The Inn at Rose Harbor Read Free

whispered, his eyes warm with love. “In time you’ll know joy again.”
    Joy? I wanted to argue with him. It didn’t seem likely or even possible. One doesn’t heal from this kind of pain. I rememberedhow my family and friends had struggled to find the right words to comfort me. But there are no words … there simply are no words.
    And yet I didn’t argue with him. I wanted the dream to last and I feared that if I questioned him he would leave, and I wanted him to stay with me. A peaceful feeling had come to me, and my heart, which had carried this heavy burden, felt just a little lighter.
    “I don’t know that I can live without you,” I told him, and it was true.
    “You can and you will. In fact, you’ll have a long, full life,” Paul insisted. He sounded like the officer he’d been, giving out orders that were not to be questioned.
    “You will feel joy again,” he repeated, “and much of it will come from owning Rose Harbor Inn.”
    I frowned. I knew I was dreaming, but the dream was so vivid I wanted to believe it was real.
    “But …” My mind filled with questions.
    “This inn is my gift to you,” Paul continued. “Don’t doubt, my love. God will show you.” In the next instant he was gone.
    I cried out, begging him to come back, and my own sharp cry woke me. My tears were real, and I could feel moisture on my cheeks and pillowcase.
    For a long time afterward I sat upright in the dark wanting to hold on to the feeling of my husband’s presence. Eventually it faded and almost against my will I fell back asleep.
    The next morning, I climbed out of bed and traipsed barefoot down the polished hardwood floor of the hallway to the small office off the kitchen. Turning on the desk lamp, I flipped through the pages of the reservation book the Frelingers had given me. I reviewed the names of the two guests due to arrive that week.
    Joshua Weaver had made his reservation just the week before I took ownership. The former owners had mentioned it at the time we signed the final papers.
    The second name on the list belonged to Abby Kincaid.
    Two guests.
    Paul had said this inn was his gift to me. I would do my best to make both guests comfortable; perhaps, in giving of myself, I would find the joy Paul had promised. And maybe, given time, it would be possible for me to find my way back to life.

Chapter 2
    Josh Weaver never thought he’d return to Cedar Cove. In the twelve years since his high school graduation he’d been back only once, and that was to attend the funeral of his stepbrother, Dylan. Even then he hadn’t spent the night in town. He’d caught a morning flight, rented a car, showed up at the funeral, and left directly afterward, arriving back in California at the job site the same day. He’d barely spoken to his stepfather.
    For that matter, Richard hadn’t bothered to acknowledge him. It was exactly what Josh had expected. Although Dylan and Josh had been close, his stepfather hadn’t seen fit to ask Josh to be one of his son’s pallbearers. The slight had cut deep. He’d come anyway to pay his respects to his stepbrother.
    Now Josh was back again and not out of any desire to spendtime in Cedar Cove. This town meant nothing to him other than the fact that it contained his mother’s grave site and Dylan’s.
    Born just a year apart, Josh and Dylan had been tight. Dylan had always been a daredevil. Josh had marveled at Dylan’s complete lack of fear ever since they met. Still, it had come as a brutal shock when word reached him that Dylan had been killed in a motorcycle accident. That was five years ago now. Seven years after Richard Lambert had kicked him out of the house and forced Josh to find his own way in the world.
    Now it seemed it was the old man’s turn to meet his Maker. The sole reason Josh was back in town was because the Nelsons, who lived next door to Richard, had contacted him. Michelle Nelson and Dylan had been in the same grade in school, with Josh a year ahead of