Rose Harbor in Bloom by Debbie Macomber
“Stop it, both of you,” Annie insisted.
Both men ignored her, staring each other down.
“A broken nose would likely ruin your looks,” Oliver muttered.
“Do you seriously think you could take me?” Lenny challenged. “Remember, I’ve had judo classes.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot. Well, guess what, lover boy, so have I.”
Lenny blinked.
Annie wasn’t about to idly stand by and let these two men with overactive testosterone make fools of themselves. She grabbed hold of each by the shoulder and attempted to separate them.
“This is crazy,” she shouted. “I told you before, Lenny, it’s over. There’s no going back, so kindly leave. You’re missing sales being here.”
He dropped his arms and stepped back. “My mother …”
“You’ll find someone else she approves of before you know it.”
He sighed, and with a pained look said, “It isn’t going to be that easy.”
“Good-bye, Lenny.”
He nodded, conceding that it was a lost cause. With his head down and his shoulders hunched, he climbed back into the red sports car and started the engine.
Annie faced Oliver. “Have you really had judo lessons?”
“Yes. Do you honestly think I’d lie in the face of such danger?”
Annie wasn’t sure she should believe either man.
“I was eight,” he added.
“Eight?”
“Lenny was bluffing as well. He wouldn’t do anything that would mess up that face, and we both knew it.”
He was probably right. If Lenny had really had judo lessons, he would have bragged about it long before now.
“There’s something else.”
“Oh, and what’s that?”
“My mother likes you, too. She’s been telling me for years I needed to find a nice girl like the Shivers’s oldest granddaughter.”
“You’re making that up.”
“Am not.”
Laughing, Annie opened the car door and climbed into the driver’s seat. Oliver got in beside her.
“We were in the middle of an important discussion, if you remember, before we were so rudely interrupted,” Annie reminded him. “I want you to go on your trip.”
“And give you the time you need.”
“Right.”
He wasn’t happy, but there wasn’t anything he could do to change that.
“You’ll join me in a few months, when you can arrange it?”
She glanced over at him, smiled, and said, “We’ll see, but right now I’d say it’s a distinct possibility.”
Chapter 31
Mary’s heart raced as they pulled into the parking lot of the Bremerton stadium, where the graduation exercises were taking place. George drove around until he found a parking spot close to the entrance so she wouldn’t have far to walk. He turned off the engine, but before he could open his door, Mary stopped him.
He turned toward her, his look expectant.
“George, are we doing the right thing?” she asked, grabbing hold of his arm. It felt as though her heart was about to pound straight out of her chest. In all her life, she’d never been this anxious or nervous about anything. Over the years, Mary had faced many challenges in her career, but nothing, not even meetings with government officials or irate fund managers, had unnerved her this much. She’d sat in stockholder meetings and faced angry boards of directors, and nothing—absolutely nothing—terrified her as much as the realization she was about to see the child she had given up for adoption. The daughter she loved.
“What do you mean?” George asked. “I thought this was what you wanted.”
“It is.”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now.”
Mary didn’t know what to tell him. “I’d barely grown comfortable with just being in the same city as Amanda,” she whispered.
“Are you”—he hesitated as though he couldn’t imagine that it was even possible—“afraid?”
Instinctively, Mary felt she should deny it, but the denial died on her lips. She would never be able to fool George. He would see through her bravado in a heartbeat. “I’m scared to death,” she whispered, hardly able to find her voice. “My heart is racing … and look at me.” She held out her hands so he could see how badly shaken she was.
“My love,” George said, smiling with serene confidence. “She’ll never know her birth parents are in the audience.”
“But I’ll know she’s there,” Mary cried.
“Do you think there’s even the slightest possibility that she would recognize us?”
“No …” Naming her fear was as difficult as admitting it.
“Then what?”
Mary hung her head and fiddled with her hands, clasping and unclasping the opening to her purse. “My biggest fear is not her recognizing me but me being unable to hold back from telling her how proud I am that she’s my child.”
“In a graduating class of six hundred, let me assure you that there is very little chance we will even get close to Amanda.”
While he made perfect sense, his reassurances didn’t help. “Our blood flows through her veins.” She choked up and bit into her lower lip. “This is our daughter.”
“I won’t let anything happen to upset you,” George reassured her in gentle tones, as if he understood far better than she realized. “Amanda is part of us, but she belongs to another family that loves her.”
Mary accepted that she had no claim on Amanda Palmer; still, she felt such a deep hesitation that she remained frozen inside the car.
“Come, now; it’s time.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“You can, and you will,” George insisted. Not waiting for her, he climbed out of the car, came around to her side, and opened the passenger door.
Mary looked up at him, stiff with indecision.
“You haven’t come this far to turn back now.”
