All That You Are (29 page)

“I haven't seen the movie, no.”

“My momma bought me a Lightning McQueen backpack for school. All my stuff is in it. I had the list for
J
instead of
B.”

Mark didn't follow that line of thought, but he didn't question it. The rich flavor of onions and carrots, potatoes with gravy, tasted great and he realized he'd been really hungry. “Great dinner, Suni. I appreciate it.”

“It was the least I could do after all you've done for Dana.”

“No problem.”

Suni's warm brown eyes and her bobbed hair made
her seem regal in a way. She had perfect posture and a demeanor that rarely changed in temperament. From his brief time with her he knew that what you saw was what you got. She didn't put on false airs, and when she gave a compliment, it was genuine and heartfelt. “It's a big deal to her. She told me everything you've done and all the help you've offered. Not many men in today's society would be so generous.”

Her flattery made him slightly uncomfortable. He was no hero by any means, but Dana had dealt with his innuendos well and that gave him all the more fondness for her. Plenty of women wouldn't have put up with him, for he had a way of turning things around to make light of situations when he shouldn't.

Overall, he'd call himself a good guy. Someone who wanted to make a difference in a life. And it had been his luck to find Dana, a woman who needed him. Mark had enjoyed the privilege of helping her, and he'd leave here a better man for it.

After dinner, Suni refused Mark's offer to help clear plates and he went into the garage with Terran to practice on the ramp and the skateboard.

After many runs on the ramp, Mark asked, “Terran, want to see something way cool?”

The boy nodded vigorously.

Mark took the skateboard, then found a plastic storage bin on one of the many shelving units. He removed it, carelessly glancing at the label—Christmas Ornaments. Placing the box in the middle of the empty car stall, Mark set the board on the concrete.

“Whatcha going to do?” Excited, Terran came toward him.

“I'm doing an Ollie.”

“What's that?”

“Something that I hope I don't break my arm on.”

“Mommy says skateboards break bones.”

“Yeah, well—could be. I haven't done this one in thirty years.”

Mark positioned his feet on the bolts where the trucks were to keep balance. Posture not too straight, not too low and crouched. A check of his balance, arms out, then the back foot on the tail and he pushed forward, gaining a slow speed. Just before the bin, he made a tricky weight shift and hopped the box just like that, landing directly back on the skateboard without missing a beat.

“Son of a gun,” Mark breathed, surprised he could still do it.

Terran stood there, short legs spread apart, and echoed, “Son of a gum.”

Mark smiled. “You know what?”

Terran looked up, face focused on him. “What?”

“You're a pretty cool dude.”

Puffing out his slight chest, he replied, “I know.”

Then Mark grew unexpectedly reflective. This was probably the last time he'd see the boy. He extended his hand and, rather than hold it out for Terran to shake, he crouched lower and raised his palm for Terran to give him a high five.

Mark rose. “You be good in school for your mom, okay?”

“I will.”

“No joking around.”

“I won't.”

“No talking back to the teacher.”

“Nope.”

“No chasing girls.”

He giggled. “No way.”

“No making fake dog-do from playground mud.”

Brown eyes alert, he closed in and said, “Huh? How do you do that? Did you ever?”

“Yes, but I was a rascal.”

“What's a rascal?”

“A kid who's always doing something so other kids will laugh.” Lowering his voice, Mark pretended that the following information he revealed was a covert operation. “I'll tell you how to make the do—just as long as you don't leave any on the hallway floor.”

“Okay.”

Mark enlightened the little boy, then his grandmother came to tell him it was time to get ready for bed. Mark followed him inside and, before Terran climbed the stairs, he turned around with a big smile. “Mark, can you come back over tomorrow?”

The request cut Mark and he hated the answer he'd have to give. “No, Terran. I'm going to be heading home soon. I live in a place called Boise, Idaho.”

“I don't know where that is.”

“You have to take an airplane to get there.”

“So you won't come over again?”

Mark's answer stuck in his throat, and he had a hard time forming the word with Terran's wide-eyed gaze on him. Suni came into the room and waited, her expression curious, as well.

“I don't know,” Mark finally replied, unable to give an answer either way.

“Terran, I'll be up in a minute. Pick out your pajamas.”

Taking two of the stairs, Terran paused, then came back down to give Mark a hug around his leg. “You rock and roll, Mark. Thanks for my skateboard and stuff.”

Briefly placing his hand on Terran's head, Mark managed to say, “You're welcome.”

Then Terran bounded up the steps without a backward glance.

