Pretense (55 page)

"I'm all right, Mr. Fitch."

"I'm glad to hear it, but I'm still going to ask Tab to sit with you."

Delancey could have groaned. She opened her mouth, but he was already headed across the room. She glanced at her plate and saw food she didn't remember taking. However, it looked good. She picked up her fork and took a mouthful of mashed potatoes and then another. From there she moved to an unknown salad concoction that was also very tasty. Tab was at her table a moment later, a trayfullof food in his hands.

"How are you?" he asked conversationally.

"Fine," Delancey answered, even as she glanced behind him. She thought Mr. Fitch would at least stop back.

"He was running late," Tab noticed, filling her in.

"Oh," Delancey said inanely, pushing some of her food with her fork.

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"Have you tried this?" He offered her a small dish. "It's a Mexican casserole. They've made it before, and it's my favorite."

"Thank you." Delancey took the dish and tasted it. "Oh," she said when she realized she had put her fork in it.

"It's all right. I've got my own."

"Thank you." Needing to do something with her hands, Delancey took another bite. It was good. She ate half of what was on the dish before she realized Tab had added other things to her side of the table.

"This is a lemon bar," he said when she looked up, "or if chocolate is more your thing, these brownies are pretty good."

"Thank you."

"And you can stop saying thank you and just eat everything I shove at you. Mr. Fitch will ask me how you're doing, and I need to be able to tell him you didn't faint or anything."

For some reason Delancey giggled. She hadn't felt like laughing in weeks, but this was funny to her.

"I've never fainted."

"No? Well, you've probably never been so underweight before either."

Her mouth fell open. "I can't believe you just said that to me."

"What? That you're underweight?"

"Yes."

"Delancey, your clothes hang on you right now. How could I miss it?"

"I didn't say it's not true. I just said it wasn't very kind."

Tab suddenly sat back and studied her. "I should get you riled up more often. This is the first time you've had color in your face in the last month."

Delancey's eyes narrowed. "Tell me, Mr. McDonald, do you have any other
compliments
up your sleeve?"

"Yes, but I'm saving them for when you agree to go out with me."

"In your dreams," she wasted no time in telling him.

"You are in a lot of those," he said so softly that Delancey was momentarily disarmed. She looked down at her tray and picked up a brownie. She glanced up to find several people staring at her and wondered if their voices had been loud. Almost

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at the same time, she decided she didn't care. She raised 1 chin as she looked across at her dinner companion.

"Thank you for sitting with me, Tab, and for the food."

"You're welcome."

Delancey started to put her tray together.

"I'll walk you back to your room."

"No, thank you."

Tab smiled at her prim tone. He knew very well thatwasn't feeling like herself and wished desperately that he cot have gotten to know her before her mother died.

"I will be calling to ask you out, Delancey. You can counton that."

"Well, prepare to be disappointed, Tab. But then life is 1 of those little inconveniences."

Delancey stood, tray in hand, and moved to exit the roc Tab's smiling eyes still in her mind. Being unkind did notcomeeasily to her, but she made herself not turn around. It helpedtoknow that Mackenzie would have walked away without abackward glance and also that her sister would have been proud her.

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Thirty-One

Arlington

"You're a hard lady to get a hold of." Tom's voicesounded in Mackenzie's ear after work onenight.

"Am I?"

Tom snorted. "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing," Mackenzie said on a laugh, but she knew what he was talking about. She had started taking her phone off the hook. Jack had called on Easter Sunday, two-and-a-half weeks before, and the conversation had been very strained. Mackenzie did not wish to repeat the incident, so like a coward, she was keeping the phone off the hook and immersing herself in her writing. She called Delancey every few days to stay abreast of her state, but other than seeing Tom a few times, the rest of the world was very cut off.

"Come to dinner tomorrow night," Tom said. "I've got something to show you."

"All right. What are we having?"

"What do you want?"

"Anything but pizza. You've served that the last three times."

"That's gratitude for you." His tone was long-suffering.

"What are you going to show me?"

"You'll have to come and see."

"All right."

"What time?"

"About 6:00."

"Okay, but if the pizza man shows up, I'm leaving."

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They rang off to the sound of Tom's laughter. Mackenzie went back to work the next day and did her best, but her mind was still on Tom's invitation. Not really thinking of herself as a curious person, she nevertheless arrived at his place early and found him just climbing from his car. Knowing exactly what she was about, he smiled and handed her a heavy envelope when she got out of her Jeep.

"What's this?"

"Open it."

Mackenzie did so and gasped, "It's early."

