Silver Linings (4 page)

I stood for a long time staring at the Realtor's
FOR SALE
sign in front of Mark's house. It shouldn't have been this much of a surprise. Mark hadn't misled me. He was doing exactly what he'd said he intended to do. He was moving away. And yet I was shocked.

I don't know how long I stood in front of the house as a gnawing sensation attacked my gut. Like the liquid in a cauldron, it churned and brewed and swelled, and then all at once I was so angry I could barely contain myself. And at the same time I was unbearably sad. A profound sense of loss settled over me, that familiar pain I experienced in the first weeks after I'd gotten word that Paul was missing in action and presumed dead.

Rover sat on his haunches watching me as if he expected some sort of response on my end. I had none to give. The Realtor's sign blurred before my eyes.

It went without saying that any further attempt to talk Mark out of leaving would be pointless. I'd already tried that, but my words appeared to have no impact on him. It was as if he couldn't get away from me fast enough. Well, so be it.

The return trip to the inn was taken at a much slower pace than when I left, as my head and my heart assimilated what I'd found. As I drew closer to the inn, my thoughts whirled around inside my head. I was saddened and angry in equal measure.

When I walked up the driveway, Rover strained against the leash in his eagerness to get to Mark. I held on tightly, but Rover half dragged me forward even while I struggled to hold him back.

Mark glanced up, but when he saw it was me, he returned to his task at hand, indifferent to me. My intention had been to walk directly past him without a word and get inside the house without a display of emotion.

The silent treatment was what he deserved. If I could pretend I didn't care, maybe he'd feel the need to explain himself. Okay, admittedly, my thinking was probably skewed, but I was starting to feel desperate and lost. I had to believe there was some logical explanation for Mark's behavior, something he wasn't telling or couldn't tell me.

I wasn't halfway onto the property when, against all reason, my mouth took over. “You couldn't wait, could you?” I demanded, so angry that I barely sounded like myself.

Mark paused, turned around, and looked at me. He frowned as if he didn't have a clue what I was talking about. “Wait? For what?”

“To list your house.” My anger was front and center and seemed to throb with every syllable.

“What's the big deal? I told you I was moving on.”

“You had to rub it in…you couldn't put it off until you were sure this was what you wanted, could you?” My anger was to the point that I had trouble speaking coherently.

He set aside his paintbrush and turned to face me directly. “There was no reason to wait. The decision to leave has been made, so I listed the house.”

“You didn't tell me.”

“Why should I?” he snapped.

“You're right,” I shot back, unbelievably hurt. “Why should you? Our…friendship, our relationship, means nothing to you. Why would you want to share anything with me?”

He appeared perplexed by my outburst, which said everything. He hadn't given my feelings the least bit of consideration. Any hope I'd clung to that he would change his mind dissolved like ice in boiling water.

He braced one hand against his hip. “I don't get why you're so angry.”

I couldn't explain it myself. I felt the compelling urge to lash out and hurt him in the same way I was hurting. “I should have known I couldn't depend on you. You're doing what you've always done. You're running away. So run. Be a coward. If friends, if relationships, if love is more than you can deal with, then good riddance.”

We squared off face-to-face. His face was red with anger and I felt the heat radiate off my own. My hands were bunched into tight fists at my sides, my nails digging hard enough into the skin of my palms to leave indentations.

His eyes narrowed and hardened. “I don't owe you any explanations. I'm my own person.”

“Fine, be your own person. You don't need anyone; you're an island, an entity unto yourself. That's great. Perfect, in fact. Have a good life, because I don't need you, either.”

Rover howled, but I ignored him and so did Mark.

“What I do or don't do is my own business,” he reminded me. “If I choose to put my house on the market, then it's none of your concern, got it?”

Oh yes, I got it. “Loud and clear.”

Neither one of us moved. The leash wrapped around my hand bit painfully into my flesh, cutting off the blood supply to my fingers. I ignored the discomfort.

“You're not my mother, or even my sister,” he said between gritted teeth.

He'd never mentioned either his mother or a sister before, which served only to punctuate how little I knew about him. I'd wanted to introduce Mark to my family and he'd refused. It shouldn't have surprised me that he chose to ignore his own relatives, if indeed he had family. Nor should I be shocked that I meant little or nothing to him. People flowed through his life like creek water, never standing still for long.

“In other words, I'm nothing to you. Absolutely nothing.”

He blinked, as if my accusation hit too close to the truth. “If that's the way you want to look at it, then go right ahead.”

It irritated me that he had the ability to hurt me like this. I blinked furiously in an effort to hold back tears.

All at once without prior warning, all the anger drained out of me. I felt emotionally and physically exhausted. For a long moment all I could do was stare at him.

It took me a moment to find my voice. “Now you're purposely being cruel. I would have thought better of you,” I whispered. In the months I'd known Mark, I'd never seen him like this.

Turning away, I returned to the house, softly closing the door behind me. Bending down, I released Rover from his leash and then, without meaning for it to happen, I crumbled to my knees and hugged my dog close. Adrenaline surged through my system. Such intense emotion needed a physical outlet, but still the shaking took me by surprise.

