Love Letters: A Rose Harbor Novel (9 page)

Again she forced herself to stop focusing her attention on the negative. It seemed her mind automatically lingered on old hurts. This was supposed to be a time to heal and rebuild, not stew over past slights or misunderstandings.

Maggie stepped to the counter and paid for their purchases. Right away she chewed two antacids.

As they exited the small pharmacy, Roy pointed down the street. “That shop looks interesting.”

“It does,” she agreed. This was exactly the kind of antiques store she enjoyed exploring most. The window display was of blue glass from the time of the Depression. No doubt it was priced beyond what she’d be comfortable paying.

“Look at that
Star Wars
lunch box,” Roy said, pointing toward
a second window display. “I had one just like that when I was in school.”

“It’s hard to think of it as an antique, isn’t it?” she teased.

“I’m too young to be considered an antique,” he insisted, shaking his head as if to dispel the thought.

“Way too young,” she agreed, and resisted squeezing his cheek. “You’ve still got a baby face.”

He rewarded her with a smile. “And you don’t look a day over thirty.”

“I’m barely thirty-three,” she reminded him.

“Really? I thought you were still thirty-one.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“So I’ve heard.” As quickly as it came, the humor left his voice and he looked away. Oh, she’d had fun, all right, and turned up missing for nearly twenty hours. Tit for tat.

It appeared her husband held onto old hurts as well. Perhaps it was unavoidable, seeing the hit their marriage had taken. First Roy and then her. These missteps had the potential to destroy them both, if they let them. Neither of them wanted a divorce, if for no other reason than their children. The key was in their ability to learn how to forgive. Try as she might, Maggie wasn’t sure that was possible.

“Let’s go inside,” Roy suggested, and held the door open.

They were both trying, Maggie realized. Trying hard. Perhaps too hard. It was possible that they might never be able to recapture what they’d lost.

Mentally she shook her head, refusing to give in to negative thinking. No, she couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow that to happen. Roy was her husband, the father of her children, and she was determined to fight to keep her marriage intact. They’d both made huge mistakes, but they’d vowed to start again and she wouldn’t allow petty grievances to sabotage their intentions.

The store gave off a musty scent that reminded her of old books. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant. They walked down the aisles and saw
a woman standing at the counter. There didn’t seem to be a lot of customers in the store.

“Feel free to wander around and explore,” the clerk told them. “If you need help, let me know.”

Maggie asked where to find old buttons, and the woman directed her to an area against the back wall. Roy followed, looking a bit bored, his hands in his pockets.

Maggie noticed an overstuffed chair close by. “This might take a while,” she told him. “If you want, you can sit and relax.”

“You don’t need to handle me, Maggie.”

She hadn’t realized that was what she was doing. “I’ll feel rushed if I know you’re bored.”

“Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Okay.” He could be prickly at times, which led her to believe that he, too, continued to struggle with negative thoughts, old wounds, and fresh ones, too. Determined not to allow his mood to alter her own, she sorted through the buttons, searching out the ones that caught her attention.

Roy looked around a bit and then sat down in the chair and reached for his phone.

Maggie went completely still. If he was sending Katherine a text, she swore she’d walk out this door and not look back.

Roy must have read her thoughts, because he looked up and caught her eye. “I’m checking emails to make sure everything is running smoothly on the job site.”

Rather than respond verbally for fear her voice would tremble, she nodded.

Ten minutes later, he was still responding to emails.

For once, just once, she wished Roy could leave work behind.

Roy stood. “I need to make a call.”

“Now?” she asked without censure. “We’re taking a weekend break, remember?”

“Maybe you are, but I need to see to this.”

“Roy, you promised.”

“Maggie, listen, I’m sorry, but the electrical foreman’s run into a problem and the entire job site is about to be shut down. Time is money, and we can’t afford to let that happen, not when it’s wi
t
hin my power to prevent it.”

“I …” He had a valid point.

“I know you’re disappointed, but this won’t take more than a few minutes, I promise.”

“Okay.”

He pushed a button on his cell and then swore under his breath. “I can’t get good reception in here.”

The clerk, who’d apparently overheard their conversation, called out, “If you step out and face the marina, you shouldn’t have a problem.”

“Thanks.”

Maggie was upset. She didn’t want to be unreasonable or difficult over this. They’d had more time together in the last twenty-four hours than they’d enjoyed all year. That alone said it all.

It used to be they made love three or four times a week. It’d dwindled down to once every other week, if that. Maggie didn’t want to complain, didn’t want to nag her husband. To be fair, she was equally neglectful when it came to the physical aspect of their marriage. The problem, she surmised, was their inability to get in sync with each other. When she was willing and ready, Roy was home late or overly tired. It was the same with her. Her husband would let her know what he wanted and she’d beg off. Neither one of them put up much of a fuss, all too willing to accept the other’s weak excuses, which said a great deal, she supposed, sadly.

After a few minutes, when Roy didn’t return, Maggie paid for her purchases and left the store. She saw her husband pacing the sidewalk alongside the marina, intent in conversation. He didn’t seem to notice her approach.

Didn’t seem to notice her at all.

No, she wouldn’t go there, feeling sorry for herself, making up excuses for what happened, for her own role in the mess they’d
made of their lives together. She had to think positively, look forward rather than dwell on all that had gone wrong. The past could bury them. They had to look ahead, not behind.

Roy saw her and waved. As she approached, she heard him speaking to the project manager. He ended the call and placed the phone back in his pocket. “It looks like that problem is squared away.”

“Good.”

“Did you find some buttons you wanted?”

“I did.” She held up the small bag.

