The Inn at Rose Harbor (32 page)

“Angela is gone and as much as I would like to bring her back, I can’t. I’m so sorry I can’t. This trip home has shown me something that I’ve overlooked all these years.” Abby sniffled and reached for her purse to search for a tissue.

Before she could locate one, Mrs. White handed her one from the box that rested on the lamp stand next to her.

“Thank you,” Abby whispered.

“You were about to say something,” Mr. White said, gesturing for her to continue. “Something important.”

After blowing her nose, Abby scrunched up the tissue in her hand. “What I’ve overlooked all these years is that this grieving, this guilt, isn’t what Angela would have wanted for any of us. She was the most generous, happy person I ever knew. I couldn’t be around her and not want to laugh. The minute she walked into a room, the light got brighter. She’d be shocked at what’s happened to me …”

“And me,” Mrs. White added. “I’ve grown into an old woman.”

“A cranky old woman,” Mr. White added, reaching for her hand to show his affection in spite of his comment.

“Michael James White, you will apologize for saying that,” Charlene insisted.

“Well it’s true, and I’ve done the same thing. We let our bitterness nearly destroy us … and our marriage. Abby’s right; Angela was a happy person and she would have wanted us to be happy. She would hate what we’ve become.”

“How am I supposed to live without my daughter?” Charlene cried out as the tears streaked her cheeks. “How am I supposed to forget she died and is forever lost to me?”

“We don’t want to forget Angela,” Mr. White answered. “We had her for nineteen wonderful years. She was our treasure, our joy. We have our memories and until we see her again that will have to carry us. Do you seriously think Angela would want us to destroy our lives because she died?”

“No, she wouldn’t,” Abby answered. “She’d be the first one to tell me to live and to enjoy life. She’d be the first person to reassure me that while it was tragic that she died, it was an accident. She’d be first in line to tell me I can’t accept the blame for a freak accident. I hit ice on the road. Other than the ice, the only one to blame is God Himself, and frankly, I’m unwilling to take on the man upstairs.”

Mr. White stood and walked over to where Abby sat. Automatically she stood, too, and he reached for her hands, holding
them in his own. “If you came to us today to seek absolution then I’m giving it to you, Abby. You’ve punished yourself enough. Be happy, child. Give your parents grandchildren and perhaps … perhaps you’ll consider sharing them with us. I think Angela would be pleased if you did.”

“I think she would be, too,” Abby concurred.

“You mentioned earlier that Angela wanted you to seek us out,” he continued with the question.

Abby nodded.

“She wants us to give you what you need.”

Abby blinked back tears. Mr. White dropped her hands and reached for her to give her a hug.

Abby started to sob and so did he. “God called our daughter home. It isn’t your fault, but if you feel you need our forgiveness then you have it.”

“Thank you,” Abby whispered, mumbling the words as it was impossible to speak clearly.

When Mr. White released her, Angela’s mother wrapped her arms around Abby and buried her head in her shoulder as the two of them wept together.

By the time she left the Whites, Abby had received far more from Angela’s parents than she dared think was possible. They had given her their permission to enjoy life again.

Sitting in the living room with Michelle while Richard slept peacefully, Josh relaxed against the back of the chair. He’d finished sorting through the boxes filled with his mother’s belongings from before her marriage to Richard. What he’d found was a treasure trove of memorabilia from his early childhood.

It went without saying that anger and pure stubbornness had nearly cost him all of this. Michelle had helped him to look beyond his petty grievances against his stepfather, and he suspected that if he hadn’t thanked Richard for relinquishing his mother’s Bible he might never have found out about these hidden boxes.

Looking up, Josh found Michelle sitting on the ottoman, leafing through his baby book. A smile lit up her eyes as she turned the pages, examining each photograph.

“I was adorable, wasn’t I?” he teased. His mother had taken countless pictures of him. It used to embarrass him when he was little.

“You were the cutest boy in the universe,” she confirmed. “I wrote that once on my school binder.”

Josh knew that was probably a slight exaggeration.

Michelle glanced up and seemed to read the doubt in his eyes. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“You loved Dylan.”

