box to scoot out the other side.

  Turning off the machine, she went to kick the box back to its hiding place when she realized what it was.

  The letters.

  The box contained James’s letters to her, the ones he’d sent when he’d gone off to college. Katie stared at the box. It’d been months since she’d last read through them.

  She’d kept every one and had read them countless times. Some of them she could almost recite from memory. There were several where he pleaded to hear from her that were stained with her tears. The angry ones had crumpled edges as his pain vibrated off the page. The last ones had read like journal entries, full of details of his life. He wrote about his classes, the teachers, and the friends he’d made, as if trying to stay connected even though she wasn’t responding.

  At the end of each letter he’d explained that he would never stop loving her, even if she didn’t care about him any longer. She couldn’t help but wonder how long he would have continued if she hadn’t returned the last letter and asked him not to write again. It had about killed her, but she knew she had to be the one to end it. Just as he felt now that he had to be the one to move forward by marrying Emily.

  It came to her that she would never be completely free of James as long as she held on to the letters. She had to destroy them before they destroyed her. The one place she felt she could do this was Manchester State Park, where they had so often met.

  Her fear was that she wouldn’t be able to make herself do it. She didn’t know if she had the courage to burn them without someone there to hold her hand. The one person she knew who would understand was Coco.

  She texted her high school friend.

  Do you have plans for today?

  What’s up?

  I need some hand-holding in Cedar Cove.

  Cedar Cove?????

  You coming with me or not?

  If you need me, I’m there.

  Thank you.

  As soon as Katie picked up her friend, she explained the mission.

  “You’re sure about this?” Coco asked.

  “No.” Katie knew she could be honest with Coco. “It’s going to kill me to burn these letters, but I know I’ll never be able to let go of James unless I do.”

  “Why Manchester State Park?” Coco asked as they waited in line for the ferry. “Couldn’t we do this someplace closer? I don’t have a lot of good memories of our last visit to town.”

  “I know…I don’t, either. I guess it’s because it will be full circle for me.”

  Coco seemed to understand. They didn’t talk much on the ferry ride over and the drive around the cove. The autumn drizzle had started. They paid the entrance fee into the park and found a campsite with a picnic table and a fire pit.

  They soon discovered that neither one of them had thought to bring something with which to start a fire. If it wasn’t so tragic it might have been amusing. A camper took pity on them and they soon had a few sticks of kindling lit and the fire going.

  “You ready?” Coco asked her, opening the box.

  Katie swallowed hard and nodded. She reached inside the box and took out one of the last newsy letters James had written and after a brief hesitation threw it into the flames. For just an instant she regretted burning it and resisted the urge to grab it out of the fire. The paper was quickly consumed by the flames. The smoke rose and with it went one of the relics of her first love.

  Katie’s throat clogged. She’d understood burning the letters would be hard, but not this hard.

  “You okay?” Coco asked, studying her and looking concerned. “You’re pale and you’re shaking.”

  “Am I?” she asked, her voice weak and trembling. She couldn’t stop now. “Your turn.”

  Coco hesitated. “You sure you want me to do this?”

  “Yes, please.” It would help because there were three, perhaps four that she didn’t know if she could burn on her own. She’d need Coco to do it for her.

  Coco reached inside the box.

  “Not that one,” Katie cried, her voice in a panic. “Not yet…”

  Coco dropped the letter back into the box. “You decide which one,” she said.

  Several minutes passed before Katie was able to choose the next letter. Coco unceremoniously tossed it into the flames and Katie swallowed down a cry. Her entire body started to shake and she felt the need to sit down. It was a good thing the picnic table was close at hand.

  Coco kept a close watch on her. “I don’t think you’re ready for this, Katie.”

  She disagreed. “I have to get it done.”

  “I know, but do you need to do it all at once?”

  Katie was too traumatized to answer.

  Coco sat down on the picnic bench next to her and suggested, “Why don’t you take out the ones you feel you can let go of and take the rest home until you’re more comfortable with doing this?”

  “I’ll never be comfortable—”

  “You know what I mean,” Coco said, interrupting her. “This is killing you. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

  “Okay, we’ll only burn half today.” She could manage half, she thought.

  Only Katie was wrong. By the end of the afternoon they’d managed to destroy only a dozen. Each one had felt as if it cut away a section of her heart.

  They loaded the box into the car and headed back to Seattle. Next week she’d destroy the rest. Katie was determined.

  It’d been nearly a month since Mark had left Cedar Cove. I’d more or less adjusted to life without him, although the days felt empty. Mark was constantly in my thoughts and prayers. I couldn’t help wondering if he’d been able to get into Iraq, and if he had, whether he was safe. My prayers centered on him, praying for his safety and for God to send him back to me. Praying gave me little comfort. I’d prayed daily for Paul, too, and despite all my petitions to God I’d lost my husband. The one positive aspect of prayer was that it gave me an outlet for my worries.

