Home for Christmas (Willow Park #5) (2 page)

But they’d kept losing control and falling into bed again
and again—for the last two months of their engagement.

Sophie still occasionally felt guilty about it, even though
she knew in her head that God was all about forgiveness and she’d mostly worked
through the guilt.

The thought of Mark kissing her, touching her, made her
restless, and she shifted uncomfortably in the tub. Knowing she needed to relax
if she was ever going to sleep tonight, she reached over and picked up her
little vibrating sponge.

A friend had gotten it for her as a funny gift at one of her
bridal showers. She and Mark had played around with it a little during their
first couple of months of marriage. But Sophie had never expected to really
need to use it the way she had for the last year.

She’d been using it a lot.

A memory came back to her of one evening four months after she
and Mark had gotten married. She’d always been kind of clueless in the kitchen
back then. Since both of them worked, they’d mostly eaten takeout or gone out
to restaurants. But one day she’d decided she was going to make a pot of
homemade soup. She was tired of feeling helpless in front of the stove and was
determined to teach herself to cook as well as her friends could. Mark came
home to find her in the kitchen, surrounded by a complete mess of half-chopped
vegetables, flour all over the floor, and a gash where she’d cut her thumb with
the knife. She’d been upset and embarrassed that she couldn’t even manage the
simplest of meals on her own. Mark had just laughed, bandaged up her thumb, and
then taken her in his arms, telling her that he loved her exactly as she was
and she never needed to change. He’d finished making the soup himself, and as
it simmered, they’d made love on the couch. He’d always taken care of her. He’d
always made her feel loved and treasured.

Remembering their time together on the couch that evening,
Sophie turned on the sponge and held it between her thighs, thinking about Mark
until the sensations tightened pleasurably inside her. She let out a long
breath as her body relaxed.

She turned the sponge off afterwards, trying to feel
satisfied and not lonely.

When she finally climbed out of the tub, dried off, and put
on her pajamas, she decided she felt better. She was tired and relaxed, and she
left the television on as she turned off the lights in the apartment and got
into bed.

She’d made it through another day.

It had been 912 days since Mark’s boss and a representative
from the White House had shown up at her doorstep in D.C. to tell her that Mark
had been captured.

She’d spent two years, two Christmases, without him.

She had no idea how many more it would be.

If he was dead, she’d be heartbroken, but at least she could
have tried to restart her life. There was no restarting her life now. Not like
this. He wasn’t dead. He was just captured with no return date on the horizon.
She was trapped in a limbo that might never end.

If he ever came back, she was sure he’d be different. Maybe
she wouldn’t know him anymore. Maybe he wouldn’t love her, need her anymore.
Maybe they couldn’t be happy together, the way they’d been before. That thought
was terrifying too.

She closed her eyes and prayed, vaguely aware of the sitcom
blaring on the television, until she finally went to sleep.

***

The next afternoon, Sophie was
arguing with her grandfather about the bookstore, something they often did.

“But, Grandpa,” she said, trying not to sound impatient, “We
wouldn’t have to get rid of very many books. We could keep all the
sections—just reduce the number of books in each one a bit—and then there would
be room for the coffee bar right here at the front of the shop.”

He frowned at her. “This is a bookstore. Not a coffee house.
If people want coffee, they can go to the doughnut shop across the street.”

“I know they can. But you don’t seem to understand that,
nowadays, people want coffee drinks everywhere they go. We could make it really
cute, and folks would come in just to get some coffee, but then they would
stick around and buy books.”

“You’ve already made me put all those armchairs in and get
all those knickknacks in the front. What more do you want?”

The bookstore had been losing money steadily until Sophie
had come and started instituting some changes, but even now it was barely
breaking even. If her grandfather didn’t have a lot of money in savings, they
never would have gotten by.

“I want
coffee
,” she said. “I’m telling you, there
isn’t a real coffee shop downtown here, so there’s a gap that we could fill. I
think it would really get good business, and it wouldn’t take that much of an
investment.”

Her grandfather grumbled, but she could see he was starting
to cave.

Willow Park was a small town, but it did have a fairly
steady stream of tourists, particularly in the fall when the leaves changed,
coming through for the quaint atmosphere and the lovely mountain scenery. The
most successful businesses in town were those that took advantage of tourists’
desire for anything cute and charming. Sophie knew that, if she were to make
the bookstore cuter and more appealing, it would get more business.

Before either of them could add to the discussion, the bell
on the front door of the shop rang.

Sophie turned around with her automatic smile for a new
customer.

Except it wasn’t a new customer.

