Chapter Fifteen
Mark paused, his fist inches from the door, and turned toward the telltale sounds of a garden hose being used somewhere off to his left. Sure enough, in a quick peek around the corner of the house, he spied the very woman he was there to see, quietly humming to herself as she watered the same flowers and bushes he’d admired two days earlier. Without a moment’s hesitation, he retraced his steps to the sidewalk and then cut across the side lawn.
“Hi, Kate. I was hoping you’d remember me.” He held out his hand in her direction and was aware of the hesitation that accompanied hers in return. “I was wondering if we could talk. About Emily.”
“What about her?” Kate squeezed the trigger once again and aimed the water across a row of zinnias.
He followed the stream with his eyes and searched for the best way to explain the jumbled mess in his head and why it had brought him to Kate’s door. But before he could start, she’d moved on to the marigolds and her own assessment of him. “You know, I thought you were a nice guy the other night. So did my husband and the rest of our friends. In fact, if you want to know the truth, I kept Joe up for hours that night, going on and on about how perfect you were for Emily.”
A flick of Kate’s wrist brought the water dangerously close to Mark, yet he resisted the urge to flinch. She was angry, of that there was no doubt.
“But boy, was I wrong,” she hissed. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say that it’s guys like you who give the entire male gender a bad rap.”
“I like her, Kate. I like her a lot.” He linked his hands behind his head, only to release them just as quickly. “Do you think I’d be here, subjecting myself to the possible drenching that’s mere centimeters—and quite likely seconds—away if I didn’t?”
The spray of water came even closer. “Candy and flowers, or even—get this—a date, are generally the preferred ways to show a woman you like her, Mark. Telling her you’re not interested because she has a life-altering condition doesn’t really have the same ring, you know?”
He pushed his fingers through his hair and tugged, the frustration coursing through his body almost enough to make him pull it all out by the roots. “And if I handed my four-year-old son a toy truck and told him to take it out onto the middle of Highway W and play with it there, would you think I was a horrible parent?”
Kate turned the hose back on the zinnias, but kept her anger focused squarely on Mark. “Oh, are you one of those analogy guys? The kind who are always looking for some stupid little anecdote to justify their pathetic selfishness?”
His head was beginning to spin. “No. I’m just a dad who loves his son more than himself.”
Rolling her eyes, Kate released the trigger. “What on earth are you babbling about?”
With the threat of a drenching removed, he gestured toward the corner of the patio. “Can we sit out back and talk? Please?”
For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse, maybe even turn the hose back on and actually point it at him this time. But in the end she nodded, lowering her arms with reluctance. “You’ve got five minutes. So you’d better get to the point. If you actually have one, that is.”
Oh, he had one all right. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure what it was yet.
He followed her through the break in the dwarf bush honeysuckle hedge and onto the patio. Once she’d claimed a spot on a cushioned chaise, he settled on a nearby Adirondack chair. “I don’t know how much Emily told you about me, but I have a son, Seth. He’s four and a half. In fact, if you watched the news at all today, you probably saw him on television.”
“I didn’t. I slept in and then I had an appointment.”
“Anyway, his mother—my wife—passed away six months ago after a yearlong battle with cancer. It would have been a tough go for any kid to lose his mom, but Seth’s anguish was magnified tenfold by my selfishnes.”
Looking down at the stone slabs beneath his feet, Mark continued. “You see, I shut down. I couldn’t stand watching her deteriorate, knowing there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop it. I couldn’t fight it away with my fists, I couldn’t hug it away with my arms and I couldn’t cajole it away with my words. I was utterly helpless and, well, I guess you can say I don’t do helpless all that well. Or, as was the case with Sally’s illness, at all.”
At Kate’s silence, he stole a glance in her direction, finding the blatant irritation that had all but seeped from her pores earlier suddenly gone. Temporarily, at least.
Not wanting to miss the opportunity her change in mood offered, he went on. “So while I buried myself in my work during her struggle, my three-and-a-half-year-old son was everything I should have been. He was her arms, he was her ears, he was her comfort and her companion. Which means he watched her die, Kate.” His voice breaking, Mark dug his elbows into his thighs and cradled his head with his hands. “I failed her. And I failed my son. That’s a mistake I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.”
The creak of Kate’s chaise was followed by a warm and steadying hand on his shoulder. “There isn’t a rule book for something like that, Mark. You didn’t know.”
He snapped his head up, the pain in his voice replaced by the intense anger he felt for himself. “While I think that’s a piss-poor excuse for my actions, I could only use it once. If I failed him like that again, I’d be the worst father on the face of the earth.”
