All That You Are

by Stef Ann Holm

  Terran wouldn’t let them kiss him, and she and Cooper left the classroom together. They didn’t speak on the ride back to her house, the radio playing rock and roll.

  Dana sat stoic and quiet, sniffing and fighting the silly tears of motherly emotions.

  Tomorrow she would have to do this all over again. With Mark.

  It would be a week of goodbyes.

  THE BLUE NOTE PACKED customers in on a Friday night, and jazz played through the jukebox in mellow notes. Lighting in the bar was veiled and soft, the back bar awash in a marine-blue color. The liquor bottles glinted on the shelves.

  Leo quickly served orders and mixed drinks without a moment to pause. Presley ran the kitchen with an efficient zeal, along with a competent staff. Dana greeted those customers around her with a smile and general enthusiasm to have them here. She knew many by name, and many asked after her and Terran and her mother. Locals and vacationers alike congregated inside her father’s dream.

  Dana wished he could be here now, but she sensed his spirit always lived within these walls. She realized how much she’d come to love this place, how it had fit into an intricate part of her life.

  While warmth and affection flowed through the room, Dana’s feelings were bittersweet.

  Tonight was Mark’s last night in Ketchikan. He’d be leaving on the morning flight out to go home, back to his own life and the family he had to support him in his new venture.

  She thought back to the moment she’d first laid eyes on him in the bar. He’d come in with the fish-brain who’d caused trouble and had been asked to leave. That seemed an eternity ago. But she still remembered her thoughts when Mark had spoken to her.

  That man is more handsome than one man has the right to be.

  Beyond the superficial and a casual assessment made in her head, she’d written off any thoughts about Mark Moretti. Little had she known what an integral part he’d play in her life. Like a woven tapestry, he’d knit himself into her business, her home, her heart.

  Now she’d have to say goodbye to him. She wasn’t very good at that, having few experiences. Not after a father and brother had been snatched without the chance to tell them how much they’d meant to her.

  She would be honest with Mark tonight, but guarded. There was no point in telling him she’d fallen in love with him. What purpose would it serve other than to make her feel needy and have him awkwardly explain he couldn’t stay? She wouldn’t bother with sentimentalities—just the truth. That she could only thank him as deep as the bottom of her heart for all he had done for her and for her son.

  While battling to keep her teetering emotions in check, Dana sensed that tonight would be special somehow. She could feel the energy in the room. Or maybe that was because she would play the saxophone tonight and she always felt her adrenaline begin to pump just before she went on.

  To this day, she hadn’t gotten over the fear of performing in public. Her father had been a master, as relaxed as could be—and he could quiet a room while everyone’s breathing hinged on the silken notes he played.

  The Blue Note’s interior renovation was complete, beautiful new additions to be enjoyed for years to come. The other day, Mark had told her he had officially finished bringing the inside violations up to code. Aside from completing the second fire exit on the exterior, only one thing remained to be revealed. When she pressed him to tell her what it was, he’d said she’d have to wait until this evening. She couldn’t guess what the surprise would be—but she’d been wondering about the large, blocked framework by the bandstand.

  While visiting with the husband and wife owners of a local bed-and-breakfast, Dana noticed Mark come into the bar. He stood just above the crowd and made his way toward her with a smile. Inside, her heart warmed and she was glad to see him.

  She wouldn’t think about how much she’d miss him….

  Bidding the couple to have an enjoyable rest of their evening, Dana met Mark across the crowded room. “Busy night,” he said, a look of amusement flickering in his eyes. “You offering dollar well drinks, sunshine?”

  She laughed. “Actually all these people are here because I put up posters that we’d be bidding on a hot guy tonight—and your picture is all over them.”

  “I’m flattered, but there’s a few too many dudes in here for my comfort zone if that’s your plan. I’m a one-woman-only kind of guy.” He glanced around, as if looking for someone. “Is Bear here?”

  “He’s around here somewhere. Why?”

  “Got something for him. I left it in the kitchen when I was here this afternoon. Presley’s hiding it for me—among other things.”

