by Rebecca York
Mick had jumped down. “I’ll get off here too,” he told Darcy. “If you can wait until tomorrow, I’ll pay you myself.”
Darcy looked at the money in Sarah’s hand and Mick, who seemed determined to pay for the ride. “Yes, sir. Tomorrow is soon enough.” Then he made a clicking noise and Rusty and the carriage headed off.
“What did you do that for? I told you I’d pay.” She nearly stomped her foot in anger. His paying changed everything. Now she felt beholden to him, like she owed him something. It changed their “friends” status.
“As a gentleman, I can afford to treat you to a ride,” he told her, unflustered by her attitude change. “I might not own possessions but it doesn’t mean I don’t have money.”
“You paid for my breakfast and for the skating. I wanted this to be my treat.” She put her hands on her hips. “I work, or did until a week ago, and men and women are equals. Have been since 1920 when we got the vote.”
“That might have been America’s biggest mistake,” he chuckled. “A pretty head like yours should be filled with nonsense, not elections.”
“Oh, now you’re just trying to piss me off! Men!”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I was. So why are you mad?” He tried to take her arm but she shook it off.
She dropped her chin, her gaze on the snow-covered pavement. “You insulted me by not letting me pay.”
He used a finger to lift her chin. “You’re mad at me because you liked the kiss. Aren’t you?”
She sucked in her bottom lip and tried to avoid his eyes, but he wouldn’t let her. “Oh, okay, it was alright I suppose. I liked it well enough.”
“Is that so?” His lips twitched, and she had a hard time keeping the smile off her own face.
“Yes, I’m quite sure.”
He pulled her to him, and she was taken back by his audacity. Was this new-found confidence? He smelled good, too. A hint of aftershave, something woodsy, with a suggestion of spice.
“One more before I go. I want you absolutely sure.” His mouth captured hers and she felt her knees go weak. She put her arms around his neck to hang on, and he deepened the kiss, until she made a mewing noise in her throat.
Wow! Who knew this ex-Marine could kiss like nobody’s business? Her head swirled—she should be annoyed but she wanted more and was afraid to ask. Weren’t they supposed to be friends? Friends didn’t kiss, not like this! The cheek maybe, or a peck on the forehead, not this tongue in mouth, daringly brave, explorative kiss that turned her into a pussycat.
She pushed at his chest and he let her go.
Laughing, he took a few steps back, and then turned, heading home.
Speechless, she stood on the snow covered street and watched him walk away. He had a spring in his step that she’d never seen before. Had she put it there? Damn right she had!
Feeling light-hearted, she checked the mailbox then carried the few envelopes and holiday flyers up the steps and into the house. Keats jumped around her, and after putting the mail on the table, she bent to give him a good all-over rub.
Nobody else was home, and wouldn’t be for a few hours. “You want to go out, boy?” Keats barked in anticipation, wagged his tail, his canine eyes filled with hope. “Okay, I had a little treat today, and so should you.”
She picked up his nylon lead, clicked it to his collar and took him for a quick run down the road. Keats yipped and skipped, and she felt like doing the same. Somehow in the past few hours, her worries seemed less. She told herself that whatever happened she’d somehow be able to handle it in stride. After all, Mick had her back and she had his.
***
Mick didn’t have anything to do now that he was home. The morning had been so unexpected and so much fun, that his empty, soulless little room seemed more depressing than ever. Perhaps he should think about making it a comfortable place to live rather than an indoor place to sleep.
Who knew—if the place was more appealing he might want to have a visitor once in a while. Right now, with dirty towels on the floor, bed unmade, and jeans, tees and underwear tossed in a corner, it was not a place to welcome people.
Well, not people, exactly. Sarah. Would she come to him, be with him--would he ever again know the feeling of being held and loved by a woman, wrapped around her, the welcoming warmth of being inside? Was that too much to ask? He had committed the sin of taking a life, many lives, and for what? Murdering soldiers like himself who were only doing their duty to their country? The fight for freedom had come at a huge price to American soldiers, and had it changed anything? Not that he could see. They weren’t any safer than before 9/11.
Was it wrong of him to simply want peace... and Sarah?
He picked up his clothes and put them in a laundry bag, hauling them down the hall to the laundry room on his floor. He dumped them in the large washer, added a tablet of soap and shut the lid. Too bad cleaning up after a war couldn’t be handled as easily. Too many men like himself were destroyed forever, whether they survived the fight or not.
He returned to his room, grabbed the sheet and pillow off his bed, and carried it to the garbage chute. Sarah had given him a flicker of hope, more than he’d felt for several shell-shocked years, and hell if he was going to let it go without trying.
Born in the USA, he had the God-given right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness--and damn it, he intended to find it.
With that in mind, Mick strolled into town, looking for a linen shop. There was something down at the far end of Main Street but he’d never stepped inside. Had hand-made quilts and tapestries in the window—not really his thing, but he needed something for his bed now that he’d tossed out his old sheets.
