Sweet Tomorrows (29 page)

Rover greeted me upon my return, wagging his tail in welcome. I absently petted his head before I headed toward the stairs. Just as I started up the first steps, Jo Marie rounded the corner with the laundry basket tucked under her arm. She paused when she saw me.

“You're back early.”

“Yeah.”

“Everything okay?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Did you finish getting the classroom ready?”

“Mostly.” I knew Jo Marie was making small talk, hoping to pry what was wrong out of me.

“Nick stopped by earlier this afternoon, looking for you.”

“He found me.”

“You didn't mind me telling him where you were, did you?”

My hand was on the railing and I was eager to get to my room, although I didn't know what I would do once I got there. The temptation was to throw myself on the bed and bury my head under a pillow.

“Emily, did I do wrong by telling Nick you were at the school?” Jo Marie asked a second time.

“No…it was fine.” I took three steps up when she stopped me again.

“You look about as down as I've ever seen you. You sure everything is okay between you and Nick?”

I nodded. “It's great.”

Her look told me she didn't believe me. I expected her to drop the subject, but she didn't. “He told me he wanted to ask you to dinner. Seemed excited about it. Did you turn him down?”

“Sort of.”

“You going out later?”

“No.”

Jo Marie sighed. “Okay, I apologize if I pried when I shouldn't have.”

“You didn't. Nick and I agreed to take a four-month break from each other.”

“You want that?” she asked, looking surprised. The two of us had discussed Nick several times over the course of the summer. When she found me doing an Internet search of PTSD, she found a number of articles on the subject written and distributed by a group of military wives.

“I suggested it.”

“Emily, I think I know why you would do that. I just don't know that it's necessary. You really like this guy, and no one needs to tell me how crazy he is about you.”

“Time will tell, won't it?”

“You're gonna be miserable all four months.”

It was more of a statement than a question, and she was right. We hadn't discussed my moving yet, and now seemed as good a time as any to mention it.

“I'm looking to move out soon,” I said. I hadn't meant to be this abrupt about telling her. It was long past the time we'd agreed I would stay.

Jo Marie accepted the news without argument, as I knew she would. It was time and we both knew it. “Have you found an apartment yet?”

“No…I intend to go out tomorrow and look.” I'd already made an appointment to look. The need to leave the inn was paramount in my mind. My reasons were obvious. I needed to get away from Nick. If he were to take one of his late-night strolls and if I were to hear him, I didn't know that I'd be able to keep my end of our agreement.

I thought about Jo Marie's claim that the inn was a healing place. It had been for others and I was glad for them, but it hadn't been for me.

I started up the stairs, eager now to escape Jo Marie and her questions.

“Emily?”

I paused and looked back.

“If you're serious about finding an apartment…”

“I am, and the sooner the better.” That sounded ungracious and I hadn't meant it that way. “Sorry, that didn't come out the way I intended.”

“That's okay. I was just going to say that if you like I could make a few calls on your behalf. You might even be able to get an apartment in the same complex where you had a lease earlier.”

The offer was more than generous. “I'd appreciate it.” When I'd signed the original lease the apartment manager had told me I was lucky to find a vacancy in the building because renters tended to stay for years on end. That was one of the reasons the owner had been willing to release me. It seemed there were a couple other people who were interested in the unit at the same time as I was.

Once in my room, I flopped down on the bed, feeling depressed because I was convinced in every likelihood I wouldn't see Nick again, or if I did it would be an awkward and uncomfortable farewell. To my surprise, I heard Rover whining outside my door.

“Rover?” I scooted off the mattress and came to the door. Sure enough, it was Rover. He sat on his haunches and stared up at me.

“What's wrong?” I asked when he continued to whine.

As if answering me, he barked once and came into my room, turned his head around, and looked at me as if to say I should close the door and join him.

“What do you want, boy?” I asked, doing as he commanded and closing my door. I sat on the edge of the bed and Rover raised up on his hind legs and placed his paws in my lap.

His dark brown eyes looked up at me with the saddest expression I'd ever seen on a dog. Then he rested his chin on my knee and let out a soft whine.

I stroked his head, and as I did, I realized this was exactly how I felt. As if the only friend I had in the entire world had deserted me.

Mark was making good progress, gaining strength every day. He was able to walk an entire block now and forced himself to go farther every day. Rover and I strolled along with him, my arm tucked around his. I insisted we go together. My fear was that Mark would push himself to the point he was too weak to make it back to the inn on his own.

I enjoyed our morning walks. We often held hands. I knew Mark was healing when he started teasing me.

“I see you're still spoiling Rover.”

“I don't spoil Rover,” I insisted.

“Do, too. All he has to do is look at you and you give in.”

“Not true,” I fussed.

“Jo Marie, honestly, do you think I didn't see you feed him from the table last night?”

