He laughed at their inside joke. “Yeah, thanks. Here, let me help you.”
Following Haley into the kitchen, Marc stood idly by the entryway as Haley pulled down two glasses from the cupboard.
“Drinks?” Marc asked.
She pointed to the fridge. He opened it and spotted the case of generic lemon-lime soda on the top shelf that Haley had specifically bought for tonight.
“It’s a miracle! You have something other than bottled water in here!”
“Haven’t you ever let your fridge get bare, Mr. Perfect?”
“Nope. Never. I’m perfect, so take notes.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you are. And that’s why you have toothpaste in the corner of your mouth.” She giggled as she watched him reach for his lip, wiping away at nothing. “Gotcha.”
“Hey, at least I brushed my teeth.”
“You’re domesticated?” Haley broke into full-throttled laughter before reaching the end of her sentence.
“And you think you’re funny,” he retorted with a wink.
Haley watched as he opened two cans and poured the carbonated beverage into the glasses. Fizz rose from the clear liquid, bubbling and popping into a fine mist. They carried the glasses into the living room, then situated themselves diagonally from one another, Haley in an armchair and Marc on the sofa.
“How’s this for domesticated?” he said.
The energy in the room easily drew them into conversation. But when a lull found them unprepared for silence, they both sat in quiet discomfort.
A fire sparked within Haley’s stomach, urging her to say something, do something. She wanted to reach for his hand, stare into his eyes. Instead, her muscles froze and she licked her lips to bring a touch of moisture to them. She averted her gaze to her lap, as if she’d find the words in the crease of her dress. When she looked up, Marc was staring at her. He looked dazed. A moment later a smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and played on his lips. She liked the way his stubble roughened his appearance, and she admired the shape of his jawline. Like a self-conscious teenager before her first kiss, Haley looked shyly away and giggled.
“So, I’m starving. Cheese and crackers just doesn’t do it for me. How about you?” Marc finally said.
“I should probably check on the food.”
“Y’know, I’m glad we decided to do this. I’m having a good time. And food is just the bonus.”
“We’ll see if you say that after trying the chicken. I’m not much of a cook.”
“With a mom like yours? I’m shocked.”
“I take after my dad when it comes to cooking genes.”
“Hey, as long as it’s not clucking while I eat it, I’m not picky.”
“I think we’ll be safe then.” As Haley rose out of her seat, Marc’s hand cupped hers, stopping her forward progression.
“Wait.” He sat there dumbfounded, but his hand hovered on top of hers. She quickly retreated into the cushions of her seat. “Haley…”
“Yes, Marc?” Haley subtly leaned in, unsure what to expect. He seemed so… serious.
“Thanks for inviting me.”
Haley oddly felt a little deflated. The comment was not quite as sentimental as she had expected.
“No problem. I just don’t want you to think I’m so typical that you get bored.”
“There’s nothing typical about you.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Hey, I’ve never met a woman who’d fearlessly serenade her date,” he added.
No. He. Didn’t.
“You heard me singing?” She’d never need blush again after this. She was sure her cheeks would be permanently pink from eternal embarrassment.
“Your voice carries.”
“Yeah, well, my musical aspirations are a deep, dark secret, so don’t tell.”
“Got any other secrets you want to share? I’ll tell one if you tell one.”
The question nearly spooked her. Somehow Marc had jumped from comfortable chitchat to intimately personal in one sentence. But in a way, she was glad he went there—just like the blatant openness of her secret admirer.
“Hmm… well,” she paused, reflecting on her life. There were so many things she wanted to share with Marc—the ugly parts and the lovely parts. More familiar with the unattractive aspects of herself, Haley was hesitant to expose her weaknesses to a stranger. Her mom already knew too much about her, and her sister was never around to talk to. Shelly from work wasn’t exactly the one to spill her guts to, unless she wanted everyone to find out about it through her vocal gossip network. But something within her claimed Marc was trustworthy of her secrets.
