Soldier, Handyman, Family Man

by Lynne Marshall

  She walked back down the stairs to Gracie and Claire’s room, opened the door, then went across the hall to Peter’s, knocked and did the same.

  “We need to have a family meeting,” she said standing in the middle. “Be in the kitchen in ten minutes. Girls, that gives you both time to use the potty, and Peter, put on some clothes. Preferably ones that don’t smell.”

  Then she went to the kitchen to pour everyone a glass of lemonade, and to figure out the best way to explain her problem of the heart to her kids.

  She also set out a plate of cookies to butter them up.

  Ten minutes later, with all eyes on her, Laurel leaned her elbows and forearms on the kitchen island, took a swig of lemonade and went for broke.

  “So you’ve all noticed that Mark doesn’t come around here anymore.”

  “Why not?” Gracie asked.

  “I’m gonna get to that. When he got hurt that day at the beach and I was all upset, I asked him to stay away.” She took a peanut butter cookie and nibbled a tasteless bite. “And now I miss him.”

  “I miss him, too.” Gracie seemed all into the family meeting, sitting on her stool, looking serious.

  “Me, too.” Claire pushed her glasses up her nose, then took a second cookie.

  “So my question is, if I asked him to come back, and he wasn’t mad at me and wanted to hang out with all of us again, would that be okay with you guys? Would it be okay for Mark to be involved in our lives in maybe a more permanent way? That is, if he wants to.”

  “Yes!” Gracie was first to chime in. “What does perm-ma-mint mean?”

  Close. It occurred to Laurel that since the district speech therapist had been working with Gracie for an hour once a week, that her language had improved.

  “Forever and ever,” Claire, said, snatching another bite and sitting straighter.

  How did Claire know that? Both her girls were growing up.

  Also, put like that, the thought gave Laurel pause. A mild wave of fear trickled through her, but nothing she couldn’t handle. “Well, that’s kind of right, I guess. So is that a yes from you, too?”

  Claire nodded while making crunching sounds.

  So far Peter either abstained or was thinking. She’d wait a few seconds more to see what he thought and how he felt about it. Because, if Peter didn’t want Mark around, she’d have some extra discussions to conduct, with him alone. Maybe he wanted Mark to himself, as his friend, and she’d have to help him see and understand the bigger picture. Her children and their feelings would always come first, but there were also times, like now with Mark, where life should be negotiated.

  She drank some lemonade and remembered a magazine article she’d happened to read recently, waiting in line at the market, about divorced women starting new relationships. It had emphasized that a woman’s personal life and dating shouldn’t be put up for a vote. It was personal business, and the woman deserved a life of her own. But that was just a magazine article, and she was a widow, not divorced, and these were her kids. All she had in the world.

  “And you, Peter?”

  “Mark’s my friend, Mom. I see him all the time.”

  Yup, just what she’d expected. Peter wanted to keep Mark to himself. Okay. That changed things.

  “And he seems sad about your telling him to stay away,” Peter went on. “And you seem miserable.” He took a long draw on his lemonade. “So if it makes both of you happy, I say yes.”

  When did Peter become so observant and philosophical? She suppressed a smile and the desire to hug him, but let the pride ripple through her for a second or two. Her son was growing up.

  “I think it’s pretty obvious I’ve been stuck in a rut, and I’m not sure how to go about it—you know, inviting him back.”

  “Make him cookies!” Gracie was on her game.

  “The chocolate ones,” Claire added.

  “You’re the one who sent him away,” Peter said, on his third peanut butter cookie. “And because he’s a cool guy and respects you, he’s stayed away.”

  Clearly, she did not know this young man. “Do you know that for a fact?”

  “I know him. He’s a good guy. So it’s up to you to invite him back.” Peter glanced around the kitchen, toward the family dining table. “Have him over for dinner, with all of us. Then we’ll all go to our rooms so you can talk to him alone.”

  Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Well, that’s certainly a good suggestion. I’m just a little nervous about falling on my face in front of you kids, if he wants nothing more to do with me.”

  “He loves you,” Gracie piped up again.