The door jingled when he opened it and a woman in her fifties, plump around the waist, wearing a full-length white skirt, topped with a red Christmas sweater, smiled and welcomed him to her shop. “What can I help you with?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I need a new set of sheets for starters, uh...two pillows and pillow cases, and a comforter. Nothing frilly. It’s for me,” he explained.
“What size bed do you have?” she asked pleasantly.
He grimaced and shook his head. “I dunno. Big enough for two, I guess.”
“Would you think it was a king size, or the next size smaller, a queen?”
“Heck if I know.” He used his hands to show her the approximate width of his bed. “A double I suppose.”
“The most common now is a queen, and if the sheet is a little large it’s better than being too small. Let’s have a look. We do have a sale on a few of the items. We could start there.”
She walked him to the back of the shop, and pulled out a few sets in plastic that included everything he was looking for. “This is the best way to go if you aren’t particular about the thread count.” At his dull look, she laughed. “Didn’t think so. Well, these are very nice, and modestly priced. They go from forty-nine dollars up to ninety-nine. Why don’t you have a look and see if something grabs your fancy?”
“Uh, sure.” She turned to walk away, and he asked, “Which one do you think a young woman would like?”
“Oh, I see,” she gave him a bright-eyed look. “Well, we don’t want it feminine, now do we? She would expect something masculine. What about the plaid? Or we have a Ralph Lauren that has an elegant look.”
The plaid had a blue and brown comforter, the Ralph Lauren a mostly brown and reddish print, but then something else caught his eye. “How about this?” he asked.
“Oh, that’s lovely. It’s an Eddie Bauer, the Whistler design. It’s got an Alpine feel, if you don’t mind that.”
Mick thought back to the day skating with Sarah, and how she would look in these sheets on his bed. “It’s great. I’ll take it.” The colors were a little dark, mostly gray, with red and black stripes, but his walls were light beige, and it came with a small decorative pillow that read, Ready, Set, Snow. Sarah would probably love it.
“Don’t you want to know how much it is?”
“I can give you a nice one, either gray or black. Which would you prefer?” She carried the bag to the customer desk and put it down, then showed him the oval rugs.
“The gray?” he asked.
She hesitated for a second and then suggested, “What about this matted one? It’s black with red along the edges, and might pick up the accent colors in your bedding.”
“Sounds good.” When he’d paid for them, and she’d wrapped them up, he asked if they could be delivered. “I don’t have a car.”
“Oh, did you just move in?”
“No. Been here for a year and a half. Don’t really need a car in Heaven, now do I?”
“Not at all. I’ll have it dropped over to your place later this afternoon. Don’t be a stranger, you hear?” When he was halfway out the door, she called to him. “How about towels? I could toss in two for free.”
“That would be mighty nice of you. Thanks,” and he walked out, whistling a happy tune. He dropped a couple of dollars to the Santa ringing a bell on the corner, and was halfway home when he thought about buying a small tree. One of those ornamental kinds that sat on a table, or he could put it on his dresser.
He went back into town to a gift shop that carried decorations and a generous selection of ornamental trees, as well as nativity scenes, glowing reindeer, rows of nutcrackers, some four to five feet tall. Santa Clauses and tree ornaments, snow globes and much, much more.
He found a twenty-four inch silver tree with tiny red bows which would fit on his dresser, then on a whim, bought a snow globe with two skaters on a pond and a Christmas tree in the center--a little present for Sarah to remember their special day.
When he returned home, he put his laundry in the dryer and lay down on his bare mattress, imaging how it would look with his new bedding and two pillows, one with a fall of long strawberry hair. Would that day come, he wondered, or was he only fooling himself?
Chapter Seventeen
The following morning, after Meghan had left for work and Byron drove Liam to school, Sarah put a little makeup on, brushed her hair in a high swinging ponytail, and grabbed her green parka and car keys. She knew Mick would be heading for the park to find Darcy and she wanted to thank him again for the wonderful day. Perhaps get a chance to drive him to work, and spend an hour in his company.
Mick had been on her mind most of last night, and she’d dreamed of the two of them gliding arm in arm as they dazzled the crowd who’d come to watch them skate. He lifted her in the air, and spun her like a top, one leg held by the palm of his hand, the other leg at a perfect horizontal.
She was spectacular in a little sparkly outfit, like a professional skater, and Mick wore a shiny blue suit. It had been a sweet dream, and she hadn’t wanted to come out of it, but Liam had been fussing about something, and she’d heard the slamming of doors. Unable to get back into dreamland, she’d gotten up and showered, and downed a coffee with a piece of raison toast.
Driving slowly, she watched the pedestrians hurrying along the streets but didn’t see Mick as she’d hoped. She circled back, heading for the train station, and still not seeing him, she pulled into a parking area and hurried to the platform.
There he was, seated on a bench, the hood of his sweatshirt covering most of his face, his navy parka zipped--the way he’d looked the day she’d reported him at the market. He was hunched over, reading a paperback.
She felt a little skip in her heart as she quietly walked over to him. He looked up when her shadow blocked out the sun.
“Sarah! What are you doing here?”