She recognized the two people who entered immediately. The
man was Roger Wilson, Mark’s boss at the cable news station. The woman was the
representative from the White House. Both of them had showed up on her door
that horrible night in D.C. to tell her that Mark was kidnapped.

Sophie’s heart dropped to her gut as she stared at them.

Roger smiled at her, his expression very strange. “Sophie.
It’s been a long time.”

“Yes,” she managed to say, coming out behind the desk and
reaching an arm out to shake his hand. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Fine. Good. You remember Paula Hilton?” Roger
definitely sounded odd.

Sophie shook Paula’s hand too, barely focusing on the other
woman’s face. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice cracking.

Her hands were starting to shake.

Fortunately, Roger didn’t waste any time. “We’ve got him
back.”

Sophie froze. The whole world froze for a very long time.
Finally, she managed to gasp, “What?”

“We’ve got him back. They were finally able to negotiate a
deal for his return. He’s safe. So are Jim and Peter. We’ve got them all back.”

Sophie couldn’t see anything. She started to sway. Her
grandfather hurried over with a folding chair they kept behind the cashier’s
desk.

After a minute, she was sitting in the chair, although she
had no idea how she’d even gotten there. “He’s….he’s safe?”

“Yes. He’s safe,” Roger said. “They’ve taken him to Germany.
He’s in a hospital there now.”

“Ger-many? He’s in a hospital? Is he okay?”

“He hasn’t had an easy time, of course,” Paula said softly.
“And it will take some time for him to…to get back to full health. But they say
he’s going to be okay.”

Sophie’s breathing was fast and shallow. She couldn’t seem
to take a full breath. She leaned forward, trying to catch her breath, to
process what was going on, how it could be happening like this without any
warning.

Her grandfather was rubbing her back, muttering, “Thank you,
Jesus,” under his breath.

If Sophie had any breath, she might have been saying it too.

“You can go to him,” Roger said, sounding rather emotional
himself. He’d always been a kind man. “You can take a flight to Germany right
away to see him.”

“Now?”

“Right now, if you want.”

Of course, she wanted to go right now. She’d been waiting
for this news for 913 days.

Whenever Sophie had dreamed of
seeing Mark again, she’d always imagined herself joyful, thrilled, ecstatic.

She’d never imagined she’d be terrified.

But, as she rode up the elevator in the hospital in Germany,
she was more scared than anything else.

She was sure he’d changed. Anyone would have changed, after
going through what he had. But she might not know him anymore. He might not
know her. He might not feel for her the way he used to. Their marriage might
never again be what it was.

It was wrong to feel this way—to feel anything but happy
about his return—but forcing the feelings away didn’t really work.

Since Roger and Paula had walked into the bookstore
yesterday, her life had turned into a whirlwind—talking to people, flying
across the Atlantic, meeting more strangers than she could possibly remember,
and then finally being driven onto the airbase in Germany and walking into the
hospital.

She hadn’t had any time to process, and now she was here
before she could even think clearly about what it meant. She knew she was about
to see Mark, and several people had warned her not to expect too much from him
right away, since experiences like he’d had take their toll on a person.

All she knew was that he was her husband and she was finally
about to see him again.

She tried to visualize him in her mind, putting him in a
hospital bed, and could barely do it. That just scared her even more. She was
his wife. She was supposed to love him no matter what. She
did
love him
no matter what. But how could she really love him if she didn’t even know him
anymore?

Her whole body was shaking as she walked down the hall with
Paula, who had accompanied her on the flight and had clearly been sent as the
official representative of the U.S. government.

Sophie had been told all kinds of details about the Syrian group
who had captured him and how the U.S. had managed to get him back. Peggy, the wife
of Jim, the producer, and Mike, the long-time boyfriend of Peter, the
cameraman, had both appeared to follow the background and care about all the
details. Sophie didn’t. Her mind couldn’t work that way. She couldn’t bear to
hear the politics of why her husband had been captured, since it made the
situation scarier, more brutally painful.

At the moment Sophie was barely aware of Paula beside her.
Her stomach was churning, and she tightened her hands into fists so they
wouldn’t be trembling so obviously as she approached Mark’s door.

A few people were gathered outside, but Sophie didn’t
recognize any of them.

She stood like a statue, staring at the partially closed
door. She had no idea what she was supposed to do, and no idea how she was
supposed to do it.

“He dozed off a little while ago,” someone said. Sophie
guessed the woman was maybe a nurse. “But he’ll wake up easily enough. No need
for you to wait any longer to see him.”

The nurse was smiling at Sophie, fondly and full of
affection. Everyone was smiling at her. They were happy for her—finally able to
see her husband again.