“It was a onetime thing. He likes cooked carrots.”

Mark arched his brows as if he didn't believe me. “You could have put them in his dog dish.”

He had me there. “Yes, I could have, but Rover likes them better warm.”

Mark burst out laughing. “You claim you don't spoil your dog and yet you feed him cooked carrots from the table because he likes them still warm? I rest my case.”

“Maybe I spoil Rover just a little.” But that was all I was willing to concede.

Mark frowned at me. “You spoil him a lot.”

I could see we weren't going to be able to settle this. “Let's agree to disagree.”

He squeezed my hand and dragged me closer to his side. “You're as stubborn as you always were.”

“No comment.” I swear no man could irritate me as much as Mark, and at the same time no one made me laugh as much, either.

He wasn't an easy man to love. If matters turned out the way I wanted, our life together would be full of passion and emotion. That didn't bother me. What terrified me was the thought of living without him. One would think by now I'd have grown more comfortable dealing with loss. I wasn't. When Paul died it felt like a giant hole I was forced to walk around each morning. I had the same feeling the year Mark was away, only this time the hole was deeper and wider.

I'd told Greg that I loved Mark and felt it would be unfair to continue to see him. No matter what Mark decided, I would wait it out. I hated the thought of it and as much as possible put Iraq out of my mind. We avoided the topic. As hard as it was, I didn't feel I should use my love or threats to influence him. He already knew how I felt about him leaving again. I didn't need to repeatedly hit him over the head with my feelings.

With Mark recuperating at the inn, our days had settled into a comfortable routine. We spent a lot of time together one on one. That time helped heal the pain and the hurts of the last year. I baked him cookies and sat with him in the afternoons while he napped. I hadn't returned to my spin class and feared Dana had made it all the way to Paris by now and was biking back while I was stuck some place in the middle of North Dakota.

My relationship with Mark changed after his meeting with Greg. I didn't know what the two had said to each other. Neither Mark nor Greg had mentioned the details of their lengthy conversation, and now that I was no longer talking to Greg, Mark was my only source of information. I tried to get Mark to give me a summary of their talk. That was a laugh. He refused to give up a single detail despite my threat to withhold cookies.

Greg didn't take my decision easily when I said I didn't think it was a good idea to continue seeing him. He accepted that and understood. I explained it wasn't fair to either of them and I didn't want to string him along. That hadn't stopped him from calling me. I could count on him getting in touch about every other day. As best as I could figure, Greg had his own game plan. He didn't ask me out because he knew I would refuse. I kept the conversations short and always ended by letting him know it would be best if he found someone else.

He said he would try and had actually started dating again. Still, he called. I guess he wanted to reassure me he remained interested and cared about me. When I met and married Paul, I felt fortunate to have found one good man. Now I had two interested in me. This was heady stuff. While I hated being the peanut butter in the middle of the sandwich, at the same time I felt incredibly blessed.

On Wednesday afternoon, Bob and Peggy Beldon stopped by out of the blue to see Mark. Peggy brought him her signature blueberry muffins, which Mark immediately scarfed down like a man half starved. He was still much too thin, and I looked forward to seeing him add a few pounds.

“Good to see you upright, man,” Bob said, taking a seat across from him.

“It feels good, too.”

They started talking about woodworking, and I excused myself. Peggy followed me into the kitchen. I figured the two men would appreciate a few minutes alone, and Peggy was looking for a bit of girl time with me.

“Mark looks great.”

“He's improving, thank God.” And I did thank Him, every day. I'd come so close to losing him. My biggest fear was a relapse.

“Bob tells me Mark's thinking about going back.”

I froze.

“Has Mark given a hint of what he's decided?” I asked, dread making my tongue thick.

“Not yet.” I knew he had to be close to making a decision.

“Are you worried?” Peggy asked, sitting on the stool while I placed the casserole I'd put together for dinner in the oven.

“Yes.” I couldn't deny it. “But at the same time hopeful.”

Not long after Bob and Peggy left, Mark took a short rest before holing himself up in his room. Rover walked past and nudged open the door and I heard Mark on the phone, speaking in Arabic. It had to be Ibrahim he was talking to, but then again, maybe not. The conversation didn't appear to be going well and they seemed to be having some disagreement, if their raised voices were anything to go by.

Not wanting to pry, I waited for Mark to mention it later that evening over dinner. He didn't, and that concerned me. Although I was determined not to say anything, my curiosity got the best of me.

“I heard you earlier,” I stated casually, as I reached for a slice of bread. “You were on the phone with Ibrahim. Or at least I assumed it was Ibrahim.”

“You heard me?”

This was his way of saying that the door had been closed.

“I wasn't purposely listening in, if that's what you think. Rover was trying to get into your room and must have nudged the door open. I…I just happened to be walking past when I heard your voice.”

