Sarah purposely parked her compact at the far end of the strip mall’s parking lot. The pounding of her heart echoed in her ears. She drew a deep breath, thankful for the cool Canadian air that moved the jet stream. The unseasonable heat wave laced with high humidity blew out of the area. Between that and the weekend rest, her MS symptoms were again under control.
Last night in the quiet of her room, she’d had a long conversation with God. Through tears of regret on how she handled her disease and the people in her life, she’d promised to trust Him, just like Job.
As she walked down the sidewalk, Sarah smoothed her hands across her yellow crop pants and fidgeted with the ruffles down the front of her blouse. When she approached Mark’s store she peeked into the plate glass window in hopes of catching a glimpse of who was working. Mark stood at the cutting counter, no doubt cutting fat quarters. He wore her favorite shirt, the dark green polo that deepened the emerald hue of his eyes.
Sarah stopped by the window where the large orange-and-black HELP WANTED sign hung. With her heart pounding faster she stepped through the door and angled herself out of Mark’s range of vision.
The jangle of the door buzzer prompted Mark’s pat response. “Be with you in a minute.”
Running her fingers under the tape, Sarah loosened the sign from the window. She held it behind her back and walked toward the cutting counter, her flip-flops slapping against the tile floor then against her heels.
When Mark looked up, surprise etched his features. He laid the scissors on the counter, crossed his arms over his chest, and rocked back on his heels. “Sarah.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “What are you doing here this time of day?”
Sarah wanted to run around the counter, throw her arms around him, stare into his beautiful eyes, and beg his forgiveness. Instead she decided to let the cutting table be a buffer in case Mark didn’t share her feelings. “I took a personal day. I needed a break.”
Mark started to move his lips then pursed them together. He didn’t need to speak. His eyes conveyed the message. Finally.
Fighting hard not to break his eye contact, Sarah cleared her throat. “I came to apologize and to thank you.”
Mark dropped his arms, and a slight sparkle shone in his eyes. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry that I jumped to a false conclusion on Saturday. Can you ever forgive me?” The fear of rejection sheened her eyes with moisture, but she saw a slight nod of Mark’s head.
“I’d like to apply for this position.” Sarah pushed the HELP WANTED sign across the cutting counter toward Mark.
“Are you kidding me?” Anger flashed through Mark’s features as he dropped his arms. With a swoop of his hand he pushed the sign to the end of the counter.
He strode around the counter, stopping in front of Sarah. Her only line of vision was his thick chest that heaved with his sharp intake of breath. His exaggerated sigh rained hot breath on the top of her head.
She willed her amusement out of her eyes as she lifted them to meet his face.
“You already do too much. You don’t need to add a part-time job into the mix.” Mark placed his hands on her upper arms just under her shoulders and squeezed. “You have to realize your limitations with MS. Your physical condition on Saturday tore my heart out.”
Emotion deepened the green highlights of Mark’s eyes. “Sadly, I believe most of your misery was self-inflicted. You might not care about your well-being, but the people who love you do.”
Sarah’s legs weakened. Not a result of her MS symptoms but from the rapid thump of her heart. Had Mark just said he loved her? She lifted her hands to Mark’s biceps and leaned into his strength to steady her shaky limbs.
With her small movement, Mark shifted his arms and pulled her into a tight hug. She rested her head against his chest the same way she had on Saturday. Joy, mixed with regret, weaved in and out of her heart as if it were quilting it together. How had she mistaken his concern for pity?
The sea-kissed scent of Mark’s cologne calmed the tides of her emotions enough for her to pull slightly away. She needed to look into his beautiful eyes. She needed to tell him that she loved him.
She drew a deep breath and searched his face then tilted her chin until it was a hairbreadth away from his. Once their eyes met, the joy-filled tightness in her chest expanded, and her need to tell Mark she loved him overtook all of her other emotions.
“I love you, too,” she managed to whisper just before Mark’s tender kiss stopped her from voicing all the other things she’d planned to tell him.