“Failed him again?” Kate asked, her eyes locked on his. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“There was nothing I could do about Sally getting sick. It just happened. I should have been there for her, as a husband is supposed to be, and I should have been there for Seth, too. But I wasn’t. And as a result, my innocent little boy saw far more of his mother’s suffering than he should have. Losing his mom at that age was horrific enough. Having to experience that and play the part of the adult in the house at the same time? There are no words for that except inexcusable and pathetic.”
At her obvious confusion, he filled in the blanks as succinctly as possible. “I cannot sit back and allow my son to love a woman I already know to be sick. It’s like telling him to take that toy truck I mentioned earlier and play with it the middle of a four-lane highway. It would be certain disaster.”
Kate’s gasp brought him up short. “Wait. You don’t think Emily is going to die, do you? Because she’s not.”
For the briefest of seconds he felt a hint of hope, only to have it disappear just as quickly. “Look, I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know that much about multiple sclerosis, but I know it can be extremely debilitating over time.”
“That’s true.”
“I don’t want Seth to have to watch someone he loves suffer ever again.”
“And if you get sick, Mark? What then? Are you going to abandon him on the steps of some church, just so he doesn’t have to watch you die? Do you really think that would be better?”
He pushed himself from the chair and paced across the patio, the thought of Seth being left orphaned one he hadn’t visited before. “That falls into the category of things I can’t really control, beyond doing my best to eat right and exercise more. But there’s a big difference between something that’s out of my control and something in my control.”
Kate perched on the edge of the chair Mark had vacated, and exhaled. “Oh. I get it now. If you let Seth get attached to Emily and she suddenly starts going downhill, you’ve essentially handed his heart over to be broken once again
.”
Mark stopped midstep, deflated. “Yeah.”
“Have you seen Emily? Have you seen the kind of shape she’s in?”
In the interest of avoiding saying anything that might get him slapped, he opted to nod rather than put his feelings about Emily’s body into words.
“You’ve got to know she’s not going down without a fight.” Kate stood and made her way over to him, a genuine smile on her face now. “Couple that with the fact that the medication she just started taking is designed to hold this thing at bay for a long time and, well, I don’t think your reason for denying yourself a second chance is all that valid. Especially since it would be a second chance for Seth, too. A second chance to love and to be loved.”
A second chance.
Was that what he wanted?
Mark wasn’t sure.
And what about Emily? Was she even interested in a relationship? He posed the question to Kate.
“Oh, to hear her talk? No. But like you, Em has let the fear of what-ifs in life keep her from her dreams.”
He had to laugh. “Are you kidding me? From what I’ve seen, Emily is all about chasing down her dreams.”
“That’s true for all but one of them.”
“Huh?”
Wrapping her hand around his, Kate pulled him toward the back door. “Come. I want to show you something.”
Five minutes later, standing in her sunny kitchen, he found himself staring down at a child’s drawing. The blonde figure depicted on the page seemed vaguely familiar. “Is this one of Emily’s?”
“Yep.”
He couldn’t help but smile as he took in the glittery crown on the subject’s head and the huge smile on her face as a brown-haired boy, also wearing a crown, carried her into a castle in his arms. “She dreamed of being a princess?” he finally asked.
“She dreamed of finding her prince.” Sweeping her hand toward the drawing, Kate dropped her voice to a near whisper. “It’s the one dream that’s yet to come true. Though if you ask me, it’s closer than she realizes.”
He took in the innocence and hope that had belonged to a ten-year-old Emily, and then handed the picture back to Kate. “So what’s holding her back from making that dream come true, like all the others?”
Kate looked from Mark to the picture and back again before depositing it in his hands again with purpose. “She’s afraid she’ll be a burden to her prince because of her diagnosis.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he argued. “You love the person, not the illness.”
“You love the person, not the illness,” Kate echoed. “Hmm… I couldn’t have said that any better if I tried.”
* * *
AS HEAVY AS HIS HEART had been when he pulled into Kate’s driveway, the opposite was true on the way out. Mark really didn’t know if it was a second chance he wanted or not. He was okay raising Seth on his own. He was okay filling his days with work, volunteering at the foundation and being a dad to the greatest kid on earth.
But whether it was about second chances or something entirely different, he knew he wanted Emily. He wanted the lift she brought to his heart. He wanted the hope she sprinkled around with the mere flash of her smile. He wanted the contentment he felt with her in his arms. And he wanted the pure joy he saw in Seth’s face whenever he was around her.
The ring of his cell phone broke through his thoughts. Seeing the name and number of the foundation’s president, Stan Wiley, on his caller ID screen, he answered. “Good afternoon, Stan. What can I do for you?”
“I saw you on the news just now. So glad you found your boy safe and sound.”
Mark smiled. “Yeah. You and me both.” He pulled to the side of whatever street he’d gotten himself onto. “I’m not even going to ask how I looked. I barely remember talking into the microphone outside my mom’s house.”
