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Love Found in Cranberry Cove

By June Foster

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Chapter One


Blake Sloan wrinkled his nose. The odor of pine antiseptic and bleach reminded him of his whereabouts—the cardiac unit of Seattle General Hospital. The call from Dad earlier this morning still rang in his ears—Grandpa was hospitalized again. The second time in two years was too much. He gripped his fingers into tight balls. No, one heart attack in a lifetime was too much.
The corridors were quiet, and he heard only the click of his shoes as he veered to the left. At the end, he pulled in a deep breath. In what condition would he find Grandpa?
Propped up in bed, the older man lay against the pillows, eyes closed. Instead of his usual tan, a pasty white colored his skin, and tubes ran to his nostrils.
Blake whispered, his heart pounding with each syllable. "Grandpa, are you okay?" Was he conscience?
Jonas Sloan's eyes fluttered open and a slight smile emerged. "Blake, my boy." He held out his hand. "I'm glad you're here."
Blake stepped closer to the bed, gripped the wrinkled hand, and swallowed the regret that threatened to wobble his voice. "How'd you wind up here again?" He faked a chuckle.
"Oh, you know doctors these days. I had a little chest pain, and my cardiologist told me to check into the hospital."
"Dad said you'd had a heart attack." A condition that could lead to death. Blake's stomach churned.
"Just a little pressure in my chest. Doc wanted me to stay a few days—as a precaution." Grandpa squeezed Blake's hand. "Don't worry, son. I'm fine. The good Lord isn't calling me home yet."
Movement sounded behind Blake, and he turned to see his father at the door. "Hello, Dad."
Dad patted Blake's shoulder and peered at Grandpa. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine. I'm fine." Grandpa brushed his hand through the air.
Dad checked his watch and then neared Grandpa's bed. "The rest will do you good."
Grandpa sat up higher against the pillow. "Gerald, I'd like to see you slow down, also. Your mind is always on those ships."
"You ran this company for years." Dad firmed his lips. "You ought to know the responsibilities."
"That's exactly why I say don't push yourself as hard as you do. Do you want to end up in a hospital like me?" Grandpa wrinkled his brow.
Blake's sentiments exactly, but he couldn't tell his father. For months, Blake had driven himself at a pace equivalent to Dad's. The fleet of ships and Dad's company occupied his mind twenty-four seven. Was that really what he wanted for his life?
Dad thrust his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Did I tell you we're adding a fourth vessel to our fleet? I have an appointment with the finance man in an hour."
Blake bristled. Had Dad forgot about encouraging Grandpa who lay in a hospital bed?
"On Saturday?" Grandpa glowered. "Have you signed the final papers? I'd strongly advise against the move. At least for now."
"There've been changes since you ran the company." Dad raised his voice. "We're expanding as well as increasing the number of clients we service. Face it, we can't slow down progress."
Blake gritted his teeth. He hated the times when Dad dismissed his Grandpa's opinions.
Grandpa pounded his palm with his fist. "Gerald, I know I'm not involved with operations now but… " He coughed and gripped his chest.
A nurse rushed into room and glared at Dad. "Excuse me, but Mr. Sloan needs to rest."
Dad ran his hand through his hair and muttered something that sounded like sorry. He headed out the door.
Blake held his palms up and hoped she recognized his pleading tone, how much it meant to him to say good-bye. "I only need a few more minutes with my grandfather."
She eyed him and stepped to the door. "All right. But please keep your voice down."
"Sure." Blake clasped his grandpa's shoulder. "I'm sorry about Dad. He frustrates me sometimes." Blake gazed into his grandfather's kind eyes. "I stayed behind to tell you I love you."
"I love you, too, Blake." Grandpa grasped Blake's arm. "Let this old man give you some guidance. You won't be happy unless you're doing what the Lord above has planned for you. Does your job fulfill you?"
"Why do you ask?" Did Grandpa sense what was in Blake's heart?
"Call it a hunch." He chuckled.
Blake's throat clogged. Grandpa knew him so well. "I'm beginning to realize when I went to work for Dad after college instead of doing a tour of duty in the military, I was following Dad's dream, not my own."
Grandpa patted his hand. "Seek God and see where He leads you."
Talk to God? I doubt that. "I promise I will." He leaned down and kissed Grandpa's wrinkled forehead.
"Look, Blake. I'm fine and will be out of the hospital in a day or two. I want you to pursue your dreams—those things God's put on your heart."
Out on the sidewalk in front of the hospital, Blake pulled out his cell phone and punched the number he needed, only to get his voice mail. "Dad, this is Blake. I'm taking some time off. I need to get away—time to think."
Blake drove to his apartment and packed a bag. He took I-5 south. The road would decide his destination.

