Silver Linings (12 page)

Pulled back into the present and out of her recollections, Katie nodded. “Right…the pool.”

Coco led the way out of the high school cafeteria and down the steps to the building that housed the Olympic-size swimming pool that was shared with the community. “Being here brings back a lot of memories, doesn't it?”

“It does.” But none as strong or as meaningful as the first time James had kissed her.

“Do you remember my first day of classes?” Katie asked, wondering if Coco had any comprehension of what a difference their friendship had made in her life.

“Sure…I think.”

“The counselor signed me up for swimming class. I tried to tell her I could already swim, but she said it was a requirement for the school district.”

Coco laughed. “That was a joke if ever there was one. You could swim circles around just about everyone in the entire school.”

“Which is how I managed to get a spot on the swim team.” It didn't take more than a couple class sessions for the coach to show up during class time. Within the first month of her coming to Cedar Cove High Katie had become a valued member of the team.

“And we were lucky to have you.”

“I've always loved the water,” Katie said. “Still do.” Even now Katie swam laps three to five mornings a week. There was something therapeutic about getting into the pool and working out her frustrations. Not only was it good exercise, but it helped her sort through her thoughts as she faced the day.

Unfortunately, the building that housed the pool was locked and they were unable to check the latest stats for the swim team.

“We probably should get back to the inn,” Coco said. “We're going to want to change clothes for tonight's function.”

“Right.”

Katie hadn't given a lot of thought to her wardrobe choices for the weekend. Coco was the one who obsessed, even now, over every outfit. When packing her bag, Katie chose a few outfits that were comfortable and had earned compliments from her coworkers. That was the extent of it. She wished now she'd taken more care with her choices, but at the time she had been half convinced she wouldn't attend anyway.

The drive back to the inn took only a few minutes. “I need to shower and do my hair,” Coco announced, sounding harried already, despite the fact they had two hours or longer before they were scheduled to meet for that evening's event.

“Would you mind if I borrowed your car?” Katie asked.

“Sure, no problem.” Coco handed Katie the keys.

Her friend raced up the steps to the inn, eager to get going on her beautification process, while Katie climbed into the driver's seat. She adjusted the mirrors and the seat and then backed out of the driveway and drove down Harbor Street.

Out of nostalgia she went past the Flemmingses' old house, where she'd lived until October of the year they'd graduated. They'd been good foster parents and Katie would always be grateful that they had opened their home and hearts to her. Without them she would never have met James.

She circled the block, and not knowing what she'd find, she drove past James's address. She wasn't sure if his family still lived in the area.

A romantic fantasy played in her mind—James would be standing out front and he'd see her drive by and signal for her to stop. Then he'd walk over to the car and look at her, and they'd talk and all would be forgiven.

Katie drove past the house and at first she thought she'd missed it. The lawn was brown, overgrown, and unkempt. The front windows were boarded up and there was a foreclosure sign posted on the front door.

The house had been abandoned.

Once I'd returned to the house and got my car, it didn't take me more than a half-hour to run my errands. I'd told Mark I would return and collect Rover, so I reluctantly drove back to his place. I parked on the street and was about to get out when I noticed someone else was with Mark. Bob Beldon's pickup was parked in the driveway leading to Mark's workshop.

Bob had backed his truck as close to Mark's workshop as he could get. Both men were involved in dismantling Mark's shop, loading Mark's expensive tools into the truck bed.

They didn't see me, which was just as well—I was in no mood for conversation. I'd said everything that needed to be said. I'd come to collect my stubborn dog and intended to be gone in a matter of minutes.

“You sure you don't want me to save any of this for you?” I heard Bob ask Mark.

“No.” His reply was gruff, distracted.

“I'm willing to pay you for it.” Bob didn't sound pleased by Mark's answer.

“Not interested. Keep it and use it in good health.”

“I can store it for you,” Bob offered next.

They lifted what seemed to be an especially heavy saw into the back of the pickup. Once loaded, Bob bent forward and rested his hands on his knees while he took in a couple deep breaths.

“I'm not coming back, Bob.” Mark sounded tired of having to repeat himself. “Take what you want, sell the rest, it makes no difference to me.”

