Both women were up and about. Rolling onto his side, Josh glanced at the bedside clock and was shocked to see that it was past eight. He needed to get back to Richard's house. He was concerned about his stepfather.

Before Mich.e.l.le had left the older man's house the night before, Richard had fallen into a fitful sleep. His breathing had gotten shallow. More than once Josh had been convinced he should call 911. He would have done it, but he knew it would only upset Richard. The old man was determined to die in his own home on his own terms. He was alone in the world and that was the way he wanted to leave it.

Josh didn't know when he'd become so concerned about his stepfather's wishes. He should hate the old man, but oddly he found that he didn't. If anything, he pitied him.

With some difficulty, he'd managed to convince Mich.e.l.le to go home and sleep. They'd planned to meet again this morning at nine.

He, however, had been determined to stay the night at the house. If Richard knew, he would hate the idea. Part of Josh wanted Richard to hate him; he was accustomed to his stepfather's intense dislike. In fact, he was comfortable with it and as painful and demoralizing as it was to admit, he found a certain satisfaction in seeing Richard weak and nearly helpless.

He'd intended to stay the night in part to help Richard and in part to irritate him.

Josh thought he'd sleep on the sofa. Only he got worried and ended up pulling a chair into the old man's bedroom and sitting by his bedside. He wanted to be close in case Richard needed him, even though he knew his stepfather would prefer to die than to accept Josh's help. They both knew it.

It'd worked out fine, him being in the bedroom. Josh found himself listening to the old man's breathing, which at times was steady and even, and at times shallow and weak as if his heart had decided to pause for a beat or two.

Josh fell asleep sitting in the chair.

The older man had woken him up sometime later, growling and cantankerous. "What are you doing here?" he'd demanded, eyes narrowed.

"Just checking on you," Josh had a.s.sured him.

"Get out. I don't want you here."

"No doubt."

"I mean it."

"Don't worry, I'm leaving. No need to get upset. You want me gone, then I'm out of here."

"Where's Mich.e.l.le?"

Josh noticed that Richard didn't push himself up on one elbow the way he had earlier. Whether it was because he was too weak or because he was too tired to put much effort into it, Josh didn't know.

"Mich.e.l.le went home a long time ago."

His frown deepened. "Why didn't you leave at the same time?"

Josh grinned, knowing his answer wouldn't please the older man. "I figured you'd like the company."

"You figured wrong. Now get out of here."

Josh stood and dragged the chair into the other room. He left the door open, thinking he might be able to hear Richard from the living room if he was needed.

After a few minutes he'd settled on the sofa and was almost asleep when he heard his stepfather softly murmur his name. In a flash Josh was on his feet. He scrambled so fast that he nearly tripped in his eagerness to get to Richard's bedroom.

Richard was sitting up and from the glower on his face, he wasn't happy.

"You okay?" Josh asked.

"d.a.m.n straight I am."

Josh's own heart raced at double time.

"I told you to get," Richard reminded him.

"I did."

"Get out of the house, understand? I don't want you here."

"Fine, whatever. I'll leave."

"Don't come back, either."

Now that was a request Josh couldn't honor. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'll be back in the morning."

"You come back and I'll kick you out myself," Richard threatened.

Josh resisted the urge to laugh. His stepfather might have been able to use physical force against him when he was in high school. Now, however, Richard didn't have a prayer. Not even a sliver of a prayer.

"You heard me."

"You can try," Josh told him.

"Now get."

Josh reached for his coat, slipping his arms into the sleeves. "Go back to sleep; I'm leaving."

"Good."

Josh noticed the water gla.s.s at Richard's bedside was empty. He walked over to retrieve it and stepped back when the older man cowered reflexively.

"Richard," he whispered, shocked by his stepfather's reaction. "Did you expect me to hit you?"

His stepfather didn't answer. He turned his head away and closed his eyes.

Picking up the empty water gla.s.s, Josh carried it into the kitchen, filled it, added ice, and then returned it to the bedroom. He lingered for an extra moment and then obeyed Richard's wishes and returned to Rose Harbor Inn.

Now it was morning.

Tossing aside the covers, Josh climbed out of bed and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. While the spray hit his body he mulled over the events of the previous day, specifically the unexpected twist of emotions he was feeling for Mich.e.l.le.

He'd never intended to kiss her. A little more than twenty-four hours ago he hadn't considered her anything more than the girl who lived next door. Oh, he knew she'd had a huge crush on Dylan, but as Richard had so gleefully pointed out, all the girls had been crazy for Dylan.

Kissing Mich.e.l.le, wanting her close, finding comfort in her, had come as a shock to him. And yet it'd felt right. And good. She'd fit perfectly in his arms and he wasn't referring just to the physical aspect of holding her.

Stepping out of the shower, Josh quickly dressed, combed his hair, and headed down the stairs, still mulling about Mich.e.l.le and where these feelings might take them. Nowhere, he decided. Traveling as much as he did, from one job site to another, didn't leave room for relationships. His thoughts and his steps were heavy as he came down the staircase, wishing things could be different, and knowing they never would be.