Sophie was happy too. Wasn’t she?

Swallowing hard over her nerves, she pushed open the door
and walked into the room very slowly.

It was a hospital room—just like all the others she’d seen
in her life. With a bed, a lot of equipment, a side chair, and a very sterile
atmosphere. There were four bouquets of flowers on the long windowsill—all of
them large and expensive. She wondered who had sent them.

Sophie had nothing for Mark. She’d brought him nothing. She
hadn’t even thought about it until this very minute.

Then her eyes found the figure lying in the bed, and she
forgot about failing to bring a gift.

The man in the bed was one she barely recognized.

She’d always feared that, when Mark finally returned, he’d
be a different person after his experiences. She was afraid he’d act different,
feel differently, see her differently.

She’d never actually believed he would
look
different.

But he did.

Maybe her memory had grown fuzzy over the last years, but
the man’s face didn’t look right. It was thinner, far too gaunt. And the lack
of flesh accentuated the finely chiseled cheekbones, the distinctive nose, the
shape of the jaw.

His hair had always been brown and very thick, but she’d
never seen it as long as it was now. It didn’t hang smoothly either—it stuck
out all over his head, even though it was clear that someone had tried to tidy
him up this morning. He had a full beard, and his dark eyelashes looked
startling against his skin.

For some reason, she’d imagined he’d have a tan, since he
tanned easily and he’d been in the desert. But he was pale—far paler than she’d
ever seen him.

Of course, he was. He’d been imprisoned for more than two
years. What the hell had she expected?

His eyes were closed. He was asleep. She was glad, since it
meant she’d have a minute or two to pull herself together. She didn’t want him
to see her like this—a bewildered, emotional mess. She wanted him to see her be
strong.

She might be scared, but he didn’t have to know that. He was
the one who had really suffered, so she was going to be strong for him now. Stronger
than she’d been when he’d known her before.

She took a shuddering breath.

She hadn’t thought the inhale was very loud, but he must
have heard it. He adjusted his position in the bed and slowly opened his eyes.

He blinked at her a few times. His eyes were dark and
lovely, but now they looked overly large for his face. He looked haunted,
somehow.

She saw the moment he registered her presence because his
whole demeanor changed. He’d been sleepy, almost relaxed, but now he suddenly
stiffened, his body tensing up as he pushed himself into more of a sitting
position against the pillows.

“Hi,” she said, rather stupidly.

“Sophie. You’re here.” He sounded almost surprised, but that
didn’t make sense. Surely he’d expected her to come to him as soon as she
possibly could.

“Yeah. They flew me over here as soon as I…I heard.” Even
her knees were shaking now, and she wasn’t going to be able to stand up for
much longer, so she hurried over to sit down in the chair beside the bed.
“How…how are you?”

It was a silly question, but she had to say something—and
she had no idea what else to say.

“I’m fine.” Mark sat up even straighter, pushing down the
sheet he’d been covered with. He wore nothing but a flimsy hospital gown, but
he started to drop his legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t need to be in
here. I don’t know why they’re making me stay here.”

“Mark, no,” she cried, when she realized he was starting to
get up, trying to put on a pose of nonchalance of her. “Don’t get up.” She
reached over to try to hold him in the bed. “Don’t get up for me.”

He stopped his attempt to rise, but she didn’t pull her
hands back. He sat on the side of the bed, her hands flattened against his
chest. He looked down at them there, like he didn’t recognize why she was
touching him.

And she just about lost it. Emotion ripped through her, and
she had to fight to hold onto her composure and not burst into sobs. But she
wasn’t going to cry like that now—not when she finally had Mark back.

She was going to be strong. As strong as he had always been.
She was going to take care of him now, the way he’d always taken care of her.

She lowered her hands to grab at his, and she held them both
in hers. “I…I’m so glad you’re back.” She looked up to meet his eyes.

His gaze held her for just a moment before he looked down at
their entwined hands. He muttered, “Me too.”

She focused down at their hands too, and she realized he was
looking at her left hand, where her wedding ring and engagement ring were on
her finger. She looked at his and gave a little jerk when she didn’t see a ring
there.

He wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. Maybe he didn’t have it
anymore. Maybe they’d taken it from him.

The thought hurt like a wound.

He must have noticed what she was staring at because he
gently pulled his hand away. “I still have it. They took all my possessions for
processing or something, but I’m supposed to get it back.”

She took another shaky breath. “Okay. Good.”

She had absolutely no idea what to say.

“How have…how have you been?” Mark sounded like he was
trying to act natural, and she completely understood the attempt.

She felt exactly the same way.