She reverently held the first copy of
Micah Bear and the Rainy Day.
Across the bottom it said: Written by Mackenzie Bishop and illustrated by Delancey Bishop.

"Oh, Tom, this is it," she whispered, as if speaking louder would ruin the moment. "This is our book. We did it. My sister and I did it."

"That you did," Tom said just as softly. It was old stuff for him, but the delight in Mackenzie's eyes was very touching.

"I've got to call her." Mackenzie began to turn away. "I've got to tell Delancey."

Tom took hold of her arm. "Come inside and do that. I've got to cleanup so we can celebrate in style. Just call from here."

"Oh, Tom" was all Mackenzie could manage as she followed the editor inside. He handed the cordless phone to her, or she might have stood there fingering the book all evening.

"Call her and tell me what she says." He exited on those words, and Mackenzie dialed. It was a horrible letdown when Delancey didn't answer, but she kept the phone in her hand and went to the sofa. She sat down and slowly paged through the book, studying every detail. She had seen the artwork, the cover, and the galleys, but nothing could compare with the final package.

For Mom
was all the dedication page said, and the excitement of the book fell a little flat. It wasn't enough that her mother had known they were to be published: Mackenzie was bitterly disappointed that she wasn't with them to see the finished work. Jack sprang into her mind, but she decided to let Delancey tell him. She heard the shower come on and knew that Tom was going to be awhile. She tried Delancey two more times but still couldn't get her. It took a few moments for her to

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remember she was on spring break in California. Sitting back on the sofa, Mackenzie felt depression stealing over her.

Right now she had a choice to make: She could thank Tom for the book and go home, or she could put her hurt aside and go out and celebrate with him. The edges of apathy crept in ever so slowly. After all, she had worked all week and was tired. For several minutes she didn't care what she did and had no desire to make a decision. She heard the water being shut off, and with an effort she pushed those feelings back as well. By the time Tom arrived in the living room, dressed and ready to go, she had resolved to make the best of the evening.

Mackenzie didn't expect the kiss, but neither did she fight it. She and Tom were back from the restaurant. They'd eaten at a small bistro on the waterfront, but it was late, and Tom had simply walked her to her Jeep. Mackenzie was getting ready to thank him when he bent and kissed her. His arms went carefully around her, and Mackenzie kissed him right back. He was only two inches taller than she was, and she fit very nicely in his arms. Even when Tom broke the kiss, he stood holding her for several minutes.

"You're certainly a nice little bundle to hold, Miss Bishop."

"You don't feel so bad yourself."

Tom looked down at her, the overhead lights casting a bluish glow on her lovely face.

"Now, I'll be expecting you to change the sheets on my bed tomorrow and iron my shirts. After that you can fix some dinner."

Mackenzie smiled, remembering what she had said to him that first day.

"I'd better let you go," he said as he stepped away. "If I know you, you'll head home to take your phone off the hook and start to do whatever it is that you do. And since you'll do it until the wee hours of the morning, I'd best say goodnight."

Still smiling, Mackenzie shook her head but didn't bite.

"Goodnight, Tom. Thank you."

"Goodnight, Mackenzie. And you're welcome."

The smiles they shared were warm and genuine, but as Mackenzie drove away, she thought about what he had said and finally understood why she never talked about
Access Denied.

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There was simply no reason to discuss it. She had a story she had to get out of her head and onto paper, and that was about the end of it. What she hadn't figured on was Tom coming to visit her on base, something he'd never done before, and the way his friendship forced her to show her hand.

Chicago

Never had Delancey had so much fun
not
dating someone. The night she had been ill and needed Tab's help had been a turning point. Rude as she had been, he had taken her words as a challenge. Not a day went by that he didn't smile at her, wink at her, or gain access to the group she was walking or talking with and somehow end up right beside her. He'd knocked on her door at least twice a week and brought her treats-sometimes flowers, sometimes food. She would frown at him but always take what was offered, and if it was food, eat every bite. Indeed, she had gained the weight she had lost plus some. She accomplished this by thinking about her mother as little as possible.

Her time with Jack had been special, but he felt Mackenzie's absence keenly. Jack had confided to Delancey that he knew something was wrong but had no idea what. Delancey had not known how to respond and wondered all the way home on the plane if remaining silent had been a lie. She was still thinking about it when she disembarked at O'Hare and found Tab at her gate. She hid her surprise and nodded to him, careful not to assume.

"Hello, Tab," she said softly, starting right past him.

"I'm your ride, Delancey," he said to her profile, watching her halt.

She turned to him, her face expressionless.

"What happened to Mona?"

He tried to look angelic. "Would you believe she's sick?"