The emotions filling Mark's chest were foreign to him. He could relate to the warmth and longing that pertained to Dana. She was a woman he had feelings for, felt a love toward. But with Terran, the pang next to his heart was more of regret that he had no son like this. No boy to do things with, to teach, to hang out with.

Collecting himself, Mark closed off his features so Suni could read nothing in his eyes. He managed to nod to her, then find his voice. “Thanks for dinner, Suni.”

She approached with a slight hesitation, as if she weren't quite sure what to say. “May your spirit be well, Mark. I thank you for all you've done for Dana. You came at the right time on her calendar.”

Mark shifted his weight. “Suni, with all due respect, there is no right or wrong time. Dana's going to be all right from now on.”

“I know this as well and don't disagree. Hardship and pain are a part of life and unavoidable, but I've been waiting for a long time to see a smile on my daughter's face again. Having patience is the most written-about practice in my belief. You have rewarded my patience with your kindness to Dana, by giving her the gift of heart.” Then Suni reached for the coffee table where silk cloth wrapped an object. She handed it to him. “So I have a gift for you.”

He pulled the silken red drawstring and lifted out the noisy object. They were wind chimes with a set of four ornaments. The chimes sounded serene when he ran his fingertips across them.

“Brass chimes,” Suni said, noting the etchings on them with a point of her hand. “Each one represents goodwill and prosperity. They're called
grading
bells and are found in Buddhist temples.”

“Thanks, Suni. Very thoughtful of you.” He lowered the bells back into the bag and pulled the string. “I'll hang them off the patio in my backyard.”

“A wise choice.” Then awkwardly, she began to say something, but paused. Then after a few seconds, she spoke again. “Dana was very lucky to have you cross, then enter, the path of her life.”

“I was the lucky one. She's an amazing woman.”

“You love her.”

The declaration threw him slightly off-kilter. While the words were true, he'd kept them to himself. Hearing them gave them veracity that he couldn't deny. He responded truthfully, “Yes, I do.”

“Will you tell her?”

Mark withdrew into himself. “I don't know.”

Suni's dark eyes were like pieces of stone. “Should the winds blow you back this way, you would always be welcome at our dinner table. Your mother, as well.”

“She'd enjoy that.”

With a subtle shake of Mark's hand, Suni said, “Safe travels if I don't see you again.”

“L
OOK WHAT
I
AM SEEING
with mine owned eyes. You come to buy de bling, mon.” Cardelle came around the counter of Jewels of the Nile to welcome Mark.

“You wore me down. You're a good pitchman, Card.”

“I be dat, fo' sure.” Cardelle wore a white dress shirt and a colorful blue-and-yellow tie without a coat. Tailored black slacks emphasized his lean muscle structure. “What can I show you?”

“Pearl necklace for my mom.”

“Beautiful. I have jus' de one for you.” Cardelle wound his way through the shop with its glass case assortment. High-intensity minilights illuminated the selections and Mark glanced at the many gems. It struck him that Dana didn't wear much jewelry of any kind. He knew what she liked, and it was a different kind of fashion statement.

Mark stopped at the pearl case while Cardelle opened it with a key anchored to a plastic, spiral-curled chain. “I'll see you at the bar at eight o'clock. We'll install the canvas after Leo sends Dana into the kitchen.”

“Dat is de plan. It be my best work. I am happy, mon. Life is good.”

Mark still hadn't seen the mural Cardelle had painted
for the Blue Note. Described as one long piece on freeform canvas, Card had Mark build a frame and mount it on the wall with very specific measurements. Card would bring in the canvas and they'd attach the length of the picture on the frame already in place.

“Dis here.” Cardelle laid out a pearl necklace on a black velvet pad and noted the uniform pearls in a simple circle. “Elegant for de mothers.” He beamed. “And I give you discount—even d'ough you not be one of de cruisers.”

Mark laughed. “Sold.”

 

H
ER BABY WAS
a big boy now.

Dana fought back the tears that every mother experienced on the day they released their child to the care of others: kindergarten.

She and Cooper opted to drive him together rather than put him on the bus his first day. Cooper had picked them up at nine-thirty. Terran's school day would be from ten o'clock in the morning to three-twenty in the afternoon. It seemed an eternity to Dana, but Terran was ready to go.

He'd been awake since seven, dressed in his favorite shirt, hair slicked in a neat part and Velcro straps on his shoes in place. He chowed down pancakes Grandma made him, then brushed his teeth in a sloppy quickness. Then he'd positioned himself at the living room window looking for his dad's car to pull up, anxious to be off.

