The afternoon they’d finished rebuilding the Kings’ barn, he’d gotten a text from Lani, his paralegal. She needed to see him and asked if she could come to Paradise. He prodded her to just tell him what was wrong, but she refused and said she’d be there in the next day or two.
“Mark, you have company!” his grandfather bellowed up the stairs.
He hurried downstairs and his heart sank when he saw Lani. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. He didn’t remember ever seeing her that upset in the years they’d worked together.
“They’re reassigning me to another attorney at the firm,” she burst out. “It’s not right.”
He made her come into the house, made her sit down at the kitchen table. He put the kettle on to heat water for tea. Women always fixed tea when they were upset, didn’t they?
“I wanted to threaten to quit,” she said between sobs. “But I can’t. I need my job right now.”
“Of course you do.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly as he set the cup of tea before her. “Here, drink this and try to calm down.”
All the while he was trying to soothe her, his head buzzed with thoughts. The news felt like someone had put nails in his coffin. Was the firm not ever going to let him come back?
“I’m just scared to death you’re not coming back.” Lani sniffed, voicing his fears.
Mark handed her a paper napkin from the holder on the table and watched her dab at her tears. ”You know the boss. He doesn’t want anyone to go five minutes without working on a brief or helping a client. I turned in more billable hours than anyone in the firm, and he was always saying I could do more.”
Lani balled up the napkin and sat up straighter. ”I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about how you’d feel about this.”
“It’s perfectly natural,” he assured her. “You have a little girl to take care of. When they told me to take some time off, I didn’t think it would be for more than two weeks or so. Didn’t think how it might affect your job.” He frowned. “Lani, do you need some money? I can—”
“No!” She waved her hands in protest. “I’ve just been moved from one desk to another. I haven’t lost my job.”
Mark glanced at the kitchen clock. “You need to get home. Who’s taking care of Abby?”
“My mom.” She stood and they walked outside.
“Text me when you get home.”
She kissed him on the cheek. “I will, Daddy. Take care.” She glanced around. “It’s so lovely here. I can see why you’ve always loved it.”
“Well, I loved it more when I didn’t have to stay,” he admitted ruefully as he opened the door to her car.
He watched her drive away and found his steps heavy as he returned to the house.
“Miriam’s bringing supper over,” his grandfather told him as he walked into the kitchen.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You feeling sick?”
He shook his head.
Grandfather peered at him, his bushy white eyebrows drawn in a frown. “Your friend bring some bad news?”
“They reassigned her to another attorney. I’m not sure they’re going to let me come back.” He held up his hand. “I’m not in a good mood right now. I’m going up to my room.”
“Allrecht.”
He walked into the little room he’d spent so many summers in, threw himself on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. Life stunk. It just completely stunk. He rubbed his hands over his face. In his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined losing his job.
Minutes ticked by. The room seemed to shrink, the space too small, the walls closing in. He leaped up from the bed, grabbed his car keys, and rushed down the stairs. Air. He needed some air.
“Hey, where’s the fire?” his grandfather cried as he rushed through the room. “Miriam just dropped off supper.”
“Go ahead without me,” he said without stopping. “I’m going for a drive.”
“It’s fried chicken, your favorite,” he heard his grandfather call after him.
Food didn’t interest him right now. He kept going. On his way to his car, a clap of thunder startled him into looking up into a darkening sky. Perfect. It matched his mood.
He slid behind the wheel of the car and felt a measure of calm descend. This was familiar territory, where he had some control. A man and his car. He didn’t need anything else for the moment. He started it, backed out of the drive, and headed for the open road. A good long drive was what he needed. The country roads hereabout were a pleasure to drive after the traffic clogged roads back in Philadelphia.
A block later the skies opened. He turned on the windshield wipers just in time to see a woman hurrying along the side of the road. Something about her looked familiar. He signaled he was pulling over and hit the button to lower the passenger window. “Miriam?”
She blinked at him. “Mark?”
“Get in.”
“I’m wet.”
He glanced at the rear view mirror, then back at her. “Doesn’t matter, get in before someone hits us.”
She did as he asked.
Her clothes and kapp were sodden, her dress molded to her slender curves. Beads of moisture sparkled on her long eyelashes. He looked away, too aware.
“What are you doing walking in the rain?” He checked for traffic, then pulled out onto the road.
“It wasn’t raining when I set out.” She shivered.
Mark flicked off the air conditioning. “Do you want me to turn the heater on?”
“Nee, I’m fine.”
“Look in the glove compartment. There should be a handkerchief you can dry your face with.”
She opened it, found it, and wiped at her face.
He frowned and gave her a long glance. “Were you crying?”
“Nee, of course not.”
He drove, silent.
“You just passed my haus.”
“I know. I’ll take you there when you tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s nothing.”
“We’re friends, Miriam. I’d hope you’d talk to me about something that’s troubling you.”
She shook her head. “Please, just take me home.”
Finally, resigned, he did as she asked.
Fifteen
Mark showed up at her house two days later.