Rover licked my hand as though seeking to comfort me. When I could control the trembling, I stood on wobbly legs and walked aimlessly into the kitchen. Standing at the sink, I looked out the window and breathed in deep, even breaths in an effort to calm my racing heart.

Several minutes passed and I was just beginning to come to grips with my anger and frustration when I heard the front door open. I didn't immediately register that it was Mark until I heard his footsteps approach me. I had no desire to continue our argument.

“Jo Marie.”

I ignored him.

He stood directly behind me. I could feel him as strongly as if he'd pressed his body flush against mine.

“Jo Marie,” he tried again.

I refused to face him. “You can go, Mark…or Jeremy, or whatever name you prefer to be called these days. I won't hold you to the contract for the gazebo.”

“I'll finish the job.”

“No need. You're free to go.”

“I said I'd finish the job.”

I didn't think I could bear to see him again. “Frankly, I'd rather you didn't.”

He paused and then reminded me, “I gave you my word. Don't worry. It won't be long; I should be done today, tomorrow at the latest.”

“I'm absolving you from any further obligation.” Despite my best effort to be cool and detached, my voice trembled.

Mark cupped my shoulders and I reacted by holding myself stiff. “You can mail me a bill for your services to this point.”

He edged closer. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, his breath warm against the back of my neck.

Shivers scooted down my spine. “Yeah, I'm sorry, too.” I tried to sound flippant, but I wasn't sure I succeeded.

“The last thing in the world I'd ever want to do is hurt you.”

If that was the case, he'd failed miserably. The hole in my stomach had doubled in size in the last thirty minutes. “I'd rather you left now.”

“I can't.”

“I'll find someone else to finish what you started,” I said. “It shouldn't be difficult.”

“I can't leave you like this,” he said. His voice was so low it was nearly inaudible. “It's going to kill me to leave you, no matter when I go.”

“Then why are you doing this?” I demanded.

As I expected, he didn't answer me.

“Is whatever it is that's driving you away so terrible you can't tell me?”

Again, he had no answer for me.

I bit into my lower lip, fearing I wasn't going to be able to hold back the tears for much longer. It infuriated me that Mark Taylor could reduce me to this emotional level.

Mark sighed and forced me to turn around and face him. The instant I did, he wrapped me in his arms and clung to me as if he was holding on to my very life.

My arms remained dangling at my sides. I refused to let my guard down, refused to give him the power to hurt me any more than he already had. But the longer he held me the more difficult it became not to put my arms around him.

“You have to know I love you,” he said.

He released me and took one small step in retreat. I lowered my eyes, unable to look at him. Mark cupped my face, his callused hands rough against my soft skin.

“Jo Marie,” he said, his voice strong and sure. “If you remember nothing else, remember this. I will always love you.”

I tried to turn my head, discounting his words because his actions said otherwise. “If you love me so much you wouldn't do this.”

He braced his forehead against mine.

“Go love some other woman,” I urged. “Because, frankly, your love hurts too much.”

“I can't.”

I fully intended to break away, but he stopped me, tilting my head up to receive his kiss. It'd been three weeks since Mark declared his feelings for me. Three weeks in which he'd jumped through hoops in order to ignore me. It was almost as if being in close proximity to me was unbearable for him. He went to great lengths to avoid any association with me. In that same time the most physical contact we'd had was a hug, and that had happened just before he announced he was moving away from Cedar Cove.

I stood perfectly still as his lips descended to mine. I hadn't been kissed or held since Paul left for a tour in Afghanistan. Even now I wasn't convinced I was capable of feeling any response from another man's touch.

It didn't take two seconds to discover I was wrong.

Mark's kiss went through me like a laser. I didn't want to feel anything, but I couldn't help myself. I groaned, or maybe it was Mark who groaned. Perhaps we both did at the same time. My arms came around him and my fingers tangled in the small hairs at the base of his neck.

His kisses were urgent, fierce, as if he was desperate, as if he'd held himself in check for so long that when the dam broke, he was unable to control his pent-up longing and need another minute.

The intensity of his kisses nearly caused me to stumble backward. I might have, if not for the edge of the sink pressing against the small of my back.

“Jo Marie,” he whispered, “Oh no…no…this shouldn't be happening.” He interrupted himself by kissing me again with that same urgency. He held me so close and so tight I found it difficult to breathe.

I clung to him, too, hoping he'd have a change of heart now that he'd held and kissed me with such abandon.

When he tore his lips from mine, his breathing was harsh and heavy. He hung his head, refusing to look at me, and then slowly, gently, he eased me away. He wanted to pull back more, but I wouldn't let him. My arms circled his waist and I hung on to him, afraid that once he let me go I would lose him forever.

For a long time we held on to each other.

Even then I knew.

Nothing had changed.

Mark had made up his mind, and kissing me, holding me, declaring his love, made no difference. The anger was gone now, replaced with a brooding sense of sadness. I dropped my arms and stepped back.