  Dana inwardly groaned. “If you got me something…Mark, I didn’t get you anything, but I was going to—”

  He didn’t give her the opportunity to say anything further; he interrupted and said, “Later on, you can give me a kiss, sweetheart, and we’ll call it better than good.”

  She grew warm with the thought.

  Dana was called to a table by some old friends. She gave Mark an apologetic smile, but he sent her off with an affectionate squeeze of her hand.

  Fifteen minutes later, Dana stood at the bar after helping one of her waitstaff bring out a multiple-plate food order. Talking with Leo, she kept searching the crowd for Mark, wondering where he’d gone.

  Her steady heartbeat skipped every now and then, and she had to force her erratic emotions to stay on hold. Every time she thought about tonight being Mark’s last in town, she tangled herself in feelings that served no purpose.

  Bear nudged his way to the bar, a grin splitting his face. The glint in his eyes was pure elation as he hooked his fingers into his belt loops.

  “Look-see what Moretti done give me. A hand-tooled leather belt with a silver buckle. And see that? That’s a bear engraved in the sterling.” The buckle itself was the size of a fist—quite intricate and showy with its design of a bear feeding in a rushing stream of water. “And y’all got to see this.” He turned, his rounded bottom toward them, all but in their faces. “My name’s on the back. B-E-A-R stamped in the cowhide.” Turning around, he beamed as bright as a beacon. “This here is a right fine piece of hardware.”

  Leo set a cold beer in front of him. “I wouldn’t say your butt is fine hardware, Bear, but the belt’s a cut above. Looks good on you.”

  Bear laughed, slipping his large frame onto the bar stool to take a load off.

  “Where’s Mark?” Dana asked, looking over the top of Bear’s head to see if she could find Mark in the crowd.

  “Said he had to meet Card for sumpthin’. I don’t rightly know the particulars.”

  Leo stopped mixing a drink, glanced at his watch, then said to Dana, “I’m almost out of lemon slices. I need you to run into the kitchen and get me some. Cut them clean—take out the seeds.”

  “Leo, you sound like you’re the boss,” she replied, giving him a harmless nudge with a half smile. “If I didn’t like you so much, I’d have to fire you for that.”

  “Then you’d have to rehire me because you’d never find a better bartender.”

  “True that.”

  Dana went off into the kitchen to busy herself with lemons. Each time she finished one, Presley handed her several more and told her they could never have too many, and to put plastic wrap over the tray extras. By the time she was finished, she’d spent a good twenty minutes in the kitchen.

  Taking Leo his lemon wedges, she scanned the patrons sitting at the bar in the hope of finding Mark. He wasn’t among them.

  Just as she made a move to search for him through the crowd, the jukebox quit and she heard Mark’s deep voice speak through a microphone.

  Her gaze found him on the bandstand, a spotlight focused on him. “If I could have everyone’s attention. There’s a special something tonight at the Blue Note if you look this way.”

  A curious length of white curtain had been strung behind him. That hadn’t been there before. Cardelle Kanhai, head impeccably shaved clean, occupied the stag
e with Mark. His dark face shone with pride and excitement.

  “I need Dana to come here,” Mark said as he shaded his eyes against the beam of light on him.

  Dana inched her way forward and the crowd parted. She took the single tall step onto the platform, wondering what this was about as Mark gently guided her to his side.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered beneath her breath.

  He ignored her question and addressed the audience that had gathered closer to get a look at what was going on. “In case you didn’t know, this incredibly beautiful woman is Dana Jackson, and she owns the Blue Note.”

  People applauded and cheered—Bear being one who added a “whoo-wee!” in for good measure. Leo gave her a mock bow, hands pressed together. Walt, her bouncer, flexed a muscle, as if to say he would toss out anyone who didn’t appreciate the boss. Sam gave her a mock salute, and Presley had come out of the kitchen without her apron and stood at the bar with her arms folded beneath her breasts. She gave Dana a loving smile, then lifted her engagement finger and wiggled it with a wink and a nod.