“Sometimes I just feel overwhelmed with guilt.”
“Guilt over what?”
Where to begin? “I don’t know. About a childhood friend who killed himself. About my father passing away. About little things.” It sounded silly hearing the words out loud. It had been years, but every so often the void he left revisited her.
“What happened with your dad?” Marc asked.
“He passed away fifteen years ago…” her voice choked as the words came out. She hadn’t expected to get teary-eyed when she brought it up, and her emotional response caught her by surprise. “He’s missed more than half of my life, and there are so many things I wish he could have been here for, so many things I never got to tell him. It’s just… hard sometimes.” She hated how sad she sounded. Perhaps she had shared too much too soon. “But it’s no big deal,” she quickly muttered.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” His voice trembled as he said it, as if… as if… he understood.
“It’s okay,” she lied. “It was a long time ago.”
There was an awkward momentary pause while they both collected their thoughts. Then he said, “If you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here for you. I understand how much it hurts to lose someone you love.”
“I should be over it by now…” She stopped, frozen in the memory. She felt her jaw tighten. Everything was unwinding rapidly as the memories washed over her. Perhaps he knew exactly how she was feeling, but she questioned if anyone could. Even now, fifteen years later, Haley found herself fighting back tears whenever the subject of her dad came up. Shouldn’t she be numb by now? Then Haley realized it was the first time she said those words to anybody… that she should be over it by now. Yet at the most unexpected times—like dinner with a man she adored—the wound felt fresh and the pain felt overwhelmingly bitter. Marc’s hand gently squeezed her arm.
“Y’know, Marc, you kind of remind me of him sometimes.”
“Really? Well, I can only hope that I’m half the man that my father was. In today’s world we get so preoccupied with other things that we don’t take time to show that we care. But it seems like your dad had his priorities straight. He obviously loved spending time with you.”
“Yes, he did,” Haley said. Except staying alive to take care of us wasn’t a priority.
Neither spoke while the solemnity of the moment descended on them. Haley’s eyes glazed as they stared into empty space.
“God can heal the pain, Haley.” Marc’s tender voice drew her back from the netherworld.
God’s healing—now that was a joke. She clenched her fists. “Well, sometimes I just want to shut down and mourn forever, you know? But my dad wouldn’t have wanted me to do that. I owe it to him to keep going. And I keep reminding myself that where he is right now is a much better place. No pain, no suffering, no hunger, no thirst.”
“You’re right—he is in a better place,” Marc said.
“Yeah,” Haley said, her voice soft. “But sometimes I get so angry at how we’ve had to live since he passed away. Have you ever experienced a ‘Goodwill Christmas,’ Marc? Every Christmas or birthday, while other kids got new clothes or cool toys, my mom would take us to Goodwill where we’d pick out an old, used toy or clothes that never quite fit. And do you know what it’s like to watch your mother struggle to pay the monthly bills? I mean, ever since he le
ft us, it’s been an uphill battle.” Tears tickled the edges of her eyes but she pressed on, unable to stop.
“Having a vineyard was always a gamble for us, especially hiring out labor with no guarantee of how the harvest will do. And we could never compete with the bigger vineyards. I had to pick up where Dad left off… I feel like I didn’t have a real childhood after he died. Sometimes I just want to know why me?”
Her last words echoed against the plaster walls. Haley paused, and the silence became deafening. She had said more than she should have, but couldn’t retract her words. She feared what Marc would think of her after her tirade.
“Do you believe in God?” he asked. His question felt too intimate, and an uncertain hush trailed behind it.
“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” she answered. “I used to believe that there was a God—until He took my friend and then my father from me. Now I just feel like maybe there isn’t anything more than suffering through this life until the end. Life is about the here and now, Marc. And that’s it. Pain, suffering, and after that, nothing.”
