The Admirer's Secret (23 page)

Chapter 46

I
t had been more than a decade ago since Marc had last been here with Julie. He had left her a message to meet him here at seven o’clock sharp. He left no other clues as to why the sudden dinner plans, but he wondered if she had any idea what he had up his sleeve.

Sitting in his truck, he checked the dashboard clock. It was game time. His clammy hands clutched the steering wheel. He hadn’t expected to be this nervous.

After one last rehearsal of what he hoped to remember to say, he stepped out of the vehicle into the cool April air and crossed the parking lot.

Marc stepped foot through the fancy arched entryway that led into the dimly lit lobby.
A mild breeze followed him into the waiting area. An ornate ceramic clock hung on a beige stucco wall with the small hand on the seven and the big hand on the three. Julie was already fifteen minutes late.
Typical woman,
he chuckled to himself.

Marc absorbed the ambiance of the family-owned Italian restaurant. Hidden on the outskirts of Erie, Pennsylvania, about forty-five minutes over the New York/Pennsylvania border, Marc had once considered the restaurant his and Julie’s little secret. Since their last date here, new surrounding home sites had developed and the city of
Erie stretched its borders, sending more business to the place.

The orchestral opera playing from the overhead speakers would have set an enchanting mood had he been seated with Julie at a candlelit table. Instead, he stood watching the clock, wondering when she’d arrive.

A penguin-suited hostess confirmed their reservation while he waited what felt like an eternity.

The décor hadn’t changed in ten ye
ars—warm neutral colors and vivid countryside murals depicted the owner’s Sicilian origins. He saw the same cracks that had crept along the ceiling when the structure settled and shifted years ago. Like the atmosphere, the food hadn’t strayed either as Marc stole a peek at a nearby menu. It featured the same authentic Italian cuisine as before.

This particular restaurant held a special significance for the young couple, as it represented their first official date as teenagers. Of course, twenty dollars a plate had been well above Marc’s normal spending limit when he worked as a gas station attendant after school to pay for his car insurance. But he had insisted on bringing Julie
here to impress her—a plan that had worked. She had agreed, then ordered the cheapest entrée on the menu to make up for it.

As Marc’s memory ventured back to that era where big bows and puffy sleeves were the rage, he had no difficulty remembering what she wore on th
at date. A lipstick red dress—always her best color, especially being a blonde with a rosy complexion.

“Your table is ready,” the hostess finally called to him. Marc followed the tiny girl to their waiting table. Unlike the surrounding tables adorned with the simplicity of a single votive candle, the table was decorated with the bouquet of white
calla lilies he had requested—Julie’s favorite.

“Your waitress will be with you shortly,” the hostess said with a friendly grin as she handed Marc a menu and placed the other at Julie’s empty seat.

“Thank you,” Marc responded.

Looking past the beautiful centerpiece, Marc’s eyes questioned the vacant spot opposite
him. Julie wasn’t usually this late. He wondered what the hold-up was and flipped through the menu to distract himself from worry.

The waitress took Marc’s champagne order and returned again to check up on him. He checked his watch, and decided he’d give her ten more minutes before he’d consider himself stood up
… and the plans ruined.

Eight minutes. Nine minutes. When the watch face hit 7:35, Marc waved to get the waitress’s attention.
Each of the staff—all female, with the exception of the busboys—resembled the next, with matching black and white outfits, tight dark brown ponytails secured at the nape of their necks, and olive-complected skin… probably all related, he figured.

“I’m so sorry, but I don’t think my date is showing up, so I’m going to head home,” Marc offered apologetically.

“Before you go, I’ve been instructed to give this to you, sir.” The girl’s outstretched hand held an appetizer that Marc recognized—stuffed mushrooms. They were no ordinary stuffed mushrooms, either. They were monstrous in size, filled with crabmeat, cheese, and herbs that delivered a sweet kick to the taste buds. Upon seeing them he had a flashback to their first date.

Julie must have remembered Marc ordering this exact appetizer because he had filled up on the things.

This meant she was here. And she was infiltrating his plans!

S
he was playing games with him.
She knows.

As his teeth sank into the buttery vegetable’s flesh, he caught a movement in the corner of his eye. Then he saw Julie approachin
g and turned to her, mouth full and smiling.

She was breathtaking.
Dressed in a deep red, spaghetti strapped dress with the bottom hem of the dress reaching mid-calf.

She always looked amazing, but tonight she had outdone herself. Even wearing a gray blazer overtop of a buttoned-down black silk shirt, he still felt underdressed compared to her ravishing beauty.

“Looks like you started without me,” Julie teased as she pecked his puffed out cheek where the remainders of his bite protruded. The slippery mushroom slid down his throat as he swallowed guiltily.

“Sorry, but you were looking like a no-show. A minute or so more and I would have left! Lucky for you, you know how to keep me waiting.” He held up what was left of the appetizer. Julie took her seat across from him, holding his intense stare.

“You look beautiful tonight, Julie. Red—it’s always been your color,” Marc complimented her.

“Oh, look who’s talking,
GQ
. Marc, I’m definitely not the best looking one at this table. I mean, I had no idea you had those clothes in your closet or I would have made you wear them more often! You look… great. Really.”

“Eh, this old thing?” Marc shrugged off the comment as he
playfully pinched the collar of his blazer.

“Oh, whatever!” Julie scoffed. “You know you look good. So what’s the occasion tonight, huh?”

Marc offered a sly grin and evaded the question. “Can’t a guy take his girl out for a nice dinner without an interrogation? Anyways, you better have some while they last.” He pointed to the half-gone plate of mushrooms.