“For a time,” she agreed. “Then I got a clue about who the
really
great guy was.”

He chuckled. “You always did know how to flatter me.”

“Not that it ever did me any good,” she muttered, and then as if she’d suddenly remembered something she glanced at her watch. “It’s time for Richard’s medication.”

“I’ll give it to him,” Josh offered, but Michelle was already on her feet.

“Let me. You can talk to him once the painkillers have set in. He gets pretty grumpy when he’s in pain.”

“Don’t we all.” Josh was in a mood to feel generous toward the older man. The sentiment generally didn’t last long. No doubt, within five minutes Richard would start berating him and all that goodwill would swish down the drain.

Michelle disappeared down the hallway to the bathroom where Richard’s medications were kept. He was taking some pretty heavy painkillers, and while the high dosages had concerned Josh, he could understand that the physician’s main priority was keeping Richard comfortable and as pain free as possible in his remaining time. Knowing how stubborn the old man could be, that probably wouldn’t be soon. For the first time since his arrival, Josh was glad of that. He found himself hoping for the opportunity to talk more about his mother and, if possible, Dylan.

Michelle was in and out of the bedroom so fast that Josh leaped
to his feet, certain something had happened. Her eyes quickly met his and she drew in a deep breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“Richard isn’t responding and his breathing is only intermittent.” Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “It’s time, Josh, he’s dying,” she choked out.

The words came at him like a baseball bat in the dark and clobbered him directly in his chest. “Now?” he asked, frozen with shock.

Michelle nodded. “I have the phone number for hospice. They know how to handle this … we should probably call them.” She hurried into the kitchen and reached for the pad on the counter. “Would you mind making the call … please.” Talking was beyond her at the moment.

Josh reached for the card the hospice worker had left and grabbed the telephone receiver from the wall. To his amazement his own hand trembled as he pressed out the numbers and waited for three excruciating long rings before the hospice line responded. After relaying the necessary information, Josh headed for the bedroom.

While he wasn’t exactly the best stepson in the world, he wasn’t going to allow Richard to die alone. He’d been with his mother when she’d taken her last breath, and though it wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat, he needed to thank Richard. He needed to let the old man know he appreciated Richard returning Josh’s belongings to him.

When Josh opened the bedroom door, Richard’s eyes stayed closed. For one frantic moment, Josh feared he was too late and that Richard was already gone. He sat on the edge of the mattress and pressed two fingers against his stepfather’s neck. He felt a pulse, but it was weak and intermittent. Michelle hadn’t exaggerated the situation. Richard was close to death.

By heaven, the old man intended to thwart him once again. Well,
if these were the last words Richard ever heard, then that was fine by Josh. “I found the boxes,” he said. He spoke loudly enough for Michelle to hear him all the way in the living room. He wasn’t sure how much hearing Richard possessed at this point, and he wanted to be sure to get through to him.

No response.

“Thank you,” he said, even louder this time.

Michelle appeared in the doorway. “Josh,” she whispered, “what are you doing?”

“Waking the dead,” he said.

“He can probably hear you. I’ve read that hearing is one of the last functions to leave the body.”

“I found the boxes in the garage,” Josh repeated. “You didn’t have to tell me where they were,” he added, wanting Richard to understand that he was well aware the old man had intended to hide those boxes, “but I’ll be forever grateful that you did.”

“Being able to have his mother’s things means a lot to Josh,” Michelle added, and sat down on the opposite side of the bed. She took Richard’s limp hand and held on to it with both of her own.

Richard’s eyes opened and he looked up, and seemed to be staring at the ceiling. He didn’t appear able to speak, however.

“Thank you,” Josh whispered.

Richard’s eyes moved and focused squarely on Josh. To Josh’s surprise a tenderness rose up inside of him, a sense of impending loss. Part of him wanted to leap off the bed and demand that Richard not die so they could have a relationship. One that wasn’t based on competitive jealousy or one-upmanship.

And now it was too late.

Josh felt like weeping. He pressed his forehead against Richard’s hand as he struggled with regret.

