A Work in Progress

by Nancy Shew Bolton

  Monica laughed and nodded. “There’s a dog, a lamb, and some people, too.”

  Julie placed the puppets back and perched the box on her lap. “Jade will be thrilled. Thank you so much.”

  Wally shook his head. “Nonsense. Thank you for all you do.” Monica nodded.

  Julie’s rising emotions threatened to overtake her. She stood and said in a bright tone, “Well, we should get going now.”

  Mark rose. “Good to catch up with you both again. Hope you feel better, Monica.”

  “Thank you, Mark. You two make a lovely couple.”

  The words “lovely couple” sliced through her insides with a jolt. Oh no. How embarrassing. She couldn’t look at Mark. Why didn’t he say something, explain they were coworkers? He didn’t even laugh or make a joke. All he did was head for the door and open it for her. She wanted to glare at him, but he kept his eyes on Wally and Monica, an uncomfortable smile on his face.

  Julie glanced back at them. “Bye!”

  Their murmured farewells sounded, followed by the door closing, and Mark’s tread behind her. She should run down the street, disappear into the night. Anywhere. Her sense of control evaporated at the thought of getting in his car. His words, Julie, I’d like to—echoed in her brain, while the car ride loomed in front of her, daunting as a walk on a tightrope.

  She didn’t trust herself. She walked past the vehicle and blurted, “I want to walk home, Mark,” and took off in a sprint, box clutched to her stomach. If he said anything, the sound of her feet and her thumping heartbeat in her ears drowned it out.

  * * *

  Mark stood transfixed, staring at her receding form as she scurried away. Her discomfort around him made his gut ache, but puzzled him as well. Sometimes she gazed at him as though she liked him, then she’d recoil or almost ignore him. Now she took off and ran. From him? Was it because of what Monica said about them? It certainly made him nervous to hear the phrase “lovely couple.” As if that could ever describe them.

  He’d gotten up the nerve to ask her some questions about herself, before Wally appeared at the window and halted the plan. Now what? Would she be furious if he followed her? Cold rain sprinkled on his head, with a gust of chilly wind. He squinted down the sidewalk. Whatever bothered her, he wasn’t about to let her slog all the way home in this weather.

  Mark hopped in the car, gunned the engine to life and started down the street. She’d stopped running, but still rambled along at a fast clip. Window down, he shouted, “Julie, get in. You’ll get soaked.”

  She turned her face to him, and shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s only sprinkling.”

  Fueled by another gust, the pace of the rain picked up. Mark matched the car’s progress to hers, while casting about for something to break through her stubbornness. “You’ll get Monica’s knitting all wet. C’mon, get in.”

  Julie glanced down at the box, then at the sky. A sigh heaved her shoulders and she stopped her stride. “Oh, all right.”

  Mark’s foot squeezed the brake. Despite the extreme reluctance in her tone, he flashed a grin at her. “Don’t make it sound like a death sentence. It’s just me.”

  She didn’t meet his gaze and her face remained cloaked in a wooden expression, but at least she slid into the front seat. She kept her face turned to the side window and said, “Thanks.”

  No warmth in her voice. Had he committed some huge error? This was silly. Mom always said if you wanted to know something, ask. He cleared his throat and made his voice light. “Did I do something to bother you?”

  She shook her head and kept her face averted. Well, that didn’t work. “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you? I’m a good listener.”

  Silence stretched in the airspace between them while his anticipation turned to frustration. If he hadn’t done anything wrong, why wouldn’t she speak?

  Her words came out low. “I just feel bad for Wally and Monica.”

  The hurt in her voice signaled she spoke the truth. At first he found it relieving that she wasn’t upset with him, but realized disappointment mixed with the relief. Perhaps he wasn’t important enough to her life to make an impact on any of her feelings.

  Deflated, he added his own thoughts to her words. “It’s hard for me to see how much their lives are changed. But you know something? They seem closer now than they did when I knew them before.”

