Home for Christmas (Willow Park #5) (8 page)

“That went well,” Sophie murmured, making sure only Mark
could hear.

“Of course.” His brow wrinkled. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know. You just didn’t seem to want to go, but it
looked like you had a decent time.”

Something changed in his eyes. She saw it happen. Instead of
the laidback friendliness of before—when he was interacting with the others—he
suddenly looked guarded again. There was no way to mistake it. “It was fine,”
he murmured, turning away from her slightly.

She stared at the back of his head, confusion and
disappointment washing away her excitement from before. She suddenly realized
something. Even though Mark seemed to be reluctant to socialize much, he
actually didn’t have much trouble with other people.

It was evidently harder for him to spend time with
her
.

She
was the one he had trouble getting close to.

It hurt so much that her throat closed up, and she could
barely answer when Margaret, a single woman who was a local teacher, asked her
if she’d read a new book.

Sophie shook her head, trying to find the ability to speak
again, and she was relieved when Jessica saved her by asking her if she could
help in the kitchen, since Nathan had started to fuss.

Sophie gratefully helped to pick up coffee cups and carry
them to the kitchen to wash out. Jessica didn’t even expect her to chat, since
the other woman was holding her ten-month-old boy and murmuring to him to get
him to go back to sleep.

By the time the mugs were in the dishwasher, Sophie was back
in control of herself. Maybe that was normal too—that the people you were
closest to were the hardest to be close to again, after going through something
like Mark had. She wasn’t going to take it personally.

When she and Jessica went back into the living room, it was
empty.

“Daniel wanted to show Mark his workshop,” Jessica said,
shaking her head with a fond smile. “Any time he gets a fresh audience, he has
to show it off.”

Mark would probably enjoy checking it out. He’d always liked
the idea of power tools. It was good for him to spend time with other men.
Sophie tried not to worry that he’d prefer to spend time with Daniel than with
her.

“How is everything going?” Jessica asked softly, sitting
down in a chair with Nathan in her lap. He was a very chubby boy with fair hair
and big brown eyes. He was going to look a lot like Daniel.

Sophie nodded, determined to show nothing but optimism.
“Good. It’s going really good.”

Jessica’s eyes were sharp but not intrusive. “How is Mark
doing?”

Sophie nodded again and tried to smile. “He’s great.”

“Is he?”

For some reason, the soft question almost did Sophie in,
after her crushing realization earlier. “I…I don’t know.” She tightened her
face and turned away so Jessica couldn’t see how close she was to tears.

“I guess it’s got to be a lot of ups and downs.”

Sophie sniffed and turned back. “Yes. Yes, it is. But I’m
sure, overall, he’s doing really well.”

“Did anyone suggest that you all might still need some
more…some more extra help? I can’t imagine how rough a transition it is for
both of you.”

“They did suggest that. They gave us a long list of
referrals to counselors and support groups and such. But Mark doesn’t want to
do any of that. He says it makes him feel like an invalid, when he’s not.”

Jessica sighed, her expression sympathetic. “Yeah. I can see
how it would feel like that. It’s just a situation that most people don’t go
through. It’s got to be hard, trying to muddle through alone.”

Sophie stiffened. “He’s not alone.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean he was alone! Of course, he’s not. I
meant you two, as a couple, were trying to do it alone. It’s got to be hard. I
mean, how do you know what to think about all the different ways that you’re
feeling?”

Sophie slumped back, suddenly as depressed as she’d been
optimistic as they were heading for Bible study. “I don’t know. I don’t know
how to do any of it.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

In a strange way, Jessica’s last words made her feel a lot
better—like she wasn’t completely clueless, bumbling around, always saying the
wrong thing, making Mark withdraw from her.

Both women were sitting quietly, Nathan having gone back to
sleep, when the men reentered the room, both of them slightly windblown from
being outdoors in the cold.

“Did you show off your workshop to Mark adequately?” Jessica
asked lightly.