  “How do you know?” Laurel was fascinated with the girl’s blossoming right before her eyes.

  “When he sees you, he looks like Daisy when she sees Anna,” Claire clarified.

  “And Daisy licks Anna’s face all the time.” Gracie got the giggles, and Claire joined in.

  Face licking? She’d thought they’d been discreet. How much had her daughters seen of her and Mark kissing? Her cheeks went warm, but she loved how the family meeting was going so far.

  Truth was, she couldn’t be a good example to her son and daughters if she let fear rule her life by cowering and not going after what she wanted. She’d wanted to make them proud with the B&B, and it hadn’t been easy. But Mark was different. He was a person, not a building. She wanted a relationship with him, and that took two people to agree. It was a risk to ask him back into her life, and he may not want to come back.

  “So now that you have our support, how are you going to bring him back?” Peter asked, leaning in, looking more like a junior lawyer than her previous temperamental son.

  She wanted to burst into tears thinking that one day they’d all be grown and leave…and she’d be alone. Is that what she wanted for her life, to give it all to the kids and forget about herself?

  “Good question, Peter.” It seemed like it was now her duty to go after what she wanted, as an example for her children. She was an adult, right? So why did she still need backup? She finished her cookie and took another drink of lemonade, deep in thought.

  “Okay, here’s my plan…”

  Chapter Nine

  Sunday morning, Mark took a good long look in the mirror while he shaved. He’d quit walking around with a two-day growth since he was stepping up to more responsibility with the hotel. May as well look the part, even if he didn’t feel it yet.

  Before, with Laurel and the kids, life was chaotic. Now, on his own, it was merely a challenge. But he was willing to power through, to learn the ins and outs of the business. His parents deserved their retirement. As he shaved, he thought about the day Peter asked him to show him how. The kid still had peach fuzz, but they’d borrowed one of Laurel’s disposable blades and he’d given Peter a lesson with shaving cream and all.

  He’d felt a lot more alive when he was involved in Laurel’s hectic life. Something else occurred to him—he wanted that back. He wanted her most of all. Yeah, he’d scared Laurel with his surfing stunt, and she couldn’t handle it. Remembering what she’d been through, losing a husband to cancer, with three children to look after, he completely understood her reasoning. But at this point, two years later, was she using that as an excuse? Maybe the real fear was about opening her heart to someone new. But was he the guy? The right guy for her?

  He tilted his chin up and shaved his neck, then used a warm face cloth to wash away the excess shaving cream. Maybe she’d given him a huge clue without realizing it? She must care about him or she wouldn’t have gotten so upset when he’d gotten hurt that day. The question was, did she care about him in the same way he’d finally admitted he did for her?

  He’d taken the first step in changing his position in life, being willing to take on running the hotel and becoming responsible for the business. Wasn’t it time he went after what he wanted in his personal life, too? All he had to do was figure out how to convince Laurel that they had a good thing going on, and they should stick with it. Who knew what
they might have together?

  He looked at himself in the mirror again, looked hard and swallowed slowly. It was time to admit it—he wanted her and her three kids. The whole package. That was the kicker. And it scared him. He couldn’t just find a woman and tiptoe back into getting involved over time. No, he had to go and pick one with a family. But he’d never done things the easy way.

  He wiped his entire face with the cloth, realizing he’d do whatever it took to convince her he was the right guy. When the cloth came down, he smiled in the mirror. Decision made.

  “You can quit admiring yourself for now,” Grandda said, appearing from thin air. “We’ve got a big problem in the boiler room.”

  Shifting gears from hotelier with an agenda back to fix-it guy, he threw on his T-shirt. Forced to push back his plans to confront Laurel, Mark rushed out the door after his grandfather, heading for the basement.

  *

  Laurel gathered all her existing nerves, the long list of needed repairs Peter had suggested she use as the excuse to confront Mark in one hand, and her backup in the other hand. The twins. Gracie was linked between her and Claire. Because, how could Mark resist her adorable girls? She’d also worn the sundress he especially liked the night Peter caught them kissing on the deck of the pub for added effect. With that and a batch of butterflies winging around her insides, they headed for The Drumcliffe.