“Wow, I can’t agree with you that there’s nothing to look forward to, Haley. How can you even survive a day thinking that way? That life is little more than a helping of painful moments on earth? If there’s nothing bigger than us and our problems and our own little egos, then that pretty much says we have nothing to look forward to. It’s like saying that unless you get rich and famous, you’re worthless.”
“Maybe that’s just it, Marc. Maybe that’s all there is to life. Get what you can and wait for death to put you out of your misery.”
“Haley, do you even hear yourself? Waiting to be put out of your misery? Life doesn’t have to be miserable.”
“I dunno know, Marc. You’re talking to a woman who seems to attract tragedy. I wish I could feel differently, and maybe someday I will, but right now I guess I just need something to hope for.”
“Don’t you think that everything you have—dreams, a nice home, a job, a family—isn’t that enough? How can you discount these things?”
Haley sieved through Marc’s words. Though it seemed she had all that and more, the reality of it was that she really had nothing. No one to share the good with. And that was a hard pill to swallow. Comfortable with her resentfulness, the wall that separated her from her Maker blended into the scenery of her life; her detachment molded who she had become over the years. But now there was another truth being told to her. A truth proclaiming that someone still cared about her, even after all these years. Even after her unforgiveness and anger. Though she wasn’t ready to accept it just yet, she let it simmer. Yes, she was lucky. Yes, her dreams were coming to fruition. And yes, now she had Marc—probably the most wonderful gift of all. But still… something wasn’t quite right. Something remained unsettled within her.
“Well, I know you can get through it,” Marc concluded. “There’s something better out there for you. But you have to let go of whatever is eating you up inside. It will eventually rot you from within.” Something about the way he said that caught her attention; it was contemplative, as if he was talking to himself. Yet it was so honest, so true. “Can you at least promise me you’ll try to let go and just live?”
Hmm. The request sounded oddly familiar.
Did he know more about her father’s last words than she imagined? And if so, how?
“I promise to at least try.” Now she was doubly bound.
The tone was starting to feel much too therapeutic, so Haley sobered the mood, saying, “I don’t know why I get so upset. I swear I’m somewhat normal if you get to know me.”
“You—normal? I doubt that.” He poked her ribs. She liked that he touched her, even if his jab was a little too close to her love handles.
“Your turn.”
His face blanked. “My turn?”
“To share something, remember?”
Marc playfully winced then grew serious. The intensity in his eyes told her he had something important to tell her, perhaps something he had bottled up for a long time. He looked down, not in shame, but more as if in a quest for the words, as if the floorboards held the answers. “Actually, I do have something to tell you—about tonight and all of this.” His eyes met hers. “I just wanted to be clear with you about things—”
A kitchen timer stopped him mid-sentence. “Can you hold that thought while I take the chicken out of the oven? Otherwise we’ll need a chainsaw to cut through it.”
“Absolutely. Let me help.”
She noticed relief, a change in his demeanor and she wondered if he felt saved by the bell.
“And just so you know, I’d eat dirt off the floor if you served it.”
“This time I’m serving something a little better than that. Though my mom would freak out if she knew I didn’t make my own sauce for the chicken. So let’s keep it to ourselves. She gardens and cans her own food, so to her jarred tomato sauce is an abomination. I guess that’s part of growing up on a farm.”
“I never would have pegged you for a farm girl. Shouldn’t you be wearing overalls and a straw hat?”
“I thought that might be too much. Hey, I could say the same about you being a nerdy computer guy. Shouldn’t you have on a pocket protector or something?” she said over her shoulder as she strolled to the kitchen, with Marc tailing close behind.
“Hey, thanks so much for helping. Can you take this to the table, then go ahead and sit down. I’ll be right out.” She handed him a steaming dish of breaded chicken breasts bubbling over with cheese and—God forbid—Ragu.
