“Once I’m up on my feet again I’ll make the rose garden a top priority,” I promised her.
“I’d appreciate that,” she said. “You’ll build me a gazebo, too?”
“Anything the lady wishes.”
She smiled. “I don’t know what’s in those pain pills, but whatever it is, keep taking them. I like this new, improved, congenial Mark much better.”
“It won’t last.”
“I know. I’ll relish it while I can.” She stood and went to the buffet table, reached for a plate and loaded it with sandwiches, then filled another plate with cookies. I noticed several varieties. I’d divvy them up, allowing myself only a few each day. But then I was honest enough to admit I had little self-control when it came to Jo Marie’s home-baked cookies. And Jo Marie, too.
Although I was more than happy to call a taxi for the ride home, she insisted on driving me. Rover came with us and rushed into the house as soon as I opened the front door. Jo Marie carried in the plates of food and dealt with them while I awkwardly made my way to my recliner.
“Do you need anything before I leave?” she asked.
I wanted to ask her to sit with me for a while. It was a selfish request. I knew Jo Marie was exhausted and she needed to get back to the inn.
“No, but thanks,” I told her. “Another time, okay?”
“You got it.”
Rover went to the door and then turned his head back as if to check on me. Jo Marie was already to the car and called for him. For half a second I thought he was going to refuse, but then he trotted down the steps and was gone, leaving the door partially open.
Jo Marie returned to close it. “Call me, okay?”
I nodded, surprised at how good my mood was. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
Three hours later, I reached for my cell and sent her a text.
I’m bored.
She must have had her cell close, because she texted right back: Read a book.
I’d rather you came and held my hand.
Very funny.
Actually, I was serious. I’d hoped she’d come and visit—the sooner, the better.
Just remember to stay off that leg. You’ve done enough today, don’t aggravate it.
Yes, Mother Rose.
Do you need me to bring you dinner?
Now, that was tempting, but she’d already filled my refrigerator with sandwiches.
Naw.
Sleep well and I’ll stop by in the morning.
I stared at the text for a long time, smiling. And then it hit me like a bullet between the eyes. I was a goner. I’d fallen for Jo Marie. My head and my heart were completely wrapped around her. All this time I’d been kidding myself, thinking we were nothing more than friends.
I was in love when I swore I would never let that happen. I’d fallen for her, and who could blame me? She was funny, smart, beautiful, and just about everything a man could hope to find in a woman.
Now all I needed to do was figure out what I was going to do about it.
BALLANTINE BOOKS FROM DEBBIE MACOMBER
Rose Harbor Inn
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 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
Faceboook.com/debbiemacomberworld
@debbiemacomber
Pinterest.com/macomberbooks
Set in Cedar Cove’s charming Rose Harbor Inn,
Debbie Macomber’s captivating new novel
follows innkeeper Jo Marie and two new guests as they seek healing and comfort,
revealing that every cloud has a silver lining, even when it seems difficult to find.
Silver Linings
Coming soon from Ballantine Books
Read on for a special preview!
Chapter 4
I stood for a long time staring at the Realtor’s FOR SALE sign in front of Mark’s house. It shouldn’t have been this much of a surprise. Mark hadn’t misled me. He was doing exactly what he’d said he intended to do. He was moving away. And yet I was shocked.
I don’t know how long I stood in front of the house as a gnawing sensation attacked my gut. Like the liquid in a cauldron, it churned and brewed and swelled, and then all at once I was so angry I could barely contain myself. And at the same time I was unbearably sad. A profound sense of loss settled over me, that familiar pain I experienced in the first weeks after I’d gotten word that Paul was missing in action and presumed dead.
Rover sat on his haunches watching me as if he expected some sort of response on my end. I had none to give. The Realtor’s sign blurred before my eyes.
It went without saying that any further attempt to talk Mark out of leaving would be pointless. I’d already tried that, but my words appeared to have no impact on him. It was as if he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Well, so be it.
The return trip to the inn was taken at a much slower pace than when I left, as my head and my heart assimilated what I’d found. As I drew closer to the inn, my thoughts whirled around inside my head. I was saddened and angry in equal measure.
When I walked up the driveway, Rover strained against the leash in his eagerness to get to Mark. I held on tightly, but Rover half dragged me forward even while I struggled to hold him back.
Mark glanced up, but when he saw it was me, he returned to his task at hand, indifferent to me. My intention had been to walk directly past him without a word and get inside the house without a display of emotion.
The silent treatment was what he deserved. If I could pretend I didn’t care, maybe he’d feel the need to explain himself. Okay, admittedly, my thinking was probably skewed, but I was starting to feel desperate and lost. I had to believe there was some logical explanation for Mark’s behavior, something he wasn’t telling or couldn’t tell me.
I wasn’t halfway onto the property when, against all reason, my mouth took over. “You couldn’t wait, could you?” I demanded, so angry that I barely sounded like myself.
Mark paused, turned around, and looked at me. He frowned as if he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. “Wait? For what?”
“To list your house.” My anger was front and center and seemed to throb with every syllable.
“What’s the big deal? I told you I was moving on.”
“You had to rub it in…you couldn’t put it off until you were sure this was what you wanted, could you?” My anger was to the point that I had trouble speaking coherently.
He set aside his paintbrush and turned to face me directly. “There was no reason to wait. The decision to leave has been made, so I listed the house.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“Why should I?” he snapped.
“You’re right,” I shot back, unbelievably hurt. “Why should you? Our…friendship, our relationship, means nothing to you. Why would you want to share anything with me?”
He appeared perplexed by my outburst, which said everything. He hadn’t given my feelings the least bit of consideration. Any hope I’d clung to that he would cha
nge his mind dissolved like ice in boiling water.
He braced one hand against his hip. “I don’t get why you’re so angry.”
I couldn’t explain it myself. I felt the compelling urge to lash out and hurt him in the same way I was hurting. “I should have known I couldn’t depend on you. You’re doing what you’ve always done. You’re running away. So run. Be a coward. If friends, if relationships, if love is more than you can deal with, then good riddance.”
We squared off face-to-face. His face was red with anger and I felt the heat radiate off my own.
Debbie Macomber, Falling for Her (Short Story) (Kindle Single)
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