  Entering the lobby of the hotel, she spotted Maureen behind the checkin desk. When she looked up, she immediately smiled. “Hi! What can I do for you?”

  “I’m looking for Mark.”

  “We want to talk to him,” Claire said, businesslike and so grown up.

  “We need him.” Gracie went a bit further, and Laurel gently squeezed her fingers. “Ouch.” She looked at her sister, who’d evidently done the same, but probably harder.

  Embracing the importance of the situation—everyone seemed to know about the breakup—Maureen gave a serious nod to the little ones. “He’s in the basement fixing a pipe. We sprung a leak this morning.”

  “Oh, maybe this isn’t such a good time—” After all it took to work up the nerve to come over, Laurel was struck by disappointment. She’d been handed a chance to postpone facing Mark. But she really did want to get this over with, to admit she’d overreacted and wanted a second chance. Hopefully he still did, too. Since she’d made up her mind, every second before facing him seemed like an hour.

  “No, I’m sure he’d like to see you. Take that elevator—” she pointed down the hall to the end “—to the basement, then turn right to the boiler room. He should be there.”

  Today was the day, no squirming out of it. The butterflies were running out of space inside.

  A couple of minutes later they followed the noise and found the boiler room, peeked around the door and saw Mark. Now her breathing needed prompting. Take a breath, blow it out. He was wearing goggles, using an air hammer and some kind of tool to cut an old, corroded-looking pipe above the water drum. Grandda looked on. A blaring machine-gun-like sound made the girls cover their ears, and didn’t help Laurel’s hammering heart a bit. It was hot like a sauna in the close quarters, but she couldn’t back down now. She had the girls stand behind her skirt as they stood near the exit, in case there was any danger of stuff flying, and waited to be noticed. Which Grandda did immediately.

  “We’re almost done here,” he yelled, as if he was working just as hard as Mark. Then when the racket had ended with the metal cut made, he tapped Mark on the shoulder. “You’ve got company,” he yelled, even though the sound had diminished.

  Mark turned, obviously surprised by Laurel and the girls in the hotel boiler room. “Hey, is everything all right?” he said, dropping the tools and standing from his squat, while removing the protective glasses.

  The spotlight was on her, and she couldn’t even swallow. How could she talk? By sheer willpower. “Actually, no, everything isn’t all right. But you look busy—” she could feel it coming…the cave “—so I’ll come back later.”

  “We’re halfway done here, but I can take a quick break. What do you need?”

  She’d memorized a short speech on the way over, and, ready or not, now was the time to use it. Because it would never get easier to say what she needed to. “I’m here because I need you,” she said as her lips betrayed her by trembling, as did her hand holding the list. Dang thing was shaking so much, she wadded it up and hid it behind her back.

  He stared her down, while processing what she’d said. “You need me.” He repeated her loaded words as if he hadn’t heard her right.

  There was no hiding now, and her backup team was staring at her, waiting for their mother to fix things. She nodded, feeling excruciatingly awkward.

  “What’s that?” He stared in the direction of the hand she’d just tried to hide.

  “A list.”

  He motioned for her to hand him the paper.

  She did, though she couldn’t will her hand to stop shaking. “It’s a list of all the little things that need repair since you haven’t been coming around.”

  “Oh.” He looked disappointed. “So when you said you ‘needed’ me, you meant in the fix-it way.” He glanced at Claire and Gracie and smiled.

  “Hi,” Gracie said.

  “Hi, kiddos.”

  Laurel wanted to explain that she needed him in a hundred different ways, too, but now wasn’t ideal, near a boiler room with Grandda hanging around, so she kept quiet. Kicking herself for backing down.

  When he took the list, their fingers touched, and the reaction was so intense, Laurel almost jumped back. He unwadded it and glanced over the words, keeping a business-only expression in place. “I’ve got to finish this and clean up, but I’ll come over as soon as I can.”

  She still felt him, where they’d touched, like a lingering low-level electrical shock. She’d missed his touch more than she thought.