He was right, and in her heart Mary knew it. Inhaling deeply, she stepped out of the vehicle. George’s hand was at her elbow, helping her. They were silent as they walked across the parking lot and joined the throng of family and friends entering the building. As they came into the large auditorium, George handed the attendant two tickets. They were then escorted to their assigned seats.
The level of excitement could be felt the moment Mary entered the room. She felt the anticipation of the other guests, mingled with joy and happiness. The noise level was high, which made it almost impossible to be heard. She stayed close to George’s side.
Mary didn’t know how George had managed to acquire tickets. Their seats were in the middle section and allowed them a good view of the stage. As soon as they sat down, George reached for her hand.
Mary was grateful he was with her, and she clung to him. After a while, she wrapped her arm around his elbow and leaned against him, needing his strength and reassurance. This behavior was so unlike her, she could only imagine what George must be thinking. She reached for his hand and held on tight. She doubted she would be able to get through this event without him.
Before long the music sounded and the graduating class entered the auditorium in the formal procession. Mary immediately scanned the faces of teenagers as they marched into the room, seeking out the ones with the markings that indicated they were members of the National Honor Society. As valedictorian, Amanda would be wearing one of those. She didn’t immediately find Amanda, but when she did, Mary’s grip tightened on George in a punishing hold.
He understood immediately. “You see her?”
Mary nodded. “She’s walking into the front row. Third one in on the right.”
The second row moved into place, so all George was likely to see of Amanda now was the back of her head.
Mary hadn’t attended any graduations other than her own, and that had been many years ago. Far too many years to count. The atmosphere was certainly different. Her own graduations from high school and college had been
When the ceremony began, the school principal, Mr. LaCombe, spoke briefly and introduced the class president, who said a few words. Mary barely heard the speaker, a young man who greeted the family and friends who had come to share in this happy occasion. When it came time for the valedictorian’s speech, George placed Mary’s hand over his forearm. It seemed they both held their breath as Amanda walked across the stage.
As the eighteen-year-old stepped up to the lectern, Mary could sense how nervous Amanda was. She unfolded her speech and set it down and then held on to both sides of the lectern as she looked out over the crowd as though searching for a familiar face.
After a moment, she smiled and Mary realized she had found the one who gave her confidence. Mary’s gaze followed Amanda’s, and she saw the woman, who gave her a thumbs-up. Amanda’s mother.
Amanda started her speech by thanking the school principal and her fellow graduates.
Mary leaned forward, listening intently. The teenager spoke of her experiences as a student and of the others with whom she had spent the last twelve years.
This told Mary that Amanda had lived in Cedar Cove nearly all her life. She wondered when and how the family had moved into the area, but the answer was one she would probably never know.
“And now we’re all on the brink of starting a new life,” Amanda continued. “For some of us, that will mean college or trade school. For others, it might mean joining the armed forces. This will likely be the last time the entire senior class will ever be together again.”
From life experience, Mary knew that was true. She’d never returned to her hometown for high school reunions, or for that matter college reunions. All the reunions had come at especially busy times, and she simply hadn’t been able to get away. She would have liked to reconnect with some of her friends, although they were precious few, because she was so desperately needed at home. She could reach out, Mary realized, which was something she’d always meant to do and hadn’t. And now it was probably too late.
When Amanda spoke of her parents, thanking them for their love and support, Mary looked to George and relaxed enough to smile.
“What most of you don’t know,” Amanda continued, “is that I have a second set of parents. My birth parents.”
Mary sucked in her breath and held it. George’s hand tightened around hers to the point of causing her pain.
“They are the ones responsible for giving me life,” she continued. “They chose, for whatever reasons, to put me up for adoption. I was placed in a loving home with a family that nurtured and treasured me. Although I don’t know my birth parents or why they chose not to raise me themselves, I will forever be grateful for being adopted by the Palmers.”
The speech ended with a huge round of applause. Mary dabbed at the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes, hoping she wasn’t being obvious. When she dared to sneak a look at George, she saw that he, too, had tears.
The names of the students were recited one by one, and although the audience was instructed to wait until all the names were read and all the graduation certificates were given out before applauding, few heeded the request. Parents and friends whistled or called out the names of their loved ones almost routinely.
Surprisingly, it didn’t take long to announce the names of all six hundred graduates. The line moved efficiently and effectively. And when the ceremony was over, tradition was followed and the students hurled their caps into the air. The closing music started as the class filed out.
As soon as the last graduate had left the auditorium, family and friends stood to leave. A mad tangle of people made their way to the exits, mingling with students who stood outside the doors waiting to meet their loved ones.
Mary and George moved at a snail’s pace toward the exit. The entire time, George kept Mary protectively close to his side. Once out of the building, it seemed everyone moved in opposite directions. Parents searched for their graduating seniors, and graduating seniors searched for their parents.
“Beth,” someone shouted right next to Mary, practically yelling in her ear, “wait up.”