“Unlike some people I might mention, he was duly
appreciative of my power tools.” Daniel was smiling as he went to sit down next
to his wife on the sofa, his eyes resting on his sleeping son.

Sophie wondered if Mark was ready to go, but he sat down
beside her on the loveseat, so she didn’t start making moves to leave.

“So is it strange and hard for you two,” Daniel asked,
without segue, “being back together again?”

Sophie felt Mark stiffen slightly beside her. “We’re doing
okay,” he said softly.

“You think so too?” Daniel asked, his eyes focused now on
Sophie.

“Of course,” Sophie said quickly, before Mark got defensive.
She wished Daniel hadn’t been so direct, but he was always kind of like that.
His job was the spiritual wellbeing of his congregation, and he took it
seriously—even if he ended up sometimes stepping on toes. “I think we’re doing
great, considering.”

Daniel pulled his eyebrows together as his gaze moved from
one to the other of them. After a minute, he asked softly, “Do you put up the
happy front with each other too?”

Mark was very tense now. Sophie reached over to rub his arm.
He’d never had a hot temper, but he’d been prickly since he’d returned—as
anyone would have been. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I get it, that you want to make sure everyone knows you’re
doing fine, that you’re happy to be together, that any problems are easily
dealt with.” Daniel always had a good sense of humor, but he was dead serious
now. “But that’s not what the church is about. That’s not what marriage is
about. If you’re not real with each other—if we as the church aren’t real with
each other—than we’ll never be able to help one another.”

“What makes you think we’re not real with each other?” Mark
asked, his voice low and slightly rough.

“I don’t think that. I don’t think it at all. I was just
asking the question.” He sighed. “I see all the time people saying they’re
fine, they’re okay, they’re perfectly good, when inside they’re falling apart.”
He turned his head to smile faintly at Jessica. “When we first got married, I
was falling apart, trying to deal with lingering issues from the death of my
first wife, and I stuck to that ‘I’m fine’ story like glue. And all it did was
shut Jessica out. It made it impossible for our marriage to grow, for me to
love her as much as I wanted to.”

“He’s not judging,” Jessica put in gently, leaning her head
onto Daniel’s shoulder in sweet gesture of absolute trust that Sophie suddenly
envied with an intensity she’d never felt before. “If there’s a mistake to be
made, Daniel has made it first.” She giggled at the mock-outrage on her
husband’s face. “So have I.”

Mark was relaxing a little now, evidently deciding that the
other couple wasn’t attacking them after all. Sophie exhaled in relief. She
always seemed to be so worried about Mark’s responses that she barely had time
to process her own.

“We’re doing our best,” she said, looking over at Mark. She
had another moment of disorientation, as if the man sitting beside her wasn’t
the man she had married. “It takes time.”

Mark looked over at her, holding her gaze for a minute. She
wasn’t sure how to read the expression in his eyes.

“Yeah, I know it takes time,” Daniel said, in a gentler
tone. “Everything that’s worth anything does.”

***

Mark and Sophie were quiet on the
way home, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

Before they’d reached the apartment, Sophie realized that
Daniel was right in wondering whether they were being real with each other.

She didn’t know about Mark, but she knew she wasn’t always
being real. She wanted to be hopeful. She wanted to be strong. She didn’t want
him to see that she had any worries and doubts.

Maybe that wasn’t actually being honest with him like she’d
wanted to be.

She was praying about it as they walked into the apartment,
trying to think of a way to bring it up that wouldn’t make her sound like she
was discontent with their relationship. She was still trying to think of
something to say as they took off their coats and gloves.

It was late, and she was tired, so she went into the
bedroom, sitting on the bed and toeing off her shoes.

Mark followed her and then stood looking down at her.
“You’re thinking about what he said.” He appeared slightly wary but not
resentful or annoyed.

His comment made it easy to bring her concerns up. “Yeah.
Are you?”

He nodded and sat down on the bed beside her. “I know things
haven’t been good between us. I know you haven’t been happy.”

“I have been happy,” she said in a rush, reaching over to
take his hand. “You have no idea how happy I am to have you back.”