He didn't volunteer any information, although I looked pointedly at him. He ignored me and continued eating his dinner. My stomach was in knots. I set my butter knife down and folded my hands in my lap as I sorted through the conflicting emotions coming at me. He had no obligation to explain himself and it was apparent he had no wish to do so. It was the last bit that hurt. It took me a couple moments to decide to press the issue a bit more. “It sounded like the two of you had a difference of opinion. Is everything all right with him and Shatha?”

“Who said it was Ibrahim?”

“Was it?” I asked.

He nodded, giving no indication what had been the source of their disagreement, although I could well guess.

“Everything is good with them?” Adjusting to life in the States had to be a struggle.

“They're doing well.”

“The kids are adjusting?”

“Yes.”

I bit down on my back molars with enough force to destroy my expensive dental work. “That's all you have to tell me?”

“What more do you want to know?”

“I asked about the children, thinking that would be a safe enough subject, seeing how closed-mouthed you are about Ibrahim and Shatha.”

Mark took time pouring himself another glass of milk. He did it with such care one would think he was filling a prescription. “From what Ibrahim said, Amin and Sasha are both quickly picking up English.”

“It's easier for children,” I murmured and dropped the subject, waiting to see if Mark would tell me anything more.

He didn't.

I sat for several minutes stirring my food around my plate, but my appetite was gone. Shoving my dish aside, I stood. “I'll be in my office.”

Mark glanced up with a look of surprise. “Okay.”

I carried my plate over to the sink and held on to the edge of it, certain now that Mark had made his decision and it was what I feared most. He would return to Iraq on another dangerous and desperate mission. For just a moment I thought I might be sick.

“Where's Emily?” Mark asked, all at once interested in making casual conversation.

“She's checking out a couple of apartments.” By the grace of the Almighty I was able to keep the pain out of my voice.

“She's moving?”

By rote I rinsed off my plate and tucked it inside the dishwasher. “Yes. If you remember, I mentioned that this morning.”

“So you did. When is she moving?”

“When she finds an apartment.” By now and out of necessity, my responses were clipped. I didn't possess the wherewithal to exchange chitchat with Mark.

I went into my office and pointedly closed the door. My intention had been to catch up on paperwork, something I'd delayed while caring for Mark. It soon became apparent my head wasn't where it needed to be. After only a few minutes, I slumped my shoulders and buried my face in my hands, unable to think.

Mark was going to do it.

He was going to leave me again.

He hadn't told me yet, but it was coming. I felt it in every pore of my body. Despite everything I'd said, despite knowing he was basically giving Greg the green light, he intended to return.

I didn't realize I was shaking until I reached for a pen and was unable to hold on to it. What little dinner I'd managed to eat was revolting in my stomach.

Rover seemed to sense my anguish, because he stood and placed his chin on my thigh. Absently, I stroked his fur as I battled with the hurt and disappointment. The cell rang and I saw that it was Greg. Talking to him would be too much, so I let the call go to voice mail.

It took several minutes for my nerves to settle. I heard Mark in the kitchen. The faucet ran and then I heard the door to the dishwasher open. I really did need to get that creaking noise looked at. As much as possible, I ignored Mark.

Reaching for my phone, I sent Dana a text message, promising her I'd be at spin class the following afternoon. I might as well become involved in life again. In a few days, as soon as he was strong enough, possibly a week or two, Mark would be gone. I'd put it off too long, made him the center of my world instead of going after my own interests. No more.

With my phone in my hand I pushed the button that would replay Greg's voice mail.

“Hi, Jo Marie. Just checking in to see how your day is going. I'm just leaving the office now and heading home. I've got a smoking-hot date with a frozen entrée and a rerun of
NCIS New Orleans.
”

I smiled and turned to see Mark framed in the doorway.

“I see he still calls.”

“I haven't answered the last few times. Just let them go to voice mail.”

“You should tell him not to call again.”

I shrugged. “I probably should.” I hadn't felt right about it from the first and I needed to put an end to it. I loved Mark. Greg was wonderful, but what I felt for him was a dim reflection of how much I loved Mark.

He looked surprised and turned away.

“Mark,” I said, stopping him. “I'm going back to my regular schedule. I've got my spin class and book club and lunch with friends…everything has been on hold the last couple months, but you're well on your way to recovery now. You don't need me any longer.”

“I do need you, Jo Marie,” he said, his heart in his eyes. “I need you more than I ever have before.”

I choked down a sob. “No, you don't.” I was unable to hold back, and pain bled into my eyes.

Seeing how unsettled I was, he came all the way into the office and sat in the chair opposite me. His eyes were dark and intense. We sat so close facing each other. He reached for my hands and I gave them to him.