“I’ve been okay. I’ve…missed you all the time, of course,
and I’ve been so worried about you.”

“I hate that you worried about me.”

She looked up at him in surprise and saw that he was
frowning. “Of course, I worried. I was terrified. But I’ve been holding up
okay. I moved to Willow Park.”

“That’s what they said. Why did you move there?”

“I just needed to…to get away from D.C. I couldn’t do my job
anymore, and I couldn’t stay in our apartment. Grandpa was having trouble with
the bookstore, so I moved to Willow Park to help him out with it. It’s
been…it’s been good.”

“I never pictured you as a small town girl.” He didn’t seem
to want to hold her eyes. He’d look up at her quickly and then away.

“I’m not. I guess I’m not.” She’d been born and raised in
D.C., and that was where she’d gone to college and gotten her first job. “But
folks are really nice there, and Grandpa needs me.”

“Good. I’m glad it worked out for you.”

“But I’ll move back to D.C., of course,” she said quickly,
“if that’s where you want to be.”

“It doesn’t matter to me.” The words were bland,
matter-of-fact.

“Of course, it does!” She reached out for his hand again.
“If your job is in D.C…”

“I’m not sure what my job is anymore.”

“But they wouldn’t…they wouldn’t fire you.”

“Of course, not. No one has said anything. It’s just a
matter of what I’m capable of doing.”

She studied his face closely, but she couldn’t read his
expression at all. “Obviously, it’s going to take some time, but soon enough you’ll…you’ll
be...” She wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence, and his face didn’t change.
“But we can save all that for some other time.”

“Yeah.”

“Did they say anything about what happens now?”

“Yeah. I guess there’s a lot of transition stuff they want
to do with me.” He looked wry now, slightly annoyed. “To make sure I haven’t lost
my mind and that I don’t spill any international secrets, I guess.”

“I’m sure that’s not what—”

“Anyway, it’s transition stuff. It sounded like it was going
to take a while.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure it will go quickly. You’re home, now.
That’s what matters most.” She squeezed his hand.

He didn’t pull his hand away, but he didn’t squeeze her hand
back. She noticed the absence.

He hadn’t hugged her or kissed her or initiated any touch at
all.

She told herself not to be foolish. He’d been through a lot.
It might take a little time before he felt like touching anyone, including her.
It wasn’t personal. It didn’t mean he didn’t love her anymore.

Things weren’t going to go back to normal overnight, but
they would get there.

Both of them were strong, and they loved each other. They
could do this.

She was sure they could do this.

***

Four days later, they flew back to
D.C.

Mark hadn’t been kidding about the transition stuff.
Evidently, it was going to take a few weeks for him to have all the meetings he
needed to have, have all the check-ups and treatments they wanted to give him.
Maybe, if he’d resisted, they would have set him free to do what he wanted, since
he wasn’t a government employee and they didn’t have any real claim on him, but
he didn’t put up any resistance, except for the occasional grumbling.

There was counseling offered to Sophie too. Evidently, they
realized the transition would be hard for her as well, and she was willing to
do anything to help smooth over Mark’s return.

At least Mark was out of the hospital now. They were going
to stay at a nice hotel in D.C.—at the government’s expense. Maybe they could
even have a little privacy.

They’d had no privacy at all since she’d arrived in Germany.

At the moment, she was being dropped off at their hotel,
while Mark was still meeting with someone. He was supposed to join her later,
and they’d have the evening together.

That would be nice. She hoped.

Their room was actually a suite, and it was elegant and
comfortable both. Sophie felt very small in the large room by herself, and she
sat down next to the window without unpacking or making herself more at home.

She was so restless and worried that she called her parents
and talked to them for a half-hour. They were supportive and comforting, but
she couldn’t tell them all of her worries. They’d get concerned about her and
would probably immediately fly up here, which would make the situation even
more complicated. She tried to think of someone she could talk to, and she
decided to call Abigail.

Abigail might be busy with her family, but she could still have
a few minutes to chat.

“Sophie!” Abigail said, sounding excited. “I’m so glad you
called. How are you?”

“I’m just fine. You’re not busy, are you?”

“Oh, no. Just fixing some dinner. It’s a very loose and
unstructured affair.”

Sophie chuckled, feeling more like herself. “What does that
mean?”

“That means Mia is cutting out biscuits in the shape of
every animal in the zoo, and Thomas is pretending to make a salad while he’s
secretly reading a book.”

“Hey!” That was Thomas’s voice, faint but audible. “There’s
nothing secret about it!”

Sophie laughed again, suddenly so jealous of how casual, domestic,
and happy they sounded that she could barely stand it. “Sounds like fun.”