Sarah jumped at the first tinkle of the door buzzer, putting an abrupt end to Mark’s sweet kiss. He squeezed her as he whispered in her ear, “To be continued.”
Heat rushed to Sarah’s cheeks as she watched Mark approach his customer. She could tell by the shake of his head that whatever the person searched for, Mark didn’t stock.
The lady thanked Mark as she walked out the door. A giddy smile lit his face when he returned to Sarah. “Perhaps we should go to the back room.” He walked over to her with outstretched arms.
Sarah grasped his hands with hers. “First, while I’m thinking straight, I need to tell you a few things.”
Mark interlocked their fingers and lifted his brows.
“On Saturday, I thought you were pitying me, but then I realized that was my emotion. I’d been pitying myself since the doctor diagnosed my multiple sclerosis. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Yes I forgive you, but you have to stop overdoing. I’m not hiring you part-time.” Mark’s features and tone took on a serious edge, but he never released her hands.
“I’m going to stop overdoing. You and my mom and Karla were right. I’ve been doing more than I did before my diagnosis. I was trying to prove to myself that I could still lead a normal life. I wanted the good to outweigh the bad, but what I was mistaking for good was actually bad for me. So I decided to make some changes.”
Sarah laughed out loud at the skeptical look on Mark’s face.
Mark raised his brows. “And those changes would be?”
“First, I’m never enrolling in a quilting class again when I can’t sew, no matter how cute the quilt store owner is.”
The sparkle in Mark’s eyes deepened those gorgeous green flecks. He showed his thanks by lifting her hand to his lips and brushing a kiss to the top before rubbing it gently across his cheek. His clean-shaven skin soft and silky.
“Second, I’m going to limit my extracurricular activities to church or MS committees.”
She earned another kiss to her other hand. “Excellent choices. Anything else?”
Sarah drew a deep breath. “I plan to quit my job.”
The evident surprise on Mark’s features tickled Sarah. She tried to suppress a giggle but failed. “After I worked here in the quilt store those two days, I realized how much I didn’t care for my current job. It’s too solitary and demanding, so I thought I might try working part-time. That is, if you’d consider a woman with absolutely no sewing skills as an applicant for your job.”
Mark’s expression went blank. “Sarah.”
Her heart dipped. She wasn’t really qualified to be a paid employee in the store although she hoped Mark would let her try. “It’s okay, you can think about it.” She understood if he wanted someone with sewing abilities. After all, it was a quilt store.
“Oh…and I need to thank you for finishing my Job’s Tears project.” Sarah didn’t try to fight the impish grin.
A sheepish look settled on Mark’s face, and he shrugged.
Sarah laughed. “I thought you didn’t know how to sew.”
Mark studied the toe of his shoe before raising his eyes to hers. “Just enough to demonstrate the machines I sell.”
Sarah cocked an eyebrow. “I have it on firm authority—”
“Caroline.” Mark huffed. “Okay, I know how to sew and quilt.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sarah stepped closer to Mark.
“It’s not a very mascu
line quality.”
Sarah marveled at the stocky man before her that made her feel so secure and loved and couldn’t believe he worried about being masculine. “That is something you don’t have to worry about. So what do you sew?”
With some hesitation, Mark looked around the store. “All the projects on display in the store and some of the quilt tops.”
“Well, thank you again for getting my quilt ready to finish. It’s beautiful. I’m trying to spend an hour a day on the quilting. So far it’s working out well with my MS.”
“I knew it meant a lot to you. And you mean a lot to me. That’s why I want you to take care of yourself. I’ve waited a long time to find you. Now about that job.” Mark pulled her close and kissed her forehead. A thrill shivered through her as he trailed kisses down her nose. Certain this meant the job was hers, with a slight jut of her chin she positioned her lips to receive his, but he pulled away and smiled at her.