  “Okay. Thanks. We’ll go home, then, and—” she glanced at her flats because it was easier than getting caught up in his steady gaze “—wait.” Did she have to sound so desperate on the “wait” part? “Take your time.”

  This wasn’t life or death, it just felt like it.

  He was onto her, she could tell by that sweet expression and understanding smile. “Give me about an hour.”

  Gah, an hour would be equal to eternity.

  *

  Mark watched Laurel and the girls leave, Gracie turning back and giving him a wave. Claire walking tall and proud like her mother. A sensation that could only be described as love overpowered him. She’d come here, list in hand, admitting that she needed him. He’d seen the evidence of her fear in the tremble of her lip and the shaky paper. It hadn’t been easy. He didn’t doubt for one instant that she wasn’t sincere. Why else would she bring her girls?

  Maybe Peter wasn’t around to watch them? Even so, they were witnesses to their mother needing help.

  She looked as beautiful as ever, and it was all he could do not to take her in his arms. Who cares who saw? But he wanted to do this right, this making-up and moving-forward business. He was filthy with plumber’s grease and dirty water, and he needed to finish the hotel project before he could move on to the most important job in the world. Winning Laurel back.

  His plan was to clean up, look his best. Make sure she knew how much he’d missed her, then state his case about “them” being right for each other. Not just right, either. Perfect. They were perfect for each other and if she needed evidence, he’d make a list for her, too.

  He’d seen the questions in her eyes, like he was torturing her by not dropping what he was doing and running after her. He understood how hard this had to be for her. Hell, he’d nearly dropped the air hammer when he’d seen her. But he wanted things to be right when he told her how he felt, and from the looks of her anxious expression and trembling hands, she had something more than a to-do list on her mind, too.

  *

  Mark showed up at Laurel’s an hour to the minute later. He’d showered
and changed into a clean pair of jeans and one of his newer T-shirts. She answered the door, quieter than usual, but with a thoughtful smile on her face. How he’d missed those hazel eyes with their golden flecks and hints of green, and those bee-stung lips, which he noticed bore a light shade of lipstick. She wore some kind of loose black lounge pants and a thin purple fleece pullover.

  “Get the problem fixed?”

  He’d missed hearing her voice, too.

  “Yeah, had to replace one of the old boiler tubes above the water drum. Was only the second time I’d done it, so Grandda was talking me through it. The hotel seriously needs a plumbing update, but until business picks up, we’ll just have to keep fixing and patching.” This mundane stuff was so not what he wanted to be talking about, but he couldn’t just dive into the topic of the rest of their lives.

  “I hear you on the business-picking-up part.” Her nervous hands, wringing and unwringing fingers, were her tell. He tried to ignore them. “I’m going to have to open up Thursday nights if I want to break even. It’s a good thing I have Alan’s other life insurance policy as backup.”

  Small talk was going to rule the day, unless he took charge. First, though, he had to figure out what Laurel needed, really needed, from him. He didn’t want to go the whole “we’re meant to be together” bit if all she actually wanted was a few small repairs to her B&B. How embarrassing that’d be, but he figured he owed her that much for the emotional distress he’d put her through.

  He produced the seriously creased list from his back pocket, deciding to go all business. “So, I see from the list you have some tricky lighting issues, a leaky faucet.” He paused to catch those caramel eyes flitting around his body and finally landing on his face. “This wouldn’t happen to be the leaky faucet I noticed a couple weeks ago, would it?”

  That halted her for an instant. “That would be the one.” A mild flush on her cheeks let him know she, too, remembered what’d gone on in that bathroom before he’d noticed the leak.

  So this was how it was going to work. He’d actually have to do some repairs before he could have “the” conversation he really wanted. “Since plumbing seems to be the theme of the day, I’ll start there.” He carried his toolbox past Laurel, and couldn’t help but notice how uptight she seemed as he passed. Was she afraid he was going to grab her or something? That was the last thing he wanted to do to her, make her nervous. He decided he’d get right to work and give her a chance to get used to him being there. Then maybe she’d calm down and relax enough to talk. Because talk they would, before he left today.