I hesitated and then asked, “Are you pregnant?”
“Not yet, but I plan to be shortly,” Coco cooed.
I couldn’t help smiling. Both my reunion girls had found happiness, and their faces were a reflection of their joy.
“We came back to Cedar Cove to let you know how happy we are and how much it meant to us to meet you,” Katie explained. “Even when you were emotionally down yourself you encouraged us. Besides, we were curious. Did you ever hear from your handyman?”
I shook my head. “Not directly. He’s…he’s out of the country.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“It is. Thank you for asking,” I whispered, doing my best to hide the effect Katie’s words had on me.
“And we’re late to see Lily Franklin,” Coco said, scooting off the sofa. “She wants to get a group of our friends together and plan a wedding shower for me and Hudson. She was one of the reunion organizers and is giddy, claiming credit for our romance.”
“She does have a point,” said Katie.
“Okay, maybe. If it hadn’t been for the reunion, I can’t imagine I would be with Hudson now.”
I hugged them both in turn and then they were off. Rover and I followed them out to the porch and watched as they backed out of the driveway.
It excited me that the inn had kept its promise to me after all. When I returned to the house, I heard the office phone ringing and rushed to catch the call before it went to voice mail.
“The Inn at Rose Harbor,” I said. “How can I help you?”
“Hello,” the disembodied voice spoke from the other end of the connection. “My name is Emily Gaffney and I’m calling to ask if you’d consider taking in a boarder for a couple of weeks until I can find a place to live.”
The question gave me pause. “I…I don’t know. I’ve never had a long-term guest.”
“I recently accepted a teaching position in Cedar Cove. Funny thing is I was there late last summer. It shouldn’t take long. But I don’t want to make a hurried decision.”
It was something to think about. To this point no one had asked to book the inn for more than a few days.
“I’m quiet and I won’t cause any trouble,” Emily assured me. “I looked online at what was available in town and was immediately drawn to your inn. It’s a special place, isn’t it?”
I could tell by her voice that Emily was someone who needed the healing powers of the inn. “I’ll put your name down and we’ll work something out. My rates are reasonable and I’ll hold the room for you on a week-to-week basis. How does that sound?”
“Perfect.” I heard Emily sigh with relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay, then I’ll wait to hear from you.”
Emily gave me her contact information and we ended the call. I decided that, on reflection, it might be nice to have some live-in company for a while.
Although I was loath to admit it, I was lonely. I’d been managing to fill my time but the nights were bleak. While not wanting to dwell on Mark, I missed him.
The rest of my day went well and by the time I crawled into bed, I was exhausted. I’d added hot-water bottles to all the beds in the inn and tucked one between the sheets of my own, surprised by the warmth and comfort it offered. It was an old-fashioned pleasure, but one I’d become addicted to this winter.
—
I don’t know how long I’d been asleep when my phone woke me. I kept it in the charger at night on my bedside table. I didn’t often get calls this late and when I did they were mostly the wrong number.
“Hello,” I said, resting on my elbow.
Nothing.
I was about to disconnect when I heard a weak voice that sounded like it was coming from the moon.
“Jo Marie?”
A voice from the grave. I nearly dropped the phone. “Mark,” I cried, tears instantly in my eyes and in my voice. “Is that you? Please, please tell me I’m not dreaming this.”
“It’s me,” he said. “It’s me.”
“Oh Mark,” I sobbed, resisting the urge to cover my mouth with my hand. “Where are you? Are you safe? Are you coming back?”
“I’m still in Iraq, but I found Ibrahim.”
Relief washed over me that not only was Mark alive but he’d been able to locate the man he felt as close to as a brother.
“I’m traveling with him and his family,” Mark continued. “We’re trying to get across the border. We’re constantly on the move.”
My heart stilled.
“I just couldn’t go any longer without hearing the sound of your voice,” he whispered, “and go without telling you I’m in love with you. You are my heart, Jo Marie.”
The sob that sprung from my throat jarred me and I struggled to hold back tears. The static faded and I was sure the connection had been broken. “Mark. Mark.” Frantically I cried out his name.
“…I’m sorry I had to leave you the way I did,” he was saying, when the connection caught again.
I was afraid that I’d missed part of what he’d called to tell me.
“I understand now,” I said, talking around the thick knot in my throat. I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to hear me.
“It was the only way I could leave you.”
“I know. Bob told me. He got a postcard,” I told him. “He brought it to me so we knew you’d gotten into Iraq safely.” My hand tightened around the phone. “Then there were photos on TV of an American being held captive. We thought it was you.”
“It wasn’t, but it was someone I knew. A friend who helped me. He’s dead now.”
I gasped and bit down on my lower lip. I wanted to reach through the connection and bring Mark back safely to me, but I knew that was impossible. I whispered the words I hadn’t been able to tell him before he left. “I love you.”
“I know. I didn’t want you to love me…not when I considered myself a coward. But I couldn’t stop myself from loving you.”
“Come back,” I pleaded. “Just come back…you can explain everything then.”
My plea was met with silence. “Mark, Mark,” I cried, fearing the connection had been cut off.
“I’m here,” he whispered. “Jo Marie, I’ll do everything within my power to make it back to you. If I don’t…”
“Don’t even say it. You’re coming back, Mark. I can’t think of anything else.”
“If I don’t…”
“Mark,” I pleaded, doing my best not to sob, “don’t even say it. Please, I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“Jo Marie,” he shouted, “please listen to me. If I don’t make it, then I need you to do something for me.”
I bit down on my lower lip, swallowing down my fear as best I could. “Of course. Anything.”
“I need you to help Ibrahim and his family. It’s possible they’d make it across the border without me. If they do, will you help them?”
“Mark—”
“Promise me,” he said, cutting me off.
“I promise.”
“Thank you.”
I was sobbing openly now, and nearly incapable of speech. “Just come home.”
“Home,” he repeated slowly. “I’ve learned something important through all this.”
“Yes?”
“My heart is wherever you are. I could no more stop thinking about you than I could stop breathing, although there were plenty who would enjoy giving me the opportunity.”
“Just make sure they don’t get the chance.”
“I’ll do my best, my love.”
And then suddenly the connection was broken.
I held on to the phone for a long time, unwilling to let go of Mark. All I could do now was wait and pray God brought him back to me.
To Rick Hamlin
Trusted Friend
Talented Writer and Singer
All-Around Good Guy with a Big Heart
Happy 60th Birthday
BALLANTINE BOOKS FROM DEBBIE MACOMBER
r /> ROSE HARBOR INN
Silver Linings
Love Letters
Rose Harbor in Bloom
The Inn at Rose Harbor
BLOSSOM STREET
Blossom Street Brides
Starting Now
CHRISTMAS BOOKS
Mr. Miracle
Starry Night
Angels at the Table
STANDALONE NOVEL
Last One Home
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DEBBIE MACOMBER, the author of Silver Linings, Last One Home, Mr. Miracle, Love Letters, Blossom Street Brides, Starry Night, Rose Harbor in Bloom, Starting Now, Angels at the Table, and The Inn at Rose Harbor, is a leading voice in women’s fiction. Nine of her novels have hit #1 on the New York Times bestseller list, with three debuting at #1 on the New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly lists. Her holiday novels, Mr. Miracle, Mrs. Miracle, and Call Me Mrs. Miracle, were all top-watched movies on the Hallmark Channel. In 2013, Hallmark Channel produced the original series Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove. Debbie Macomber has more than 170 million copies of her books in print worldwide.
debbiemacomber.com
Facebook.com/debbiemacomberworld
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Debbie Macomber, Silver Linings
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