The school, its colorful paint, beckoned like an easel, waiting for students to lend their creativity and presence.

The stuffed backpack strapped to Terran's back made him seem smaller than ever. Terran grabbed both their hands. Cooper's left. Her right.

The trio walked into the school.

They found Terran's classroom and the teacher was warm and friendly, so very welcoming. When everyone arrived, she introduced herself, then gave them a classroom tour and made a quick trip to show them where the restroom was. Once they were in the hallway, Dana reached for Terran's hand again. Only he pulled away this time and it choked her up beyond measure.

Then the teacher said it was time to say goodbye to moms and dads. Dana held tight on to Terran, giving him a hard squeeze.

“Mommy…” he said in a muffled smother, trying to wiggle free. He seemed unfazed by the whole process of leaving his mom and dad and being with a teacher. He stood before them, a little man, and said, “It's okay, you guys. I'll see you later.”

Dana slid her gaze to Cooper, who, for a macho hockey player, fought to keep a tick in line in his jaw. A brave front.

Terran wouldn't let them kiss him, and she and Cooper left the classroom together. They didn't speak on the ride back to her house, the radio playing rock and roll.

Dana sat stoic and quiet, sniffing and fighting the silly tears of motherly emotions.

Tomorrow she would have to do this all over again. With Mark.

It would be a week of goodbyes.

 

T
HE
B
LUE
N
OTE PACKED
customers in on a Friday night, and jazz played through the jukebox in mellow notes. Lighting in the bar was veiled and soft, the back bar awash in a marine-blue color. The liquor bottles glinted on the shelves.

Leo quickly served orders and mixed drinks without a moment to pause. Presley ran the kitchen with an efficient zeal, along with a competent staff. Dana greeted those customers around her with a smile and general enthusiasm to have them here. She knew many by name, and many asked after her and Terran and her mother. Locals and vacationers alike congregated inside her father's dream.

Dana wished he could be here now, but she sensed his spirit always lived within these walls. She realized how much she'd come to love this place, how it had fit into an intricate part of her life.

While warmth and affection flowed through the room, Dana's feelings were bittersweet.

Tonight was Mark's last night in Ketchikan. He'd be leaving on the morning flight out to go home, back to his own life and the family he had to support him in his new venture.

She thought back to the moment she'd first laid eyes on him in the bar. He'd come in with the fish-brain who'd caused trouble and had been asked to leave. That seemed an eternity ago. But she still remembered her thoughts when Mark had spoken to her.

That man is more handsome than one man has the right to be.

Beyond the superficial and a casual assessment made in her head, she'd written off any thoughts about Mark Moretti. Little had she known what an integral part he'd play in her life. Like a woven tapestry, he'd knit himself into her business, her home, her heart.

Now she'd have to say goodbye to him. She wasn't very good at that, having few experiences. Not after a
father and brother had been snatched without the chance to tell them how much they'd meant to her.

She would be honest with Mark tonight, but guarded. There was no point in telling him she'd fallen in love with him. What purpose would it serve other than to make her feel needy and have him awkwardly explain he couldn't stay? She wouldn't bother with sentimentalities—just the truth. That she could only thank him as deep as the bottom of her heart for all he had done for her and for her son.

While battling to keep her teetering emotions in check, Dana sensed that tonight would be special somehow. She could feel the energy in the room. Or maybe that was because she would play the saxophone tonight and she always felt her adrenaline begin to pump just before she went on.

To this day, she hadn't gotten over the fear of performing in public. Her father had been a master, as relaxed as could be—and he could quiet a room while everyone's breathing hinged on the silken notes he played.

The Blue Note's interior renovation was complete, beautiful new additions to be enjoyed for years to come. The other day, Mark had told her he had officially finished bringing the inside violations up to code. Aside from completing the second fire exit on the exterior, only one thing remained to be revealed. When she pressed him to tell her what it was, he'd said she'd have to wait until this evening. She couldn't guess what the surprise would be—but she'd been wondering about the large, blocked framework by the bandstand.

While visiting with the husband and wife owners of a local bed-and-breakfast, Dana noticed Mark come into the bar. He stood just above the crowd and made his way
toward her with a smile. Inside, her heart warmed and she was glad to see him.

She wouldn't think about how much she'd miss him….

Bidding the couple to have an enjoyable rest of their evening, Dana met Mark across the crowded room. “Busy night,” he said, a look of amusement flickering in his eyes. “You offering dollar well drinks, sunshine?”