  I resisted the urge to contact Bob Beldon for news of Mark, certain that if he heard anything he would be in touch with me. On a positive note I’d started my spin class and loved being more physically active. The funny part was that by the time I finished my hour workout I felt incredibly weak and found it almost impossible to walk. Despite my daily exercise taking Rover out, I was sadly out of shape.

  Another benefit of the class was that I made friends with Dana Parson, who was around my age, married, and had a couple of kids. Her husband worked at home, which enabled her to take the spin class wh
ile her son and daughter napped in the early afternoons.

  I continued to get plenty of bookings for the inn. If I kept at this pace I might actually show a profit by the end of the year. Monday I had a rare free morning to myself. My guests from Sunday had left and my next guests weren’t due to arrive until later that evening. It was a couple from Kansas City who’d come to visit their son who was stationed at the navy base in Bremerton.

  Rover was eager for his walk and waited impatiently for me to finish my morning tasks. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” I assured him, shaking my head. I’d spoiled this dog and had no one to blame but myself.

  As soon as I got his leash, Rover did a happy dance and hurried to the door, looking over his shoulder as if to say it was about time. I attached the lead and started outside, surprised by how chilly the weather had turned. It was October now and the wind was whipping up the leaves. I’d no sooner raked up the multicolored foliage when a new batch would obliterate my yard again. It was a never-ending chore.

  I started chugging up the hill, following the same two-mile path I took every day with Rover. The sky was overcast and the wind swirled up the leaves as I wrapped my raincoat more securely about me. Although it was relatively early in the month, there was evidence of Halloween all around. Several neighborhood yards were decorated with jack-o’-lanterns displayed on porch steps and a few angel-hair spiderwebs spread over low-lying bushes. One house had a scarecrow in the front yard with bundles of hay at the base and a few cornstalks.

  Rover and I approached the street where Mark had lived. Ever since he’d left I’d avoided walking past his house. The FOR SALE sign out front upset me and I thought it best to keep away from the reminder that he was gone. Not that I needed anything to prompt my memory. I felt his absence each and every day.

  For whatever reason Rover decided to turn down Mark’s street that morning, determinedly tugging me in that direction. “That’s not part of our walk,” I reminded him.

  Rover wouldn’t hear of it. He glanced over his shoulder as if insisting this was the way we should go.

  “Oh, all right, if you must, but Mark isn’t there. You know that, right?” I might not need a reminder, but it seemed Rover did.

  Rover’s short legs gathered speed and he urged me along. By the time we approached the house I was struggling to hold him back. When we got to the driveway that led to Mark’s shop, Rover let out a sharp bark as if he expected Mark to come out and greet us.

  “He’s not here any longer,” I reminded him a second time, as Rover strained against the leash.

  Then I noticed it.

  The FOR SALE sign in front of the house had a large band slanted across the front that said SOLD.

  I stopped and studied the sign as if it could fill in the details. For whatever nonsensical reason I’d held out hope that the house would remain on the market until Mark returned…if he ever did.

  Seeing that sold sign had a curious effect on me. I placed my hand over my heart as if to protect it from the sense of loss. This was one more indication that I needed to let go of Mark. I was surprised Bob hadn’t told me. Right away I wondered if there were other things he hadn’t told me about Mark and this mission he’d undertaken.

  By the time I returned to the inn I was frazzled and upset. Rover was as well, because I hadn’t taken him on the full two-mile trek the way I normally did, cutting short our time.

  The first thing I did once we were back was put water on to boil for tea.

  This was one of those times when I needed my mother. I hated to admit how fragile I felt, when the sale of the house was something I should have expected. Mark’s house had been on the market for a little over a month; I just hadn’t anticipated it would sell this quickly.

  Once the tea was ready I sat down at my small kitchen table, reached for my cell, and punched the number that would connect me with my family.

  Mom answered on the third ring. It took her that long to get to her landline in the kitchen, depending, of course, where she was in the house. Although my mother had a cell phone, she rarely kept it with her, and my dad never seemed to have his phone charged.

  “Jo Marie!” she said. “It’s good to hear from you.”

  “Hi, Mom.”

  My greeting was followed by a short hesitation. “You heard something, didn’t you?” Right away she sensed something wasn’t right. “I can hear it in your voice.”

  I’d said all of two words; I’d tried to hide my distress, but apparently not well enough.

  “I need a little pick-me-up talk with my mother,” I told her. I leaned forward, set my elbow against the tabletop, and pressed my hand against my forehead as I struggled within myself.