I must have made an involuntary sound because Mark looked up in that half-second, his eyes connecting with mine. The hurt I felt in that moment left me without a voice. I wanted to lash out at him, but all I seemed capable of doing was standing there like some idiot, my hand pressed over my heart to hold back the pain.

Whirling around, I returned to my car and drove off. Just before I rounded the corner, I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw Mark standing on the boulevard, watching me drive away.

When I returned to the house I found I was shaking. I needed something to calm my nerves, so I brewed a pot of tea. This latest bit of information shouldn't upset me. If Mark wanted to give away his tools and woodworking equipment, that was his prerogative. It shouldn't matter to me. All he'd done was repeat what he'd already made abundantly clear. And yet it reinforced what I seemed to be unable to accept. Not only was he leaving, he had no intention of returning.

Not for me.

Not for the friends he'd made.

Not for anything or anyone.

The front door opened and Coco came barreling into the house. She stopped at the foot of the stairway. “I'm heading up to get ready for tonight. Actually, I've never been
more
ready than I am now.” That said, she bounded up the stairs like a woman on a mission.

I didn't know what she meant, but there appeared to be some underlying message in her words. Then and there I decided to be ready, too. Ready for this next phase of my life. Ready to break out of my shell and live again. Ready to adjust to life without Mark. I felt like I had made this resolution several times already today. I guess I'd just have to keep making it until it stuck.

Reaching for my cell, I scrolled through my contacts. It had been months since I'd called Gina's number, which was a sad, sad commentary. Once we had talked almost every day. Gina and I had worked together for a long time and she was someone I considered a close friend.

Following the news about Paul, Gina Forester had been the most persistent of my friends in reaching out to me. I'd lost track of the number of times she'd invited me out on a Friday night. My excuses were varied and creative. Eventually she'd stopped asking. But I was ready now. Just like Coco, apparently.

“Jo Marie?” Gina answered, as if she didn't believe I was the one calling.

“Hi there,” I said, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. “What's going on?”

Gina hesitated. “You tell me.”

“Not much on my end. I thought it was time we caught up. Are you doing anything tonight?”

My question was met with a short, uncomfortable silence. “Jo Marie, have you been…drinking?”

“Drinking?” I repeated, and laughed out loud. “What makes you even ask such a question?”

“You don't sound like yourself.”

I wasn't sure how to take that. “What's so different?”

Again the strained silence, as if she wasn't sure she was willing to answer. “You sound…not exactly happy, but excited. Maybe a little manic? Not yourself, anyway.”

So that was it. I wasn't myself and I hadn't been since I lost Paul, but I was ready to change that. The best way to answer her was to ignore what she said, so I did. “How would you feel about going out tonight?” I pressed.

“I have plans. Actually, Rhyder is taking me to meet his parents. We're going to announce our engagement to his family.”

“Rhyder? Not Rhyder Marlow? You're engaged to Rhyder Marlow?” This was a shocker. The two had dated off and on but bickered constantly. They were both department heads and constantly clashed. It seemed impossible that I was completely unaware that Gina had gotten so serious with Rhyder.

“Yes, Rhyder Marlow.”

I felt like I'd been living in a cave. “When did the two of you get back together?”

“About six months ago.” She continued to sound a bit tentative.

Six months? Could it really have been that long since Gina and I connected?
“Gina, that's great. Congratulations. I didn't know.”

“It's been a while,” she said, sounding more like herself.

“Too long,” I said, moving about the kitchen, running my hand along the counter. “I want to make up for lost time.”

“Oh, I'm so glad. I've missed you.”

“Missed you, too. I figured it was time I get back in the game, back into life.”

“You sure you're ready?”

I didn't need to think about my answer. “I am. I had a wake-up call recently and realized I'd been burying my head in the sand…oh my goodness,” I said, chagrined and a little embarrassed, “I'm talking in clichés.”

“Listen, did you know Rhyder has an older brother? Rich is two years out of a divorce and he hasn't met the right woman. I know you two would hit it off. We could all get together?” This last part was a question more than a comment.

