The Inn At Rose Harbor Part 29

Josh sat with his mother's Bible resting in his lap. Reverently he turned the pages and read her notes in the margins, finding solace in the fact that she had made her peace with G.o.d and seemed to have no fear of death.

After hating Richard all these years, accepting that his stepfather was capable of any act of benevolence overwhelmed him.

A gruff noise came from behind the closed bedroom door.

"Richard's awake," Mich.e.l.le said and started down the hallway toward the master bedroom.

Josh joined her.

When she opened the door, Josh saw that Richard was leaning on his side against one elbow, struggling to sit upright. Mich.e.l.le and Josh both rushed to him.

"What are you doing?" Mich.e.l.le cried.

"I thought you'd left," Richard murmured, directing the comment at Josh. His voice was barely above a rasp as he struggled to breathe. Apparently the attempt to sit up had completely drained him of energy.

"All in good time," Josh said, his voice low as he struggled to find the words to thank his stepfather. "I've been reading through Mom's Bible. I'm grateful to have it. Thank you."

Josh helped ease his stepfather back onto his pillow and then sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling up the covers until they were tucked under Richard's chin.

His stepfather focused on Josh. "Teresa read that Bible every day. She made me a better man ... without her ... I failed you and I failed Dylan." Tears rolled down the older man's cheeks. "I loved her ... nothing was right after she died." Richard's eyes were rheumy and moist and he seemed to have trouble keeping them open.

"There's ... more." He choked out the words as if speaking caused him pain and sapped what little strength he possessed. He brought his arm out from beneath the blankets and grabbed hold of Josh's forearm, his grip so weak that Josh barely felt it.

"More?" Josh asked.

"Garage."

"Tell me later," Josh advised, seeing how difficult it was for his stepfather to speak. "After you've had a chance to rest."

"No time."

"Okay," Josh said and bent his ear closer to the old man's face.

"Garage."

"It's in the garage?" Josh asked.

Richard nodded ever so slightly. "Boxes."

"In boxes," Josh clarified.

Again the old man responded with a faint nod and pointed his finger at the ceiling.

"He wants you to give him a moment," Mich.e.l.le said. "He can barely speak."

Richard's gaze sought out Josh's and he shook his head. Again he raised his finger.

Josh looked over at Mich.e.l.le, who was sitting on the other side of the bed. She was holding Richard's hand, gently rubbing it with her own, as though to encourage him.

"Back ... far back."

"Okay," Josh said.

"Teresa's name."

"Is on the boxes?" Josh asked.

Richard closed his eyes as though completely drained of strength and slumped against his pillow.

"We should let him rest now," Mich.e.l.le whispered.

Josh agreed. Slowly he stood and stepped back from the bed.

Mich.e.l.le studied him. "Do you want to check this out?" she asked.

He nodded, but his focus remained on Richard. The old man seemed to be resting peacefully. After a moment, Josh turned and followed Mich.e.l.le out of the bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. His hand remained on the k.n.o.b when he spoke.

"Thank you for everything," he told her. He wouldn't have lasted a single day if not for her and it was important for her to understand how much she'd helped him. It made Josh feel that much worse about having misled her romantically.

She shrugged off his appreciation.

Mich.e.l.le was responsible for him getting his mother's Bible. And it went without saying that Richard wouldn't have mentioned the boxes either if not for Mich.e.l.le's influence and calming presence.

Mich.e.l.le was already halfway out the front door before Josh joined her. Moving down the icy walkway, she led him to the side door to the garage and turned on the light.

The car parked inside was the same one Richard had owned when Josh joined the military all those years ago. The only tools on the thick wooden workbench were a screwdriver and hammer.

As kids, Josh and Dylan had often used the garage as a meeting area where they could talk without the fear of their parents listening in. They'd shared secrets and plans in this old building. The basketball hoop remained positioned at the front of the garage but the net had long since been removed. Or it might have rotted away, for all Josh knew.

"Over here," Mich.e.l.le said. She rushed toward the back and then abruptly turned to look at Josh. "There aren't any boxes here." The garage was barren, unlike what Josh remembered. Richard must have gotten rid of everything other than the necessities. A rake and a shovel hung next to a stepladder on the wall.

Josh glanced around and saw that Mich.e.l.le was right. The garage was basically empty.

"Above," he said. "There's a storage area up above." He craned his neck to look up. "That's what he meant when he raised his finger. He was trying to tell us to look up." Josh retrieved the ladder and set it below the opening.

Mich.e.l.le held on to the two back legs as Josh started the climb. "Be careful," she warned.

He kept his attention focused upward until he reached the last rung of the ladder. He lifted the square lid that led to the storage area and slid it aside.

"Here," Mich.e.l.le called.

When he glanced down he saw that she'd found a flashlight. She handed it up to him and Josh switched it on. Standing on the top rung, he was able to look inside the storage area. Using the flashlight he surveyed the s.p.a.ce and found a series of boxes crammed into the tight s.p.a.ce. Reaching for a box, he read "Christmas Decorations" written in large letters with a thick black felt pen. Shoving that aside, he reached for a second box. That, too, was marked for Christmas. In fact every box appeared to be related to Christmas.

"Find anything?" Mich.e.l.le asked.

"Not yet." It looked like he was going to have to crawl up there to investigate further.

"Look inside one of the Christmas boxes," Mich.e.l.le suggested.