  “What’s up?” she pressed. “Did you hear from Mark?”

  “No, nothing like that.” There was no need to hide what had upset me so badly. “I took Rover out for his walk this morning and he insisted we turn down the street where Mark’s house is.”

  Mom hesitated for just a brief second. “It sold, didn’t it?”

  Sometimes it was like she could read my mind. “Yes. I know, it’s irrational. This is what real-estate people do: they sell houses. And he listed it with a company that has a reputation for selling quickly.”

  “And you’re upset.”

  “I know. It’s ridiculous. It was inevitable…it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

  Mom’s voice softened. “We feel what we feel. Don’t discount your heart. It isn’t about what’s right or wrong, Jo Marie. You’re experiencing a loss; it makes sense that you’d be upset. The sale is one more connection to Mark that’s been severed, so naturally it’s going to affect you. It would anyone, so stop beating yourself up.”

  My mother was right. I shouldn’t berate myself. I swallowed against the thickness that clogged my throat. “I’m so afraid I’ll never see him again.” There, I’d said it out loud. I was afraid and the fear was strikingly familiar to what I felt when Paul left for Afghanistan.

  “Jo Marie, are you crying?”

  “I’m trying not to.” But it was hard, especially when my throat was tight and tears stung my eyes. “I’ll be fine…”

  “Of course you will,” she said soothingly. “No word from him? Nothing?” she asked again, lowering her voice, as if afraid if she said the words too loud that it would upset me even more.

  “Not a thing. But I’m doing well.” Or I thought I was until this morning. “I’ve made a couple of new friends.”

  Again the briefest of pauses before she asked, “Male or female?”

  “Mom!”

  “Sorry. I’ve heard you mention Dana, but I didn’t know if that was a man or a woman.”

  “Woman. We’re in spin class together.” Dana and I often stopped off at Starbucks after the class and ordered a skinny latte. We both felt the need to unwind before returning home. I could laugh with Dana and I needed a friend who would lift my spirits.

  Mark could be a real pest at times but what stood out in my mind was all the times we’d argued and laughed together, often in the evenings when we sat on the deck and talked. I missed those times.

  I missed Mark. Oh how I missed him.

  Mom and I chatted for several more minutes about this or that. Nothing important, just girl talk. I was grateful to have a mother who understood me so well. She was able to pull me out of the mire of self-pity better than anyone, and I knew I could be honest with her about my feelings.

  No sooner had I hung up the phone when my doorbell chimed. I checked my watch and realized it was too early for my guests to arrive. Rover was already at the front door when I got there, his tail wagging. Whoever had decided to make a call was clearly a friend, otherwise Rover would be on his guard. How the dog could tell before seeing who was at the door was beyond me.

  I wasn’t surprised to find Bob Beldon standing on my porch. His eyes met mine and his look was dark and serious. I opened the door further in silent invitation for him to come inside.

  “I know w
hy you’re here,” I said, leading him into the living room.

  Bob followed me and took a seat on the sofa. He wore a jacket and his hair was damp with small droplets of rain. I was grateful I’d taken Rover out earlier.

  He held my gaze. “So you know. I wondered if you’d been by the house yet or not.”

  “When did it sell?” I didn’t mention that it’d been nearly a month since I’d last walked past Mark’s house.

  “I believe the offer came in over the weekend.”

  “I expected it to take longer.” The real-estate market had been slow the last few years, and in the back of my mind I’d hoped several more months would pass before an offer came in. Not that it mattered. One month or three or longer, eventually someone else would be living where Mark once had.

  “It was a good offer,” Bob explained.

  “If the offer only came in over the weekend, then why did the sold sign go up so quickly?” That usually took a while—it had when I purchased my Seattle condo and then later the inn.

  “It was a cash sale. The closing will happen sometime this week and then I’ll be bringing you the check.”

  Although Bob had told me Mark wanted me to donate the funds from the house, I had yet to decide what to do with it. In an effort not to think about it, I asked him another question. “Do you know anything about…the new owners?”

  Bob shook his head. He sat close to the edge of the sofa cushion and braced his elbows on his knees. “I stopped by for more than just to update you about the house.”

  “Oh?” A chill came over me, although the inn was warm and cozy.

  Bob looked down at the carpet. “Peggy wanted to come with me but got hung up in some volunteer meeting at the library. She said I should come without her, otherwise it might take us another week or two before both of us could connect with you.”

  Whatever it was he had to say must be serious. I stiffened, certain he was about to relay bad news. “You heard from Mark?” I didn’t bother to hide my anxiety.

  Bob shook his head, but he didn’t meet my eyes.

  “You heard from someone who knows about him?” I asked, eager for him to get on with whatever he had to tell me.