  Somehow Dana got the impression that everyone who worked for her, or knew her personally, was in on whatever Mark was doing.

  Mark held the microphone with ease in his large hand, his tall body muscled and confident. A green-and-brown-plaid button-down shirt fit him nicely over his broad shoulders, and was tucked into dark denim jeans. His black hair was neatly combed off his forehead, but a piece managed to stray and rest over his brow. Brown eyes were warm and friendly.

  “So in case you don’t know,” Mark said, turning toward Card, “Dana’s father, Oscar Jackson, opened the Blue Note bar back in the seventies as a tribute to the jazz music he loved. He played his sax here until his death six years ago. I heard that his Southern sound was like no other, and that he could bring them in from miles away just to hear him play. I would have liked to meet him.”

  Dana blinked back the tears that had gathered in her eyes, not wanting them to spill. While her father had passed, his legacy lived on through the memories of those who’d known him. She, too, had a moment’s wish that Mark Moretti had been able to meet her dad.

  “As a tribute to Oscar, and a monument to stand at this bar, I asked Cardelle to do something for me.” Mark moved toward Card and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Many of you think all this guy can do is sell bling.”

  With a big smile, Cardelle said, “Good people, you can find me at Jewels of de Nile—I give a discount to anybody who mentions dis night. For de ladies—tanzanite rings, fifty percent off.”

  Women cheered.

  Cardelle’s blatant sales pitch was just the thing Dana needed to pull herself back together and forget her tears.

  Mark took control once more while Cardelle went to the white draping and held on to a corner. Bringing Dana to the curtain, Mark positioned her in front of it. “Dana,” he said, then lowered his voice softy, “this is for you.”

  With a jerk, Cardelle pulled the curtain and Dana sucked in her breath with shock, tingles rising over every inch of her body.

  There on the wall, painted on a long stretch of canvas, was her father’s image. His handsome black face took up the entire left side with a saxophone raised to his lips. Musical notes erupted from the sax’s brass bell to dance across the canvas and intricately spell out the words The Sax Man. The musical notes tripped and turned on giant Ketchikan raindrops as they fell in a whimsical scatter to the bottom of the mural. In the bottom-right corner, leaning into the last note, her brother Terrance.

  The entire effect made Dana speechless. Her father’s face, his likeness, spread four feet tall in a lifelike recognition that filled the room with his spirit and vision.

  “I…I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, barely able to contain herself and the myriad of emotions threatening to unravel her composure. “Thank you…I’m in awe. Truly.”

  Then she gave him a hug in front of everyone—something she would have never done three months ago with Mark, or anyone else in the Blue Note. She regarded herself as private and reserved, not quite approachable by men, but friendly enough. Now she had no qualms about a public display of affection for a man who held her heart in the palm of his hand…and didn’t know it.

  They parted and she took another lingering look at the mural, smiling. She gave Cardelle a fond hug, as well, thanking him several times for his artwork. She’d treasure it forever.

  Card shyly patted her shoulder, then stepped back.

  “Now I guess it’s my turn,” she said, walking to her saxophone on its stand. Her backup musicians that she’d called earlier in the week to join her tonight—drummer, clarinetist and double bassist—had arrived and she waved the guys onstage. They took their positions, loose, limbered and ready to jam.

  Mark and Cardelle stepped down onto the main floor, Mark’s gaze never leaving her. She felt momentarily self-conscious as she took her instrument. The song’s tune was heavily nostalgic, and Mark wouldn’t know its title. But she’d selected Benny Goodman’s “Goodbye” to play. Mark wouldn’t know the tune, but the emotion to the song said everything in her heart.

  She hated to say goodbye.

  As she closed her eyes and let the music flow through her, she blocked out what tomorrow would bring, and only thought about this night. This last moment with the man who’d changed her. Forever from this day, she’d know that even after loving and losing her father, it was okay to grieve, and that she had so much to be happy about. Her days could be spent reflecting on the past with joy rather than sorrow.

  In her own way, she’d done this, but she’d never been able to really let go. The mural, and the new look in the Blue Note felt like a new beginning.