“Very good. Try one,” he offered.

Julie took one and placed it on her plate.

“I wanted to thank you for meeting me here, Julie,” he began. His nerves were spazzing with each passing moment. “I know it’s a bit of a drive, and I would have driven us both together, but I had some things to take care of first.”

“That’s okay. It’s a nice idea. It brings back a lot of memories…”

The nostalgia of the moment swept him into its gentle grasp.

“And thanks for the flowers, honey.”

“Beautiful flowers for
my
beautiful flower,” he said.

Julie playfully rolled her eyes. “Ah, so now you’re a poet?”

“I’ve had it in me all along. I just never had the opportunity to show you the romantic side of Marc Vincetti.”

They both laughed.

Julie shook her head in amusement. Marc couldn’t write himself out of a box. He remembered the last poem he had written, about his cat … in the fifth grade. And when it came to traditional, sweep-a-girl-off-her-feet romance, he hadn’t a clue. To Marc, romance was eating pizza on the sofa watching a football game.

But tonight, for once, he felt he had gotten it right. Flowers. Dinner by candlelight. Soft music in the background. Perhaps deep inside he
did
have a touch of romance waiting for that perfect moment. A little dusty, but alive nonetheless.

“So what else do you have up your sleeve, Mr. Charming?”

“Nothing. I just want to enjoy my evening with you,” he answered coyly.

But he couldn’t contain what was brewing under his cheesy grin. A lull in the conversation granted a moment for both to peruse the menu.

“Do you know what you want to order?” Her question spurred him to sheepishly avert his eyes and study his menu. “Oh, and this time I’m not letting you off the hook so easily with my dinner choice. I heard you’re not working at the gas station anymore, rich guy. So I’m thinking…” she paused to read the listed item, “lobster stuffed ravioli. Or maybe the pasta carbonara. I can’t decide which. What do you think?”

“That sounds good,” Marc answered mechanically.

Wait—what did she ask me?
He couldn’t focus. All he could think of was what to say, how to say it.

“Or maybe the turtle soup.”

“Whatever you want, honey.”

His brain did a double-take.
Did she say something about turtles?

He was utterly distracted and had to get this over with.

“Marc, look at me.” He flashed his brown eyes upward at the sound of her firm voice. “What is going on? You are acting so weird tonight.”

Marc inhaled deeply, clearing his mind of everything but what he had practiced saying in the car. But the words didn’t come. Instead his heart took over and poured out everything he felt, right then, right there.

“Julie, you are the most amazing woman I have ever met. You’ve taught me so much—how to love, how to forgive. Forgiveness is an act of trust. By forgiving Haley, I am trusting that justice for her actions will be done, and not necessarily by me. In this case, I must leave justice to someone else. By forgiving, I have to let go of any right I feel I have to get even with her and leave it to work itself out. If I don’t worry about the scales that balance out fairness and mercy, I will be released from it. I’ll be free. And that’s what I’ve decided to do. So thank you, Julie. You showed me that freedom.”

Freedom.
Freedom from worrying about getting even. Freedom from bitterness or vengeance. Freedom from fear. It was exactly what they both had needed.

They could have played the “what if” game for the rest of their lives, worrying and wondering if Haley was on the loose or if today would be their last, but each person on earth only had an allotted number of days anyway. So why try to overanalyze it, or fight it? 

“Marc, that makes me so happy to hear that—”

“There’s more,” he interrupted. “More than all that, Julie, you’ve given me
a joy I’ve never thought possible. So I’d like to give you something in return.”

He paused, cupped her hand in his, and laid it on his chest.

“My heart. Forever. Julie, I have never stopped loving you. Even back then, as kids, I knew you were handpicked for me. But I never expected to be reunited after all these years, and in these circumstances. We’ve been through trials that many old couples will never face, and we made it through together. You showed me how to love with every part of my being. You’ve edified me, and I want to edify you. Today, Julie, I want you to know how much I love you. How much I want to take care of you… for life.”

Watching her eyes tear up, he fell in love with Julie
all over again as he spoke. Marc paused, kissed Julie’s tear-stained cheek, and fell to one knee at her feet.

Her jaw dropped in muted shock.

“Honey—”

Marc placed a fingertip against her lips.

“Tonight I want you to know what my heart has been seeking for the past decade. You. Julie Carter, will you marry me?”

He pulled out a black velvet box from inside his blazer. Julie didn’t wait to see the ring. Before Marc had a chance to open the lid of the box she answered.

“Yes! I thought you’d never ask!” Her slender arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. “Now my turn,” she said. “When we were kids you were a crush, a boy who made me smile and laugh, who left his imprint on my heart. But that boy you once were used the time between then and now to mature into a man I love, respect, and want to honor for the rest of my life. I love you, Marc.”

What should have torn them apart brought them closer, resulting in this moment. In the course of one horrifying climactic event, she had watched Marc transform. He was a man who had rediscovered faith and forgiveness. He protected the one he loved. He found healing through his Maker for the wrongs he couldn’t right.

“Marc, you are everything I ever wanted in a man… and more. You are the man I have always known you were—a man who knew just how big love could be.”

“I have one more thing for you,” Marc said, almost in a whisper as he leashed his emotions. There was a brown paper bag at the foot of his chair and he pulled it out. Still kneeling, he reached in carefully, then pulled out a dried flower.

“Julie, this is from the flowers I bought for you that day you left Westfield to go to Florida to be with your dad. I couldn’t part with them, because they were my only real tie to you through all those years. So here.” He handed it to her, blowing dust off the faded bloom. “Sorry, it’s a little overdue.”