“But I’m not the man you expected to come back.” He was
staring down at the floor, but he didn’t pull his hand away from hers.

She took a shaky breath before she replied, “I’d be silly to
think you’d be exactly the same. I can’t even imagine what you went through.
I’d like to know more about it, when you’re ready to tell me. It might help me
understand more…more about what you’re dealing with now.”

He opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I’m not ready
yet.”

“That’s okay. I’m not making any demands on you. I just want
to…I just want to…”

“What do you want?” He turned to look at her suddenly, his
brown eyes dark and intense. “Please tell me what you want, Sophie. I want you
to be happy. I keep trying to be who I used to be, but I feel like I’m
constantly disappointing you, like I’m not able to be the man you want. I can’t
stand to feel like I’m no longer able to make you happy.”

She was almost trembling with emotion as she clung to his
hand. “You’ve never disappointed me. I just want to be able to help you, and I
don’t feel like I’ve been any help at all.”

“You are helping me. Of course, you are.”

“How?” The one word was almost a whisper. She felt completely
helpless in the face of a world that had damaged him this way, and she hated
the feeling.

It was Mark’s turn to take a shaky breath, but he didn’t
turn away from her as he said, “You make me feel so much more than what hurts.”

“I do?”

He took her face in his hands. “Of course, you do. You’re my
wife, baby. No one in the world makes me feel as much as you do.”

She was almost crying as he pulled her face closer to his
and kissed her softly. She was so emotional that she deepened the kiss, opening
her lips to his and wrapping her arms around his neck.

For now, this was all she needed to know. That she was still
his wife. That he still felt for her what he had before. That she was somehow
helping him get through this, no matter how helpless she felt.

Soon, he was urgent and eager, pushing her down onto the bed
and cupping her bottom as they kissed. He was just as rushed and frantic as
he’d been since he’d come back to her. It was like he’d lost all control, lost
the ability to slow down or rein himself in.

She didn’t care. In truth, she loved that he needed her so
much, even though it meant she didn’t get as much foreplay as she’d used to.

He yanked off her jeans, her panties coming down with them,
and she fumbled with his trousers until she’d managed to free his erection.
He’d gotten her shirt off, but he was still wearing most of his clothes when he
lined himself up at her entrance and pushed himself inside.

She was aroused, and it felt good, and she let out a
lingering moan as he entered her. Soon, he was taking her hard and fast,
holding her legs up higher and grunting as he thrust.

“Mark,” she was gasping, holding on and flooded with
feeling. “I love you, Mark. I love you. I love you.”

His grunts turned to helpless exclamations as he pushed into
her roughly a few last times, choking on something that sounded like, “Oh,
fuck, Sophie. Yes.”

Then his body was relaxing completely, and she was stroking
him as he came down.

They’d made love every evening since he arrived in Willow
Park, and he was often so wiped out afterwards that he rolled over to fall
asleep afterwards. But tonight, after he kissed her, making the same murmured
sounds he always made afterwards, he lifted his head to look down at her face.

“What is it?” she asked, when she realized he was frowning.

He didn’t reply.

“What is it, Mark? Please tell me.” She didn’t like the plea
in her voice, but she couldn’t seem to help it.

He let out a breath. “I can’t make you come anymore.” His
face twisted slightly. “You used to come most of the time. But I can’t seem to
get you there now.”

It was true. Partly because they were always so rushed, but
that wasn’t the only reason. She felt a flush heating up her skin, on her
cheeks and then down her neck.

“What?” he asked, the disappointment on his face changing to
curiosity. “What are
you
embarrassed about? It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” she told him, realizing she was going
to have to tell him the truth. Maybe this was what it meant to be totally real,
even when it was hard. “It’s my fault.”

“Why is it your fault?” He sat up, looking almost defensive
on her behalf. “I’m the one who can’t seem to—”

“No. Let me show you.” She shook off the embarrassment and
stood up, grabbing her bathrobe to pull on as she walked to the bathroom.

She returned with the little vibrating sponge in her hand.