“You looked fine. Rattled, sure. Relieved, absolutely. But no worse for the wear.”
“Good.” He made a mental note to call his mom the second he and Stan were done talking, to give her a heads-up on his estimated return and to hear Seth’s voice. “So what can I do for you?”
“You can pat yourself on the back, Mark, for a job well done.”
“I wish I could take credit for finding Seth, but I can’t. That was a woman named—”
“No. No. I’m talking about getting us that Longfeld donation. Your hard work is going to end up benefitting a lot of people, Mark. A lot of people.”
“You mean we got the donation?”
“You bet we did. And it’s because of your hard work.”
“My hard work?” he echoed. “Stan, I’m not sure what you’re talking—”
“Of course, there’s still work to be done, but that’s usually the case with any accomplishment in life.”
Mark tried to make sense of the conversation, his confusion growing with each word Stan uttered.
“I need you to take a welcome packet over to our newest client, along with a hearty thank-you from all of us here. So, do you have a pen handy?”
“Uh…yeah, sure. Hang on.” Shifting the phone to his left hand, he opened the center armrest and extracted a scrap of paper and a pen from its depths. Then, wedging the phone between his shoulder and his cheek, he propped the paper on his steering wheel and prepared to write. “Okay, shoot.”
“Eight-one-six Sunset Street, Winoka.”
He repeated it, then capped his pen and popped it back in the armrest compartment. “Got it.”
“I know you’ve been through a lot today, Mark, but as soon as you’re able to get this taken care of, the better?”
Oh, how he wanted to say no, to continue on his journey to Bucket List 101 and the conversation he wanted to have with Emily. But tomorrow would be here before he knew it. A new day with the chance for a new start…
“I’ll check in on Seth first. If he’s still sleeping, I’ll deliver.”
Chapter Sixteen
Emily crossed the living room and pulled open the front door, her breath hitching at the sight of Mark standing on the porch, an enormous envelope in his hands. And for a moment, as she drank him in, she allowed herself to remember the way his arms had felt as he’d cradled her after they’d made love—the contentment that had been eluding her for months, if not years, finally hers for the taking.
Yet it had all been a farce.
What had meant so much to her had meant nothing to the man standing on her porch now, looking from her to a scrap of paper in his hand and back again, as if he’d been dropped in the middle of a foreign land.
“What do you want, Mark?” she asked.
“I…” He looked down at the paper one more time and then held it up for her to see. “This is 816 Sunset Street, isn’t it?”
And then she knew why he was there. He’d been assigned her case. Though, by the look on his face, she guessed he was still in the dark about that.
“Yes, it is.” She knew she was being curt, but couldn’t help it. He’d hurt her in a way no one ever had before. And while she understood his stance, it didn’t negate the way he’d used her before he dropped the proverbial hammer on her heart and her self-respect.
“I don’t understand. I’m virtually certain I jotted down the address exactly as Stan told it to me.”
“Considering that’s the address I gave him, I’d say you did a good job.”
The hand that held her address dropped to his side, and he stared at her, confused. “You talked to Stan?
At Folks Helping Folks?”
Met with her silence, he stuffed the paper into his pants pocket and shifted from foot to foot. “Why?”
“Because that’s who the receptionist put me through to when I called.”
“You called the foundation?”
She shrugged. “How else were they supposed to know I need assistance?”
Mark stepped forward, only to stop when she held up her hands. “Why? Did something happen today after you found Seth? Are you feeling bad?”
It took everything in her power not to turn around and slam the door in his face. This man, who knew nothing about her beyond the lapse of judgment that had allowed her to be a one-night stand, was so quick to assume she was weak. Sickly. And it made her angry.
“For the umpteenth time, Mark, I’m fine. I’ve been saddled with a scary-sounding condition, but I’m fine! Not that you’ll ever get that or, rather, want to get that.”
For a moment it was as if she’d slapped him. He drew back, blinked, and then simply looked sad.
She couldn’t take it anymore. “Look, I called because I realized I could use my condition to help other people.”
At his raised eyebrows, she continued. “By making my business more accessible, with the help of the foundation, I’ll be able to provide opportunities to clients I couldn’t have otherwise. And if I’m going to hang my hat on being the kind of company that helps people check off items on their bucket lists, I can’t ignore the fact that individuals with disabilities and conditions have lists, too.”
“So you’re going ahead with the assistance just to help others?” he inquired.
Emily hesitated briefly. “At this particular moment in time? Yes. But anything can happen, with me just like with this segment of the population I’ve been overlooking for far too long. I don’t need help now, but I may very well in the future.”
“Oh, Emily, I know how hard it must have been to make that call.” Mark took another step this time trying to draw her in for a hug. But she stepped back out of his reach.
Storybook Dad (Harlequin American Romance) Page 14