She laughed. “Actually all these people are here because I put up posters that we'd be bidding on a hot guy tonight—and your picture is all over them.”

“I'm flattered, but there's a few too many dudes in here for my comfort zone if that's your plan. I'm a one-woman-only kind of guy.” He glanced around, as if looking for someone. “Is Bear here?”

“He's around here somewhere. Why?”

“Got something for him. I left it in the kitchen when I was here this afternoon. Presley's hiding it for me—among other things.”

Dana inwardly groaned. “If you got me something…Mark, I didn't get you anything, but I was going to—”

He didn't give her the opportunity to say anything further; he interrupted and said, “Later on, you can give me a kiss, sweetheart, and we'll call it better than good.”

She grew warm with the thought.

Dana was called to a table by some old friends. She gave Mark an apologetic smile, but he sent her off with an affectionate squeeze of her hand.

Fifteen minutes later, Dana stood at the bar after helping one of her waitstaff bring out a multiple-plate food order. Talking with Leo, she kept searching the crowd for Mark, wondering where he'd gone.

Her steady heartbeat skipped every now and then, and she had to force her erratic emotions to stay on hold. Every time she thought about tonight being Mark's last in town, she tangled herself in feelings that served no purpose.

Bear nudged his way to the bar, a grin splitting his face. The glint in his eyes was pure elation as he hooked his fingers into his belt loops.

“Look-see what Moretti done give me. A hand-tooled leather belt with a silver buckle. And see that? That's a bear engraved in the sterling.” The buckle itself was the size of a fist—quite intricate and showy with its design of a bear feeding in a rushing stream of water. “And y'all got to see this.” He turned, his rounded bottom toward them, all but in their faces. “My name's on the back.
B-E-A-R
stamped in the cowhide.” Turning around, he beamed as bright as a beacon. “This here is a right fine piece of hardware.”

Leo set a cold beer in front of him. “I wouldn't say your butt is fine hardware, Bear, but the belt's a cut above. Looks good on you.”

Bear laughed, slipping his large frame onto the bar stool to take a load off.

“Where's Mark?” Dana asked, looking over the top of Bear's head to see if she could find Mark in the crowd.

“Said he had to meet Card for sumpthin'. I don't rightly know the particulars.”

Leo stopped mixing a drink, glanced at his watch, then said to Dana, “I'm almost out of lemon slices. I need you to run into the kitchen and get me some. Cut them clean—take out the seeds.”

“Leo, you sound like you're the boss,” she replied,
giving him a harmless nudge with a half smile. “If I didn't like you so much, I'd have to fire you for that.”

“Then you'd have to rehire me because you'd never find a better bartender.”

“True that.”

Dana went off into the kitchen to busy herself with lemons. Each time she finished one, Presley handed her several more and told her they could never have too many, and to put plastic wrap over the tray extras. By the time she was finished, she'd spent a good twenty minutes in the kitchen.

Taking Leo his lemon wedges, she scanned the patrons sitting at the bar in the hope of finding Mark. He wasn't among them.

Just as she made a move to search for him through the crowd, the jukebox quit and she heard Mark's deep voice speak through a microphone.

Her gaze found him on the bandstand, a spotlight focused on him. “If I could have everyone's attention. There's a special something tonight at the Blue Note if you look this way.”

A curious length of white curtain had been strung behind him. That hadn't been there before. Cardelle Kanhai, head impeccably shaved clean, occupied the stage with Mark. His dark face shone with pride and excitement.

“I need Dana to come here,” Mark said as he shaded his eyes against the beam of light on him.

Dana inched her way forward and the crowd parted. She took the single tall step onto the platform, wondering what this was about as Mark gently guided her to his side.

“What are you doing?” she whispered beneath her breath.

He ignored her question and addressed the audience that had gathered closer to get a look at what was going on. “In case you didn't know, this incredibly beautiful woman is Dana Jackson, and she owns the Blue Note.”

People applauded and cheered—Bear being one who added a “whoo-wee!” in for good measure. Leo gave her a mock bow, hands pressed together. Walt, her bouncer, flexed a muscle, as if to say he would toss out anyone who didn't appreciate the boss. Sam gave her a mock salute, and Presley had come out of the kitchen without her apron and stood at the bar with her arms folded beneath her breasts. She gave Dana a loving smile, then lifted her engagement finger and wiggled it with a wink and a nod.

Somehow Dana got the impression that everyone who worked for her, or knew her personally, was in on whatever Mark was doing.