“I thought I’d return this,” he said, holding out a bag filled with the plastic containers she’d taken to John’s house. “The fried chicken was delicious. I was lucky there was any left after my grandfather got to it first.”
Miriam took the bag from him. “I know how he loves it. I’m glad you did too.”
Her mother appeared at her side. “Mark, it’s gut to see you. Is John allrecht?”
“Yes, thanks. He’s fine.”
“Gut.” She turned to Miriam. “I’ll be in the kitchen finishing lunch.”
Miriam smiled. “Would you like to stay for lunch?”
“I didn’t drop by to get invited.”
“Maybe not, but you’re welcome to stay.”
“I guess I have time.” He followed her into the kitchen.
“Gut. Mamm, I invited Mark to have lunch with us.”
She gave him a brief glance as she filled glasses with lemonade. “That’s nice.”
“Have a seat. Would you like some lemonade or iced tea?”
“I haven’t had any of your delicious lemonade in ages, Sarah.”
Miriam took the glass her mudder handed her and set it before Mark.
He took a sip. “It’s as delicious as I remember.”
Sarah nodded, then set the pitcher down. Was it her imagination, or was her mudder being uncharacteristically silent?
Mark glanced at his watch, and Miriam realized he was wearing his city clothes. “I’m going back to Philadelphia this afternoon.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “So soon? I thought you’d be here until the harvest was over.”
“I won’t be gone long. There’s some business I need to take care of.”
“So you’re not going back to stay?”
“Not yet.”
“Miriam, call everyone in?”
She forced herself to walk outside and rang the bell, then returned to sit next to Mark. Her throat was dry, so very dry. She sipped lemonade and it eased a little.
The back door crashed open as her schweschders and bruders piled into the room, chattering a mile a minute. They stopped abruptly when they saw Mark.
“Hi, Mark!” they chorused.
“Hi, to you,” he said and he grinned.
Miriam rose automatically to supervise the washing of hands. Her dat came in, nodded at Mark, and waited his turn to wash his hands. Soon everyone was seated around the table, heads were bent for the blessing for the meal, then the clamor began. The children fell on the meal like a pack of hungry wolves.
She handed Mark the bowl of potato chips. “Have some before they’re all gone.”
He took some and passed the bowl on.
A baby’s wail echoed down the stairs. Miriam got up. “I’ll get Katie,” she told her mudder. “You eat.” She returned with a sleepy looking Katie and put her in the high chair in between her and Mark.
Katie leaned over and gave Mark a big grin.
“Here, Katie, sandwich.” Miriam placed a quarter of a sandwich on the plastic tray in front of her.
The toddler picked up the sandwich with both hands and began munching. She turned to Mark and grinned, showing a mouthful of yellow.
Mark laughed and Katie chortled. She held out the sandwich to him, inviting him to take a bite.
“No, thanks. I have my own sandwich,” he said, holding it up to show her.
“So you’re going to Philadelphia today?” Miriam asked as she wiped Katie’s mouth with a paper napkin.
He nodded. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Will you be returning to your job after harvest?” Daniel asked.
Miriam found herself holding her breath as she waited for his answer.
“I don’t know,” Mark replied. “My firm is giving me some time off.”
“I see.” Daniel frowned and helped himself to another sandwich.
“I’m sure John has been happy to have your help,” Sarah said. “But it’s always nice to get home.”
Miriam shot her mudder a disbelieving glance. She knew how Miriam felt about Mark. She cast about for something to say. “Have you heard from your parents lately?”
“They’re still in Europe. I believe they’re visiting France this week.”
“John has been grateful for your help,” Miriam said. She took a bite of her sandwich and found it tasteless. Was it her imagination, or were both her parents being quieter and less friendly to Mark than they had been in the past? Maybe lunch hadn’t been a gut idea after all.
“Mark, would you pass the chips, please?” Isaac asked.
“Eat your sandwich first,” Sarah told him.
He demolished half of it in two bites, swallowed, then stuffed the remaining half in his mouth. He looked like a chipmunk.
Miriam saw Mark struggling to hide his grin. She sighed and shook her head. What must Mark think of this family?
She got up to clear plates and brought the container of peach ice cream to the table.
“Ice cream?” Sadie asked, her eyes wide.
Katie screamed and clapped her hands. And then, to Miriam’s disbelieving eyes, Katie leaned over and patted Mark’s arm. He smiled at her.
“Oh my, nee!” Miriam cried. “Katie, look what you’ve done!”
Mark’s immaculate white shirt sleeve now bore a baby sized palm print of bright yellow egg salad.
Katie promptly burst into tears and howled. Miriam sprang up, grabbed a dish towel, and wet it with water from the faucet.
“Now, now, don’t be upset,” Mark told her as she dabbed at the stain. “Miriam, it’s no big deal. I’m sure it’ll wash out.”
She bit her lip. “I hope so. I’m schur that’s an expensive shirt. But you said you were on your way out of town.”
“I’ll just go home and grab another shirt.”
Miriam lifted Katie from the high chair and carried her to the sink to wash her hands and face.