Abby was sitting at the dining room table and glanced up when he entered the room.

"Good morning," she greeted.

Apparently she was in a much better mood than she'd been the morning before-for that matter so was he.

"Morning," he answered, returning her smile.

"Coffee?" Jo Marie asked as she stepped into the room, a gla.s.s coffeepot in one hand and a pitcher of orange juice in the other.

"Yes to both."

She deftly filled his mug with coffee and the gla.s.s with orange juice.

"I have French toast and scrambled eggs this morning," she told him.

"And sweet rolls fresh from the bakery," Abby added. "I made a pig of myself and tasted a little of everything."

"Just coffee and juice for now." In the back of his head he could remember his mother insisting that he eat something on his way out the door to school. She'd been a real stickler about that.

"Maybe the eggs, too," he said, surprising himself. His mother would be proud. Although most mornings, Josh escaped to the bus stop with little more than a slice of toast or a piece of fruit, she'd tried to get him to eat protein when she could.

Within a matter of minutes Jo Marie returned with a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs. Josh intended to take a couple of bites and make his excuses. He surprised himself by eating everything on the plate. It must be something in the air.

"I'm off," he said, standing. He started to carry his plate into the kitchen, which was something else his mother had taught him.

Jo Marie stopped him. "I'll take care of that."

He set the plate down and was on his way out of the dining room when he realized that he should wish both women a good day. "I don't know what time I'll be back this evening."

"Then I shouldn't plan on you for dinner, right?" Jo Marie asked.

"Right." If he did finish before then, he'd eat elsewhere. "Have a good day you two."

"I will," Abby returned with a determination that caused him to turn his attention to her.

"Good." He stuffed his arms into his coat, grabbed his scarf, and left the house, bouncing down the steps. Anyone seeing him, he realized, would think he was eager to get to where he was going. Quite the opposite was true.

He was eager, but not to see Richard. The person who lingered in his mind was Mich.e.l.le. Again the memory of their kisses returned to plague him.

They hadn't talked about what had happened between them. Really, what was there to say? Because of everything that was going on with Richard, Josh was already dealing with a number of different emotions. He couldn't see any reason to further confuse what was already an overly complicated situation.

On the drive over to the house he made a firm decision to say nothing to Mich.e.l.le regarding those kisses. Hopefully she'd dismiss them as part of the craziness of the day and that would be the end of it.

But was ignoring the growing attraction between them what he wanted? Josh couldn't answer that. He was drawn to her; to her commonsense approach to Richard, her emotional maturity, and her gentle ways.

He parked the rental car in front of the house and saw that Mich.e.l.le had already arrived. He walked up to the porch, knocked once lightly, and then let himself inside.

Mich.e.l.le walked out from the kitchen to meet him. She answered his question even before he had the chance to ask.

"He's still sleeping."

"You're sure he's sleeping?" His fear was that Richard would have had the audacity to die during the night, laying a heap of guilt at Josh's feet for having lost his cool and walking out.

"I thought you said you'd be here this morning," she said.

"Richard woke up last night and kicked me out."

"I was afraid that might happen," she said, shaking her head as though she was disgruntled with herself. "I should have stayed with you."

"Richard wouldn't have liked that either. He told me not to come back."

A soft smile brightened her eyes. "I see you don't take orders well."

"Not from him," he agreed. "I haven't given up hope of finding my mother's Bible and her cameo and a few other things I'd like to have that were hers before she married Richard; photos and such."

"Where do you intend to look?" she asked.

Unfortunately the only place Josh could think to check was the master bedroom. "I still think they must be in there." He motioned with his head toward the room.

Mich.e.l.le groaned. "Richard will have a conniption."

"Tell me about it." Josh dreaded another confrontation with his stepfather.

"I'll ask about your mother's Bible this morning," Mich.e.l.le promised.

"Thank you." He desperately hoped Richard hadn't purposely destroyed the photos and other memorabilia from his childhood. He reasoned that many of the things he wanted must have been stored after his mother's death. He was convinced Richard had kept them somewhere close by, and the most logical place was the master bedroom.

Richard wouldn't have ruined anything that belonged to her because it would have been precious to him. Even the things that also happened to mean something to Josh would be worth keeping intact. At any rate, that was Josh's hope.

The problem was convincing Richard to tell him where these things were. Josh was fast running out of time to search. A text message had come that morning that his new job was about to start, asking when he would be available.

"What are you thinking?" Mich.e.l.le asked.

He shook himself from his reverie. "Sorry, I was trying to figure out the best way to handle this. I can't stay much longer."

"What do you mean?"

"My new job is starting. I'll need to head out in a couple of days at the latest."

"That soon?"

He nodded.

"Where?"

"Montana." He explained that the project involved building a strip mall in Billings.

He saw the disappointment in her eyes.

"I could never live here again," he said softly, hoping she understood.