Marc set the entrée on the dining room table while commenting on the simple elegance. Two white plates trimmed in gold sat on a plain white tablecloth, with decorative, rosy napkins and gleaming silverware nestled near each plate—a place setting that Haley rarely, if ever, used. She had placed the flowers he brought on the table. While Marc seated himself, a thought came to her. Haley scampered to the living room and turned on her stereo, flooding the house with soft R&B. Once the mood was set, she ran back to the kitchen and returned to the dining room with hands full of the remaining food. When Marc pulled out her chair for her, Haley rewarded him with a smile. Another smooth move scoring him points. Haley sensed Marc wasn’t doing this for show. He wanted to treat her right, and she liked it… a lot.
“Looks amazing! Do you usually cook like this for all of your friends?” Marc asked her, breaking the silence after he finished praying over the food.
“It’s special for you.” Though she said it jokingly, Haley meant it. Marc excavated a joyful sensation within her that had been deeply guarded by her heart. The meal, the conversation, the whole evening—it reminded her that life was good, that it felt nice to care about another person. It had been a long time since Haley had experienced that kind of excitement. For the first time in her life, Haley’s intuition told her this was more than just a dinner leading to a dead end. No, this relationship was going somewhere, and she felt as if this could be her future, her destiny, sitting across from her. She basked in that feeling.
Just as they settled into their chairs, preparing to dish out food, the doorbell rang.
“That’s odd. I’m not expecting other company,” she mumbled.
“So you don’t usually make it a habit to have more than one date at a time?”
Haley laugh. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be right back.”
She rose from her chair and opened her heavy wooden front door.
Allen Michaels. Wearing jeans with a thin windbreaker and a sorry look on his face. But not sorry enough.
Chapter 24
“What are you doing here?” Haley asked sternly. This was not cool. Not cool at all.
Allen peered around the door into the dining room, his glare settling on Marc. “I didn’t realize you had company. I am sorry for popping in like this, but I was on my way home and the engine sputtered and the car just quit right on your street. I had your address in my briefcase, so I thought I could use your phone, since my cell phone
went dead. I only need a second,” he explained in more detail than Haley needed to hear.
She peered beyond him to the street. His black Mercedes sat at the curb, its hazard lights blinking furiously. “Come in. It’s freezing out there. You’ll need more than a windbreaker to get through a winter in Westfield, Allen.”
“I know, I know. I just haven’t gotten around to shopping for a coat. I thought you were supposed to take me shopping,” he said with a cracked smile.
Haley ignored his comment. “I’ll get the phone for you. Just wait here a moment.” Leaving Allen in the entry, she hurried to the kitchen to retrieve the cordless phone.
“Thanks so much, Haley,” Allen called after her.
Haley returned, handed him the phone, and pointed to the living room. “If you’d like to make your call in there, you’ll have some privacy.”
Leaving him unattended, Haley returned to the dining room. “I am so sorry about this, Marc,” she whispered. “That’s my writing teacher from that class I was telling you about. He’s having engine trouble and is calling for a tow truck. I’ll try to get him out of here as soon as I can. I am so sorry.”
Marc scratched his angular chin. “You know what? Maybe you should invite the guy to stay for dinner until the truck comes.”
“That’s really sweet of you to be so understanding, but I don’t know…” That was the last thing she wanted.
“Well, I’m not one to turn away strays. But it’s seriously too cold out for him to wait in his car. You and I could make up our dinner some other time.”
Was that another dinner date he proposed? Haley wasn’t quite sure how to translate Marc’s suggestion. Dating can be such a guessing game… and a stressful one at that. In some ways it got better with age, like when guys no longer showed affection by sticking gum in his beloved’s hair or making fun of her braces, which Haley could never understand was a boy’s way of saying, “I like you.” Now in her twenties, it was a different challenge. Instead, it was reading subtle gestures, managing the physical stuff, and determining marriage material. The whole emotional realm of relationships was a complete roller coaster, never an easy one for her to figure out. Yet for some reason, she felt uncharacteristically reassured about Marc.
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