“Josh.” Michelle’s voice stirred him and Josh glanced up.

“Look,” she whispered. “Look at Richard.”

Josh turned his attention to his stepfather’s face and was astonished
to see that a solitary tear was rolling down the older man’s weathered cheek. It was as if he was telling Josh he had his own share of regrets and he, too, was sorry.

Michelle checked Richard’s pulse and then bit into her lower lip before she whispered. “He’s gone.”

“No.” Josh refused to believe it. “No, it can’t be.” Two days ago Richard had been angry enough to demand that Josh vacate his property. He’d nearly screamed in outrage and now he was … gone.

Dead.

The release must have been instantaneous for the old man. One minute he was suffering and fighting the pain and the next he’d walked across the chasm between this world and the next. On the other side Josh’s mother and Dylan waited with outstretched arms, eager and happy to have Richard join them, welcoming him to the afterlife.

Reaching across Richard’s body, Michelle gently squeezed Josh’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” Again Josh shook his head, refusing to acknowledge his stepfather’s death. To his surprise, tears welled in his eyes. Abruptly he turned away, not wanting Michelle to see.

For years there’d been no love lost between Richard and him. The old man had been a real bastard. Still, he was the only remaining link between Josh and his mother. Richard was the man who’d brought happiness back into Teresa’s life, and now he was gone.

Dead.

A sob rose in his chest that he managed to choke off.

He felt the mattress shift as Michelle stood. She came around the foot of the bed and stood before him. Bending down she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Josh hadn’t expected comfort. Hadn’t ever imagined he would need it.

Looping his own arms around Michelle’s waist, he buried his
face in her stomach and silently wept. His shoulders shook and then after a few moments he dropped his arms.

He was embarrassed that Michelle had witnessed his breakdown. He wanted to offer excuses and found he had none to give. Before he could say anything the doorbell chimed.

Michelle left the bedroom to answer the door.

Josh was grateful she was gone. He needed a couple of minutes to compose himself before he was obliged to deal with more mundane matters.

“It happened just a few minutes ago,” Michelle was saying as she led the hospice worker into the bedroom.

Josh stood. This was someone he hadn’t met. “Josh Weaver,” he said and extended his hand to the middle-aged woman in the long black coat. “I’m Richard’s son.” He stopped and immediately corrected himself. “His stepson.”

Michelle came and stood beside him. “I’m a family friend. We were with Richard when he passed.”

“Lois Freeland,” the woman said softly. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m here to help you in any way I can.”

“Thank you,” Josh said.

Lois asked a number of questions, all of which seemed to go over Josh’s head. Thankfully Michelle had her wits about her and she answered on Josh’s behalf. He felt emotionally incapable of dealing with anything more than this tightening ache in his chest.

After a few minutes he excused himself and returned to the living room, sitting in the recliner that had belonged to Richard. He felt close to his stepfather there, knowing how many hours of the day he had spent in this very chair. Josh leaned forward as he tried to make sense of the churning emotions that seemed to be attacking him from every direction.

Watching someone die wasn’t a new experience, and both his mother’s death and Richard’s had been peaceful, expected. This time Josh felt a rush of tremendous loss, of having been cheated,
robbed. He swallowed his anger like a piece of tough meat, struggling to get it down his throat.

Michelle and Lois joined him. They seemed to be talking but none of what they said made sense. Tuning them out was easy to do as the memories rolled like marbles in his mind.

Josh recalled the first time he’d met Richard and Dylan. His mother had been so pleased to introduce him to her “friend.” Teresa had dated before, but none of those relationships had lasted for more than a few weeks. Josh had sensed that Richard was different almost from the first. After spending time with Richard, his mother had seemed almost giddy with happiness.

Some of the men she’d dated made her so angry she’d come home and clean house as a means of venting her displeasure. He smiled at the memory of her on her hands and knees scrubbing out the bottom of the oven, furious over some guy for things she wouldn’t discuss with her son.

After her dates with Richard, she’d come home, put on music, and dance by herself, whirling around the room as if she was on some imaginary ballroom floor.