“Is it going to set me back a house payment?” he teased.

“It is if we’re paying ten dollars a month for the mortgage.”

He grinned and looped his arm around her shoulders, bringing her close to his side.

“I was just thinking we might want to take the boys to Disneyland,” she said casually.

Roy mulled over the suggestion for a couple minutes. “Aren’t the boys a little young yet for Disneyland?”

“Perhaps, but it will give us something to look forward to as a family.”

She tacked on this last part so he’d understand she was looking to the future, their future as a couple. “If we get it on the schedule early, it’ll be easier for you to get away.” She bit her lip to keep from mentioning that the boys needed time with their parents. It was vital that their children know their parents loved each other. Roy was good about giving them attention at night, but they rarely were together as a family.

“Disneyland,” he repeated slowly, as though considering the idea. “We could plan the trip around Christmas.”

“Great.” She was enthused now, and Roy seemed to be, too. “I’ll get online and see what I can find.”

“Yes, do.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. It was the first romantic gesture he’d made toward her in longer than she wanted to remember.

Maggie scanned the waterfront and the marina. Everything looked inviting. What a charming community. All at once her stomach heaved and a wave of nausea hit her, taking her by surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Roy sensed right away something wasn’t right.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, and clenched her stomach. “All of a sudden I’m feeling sick.”

“Do you think it was the fish and chips?”

Maggie didn’t know. “Everything tasted so fresh and good. You’re feeling okay, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Fine. My goodness, Maggie, you’ve gone pale.”

“We both ate the same thing, so I doubt this has anything to do with lunch.” Her stomach heaved again then, and she clenched it tighter.

“Should we go back to the inn?” Roy asked.

Maggie nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

Keeping her close to his side, Roy led the way up the hill to the inn. Maggie had hoped that the walk and fresh air would help, but they didn’t. If anything, she felt worse. By the time they arrived back, her face had broken out into a sweat and her hands felt clammy.

Rover barked just once when they walked in the front door, and Jo Marie came around the corner from the kitchen.

“Maggie isn’t feeling well,” Roy explained.

“Is there anything I can do?” Jo Marie asked.

Maggie shook her head. “No.” At the moment, it was imperative that she get upstairs, and quickly. Reading the look in her eyes, Roy raced up the stairs and unlocked their room. Maggie made it into the bathroom in the nick of time, losing her lunch with violent heaves.

Roy stood just outside the bathroom door, and when she’d finished he handed her a wet washcloth. She wiped her mouth clean, and he gently led her to the bed.

“Oh Roy, I just can’t have the flu. I just can’t.”

“Honey, don’t worry.”

She lay down on the bed and he covered her with a knitted afghan
from the foot of the mattress and then leaned over her and tenderly kissed her brow. “Close your eyes and rest, and you’ll feel better when you wake.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked, feeling wretched that this would happen now. Oh why now? Why, why, why?

“I got a book to read, remember? I’ll sit on the chair here and delve into a good story.”

All of a sudden it was all Maggie could do to keep her eyes open. “Okay,” she whispered.

She heard a gentle knock against the door. Roy answered, and it was Jo Marie.

“Everything’s fine. Maggie’s going to rest,” she heard Roy whisper.

This was Roy, her husband, the father of her children, the man she loved with all her heart. Her eyes drifted closed and she remembered the first day she saw him walk across campus. They were college students, both young and eager to make their mark on the world, full of ideas and idealism.

So much had changed … so much.

I felt terrible for Maggie Porter. She’d looked deathly pale when she’d arrived back at the inn. From the frantic way she raced up the stairs, I knew she was about to be sick. I’d hoped there was something that I could do. I’d suggested that I bring up a pot of weak tea, but Roy told me it wasn’t necessary. Maggie appeared to be resting comfortably now. I knew she’d been looking forward to this weekend getaway with her husband, and I hated the thought of her coming down with the flu.

Currently, all was quiet upstairs. Ellie Reynolds was busy dressing for her first date with Tom. And I suspected that Roy had either joined his wife for a nap or found some other way to occupy himself.

The Porters were an attractive couple. My first impression of the two led me to believe there was trouble brewing in the relationship,
but I’d since changed my mind. They seemed to have settled whatever was wrong. It’d probably been a small misunderstanding that had escalated but had since been resolved.

With everything under control, I sat down in my small office off the kitchen. A pile of papers cluttered my desk and needed filing. I kept paper backups, although everything I needed was on my computer. Once I dealt with the clutter on my desk, I worked on completing tax forms the state required from business owners each quarter.

When I finished I leaned back in my chair and sighed. My meeting with Peggy that morning had been a disappointment. I’d hoped that between her and Bob I’d be able to learn more about Mark.

It irritated me that he remained so tight-lipped. I thought we were friends, and friends should be open and honest with each other. Right? Well, not Mark. Oh no. The details of his life were like gold bars stored inside a bank vault.

I suppose I could bribe him with cookies. “What do you think, Rover? Should I bake Mark a batch of peanut-butter cookies and hold them hostage until he fills in the blanks?”

My faithful companion cocked his head and stared up at me as if to remind me that I’d basically tried that earlier in the day.

“Right,” I mumbled under my breath.

Rover placed his chin back down on his paw but kept his gaze focused on me.

“Well, there’s more than one way to find out what I want to know,” I said aloud, fire stirring my blood. I’d worked in the banking business and there were ways of garnering information.

More determined than ever, I went onto the Internet and Googled Mark Taylor. Within a matter of seconds I had what I wanted … sort of. The Internet listed the information for two hundred and eleven men named Mark Taylor spread all across the country, from Nome, Alaska, to Key West, Florida.