  A tiny sob caught in her throat. He glanced at her huddled form, bumped the heat up in the car and resisted the urge to pat her shoulder. “Don’t cry, Julie. Really, in spite of everything, I think they’re happy. Didn’t you think so?”

  He pulled up to the curb in front of her house and slid the gear into park. She looked so forlorn, sitting with her head down, sniffling. A strong wish to clasp her to him and comfort her surprised him with its force. She’d probably bolt from the car if he tried it. Before he could stop himself, he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be sad,” he soothed.

  Instead of tensing or shrinking from him, she went completely still under his touch. His breathing slowed while the sensation of time evaporated into a heightened awareness of her. It overtook him and filled the silence. Fascination, heavy as gravity, weighted the air. In limbo, his eyes stayed focused on her, body and breath poised as though at the edge of a cliff.

  * * *

  Her crying halted when his hand touched her. As if by some strange alchemy, his hand seemed to turn her bones to liquid. All her faculties submerged under a river of magnetic pull toward him. Unable to look up yet, unsure of what his eyes would tell, she reached her left hand up to lay across his right one resting on her shoulder.

  His warm fingers laced into hers while their clasped hands dropped down and began an electric dance of connection. Her skin tingled. She drew in a breath, ready to meet his gaze. Their hands reinforced the current between them.

  “Hey, Julie, there you are,” Zach’s loud shout sounded from outside the car. Her eyes squeezed shut.

  Not now. Not now.

  Mark’s hand released hers, taking energy from her as though she were a power cord coming unplugged. She needed to see his eyes. She met their intensity, her breath catching. Behind him, Zach’s smiling face was framed in the car window. Mark closed his eyes a moment before turning his head, and pressing the window button.

  Zach gestured to the others who stood on the sidewalk. “Hey, Jules. We were just coming over to your place to hash out some ideas.” He reached a hand to Mark. “Hi. I’m Zach.”

  Mark shook it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mark. I work with Julie at the steakhouse.”

  “Cool. Maybe you can offer some ideas, too.”

  Julie piped up, “He’s just driving me home, Zach.”

  How she wanted to touch Mark’s hand, only inches from hers. Instead, she reached down to retrieve the box at her feet. “I went to Wally’s to bring them some stuff. Mark was kind and offered to drive me.”

  She couldn’t believe her voice came out so steady. Her insides were jangling. She climbed out and before she closed the door, leaned down and met his eyes again. She managed a quick thanks, while riding out the wave of longing that passed between them.

  Zach, Jade, Mickey and Rick swarmed around her, talking while they made their way into the house. Their bodies blocked her backward glance at his car. Though she joined in to the boisterous conversation, part of her stayed in Mark’s car, silent and suspended in the heavy attraction. Waiting.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Mark finally slept for a time after tedious hours of running memories through his head, confused by all her mixed signals. He woke up remembering the way she twined her hand in his, and how it said she wanted him to touch her. But there were the other times she recoiled from him. Or ran away, like last night. Or completely ignored him, or disdained him.

  He’d never been so puzzled by anyone. Ever. She made him want to pull his hair out. Or grab her. Maybe it was a blessing that Zach showed up when he did and put a stop to things. Who knows what might have happe
ned. And what did Zach mean by sharing ideas? Ideas for what? Well, he couldn’t lay here thinking about it. He needed to get ready for work.

  When he pulled on his coat and started out to the car, his thoughts continued to race, trying to find a decision. He shouldn’t start anything with a person so changeable. Until recently, Julie always seemed steady and predictable. Where had that Julie gone? Now her emotions were all disjointed and impossible to understand. Being around her felt as though he were sliding around in mud, or navigating through quicksand.

  On the way to work, he decided to try and resist the strong pull toward her. He had to. Until he could ask her some questions, and figure her out, moving forward in any way was plain stupid. Asking for trouble. Too bad he couldn’t go back in time to the man he was a month ago, before all this internal upheaval began.