"No."

"How about that her car broke down?"

"How about the truth?"

"I asked her if I could pick you up, and she told me when and where."

Delancey's eyes went heavenward.

"Tell me, Tab, do you have any idea why Mona seems to want us to date so badly? What's it to her anyway?"

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Tab shrugged, glad that she wasn't really mad. "I don't think she has a motive beyond just being a little too busy for her own good."

Delancey shrugged ruefully. "I hope you didn't have to come too far out of your way."

It was an inane remark since the airport was some distance from the school, but Delancey had no idea what else to say. She didn't want to get serious with anyone, and Tab seemed to enjoy this cat-and-mouse game they had started to play. Something struck Delancey as soon as they began to walk from the gate, and the moment she got into the front seat of his car, she voiced it.

"I owe you an apology, Tab, and I need to make it right now."

"For what?"

"For taking the things you bring to my room. It's very sweet of you, but it's giving you the impression that we're going to start something, and we're not. I'm sorry I've been so insensitive."

Tab was quiet for a long time. He maneuvered out of the parking garage and through the busy Sunday-night traffic toward school. Delancey was not accustomed to having her apologies ignored, so she sat miserably beside him.

"Has someone hurt you, Delancey?" he finally asked.

"Yes," she answered, telling the first person since she'd left California and finding it very therapeutic.

"Why did he break up with you?"

"He didn't. I broke up with him because he was ready for marriage and I'm not. I don't get into casual relationships, and seeing one person exclusively leads to intense feelings. I won't make that mistake again. I also want to do well in my studies, and that's hard to do with a boyfriend."

"So rather than risk things getting serious, you don't go out at all."

"That's right."

They were at a stoplight now, and Tab looked at her.

"Thank you for telling me," he said, working hard to keep the pain from his voice and believing he accomplished that. "I hope we can be friends, Delancey, but I won't pressure you again."

"Thank you, Tab. I'm glad you don't hate me."

"Not at all. I admire the fact that you know what you want."

Nothing was said to that, which suited both young people fine. The flight was catching up with Delancey, and she was

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hungry. She had some snacks in her bag but didn't want to eat in front of Tab. Tab, who had started to believe that there would be something more between them, just wanted to be alone. He was mature enough not to resent her or treat her badly, but Delancey Bishop was one he wasn't going to get over very soon. It was only the middle of April, but the end of the term, and with it graduation, couldn't come soon enough for him. For the first time since he had met her, he was glad that Delancey lived in California and his home was in southern Illinois.

Arlington

"So this is where you live." Tom spoke kindly, but inside he wondered how she stood it. He had never thought Army life was for him, and seeing Mackenzie's small, aseptic apartment only confirmed that fact.

"Yes. It's not very fancy, but it's home."

"What happens in August?" he asked. She had already told him she would be leaving the military.

"I've already started looking for apartments, just checking prices. It's expensive here, so I'll probably head out of the area."

"Going back to California?"

Mackenzie shook her head. "Not now, maybe not ever."

Tom could see she did not want to speak of it. He was sitting at her kitchen table and now glanced around the room a bit more. He looked at the "living room" area and saw her computer and desk. Next to her new printer was a tall stack of paper.

Tom's eyes swung to her in question and found that she'd been watching him. She looked tense for a moment, but then she slouched a bit in her chair. He knew she would tell if he asked, and he was not going to miss this opportunity.

"Is the stack of paper what you've been working on?"

Mackenzie nodded.

"Is it something for work or for you?"

"For me."

Tom's eyes went back to the neat pile and the neat desktop.

"Is it a book?"

Mackenzie nodded, a small smile on her face.

"Can I look at it?"

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"Sure." Mackenzie stood, went for the manuscript, brought it back, and set it on the table in front of him.

"Access Denied,"
he read out loud. "A novel?"

Mackenzie sat across from him but didn't answer. Tom looked up at her.

"Come on, Mackenzie. Don't take me this far and drop me."

Mackenzie laughed. "No, it's 502 Micah Bear books. Of course it's a novel."

"All this is one novel, or am I looking at several copies?"

"It's just one."

"And it's finished?"

"Just last weekend."

Tom shifted the stack slightly and flipped through the pages until he was at the last one: 784. He looked up at her again and found her smiling at him.

"I like a challenge now and again," she explained simply. "I had this story in my head and wanted to see if I could write it. And I did."

Tom gaped at her. He knew she was writing and was nearly positive that it wasn't Micah Bear, but he was not prepared for this. He stared at her and then back down at the papers.

"May I read it?" he finally asked.