"Okay." He opened the closest one, and sure enough discovered tree ornaments. "That's not it," he called down, knowing Mich.e.l.le was curious.

"Try another one."

Josh did and hit pay dirt. Inside the box was another smaller box. Penned by the same hand was his mother's name. Excited now, Josh scooted it toward the opening.

"Give it to me," Mich.e.l.le said, raising her arms to receive the box.

Josh carefully lowered it into her waiting arms.

"Got it," she called out.

Josh continued his search until he located three other boxes, each one with his mother's name spelled across the top and tucked inside a box marked for Christmas. If he hadn't looked inside as Mich.e.l.le had suggested, he would have missed them entirely.

"Let's go back inside," Mich.e.l.le said.

Cold now, Josh was eager to comply. He came back down, closed up the crawl s.p.a.ce, and then folded the ladder, putting it back where he'd found it. Then he reached for two of the boxes, stacking them one on top of the other. Mich.e.l.le took the other one. Bringing them into the house, Josh set them on the kitchen table.

The first box contained items he barely remembered and had never hoped to see again. The first thing he pulled out was the blue padded baby book his mother had started for him after he was born. Reverently he opened it to find the newspaper clipping announcing his birth along with a copy of the birth announcement his parents had mailed to family and friends. The gentle slope and loopy letters of his mother's handwriting caught him by surprise as a rush of emotion hit him.

Turning the page, he discovered a picture of himself as a newborn with a scrunched-up red face and a tiny blue bow in his hair. He certainly hadn't won any baby beauty contests.

"You were handsome even back then," Mich.e.l.le teased.

"Yeah, right."

He closed the book. He'd examine it later. Next he removed a small box that held a tiny blue baby outfit.

"I bet that's the outfit your mother brought you home from the hospital in. My mother saved mine, too."

As he dug deeper into the box Josh found a journal in his mother's favorite color-lime green.

"What's that?" Mich.e.l.le asked.

"Mom's diary. She kept one for as long as I can remember."

The second box held an equal bounty. He discovered a cookbook that had belonged to his father's mother and a series of letters his parents had exchanged while dating.

"Oh, Josh, this is amazing," Mich.e.l.le said.

It was indeed amazing. The full significance had yet to hit him. Josh realized that these three boxes contained the missing pieces of his past that he had never expected to find.

Earlier he'd been concerned about his high school letterman's jacket, mostly because he'd paid for it himself and it had seemed so hard-earned. But he wasn't any sports hero-the fact that Richard had destroyed it had annoyed him, but the truth was it didn't hold much significance for him. Not like this.

The contents of these boxes were directly related to him ... to his heritage. Treasures from his past. It went without saying that Richard had purposely hidden them from him. After his stepfather's death, the house would have been sold and the contents donated to a charitable organization. No one would have thought twice about boxes marked "Christmas." It was unlikely anyone would have thought to look inside before giving them away.

The only person who would value these items was Josh. Anyone else would likely have tossed them in the garbage bin but to him they were everything.

"Richard disguised these boxes so you wouldn't find them," Mich.e.l.le said and looked saddened by the thought. She was slowly beginning to understand the depth of Richard's maliciousness toward Josh.

Josh didn't bother to comment.

Mich.e.l.le pressed her hand over his forearm. "You thanked me earlier, but I'm the one who should be thanking you."

"I can't imagine why," he said as he tucked his mother's journal back inside the box. Josh felt as if he were on an emotional roller coaster-with Richard and with Mich.e.l.le, too. For years he'd comfortably ignored his emotions, stuffing them down rather than confronting them head-on. Now they seemed to be staring him in the face and so he did what was most comfortable. He pretended to feel nothing.

Chapter 30.

Neal, the volunteer from the Cedar Cove Animal Shelter, filled out the necessary paperwork and handed it to me. I gave him my debit card and after I signed on the appropriate line, it was time for me to take Rover home. It dawned on me as I quickly scanned the shelter's adoption papers that I had absolutely nothing at the house for a dog. Not a leash, nor dog food, a carrier, or anything else. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't even sure what all I'd need. But I was fairly confident that the local pet store would be more than happy to fill in the blanks.

"Can I leave Rover here for an hour or two?" I asked as I checked my watch. I a.s.sumed I had plenty of time to run to the store and back to the shelter.

Neal's eyes widened momentarily with surprise. "I thought you were eager to take Rover with you."

"I am, but I need to run to the store. I don't have a leash or anything else."

"Well, sure. I'll put him back in the pen until you return. Just a reminder-we close at four on Sat.u.r.days."

"Oh, I'll be back long before then," I promised. I intended to head to the pet store, get what I needed, and then return right away for Rover.

As soon as I turned to leave, Rover, who was inside a carrier, released a long, low howl that startled me. "It's all right, fellow, I'll be back," I said with as much rea.s.surance as I could muster.

"I've never heard him make that sound before," Neal said, looking somewhat taken aback.

I started to leave a second time and again Rover howled as though in terrible pain. He didn't stop with one low howl this time, but continued with the pitiful, mournful cry that sounded as if he were in the throes of pain and terrible grief.

Several people who were sitting in the waiting area glanced up. The manager, who'd been working with another couple, turned to Neal.

"What's wrong?" she asked, clearly concerned.

Neal did his best to explain. "The dog doesn't want her to leave without him."

"Rover's been adopted?" She looked surprised but pleased.

"Yes ..."

"Then she should take him."

"Yes," Neal agreed.

I wasn't sure what to do.