“I don’t want you for an employee.” Mark’s features remained merry, but that didn’t stop her gasp.
She opened her mouth but no words came out.
Gently Mark pushed her gaping mouth closed and held one finger over it to shush her in case her words decided to gurgle out. Was he still upset with her? He couldn’t be, not with that mysterious grin.
“I think I need a partner rather than an employee.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. She hadn’t planned on investing in a business. She started to protest when Mark’s finger again applied light pressure to her lips. “Let me finish.” He shook his head, and the sparkle in his eyes grew brighter. “You’d make a great partner, but the problem is this has always been a family-owned business.”
A muffled squeak of delight passed through Sarah’s lips. Her heart raced. Was he insinuating what she thought?
Mark removed his finger and dropped to one knee. “What do you say, Sarah? Would you like to be my partner for the rest of your life? Will you marry me?”
Sarah sat down on Mark’s bent leg. “Yes.” She didn’t wait for him to initiate the kiss. She cupped his face in her hands. As their lips met, her heart expanded with love, and she finally understood what Job had meant.
God had counterbalanced the one bad thing in her life, her disease, with Mark and all the people who loved her.
ROSE OF SHARON
For all Vietnam Veterans, with thanks and gratitude for your service to your country.
Chapter 1
Walter Sanders grimaced as the car tires rolled through the ruts in the short gravel driveway. The slight jostling sway of his body pulled at the long incision that ran from his waist to midthigh. He palmed the area, hoping to hold it steady and stave off the pain from his recent hip-replacement surgery. Even the soft fleece lining of his sweat pants, brushing against the tender skin around the incision, sent stinging pinpricks up and down the area of the wound, more annoying than painful.
“Sorry about that.” Mark cast a sideways glance at Walt as he eased the car through another pothole.
“Guess I didn’t realize that the driveway needed grading until now.” Walt placed his hands on the seat and shifted his weight to his palms and his left leg, hoping the slight lift off of the seat would absorb the shock of the next bump. “It’s a wonder I have any customers.”
Walt looked across the half-acre RV park portion of his hotel business. Years ago, he’d purchased a prime location off of an Interstate 29 exit, built a twelve-room hotel with living quarters and, when Winnebagos came in vogue, poured cement slabs and erected electric poles.
Most of his fall regulars remained in their campsites. A lone fifth-wheel RV sat in the spot closest to the manager apartment of the hotel, with no sign of life. The owners probably ran into one of the nearby communities for supplies after unhooking their vehicles.
As Mark swung the car around to pull as close as he could to the residence door of the hotel building, Walt noticed a combine in the field behind his property.
The green behemoth’s blades ate up the sun-dried soybean stalks then belched out a trail of dust into the air. At the rate the farmer clicked along, the ground would be barren before sunset. October had arrived in southeastern South Dakota.
“Wait here while I get your walker.” Mark turned off the ignition and popped the trunk before exiting the car.
Walt fisted his hands and swallowed the hard lump of pride clogging his throat. Having relied on himself for fifty years, he had struggled with having to depend on others during the recovery from this operation. Unfortunately, he had another four to six weeks to go.
Sarah, Mark’s fiancée, burst through Walt’s back door and hurried down the sidewalk to the compact car. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she appeared to be younger than her years. A warm smile lit her face, giving the impression she had not a care in the world. Yet she had health problems of her own. She’d had no business staying in his small apartment and running the hotel and RV park during his hospital stay.
Although he’d prepared for his hip replacement by closing down the hotel portion of his business for the surgery and six-week recovery period, the doctor’s office had then moved the operation up a week. Walt had had several reservations during that time, so Sarah insisted that she would fill in rather than have him cancel on the guests. With the large medical bills that would accompany his surgery, he’d relented.
Sarah hugged Mark. Walt averted his eyes. He prayed nightly for Mark and Sarah’s relationship to be a success. He’d never wish the pain of a broken heart on anyone.