Mark stood. “Well, I should get going.”
She glanced at him. “You’re not staying for ice cream?”
He used his paper napkin to wipe at the stain on his shirt. “I’d better not. But thanks for lunch.”
“Can I have his ice cream?” Jacob spoke up.
“Why should you get it?” Linda demanded.
“Kinner!” Daniel said in a quiet but firm manner.
Miriam wiped Katie’s face on a dish towel and followed Mark to the front door. “I’m so sorry—”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he assured her. He chucked Katie under her fat chin and she chortled at him. “I’m just glad to see you’re looking more cheerful than yesterday.”
She pasted on a smile and nodded. Little did he know, she thought as she watched him walk to his car.
“That was a quick trip,” his grandfather quipped when he walked into the house.
Mark held out his arm. “If you ever eat lunch at Miriam’s, watch out for Katie. She’s a toucher.”
He stripped off the soiled shirt and walked into the kitchen to run water over it in the sink. “I’m hoping it comes out. This is one of my favorite shirts.” He squirted some dish detergent on the stain and scrubbed at it.
“Does this mean you’re not going?”
Mark rinsed the sleeve. The stain remained. “No, I’m going. I’ll get another shirt and hit the road.”
“Let me work on that.”
“Thanks. Anything you want me to pick up for you in the city?”
“The city’s got nothing I want.”
“Okay.”
Mark took the stairs two at a time, grabbed a clean shirt, and dragged it on while he descended the stairs.
“Where’s the fire?” his grandfather asked as he came into the kitchen.
“I just lost some time, that’s all.” He finished buttoning the shirt and tucked it into his pants. He started past his grandfather, then stopped to hug him. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“You asked me if I wanted anything from the city,” his grandfather said as he stepped back from the embrace.
“Yeah. What should I bring you? A Philly cheese steak sub?”
“You,” John said simply. “Just you. Drive safe.”
Mark swallowed the lump in his throat. “I will.” He touched his shoulder, then walked out of the house.
It felt good to be dressed in regular clothes and tooling along toward the city.
He’d enjoyed farming, but he’d missed the city. He didn’t have a plan. Well, not an organized one. He’d check on his condo, get a haircut, and give the private investigator a call.
He’d also call a few of his fellow attorneys, see if he could get a sense of what he should be doing about a job search since it was a distinct possibility he might not be going back to the firm.
Traffic was awful. He grinned, up for the challenge. He wound his way through it to his downtown condo and parked in the garage. His mail box was full. Lani must not have been by for a couple days. He scooped it up and rode up the elevator.
He opened the door to his condo and cool air drifted out. Cool to the point of cold. He’d set the thermostat low before he left. A friend had once told him he’d tried to save on the utility bill by not keeping the air conditioning on at the usual level, and had come home to find his condo smelling mildewy.
“Mark!”
He turned. “Mrs. Winkelman. Hello.”
“You’re back. I told you things would blow over.”
He vaguely remembered her saying that as he had carried his suitcase onto the elevator for the ride down to the garage. He was saved from responding when her cell phone rang and she quickly excused herself to answer it.
Mark tossed the mail on the table in the entryway and winced at his
reflection in the ornate brass mirror that hung over it. A haircut was the first order of business. Just that morning he’d noticed how shaggy he’d become, then remembered what day of the week it was . . . and that had given him an idea. He’d dressed in his city clothes and headed out almost immediately, just stopping briefly at Miriam’s.
“I appreciate you getting me in on such short notice,” he said as he slid into the stylist’s chair.
Giorgio stood for a moment and gaped, then quickly got to work. As he snipped and muttered, Mark asked some careful questions. Giorgio had one very important client who’d recommended him to Mark, and he wanted to know if that man still kept his bi-weekly Wednesday appointment with him—without raising his suspicions, obviously.
A simple, casual question gleaned the information that his former boss was due for an appointment that very afternoon. “Voila!” Giorgio announced importantly. “I have worked my magic!”
Mark grinned. “Nice job!”
“Don’t stay away so long next time,” he admonished, whisking away the protective cape. “And put some conditioner on if you must be out in the sun so much.”
Conditioner. Mark bit back a grin. He could just imagine what his grandfather would think if he saw a bottle of hair conditioner in the bathroom.
He walked out to the reception area, handed over his gold card, added a generous tip for Giorgio, and lingered over the display of shampoos and conditioners all packaged in manly colors of navy and burgundy. He picked up a bottle of conditioner, carried it to the receptionist, and paid for it.
As he was wondering what else he’d have to do to stay until the real reason he’d come, his boss walked in. He did a double take.
“Byler. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Mark ran a hand over his hair. “Needed a trim.”
“Yes, well, that’s some tan.” Mr. Sampson looked uncomfortable. “Looks like you took some time off in an island paradise.”
“Paradise, anyway,” he muttered. “Feels good to be back home.”
“Yes, well, I’m afraid we’re not ready to have you come back yet.” He glanced at the door to the salon, clearly eager to avoid more conversation.
Seeds of Hope Page 13