She sat down next to him. “I was looking for you. Went to the park first, thought you might be there, but I worried that I might have missed you, so here I am.”
“I was there a half hour ago. Took care of Darcy. So, you riding the train somewhere?” A half-smile flashed over his face.
“Nope. I was hoping you’d accept a ride to work, in lieu of the skating lesson I received. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
They both looked up as the train rounded the corner, horn blowing to notify people that it was about to enter the station. Those waiting scurried over to the edge of the platform to board.
She eyed Mick. “What’s it going to be? Me, or the train?”
He laughed. “Put like that, how could I refuse?”
They both stood up and she linked her arm through his. “Yeah, I’m glad I can still beat out a train.”
“Oh, you can beat out a lot more than that.”
“You don’t say?” She hugged his arm a little tighter. She really didn’t understand her attraction for this man, not after having her heart broken so suddenly. Men, all men, should be on her “do not do” list. But there was something about his vulnerability, his lack of arrogance, that called out to her. After dating a cocky doctor on and off for two years, a powerful man all about control, who wore a big ego like some sort of halo, well, Mick was a refreshing change.
She had a feeling that he needed her friendship even more than she did his. Sarah had her sister and Byron, plus her two best friends.
He was practically estranged from his mother and his sister’s family, didn’t own a thing, not a car, not a phone, not even a cat. Kind of sad, really, but maybe that’s why she enjoyed his company—it made her situation less intolerable.
When they were seated in her Prius with the seatbelts on and the radio playing Christmas music, he asked her what was on her mind.
“Lots of things. Silly things, too. Last night I dreamed of us skating—we were competing somewhere and dazzling the judges and the audience.” She giggled. “You wore a shiny blue suit.”
“Oh, thanks,” he said dryly. “Now you think I’m gay.”
“No, no, you were most definitely attractive in a manly way. I had on some sparkly little outfit. We were really something.” Backing out of the parking spot, she shot him a glance. “I had a great time yesterday. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. And I do appreciate the ride, but you can’t do this every morning. I won’t allow it. Besides, you need to start taking care of you. The fall yesterday...it didn’t bring on your period, did it?”
She’d hoped—but it hadn’t. “No. I want to make a doctor’s appointment. Do you know any good general practitioners here in town?”
“Not really. I use the doctors at Veteran’s Hospital. It’s a great perk. You go off to war and get shot up, and get free medical pretty much for life.”
“Hmm, guess I should have tried that.” She smiled, keeping her eyes on the road. “I can’t ask Meg or Byron. They’d want to know what’s wrong with me. I should have it confirmed, then let the doctor know I don’t want to keep it. She might be able to refer me to a clinic. I was kind of hoping that you’d go with me?”
He was silent for a few minutes, kept darting looks at her face, and rubbing his hands. Finally he opened up. “Sarah, I’ve seen too much killing. I don’t think I could take you there and sit by while you ended your baby’s life.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Don’t ask me that.”
“Mick. You have my back. You promised.” Her voice broke, and her hands gripped the wheel a little tighter as she tried to regain her composure. His comment put another crack in her heart. Another betrayal by someone she trusted.
“I do. I will, but not this.” His wounded expression made her flinch. He looked as if she had let him down, not the other way around. “Look Sarah, I’m not going all preachy on you or doubting your morals—I believe a woman has the right to choose. I fully believe that, and know a few women, Marines, who got themselves into trouble and chose this path.”
“So if you stand by them,” her voice wobbled, “why not me?”
“Because I think you’re different, your values are not the same. They were trained to take lives; you are trained to save them. You have family who loves
and supports you. They would not want you to do this. Trust me, I know that for a fact. Byron lost his son a long time ago. He never got over it until he met your sister. They are naturally excited about having a baby of their own, but they’d welcome yours in a heartbeat.”
Her shoulders drooped and she let out a ragged sigh. “You’re right. They’d hate me for thinking this, but I don’t want Rick’s baby. The idea of it growing inside of me just eats me away.”
“I’m sure that many women have felt the same as you. Imagine how a rape victim would feel? But you have to understand that this is your baby too. And when that little head pops out, I would bet anything that you’ll love him or her no matter what.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then you can put the baby up for adoption, and make another family happy.”
“I hate you. Why do you have to be so sensible? This just sucks and I want your support, no matter what I decide.” Her chin jutted forward, her hands were clenched on the wheel, and she refused to look at him.
He put his hand over hers. “Look, you make that doctor’s appointment, and if you decide to go to a clinic, I’ll go with you, even drive you home. Yes, I can drive,” he added when she gave him a questioning look. “I still don’t like it, but you are right—it’s not my decision to make.”
“Thank you.” She turned the music up and they drove the rest of the way in silence. She dropped him off at the door, and he muttered his thanks. Sarah watched until he was no longer visible through the sliding glass doors.
Only twenty minutes away from Philly, Sarah had a yearning to see Kate and Carrie. She called and they both rearranged their tight schedules to meet her for a coffee break. It wasn’t Hawaii, but it would have to do.
Lost in thought, she headed back to the hospital she’d left in disgrace.