I'd blurted out that I was ready to get back in the game. But dating? “Sure,” I said, surprising myself. “What do you have in mind? Just remember I haven't dated anyone since Paul. I'm a little rusty.” Mark and I had never technically dated. Oh, he came over for dinner and we spent a lot of time together, but that wasn't dating. As it turned out, it wasn't much of anything.

“Let me connect with Rhyder and Rich, and I'll get back to you.”

“Sure.” I pressed my hand to my forehead, wondering what I was getting myself into with this. I should probably ease back into the dating game instead of full immersion. Wouldn't it be easier to meet for coffee first, see if we clicked, before going on a double date? I was about to suggest that when Gina spoke.

“I'll be in touch sometime this weekend. No pressure, Jo Marie. If you don't hit it off with Rich, it isn't a problem.”

That was reassuring.

Rover barked and I glanced over my shoulder to find Mark standing just outside the kitchen with Rover at his side. I had no idea how long he'd been there or how much of my conversation he'd overheard.

“I'll talk to you later,” I told Gina, eager to get off the phone now.

“Later,” Gina echoed.

“Later,” I echoed. I disconnected and stuffed my cell into my jeans pocket.

For the longest moment all Mark and I did was stare at each other.

“I brought Rover back,” he said. “You were going to come get him, remember?”

I glared at him, unreasonably angry that he'd overheard my conversation with Gina. How much of it I didn't know, but enough. More than what I was comfortable telling him.

“I saw you earlier. At the house,” he said.

This wasn't news.

“Why'd you leave?”

“No reason,” I lied, stiffening my back.

“You were angry.”

The man was a genius. “Thank you for bringing Rover back. It wasn't necessary; I would have collected him.” I walked over to the front door and held it open for him, letting him know I was ready for him to move on. I remembered after Paul died reading an article about the different stages of grief. Anger was one of the defined stages. It came as a shock to realize I was grieving the loss of Mark's friendship. I'd started off in denial, refusing to believe he was serious about moving away. I'd bargained with him, done whatever I could to get him to change his mind, and now I was angry. Really, really angry. I didn't remember the remaining stages or even if I was experiencing them in the right order, but I did recall the last stage was acceptance.

Mark stood next to the open door, but he didn't take the hint. “I heard you just now…on the phone.”

“So what?”

“You're going out on your first date. A blind one, if I overheard correctly.”

“Not that it's any of your business,” I said.

He didn't answer right away, as if he had to carefully consider his response. “You might find this hard to accept, but I want you to be happy, Jo Marie.”

I snorted a laugh. “If you were the least bit concerned with my happiness, you'd—” I stopped abruptly, unwilling to churn up the same ground we'd plowed countless times. “Never mind. Go, wherever it is you plan to run, and live your life. I doubt you'll be happy.”

“Why's that?” he challenged, his gaze narrowing.

“Because people who run rarely are. They are constantly looking over their shoulders. Constantly worried they're going to be caught. They're never at ease or free to be themselves…free to love.”

My words seemed to have a strange effect on him. He clenched his fists and it seemed as if all the blood had drained out of his face. “You're right. More right than you could ever possibly guess. People on the run don't have the life they need or deserve.”

Mark crouched down on one knee and stroked Rover. “Good-bye, my friend.”

“So now Rover is your friend,” I bit out. “As I recall, you called him worthless not too long ago.”

“I never meant that.”

“It's hard to know what you mean and what you don't mean. I thought I meant something to you, too, but apparently not.” I shrugged as if I couldn't care less, when in fact I felt like I was dying inside.

He didn't bother to correct me. “Yes, I suppose it does look that way.”

Rover stretched his neck toward the ceiling and emitted a mournful howl as if grieving a great loss.

I stood by the door, my arms crossed, staring straight ahead, refusing to look at Mark.

“I'm heading out now.”

I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached.

He started past me and stopped. I flinched as he raised his hand to my face and cupped my chin. “Good-bye, Jo Marie.”

For just an instant I thought he intended to kiss me. He didn't, and I couldn't decide if I was glad he hadn't or if I wished he had.

He descended the porch steps, got into his truck, and drove off.

“Good-bye, Mark,” I whispered, and struggled with the urge to weep. In the end, I swallowed my tears.