*****

Monday morning, Gracie Mayberry's bike tires crunched on the gravel when she rolled up to her usual parking place at The Inn at Cranberry Cove. She hopped off and set the kickstand, shivering from the steady mist that had fallen her entire ride. The entrance to the kitchen was around the corner. The aroma of rich coffee and cinnamon rolls tempted her appetite—exactly what she needed right now. She shook the droplets off her raincoat and marched in. "Hey, Mom. Got any leftovers?"
Mom's auburn curls bounced as she pressed the button on the dishwasher and smiled. "Hey, honey. Saved you some."
"I bet James and Ashton appreciate you. You've been a lifesaver—especially since Ashton's doctor ordered her to remain on bedrest."
"She could give birth any day now." Mom swiped the spotless counter one more time. "They're grateful for you, too. James said he wasn't sure what they would've done if you hadn't taken a leave of absence from Starbucks and come to help at the inn. Your willingness to clean rooms is a godsend."
"I want to help out." To merely set foot in the beautiful old inn thrilled her. Gracie stared out the gray shuttered window to the back deck that extended along the length the house. The B and B was Ashton's dream, and though Gracie enjoyed her work, her goal still loomed in the future—to attend Oceanview Community and study marine biology. After Mom and Dad no longer needed her help and as soon as she saved up enough money, she could pursue her degree.
Mom gave Gracie a hug. "Are you okay?"
"Of course. I was just thinking about you and Dad. I'm blessed to have you as my family." Gracie followed Mom into the dining room.
Mom opened the china cabinet and set out the hand-painted salad bowls and dinner plates in preparation for the evening meal. "Honey, I know you want to enroll in college. You will one day soon—as soon as Dad…" Mom shook her head and clamped her mouth shut.
Gracie gave Mom a weak smile and picked up the pile of dinner plates. "It's understandable with him in his wheelchair and all." No need to remind her mother that Dad never tried to get out of the chair or go anywhere much less take a job.
Mom returned to the kitchen and set the bowls on the counter. "Your father was such a handsome man when I married him." She laughed. "You should've seen him in his army uniform. Good looking and strong. He used to carry me in his arms as if I didn't weigh an ounce. Then the Afghanistan War changed all that."
Gracie set the plates next to the bowls. "Don't dwell on the past. Dad's still with us, and that's all that matters."
"You're right." Mom brushed a tear from her cheek. "Speaking of work, Ashton asked us to pay close attention to her jade plants in the dining room. She wants us to fertilize them. I think there's some extra fertilizer spikes in the tool shed."
"I'll get right on it."
"After that, two of the upstairs guest rooms need cleaning." As if she'd never shed a tear only moments earlier, Mom smiled. "Ashton said she wouldn't know what to do without you."
Gracie grinned, hoping not to show her disappointment that her schooling would be delayed. She stepped out onto the deck and then gave herself a mental kick. If she were in Ashton's shoes, she'd want someone's help. The Savior said He came into the world to serve and not to be served. Couldn't she do the same?
She sniffed the scent of the early spring rain and pulled an umbrella from the vase stand, holding the waterproof nylon panels over her head against the moisture.
She shivered as she slogged on the grassy slope beyond the deck to the tool shed. She'd be glad when summer showed up. Anxious to get out of the cold sooner, she picked up her pace. Her heel slid and both feet slipped beneath her. With a plop, she fell into a rain puddle, backside first, jeans and shoes absorbing water like a paper towel.
"Oh, great." She tried to hold the umbrella with one hand and push up with the other. Thankfully, no one was near enough to witness her graceless plunge.
"Here, let me help you." A man reached toward her with his large, masculine hand.

*****

Blake restrained the chuckle that threatened. He couldn't make fun of the lovely lady who'd just taken a dive onto the slippery grass. "Are you okay?"
Red stained her cheeks as she accepted his hand. "I, er, yeah, I'm fine." She stomped her feet and brushed off her jacket.
"You had quite a tumble." He tried to disguise his amusement.
"I slipped on the grass." She swatted at her jeans, no doubt trying to brush off the accumulated mud.
Blake reached for the umbrella and held the protection over her. "Where were you headed?"
"To the tool shed. I came to get some fertilizer spikes from the storeroom, but that can wait. I better change clothes." At the deck, she climbed the stairs.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Nothing broken." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Gracie Mayberry. You must be a guest. I hope you have a nice stay."
"Thanks. I'm Blake Sloan."
 

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