Page 18 of A Soldier's Return

Melissa managed to make it through the rest of the weekend without obsessing too much about Eli, mainly because she and Skye spent Saturday running errands, then drove to Portland for the day on Sunday. By Sunday night, the prospect of going back to the clinic and spending the day in his company filled her with nerves.

She managed to push it away by baking strawberry shortcake Sunday evening and texting the other tenants of Brambleberry House, inviting them down to share after Skye was in bed.

Both Rosa and Sonia arrived at the same time, moments after her text went out. The three of them sat out in her screened porch, enjoying the evening breeze and the promise of rain.

“This is...delicious,” Sonia said in her slow, halting voice. She gave one of her rare smiles. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What brought on your frenzy of baking?” Rosa asked. “Not that I would be complaining, only curious.”

Melissa couldn’t tell them she had been restless for two days, since leaving Eli at A Slice of Heaven. “We went to the farmers market in Portland yesterday, and the strawberries were so luscious I couldn’t resist buying four quarts of them. I have to do something with all those berries.”

“Shortcake...was a great choice,” Sonia said.

When Melissa offered the invitation, she hadn’t really thought their second-floor neighbor would join them, but every once in a while Sonia did the unexpected.

The woman was such a mystery to her. Melissa had tried to gently probe about what medical conditions she had, but Sonia was apparently an expert at the art of deflecting conversation away from herself.

Why did she keep to herself? What secrets lurked beneath her pretty features? Had she been abused? Was she in hiding?

Melissa didn’t feel darkness in Sonia’s past, only...sadness. She couldn’t explain it rationally, it was just a sense. There was a deep sorrow in Sonia. She wished she could get to the bottom of it.

Sometimes she thought becoming a nurse had heightened her compassion for others, giving her instincts she didn’t fully understand. Her hunches had been proved right too many times for her to question them any longer, though. Now she simply listened to them.

Fiona, who had trotted down from the third floor with Rosa, lifted her head at that moment and seemed to stare off at nothing in the corner, head cocked as if listening to something only she could hear.

A faint hint of roses seemed to stir in the air, subtle and sly, but that might have been her imagination.

She followed the dog’s gaze, then turned back to the other two women. “Do you ever get the feeling we’re not the only ones in this house?” she asked impulsively.

“What do you mean?” Sonia asked, brows furrowed. For one brief instant, she looked so panicked that Melissa regretted bringing it up.

“Just... I sometimes feel like the house is alive with memories of the past.”

“I know what you mean,” Rosa said with her slight Spanish accent. “I never feel like it is malicious or scary.”

“No,” Melissa said. “I find it comforting, actually. Like somebody is watching over the house and those who live here.”

“I don’t believe in guardian angels,” Sonia said flatly. “I wish I did. At times in my life, I could have used...a guardian angel...or two or twenty.”

Her eyes looked haunted, and Melissa wanted to hug her, but she sensed Sonia wouldn’t welcome the gesture.

“My grandmother used to say our family is always watching over you, whether you want them to or not.”

“Don’t you find that a little disturbing?” Melissa asked Rosa.

The other woman laughed and ate more of her strawberry shortcake. “Maybe. My mama’s Tio Juan Carlos was crazy. I don’t want him anywhere watching over me.”

“It’s not your crazy great-uncle. I get the feeling it’s someone kind. Does that make me as crazy as Juan Carlos?”

Rosa smiled. “A little. But I am crazy, too. Maybe Abigail, the woman who lived here all her life and died when she was in her nineties, didn’t want to leave. She’s the one who left the house to my aunt Anna and to Sage Spencer. It could be she’s sticking around to keep an eye on things.”

“I remember Abigail a little from when we first moved to Cannon Beach,” Melissa said. “I like the idea of a sweet older lady keeping watch over the house she loves.”

“I do, too,” Sonia said. “It’s comforting, somehow.”

While they finished their strawberry shortcake, they talked about the house and its history, what little Rosa knew from her aunt anyway. Eventually, the conversation drifted to men.

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