“Welcome home.” Sarah opened Walt’s car door then gingerly leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You look tired. Did the ride home wear you out?”
Walt reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “The longest hour of my life, but it could have been the driver.” He winked, trying to inflect jest in his answer to remove the worry from her eyes.
The drive from the VA hospital in Sioux Falls tired him but wasn’t truly the longest hour of his life. A Vietnam jungle held that honor. Eighteen and scared, he’d waited for what seemed like days until the chopper blades cut through the hot, stagnant air.
Metal clinked as Mark locked the sides of the walker into place. “Good thing Sarah let me use her car. The ride in my four-wheel drive would have been bumpier.”
Walt’s snort echoed through the car. Keeping his knees and ankles together, he used his hands to turn his body toward the compact’s open passenger door, just like the therapist had taught him. “I would still be in the hospital because there would be no way I could climb up in that thing.”
“As soon as you’re healed, I bet you can.” Sarah stepped back and Mark placed the walker in front of the car door.
Gripping the handles of the walker, Walt lifted himself from the car and stood not his normal five foot eight inches but as straight as the incision’s soreness allowed. The surgery’s pain was nowhere near the constant burning of his hip socket for the last forty-four years.
Mark carried Walt’s suitcase on one side and Sarah stationed herself on the opposite elbow as Walt took short, even steps on the sidewalk. Consciously he placed his right foot completely on the ground to take a step instead of putting his weight on the ball of his foot, his gait since Vietnam. This normal stride felt foreign to him after years of limping to ease the shooting pain with each step.
Halfway up the walk, Walt stopped. “You two don’t have to hover.” The words sounded gruffer than he meant them. He’d relied on himself for so long that having people show concern for him was, well, foreign, too.
“Uncle Walt…” Sarah placed her hand on his arm. “We’re just trying to help.”
The concern on her face softened his heart and moistened his eyes. He blinked. What was wrong with him? He steeled his jaw and pursed his lips. If he spoke now, emotion would crack his voice. He managed a nod and a quick pat of her hand before he continued up the sidewalk.
Good soldiers controlled their emotions. Maybe it was the pain medicine or the relief of being home, but fe
elings locked in the deepest depths of his heart fought their way to the surface. Clearing his throat, Walt stopped again. “I really do appreciate all you two have done for me.”
“That’s what family is for.” Mark stepped to the storm door and held it open.
First the walker crossed the threshold, then Walter’s right foot followed by his left. Ready to relish the essence of his home, Walt drew a deep breath, hoping the familiar mix of settled dust and stale food would feed his soul and calm his rampaging emotions.
Instead, Walt’s breath gushed out of him at the greeting of fresh-brewed coffee, spicy cinnamon, and bleach. Not the homecoming welcome he’d expected.
He looked around the kitchen and squinted his eyes against the sparkle. Sunshine burst through clear windows and gleamed off the chrome dinette table legs. The bright whiteness of the refrigerator and stove made them look as if they’d just been delivered and installed.
“You cleaned my house?” Walt turned narrowed eyes to Sarah.
Her eyes rounded, seemingly because of the terseness in his tone.
The plastic-tipped ends on the walker legs squeaked across the linoleum floor as Walt guided the walker to the table. His gaze roamed to every nook and cranny of the kitchen, not a speck of dust or grease to be found.
He turned to Mark, who now had a protective arm around Sarah. “I hope you helped, because you”—Walt pointed to Sarah—“young lady, had no business undertaking a project of that magnitude by yourself.”
Sarah smiled. “He did help out, but there is no need to worry about me.”
Walt raised his eyebrows.
“Well, okay, you can worry about me if you want to, but my MS symptoms are under control and—”
“I made her take lots of breaks.” Mark squeezed Sarah’s shoulders.
“Good.” Walt smiled. He’d seen the effects of multiple sclerosis on Mark’s mother and prayed that Sarah, with the help of modern medicine, could fend off its symptoms for a long time.
Dakota Love Page 30