  Questions swirled in a constant pattern inside, as annoying as an unwelcome song that wouldn’t stop playing in his head. If she was attracted to him, then it must be only that, since she didn’t seem to like him as a person. She enjoyed Mickey’s company already. That was obvious. Did she feel attraction for him, too? And Kevin? Could she be one of those people who entertained numerous relationships at a time?

  The thought made him ill. He couldn’t picture her being that way, but it might be true. He’d never imagined her as a trash-picker, either, but she definitely did that all the time, and even managed to talk the boss’s son into joining her.

  He parked in the back lot and hustled toward the steakhouse. Chris stood huddled under the stoop, huffing deep drags from a cigarette, his exhaled smoke mingling with the steam issuing from the exhaust fan above him.

  Mark shook his head. “Why don’t you get one of those electronic cigarettes? Maybe Barlow would let you use it inside and you wouldn’t need to rush in and out and freeze all winter.”

  “Nah.” Chris took another deep drag. “I like real tobacco smoke. I’d miss the way it burns my throat.”

  “That’s what I hated about smoking.”

  One more big pull, and Chris ground the cigarette under his heel. “Then you weren’t a real smoker.”

  Mark laughed and swung the door open. “How proud you must be. You’re a real smoker.”

  “Har. Har. Let’s get busy.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  The warmth, cooking smells, and the rhythm of work soon pulled him in, and cleared some of his confusion. He’d try to find a time to talk with her, keep things on hold until he figured her out.

  Yeah. Smart plan.

  Confidence in his ability to stick to the idea wavered at the first sight of her, but he steeled himself, nodded hello to her, and kept his eyes on his tasks. So what if they strayed now and then, and collided with hers a few times? The jolt when that happened made his focus crash for a moment, but he soldiered on.

  Halfway through dinner service, during a lull, Chris said, “What’s up with you two? You’re not communicating very well tonight.”

  Mark flicked a glance at Julie, surprised when her cheeks turned pink before she looked away.

  He swallowed. “Sorry, Chris. I’ll do better.”

  “Good.” Chris flipped a line of strip steaks. “Feels like I’m alone in here.”

  Julie piped, “Sides will be up in two.”

  Mark added, “Rib eyes for table five will be done resting by then.”

  Tara loaded finished plates on a tray and rushed back out. Chris grinned at Mark. “Your Thai shrimp’s a big hit. Stacey and Tara have gotten a bunch of compliments on it.”

  “Good. Maybe Barlow will let us be a little more creative, now.”

  “Maybe not. The grass-fed thing isn’t going very well. Only three orders the whole week so far.” Chris rubbed salt and pepper onto steaks waiting for the grill.

  Mark scooped caramelized onions into a small steaming pot of potato soup. “Maybe if we came up with a cutting-edge rub for it, we might get more orders. Something new and exotic usually goes over well.”

  “Not as well as a good, marbled steak always does.”

  Mark chuckled. “True.”

  Julie plated side dishes on the counter near him. Seeing her blush affected him more than he wanted, and that powerful awareness of her threatened to hit him again. He forced his attention away from her while they worked in silence. When she moved away, his shoulders relaxed. This wouldn’t do. The challenges of work always energized him, but his attempts to ignore Julie drained him. He needed to speak with her. Tonight.

  * * *

  How Julie missed the sure, capable person she’d always been before. Even in the throes of Kevin-longing, she’d been able to hold herself in, keep herself steady. For the most part. But she’d never shared a moment with him like the one in the car with Mark.

  Even before her almost sleepless night, she realized the attraction between them was not only serious, but mutual. But what did it mean? Would it go away, or did it signal something important? The yearning for Kevin never meant anything but heartache for her, turning into friendship only after long years of prayer. What sort of difficult harvest might come from this attraction?

  Julie stole glances at him during work. His usual banter and teasing was absent, and he only addressed her when necessary. He might be sorry he’d looked at her the way he did, and clasped her hand with such intensity. If what happened made him glad, wouldn’t he be friendlier today? Now it seemed as though he wanted their former distant relationship back.