Mackenzie had been anticipating this, so she was able to answer immediately. "Yes, you can, Tom, but what you can't do is talk about it. This is very private for me."

"Of course. I won't say a word. But tell me, what do you plan to do with it?"

"Nothing. I know that's unbelievable to an editor, but that's the truth. I think it's a pretty good story, and I enjoyed putting it down on paper, but I did it for me, and that's all I care about."

"Does anyone know about this?"

"My sister knows that I started writing, but she doesn't know I finished it. My mother knew what I was doing, but I don't think she even told Jack. I trust you, Tom-you know I do-but I have to say it again: Please tell me you know how private this is for me."

"I do, Mackenzie, and I consider it a great honor that you're letting me read it."

Mackenzie laughed again. "You'd better save the accolades for after you've read it. You'll probably say it's dry as dust or all been done before."

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"I'll be honest, shall I?"

"You can be, of course, but don't forget what I said: I did it because I wanted to, and I did it for me."

Tom smiled at her. Once he had gotten to know her, even a little, understanding her was so much clearer. She was incredibly independent, something he very much admired. He wasn't in the habit of comparing her to Brita, but he realized suddenly how tiring that woman had been. She had been helpless with so many things. Mackenzie, on the other hand, didn't seem to need help with anything. He almost wished that she did.

For a moment his love of books got to him, and without thought he turned over the title page and began to read. Mackenzie sat watching him, a smile on her face. He'd actually taken in a few pages when he felt her eyes.

"It's nice that you could come and talk to me, Tom."

He laughed. Her sarcasm was always so fun to him.

"All right. I'll leave it. After all, you're leaving tomorrow, so I'll have plenty of time."

"Oh, yes. I take up so much of your time when I'm here."

"You're such a brat," he told her complacently. "What are you making for dinner?"

"Did you come for dinner?"

"Yes. I'm starved."

"Well, I hope you like canned soup or Cheerios."

"You're kidding."

Mackenzie smiled at him, and not ten minutes later he learned that she wasn't. He even went through her cupboards for proof. They sat down to a meal of bean with bacon soup, crackers, cheese slices, and Twinkies for dessert. Tom enjoyed it but determined to buy her a cookbook for her birthday.

SanFrancisco

Jack had prayed long and hard about what he wanted to say to his stepdaughter, but now that they were alone and she sat across from him at the kitchen table, he felt strangely tongue- tied. He couldn't think of anything that hurt him as much as this wall that Mackenzie had put up between them. He loved her. She was also Marrell's child, and his thoughts and memories of that woman were some of the sweetest of his life. Mackenzie's

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not needing him or even wanting to talk to him was a blow almost as painful as Marrell's death.

"How is work going?"

"Okay."

"Are you looking forward to August?"

"Yes and no. I'm still uncertain about my plans, so I don't know what I think right now."

"Well, if you want to work for me, I can use you."

Mackenzie tried to smile. "I don't think the commute would pay off."

This was the first time Jack knew for certain that she would not be returning to California.

"Where will you live?"

"I'm thinking about some place outside of D.C, but I'm not sure yet."

"But not California?"

"No."

"Is it me, Mackenzie? Have I done something?"

Mackenzie's heart broke a little, but not enough to cry. "I just can't do this anymore," she admitted. "I don't know if I can explain."

"Can't do what?" He was desperate for answers.

Anger filled her, but even though it showed in her eyes, her voice was calm. "I can't pretend that I'm not angry anymore, Jack. I can't and I won't. You love a God who can't be trusted, and I don't want any part of it."

It made his stomach roll to know that if she died tonight, she would spend eternity in hell, but he had to be who he always was, even if she hated it or him. The thought gave him another question.

"I don't think I've changed, Mic. What's happened that you can't stand to have anything to do with what your mother and I believed?"

"You don't want to hear it."

"I do, Mic. You won't say anything that will change my love for you."

Mackenzie shook her head. "No, you'll just pray for Mackenzie some more and ask God to reach her poor lost soul."

Jack could have flinched at the bitterness and sarcasm and at the same time was thankful that Marrell didn't have to see it.

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Thinking of her gave him courage. He took a moment to ask for more wisdom, knowing God would honor his request, and addressed Mackenzie straightforwardly.

"Well, Mackenzie, I guess we know where we stand. I'm who I've always been, and you want nothing to do with that. To the best of my knowledge I've never shoved Jesus Christ down your throat. We asked that you attend church, but no one's ever forced you to pray or read the Word. I'm not going to pretend that I don't pray for you, Mic. I won't do anything just to make you more comfortable or to try to gain what we used to have."