“Grad party starts at seven,” an adult shouted out the reminder to someone else.
“Excuse me, excuse me.” A student tried to finagle her way past George, and in her rush nearly stumbled. George caught her arm, preventing her from falling.
It was Amanda.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I step on your foot?” she asked George apologetically.
For one horrible moment, Mary thought she would burst into tears.
The three of them stood, facing one another like rocks in the middle of a river with the crowd flowing around and past them.
Mary’s tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t have managed to squeeze out a single syllable had her future depended on it.
“No,” George said, and then quickly added, “That was a wonderful speech.” He glanced toward Mary. “Wasn’t it?”
Mary was too badly shaken to answer the question.
“Thank you.” Amanda beamed at his praise, smiling at them both. “I rewrote it several times. I couldn’t decide which version to use until the last minute. Even my mom didn’t know which one I would choose.”
The spell broke, and Mary smiled. “It was perfect, well thought out; you said what your family and friends most needed to hear.”
“Oh, thank you.” Her eyes left Mary’s and searched the crowd. “Excuse me. I think I see my parents.”
“Of course.” Mary scooted aside just in time to see the Palmer family making its way toward Amanda.
The parents were nearly shoved into Mary and George as people rushed past.
“Hello,” Amanda’s mother said. “Sorry to steal her away, but we have a family party planned.”
“Oh, no, we just wanted to tell her what a wonderful talk she gave.”
“Amanda gave us far too much credit,” Mrs. Palmer continued. “She worked hard for her grades. We’re so very proud of her.”
“As you should be,” George said.
“Do you have a child graduating?” Mrs. Palmer asked.
Mary and George glanced at each other and George smiled. “Yes, we do, and we’re very proud of her, too.”
“Who is it?” Amanda asked.
“Honey, we need to go,” Mr. Palmer said before George could answer. Almost right away, the Palmers left and George carefully steered Mary through the throng and into the parking lot. They found their car and then spent the next forty minutes waiting for their turn to exit.
For the entire length of time, neither spoke. For her part, Mary needed time to absorb what had happened.
She had spoken to her daughter. Face-to-face.
Without even knowing it, Amanda had just met her birth parents.
When George pulled into the turn that would take them to Rose Harbor Inn, he said, “She’s petite, like my mother.”
“And mine.”
“And beautiful, so beautiful, just like her mother.”
He pulled into the parking space at the inn and turned off the engine. Neither moved.
“Thank you,” Mary whispered.
George reached for her hand. “It wasn’t a problem getting the tickets. All I had to do was …”
“I’m not thanking you for that. I’m thanking you for loving me, for being a part of my life, for standing by my side these last few days. I have treasured every minute of our time together.”
“It doesn’t have to end …”
“It does.”
“I want you to stay in Seattle. Move in with me; I’ll make sure you get in to all the right doctors, and—”
“No,” she said sharply, cutting him off. “I can’t, George. My home is in New York.” Mary refused to saddle him with what she would face in the future. Perhap
“So you’re shoving me out of your life again. Is that what you want, Mary? After everything we’ve shared, this is what you honestly want?”
She hesitated and then nodded. “I’m sorry, but yes.”
“So this is good-bye, just like that?”
“Yes,” she whispered brokenly. “This is good-bye.”
“I don’t think so.”
“George, please …”
“Do you love me?” he asked her point-blank.
She looked away. “You know I do.”
“Then tell me why you can’t put me first for once and give me what I have always wanted, and that’s you.”
“George, please.” She hated that he made this so difficult. “I could be dying.”
“Even if you are terminal, are you telling me you’d rather die alone than be with me?”
She didn’t answer him, because she couldn’t. She had cancer, and as much as she loved him and wanted to be with him, she refused to subject him to this ordeal.
They argued a bit more, and she made one small concession. He could drive her to the airport. They set a time to meet.
At the inn now, he helped her out of the car, but she didn’t take his hand. Instead, she got out under her own power, collected her shawl and purse, and then, with her head held high and her heart breaking, walked away without looking back.
Chapter 32
I had been in a mad rush, getting all the sheets changed and the rooms cleaned before the open house. With my mind going in five different directions, it was a wonder I’d managed to do it all, and in record time. Normally, I’d have Hailey’s help, but her graduation from high school was scheduled for this afternoon, and I knew she’d be too busy with visiting relatives. I didn’t feel I could ask her for help.
The cookies I’d baked over the better part of a week were artfully arranged on colorful ceramic plates around a large white vase filled with budding red roses. I set everything out on the dining room table. On the sideboard I’d placed pitchers of iced tea and large urns of both coffee and tea alongside plates and cups and utensils. Stepping back, I surveyed the arrangement and felt a sense of satisfaction. The table looked just as I’d hoped it would, simple and stylish.