  Gloom filled her as the evening wore on. What was wrong with her, that relationships with her were somehow doomed? Either she longed for a man who didn’t want her, or became attracted to a person totally unsuited to her, who pulled away even before anything started. Maybe she was meant to be alone, dedicate herself to God, feeding people, and working for a better world. Plenty of wonderful people were satisfied with a life like that.

  So why did the thought plunge her into pain that snatched her breath and threatened to start tears flowing? And all this over someone who she didn’t even want to be attracted to in any way. She searched inside herself, so lost in self-examination the dinner service and cleanup passed in a fog.

  She finished her work and trudged into the cooler to bag up the nightly leftovers and discards. The usual farewells and door closings registered in her tired mind. She heard Mark say good-bye, followed by the door closing. She drew in a deep, weary breath. This situation with Mark couldn’t signal anything good, or she’d be energized, happy, and full of hope. Instead, her bones were achy, her heart heavy, and she still had all her nightly work to do at home.

  Please give me some extra strength tonight. And some help with all this.

  Mark’s voice behind her caused an inner jolt, accompanied by immediate tension. He was still here?

  “Julie, I need to talk to you.”

  His low, serious tone spiked her heart rate. Oh no. Now what? She couldn’t turn around. Eyes squeezed shut, she waited, trying to slow her breathing.

  His feet shuffled. The stillness grew into a yawning abyss. He cleared his throat. “Julie, are you stealing?”

  The question struck her as so ludicrous and unexpected, she almost laughed out loud. Then bewilderment swirled. Her eyes opened, and she turned to face him. His handsomeness was lost on her through the flurry of confusion. “Stealing? Stealing what?”

  He gestured at the shelves, eyes sad. “Food.”

  She gulped and stared at him. “Stealing food?”

  “Yes. Are you?”

  “Of course I’m not.” She straightened and energy surged up her spine. “I only take whatever would be thrown out.” She crossed her arms. “You know that. You’ve ribbed me about it enough times, you and Chris.”

  He took in a deep breath. “Then, are you stealing containers from work?”

  Indignation flushed through her and her face heated. “I most certainly am not. Why would you even think such a thing?”

  He glanced away, jaw tight, his discomfort obvious. “I saw you handing out containers. Th
e same ones we use here for take-out. It was the other night, while you and your friends were dumpster-diving.”

  The way he spoke the last words. So much distaste. A surge of anger filled her. No confusion remained inside now. Only laser-like fury. How many small-minded people had she been forced to deal with in the previous two years? People who turned their noses up at food gleaners, calling them trash-pickers, dumpster divers, bums, all while turning a blind eye to the needless food waste and undernourished people in their own town?

  “I’ll answer you, though you don’t deserve it. I buy the containers from the same supplier we use. I buy them myself. And I’ll tell you something else.” She grabbed the bags from the cooler and stalked past him. “This perfectly good food which all of you would just throw out isn’t Julie’s doggy-bags.”

  She set the bags down and flung her coat on. “This goes for people. People who can’t afford to even buy the food you’d toss out. I make soups and stews for them with it. I package it in decent containers for them. Because they matter.”

  Her voice broke as she picked up the bags. “I practically had to beg them to take it in the beginning. Most of them are embarrassed that they need the help. And a lot of them are working, or trying to find jobs, and I’m sick of snobs like you who call food gleaners dumpster divers. They do more to help other people than you ever would.”

  She glared at his widened eyes and startled expression. So what if her fury shocked him? Something should. She flounced to the door, and turned to fire a parting shot. “And don’t ask to carry these bags again. My dumpster diver friends and I don’t need your help.” She slammed the door, delighting in the loud reverberation that echoed down the street.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Her anger astounded him as much as her words pierced him. She’d been making food for others these past two years, and handing it out? So that’s why she went to the bakery every night. He made his way to a stool and sank onto it, mind processing the new information.