  The smooth song flowed through her nimble fingers, melodic and sweet. Each note moved through her breath as she created the sounds.

  When the song ended, she lowered her saxophone to cheers and applause. Mark’s eyes locked into hers, and she didn’t blink. They stared, each lost in the other with unspoken thoughts until the band broke into an upbeat syncopation and they snapped things up while she exited the stage.

  People enjoyed the music and the bar took on a life of its own. But Dana didn’t see much around her. Her entire being focused on Mark. On walking toward him. When she’d reached him, he took her hand and simply said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  DANA DIDN’T WANT TO TALK. She was all talked out from months of conversations with Mark. She’d simply wanted to absorb quiet in a private place and the best idea she had was Mark’s condo.

  It had seemed cliché to ask him to bring her here, but she hadn’t wanted to sit in a restaurant or go for coffee. All she wanted was to be close to Mark and enjoy these last stolen minutes.

  They’d entered the condo, set their things down and Mark had asked her if she wanted a glass of wine. Quite honestly, she already felt drunk just by his proximity. She’d declined, walked to the view at the sliding glass door, then opened it to stand on the redwood deck.

  “Cold?” Mark asked, drawing up behind her.

  “Not too bad. When the sun goes down, the temperature can drop like a rock. Days are getting shorter.”

  Sunset came late in the summer and as fall approached, the hours of daylight were growing shorter and shorter.

  His strong arm came around her, the contact fanning the growing fire within her. He settled his hold on her waist and his solid chest pressed against her back, scalding her through her knit shirt like a brand. She leaned against him, fighting the urge to turn around in his embrace.

  She breathed deeply of the night filled with the scent of ocean, woodsy flowers and pungent moss. All day, a thick moisture had hung in the air like a wet towel. There was a crispness to the night, several visible stars in a sky that had begun to fog over.

  Mark made no effort to move away. And neither did Dana. A delightful shiver ran through her at their touch.

  He slid his hands down her waist, tracing the curves of her hips over her jeans. T
hen he captured her hands and hugged her arms around her, his hands over hers.

  The chill in the air brought a coolness to Dana’s burning lungs. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the night and the man beside her. Clean soap and an aftershave, a musky scent that intoxicated.

  “We shouldn’t have come here,” Mark breathed next to her ear.

  She knew what he meant, and she knew exactly why she’d wanted to come here even though she hadn’t admitted the truth until now.

  “I want to be with you,” she replied, the meaning clear. She couldn’t face him, but his intimate hold over her left no room for reason. She’d done all of that prior to arriving.

  She had made her choice.

  “I want to be here, in your arms, with you, enjoying us.” She turned toward him, slipping her arms around his neck. “I want you to kiss me.”

  Her honest admission suspended between them, and Mark’s face hovered over hers. “Come inside. It’s cold out here.”

  He took her hand and she followed him in. He closed the sliding door, then pulled the cord on the sheer curtains and turned down the lights. The fireplace had a switch for the gas to light a flame, and Mark brought the hearth to life with a soft glow.

  “Let’s sit by the fire,” he suggested.

  In front of the fireplace, Mark gathered all the pillows off the sofa and made a place for them to lean against. Once she’d settled in, he lay on his side next to her, his arm extending to brush her hair from her shoulder.

  As Dana faced him, she felt as if she were floating on a cloud of uncertainty, of longing, of desire. This would change everything. Her feelings would be turned inside out from this moment on, and it would be harder than ever to let him go if she made love with him. But if she didn’t, she’d always regret not having this part of him, of them, to remember.

  There had never been anyone else to evoke such a response from her by a mere touch. She stared into Mark’s eyes as firelight caught in them and she saw her desirous feelings mirrored in his gaze.

  Without thinking, she pressed her palm to his cheek, and stroked him with her thumb. She marveled at the roughened skin so unlike her own. The contrast made her pulse skitter. She ran her fingertip down over his mouth to his square jaw. She felt him tense under her touch and she drew away thinking she’d bothered him. He captured her hand in midair and brought it back to his face.