by Katie Cross
No wonder Mark had such power. When he had people like this surrounding him all the time, why wouldn't he be a force in the world?
As unconventional as it felt, standing next to the whole grain oats and wheat bran, I couldn't help but love Sara. She held onto me with one hand on my arm while she grilled Mark in the way that only a mother could. He accepted the torture of a caring mother the way any male adult would—with so much eye-rolling I thought he'd lose his irises in the back of his head.
But once she finished and embraced him again, he held her tight. Asked her about her latest date. Her newest haircut. Her raise. For a few minutes, they chatted back and forth while people whizzed past as if no one else were there. All the while, Sara didn't let go of my arm.
Within minutes, we laughed like old friends.
And then she was gone as quickly as she came, with warm hugs and cheek kisses for both of us. In her absence, I felt like I'd just endured a glitter whirlwind and all the sparkle had left again.
"She is . . ."
"Extra, right?" he drawled. "She's so extra."
"Amazing."
He winked. "I know. She's pretty great. You know what else is great? French toast, baby. Grab me some grains."
He balked as I grabbed a whole grain variation, then tossed his cheap white bread back on the shelf, but eventually acquiesced because I shoved the cart forward and ran my hand along his arm just to distract him. The trick worked. He shivered, completely distracted from food.
We pressed on, my heart on fire for so many reasons I didn't try to understand.
People cluttered the aisles, and the eggs and milk were almost gone by the time we arrived at the dairy section. While I still felt paranoia about who could be watching me, the confidence in Mark's tone rang out earlier.
I'll be with you the whole time.
And what if Joshua did come? What would it mean? Well, so many things. With so many people bustling around, the warm weather outside belying the incoming storm, and the feeling of Mark's hand on my back, it just didn't seem that scary. Somehow, I was able to let go of thoughts of Joshua. To smile at strangers. Although I scanned every face I could find, the same crippling fear didn't accompany it.
Once Mark steered us toward the front of the store and slid into a spot at the checkout, I made a few more silent plans to get rid of that junk food. A thirteen-year-old wouldn't even buy that much.
No wonder he worked out so religiously.
"Oh, toilet paper." I snapped my fingers, able to execute the act just as I'd planned. "We almost forgot that."
He held up a finger and turned to leave, then stopped and shot me a questioning glance. I smiled and nodded toward the back of the store, letting him know I'd be fine. He disappeared just as the cashier grabbed the first item I'd stacked on the belt, if a guy with shoulders like that could disappear.
Once he was out of sight, I turned to the cashier, a middle-aged woman with a quiet smile and fluffy hair. Then I passed her two one hundred dollar bills.
"Can you accept this now so that he doesn't try to pay?"
She lifted her eyebrows, then winked. "Of course."
"Thanks." I grinned. Winning felt good. The energy of the store felt good. Then I proceeded to cull at least half of the junk food he'd piled on and asked her to reshelve it. She laughed and tucked all the sugary boxes onto another counter. While she prattled on about a story with her neighbor and a particular brand of window cleaner that we were buying, I glanced around.
Even though I felt silly for doing it, I couldn't help myself. The busyness of the store made it impossible to track people around me, but seeing faces helped. Maybe at least gave a false sense of—
A quick move jolted my gaze back to where I'd just looked, near the back door. My heart leaped in my throat when, for a second, I could have sworn I saw Joshua in an orange parka. His neatly arrayed hair. Strong but lean shoulders. The perpetual smirk of one side of his lips. But the sense faded away.
Paranoia, again.
I turned half my mind back to the conversation with the cashier and tried to smile at the right time, but couldn't help the jarring feeling left behind in my body. Like someone had kicked me and I couldn't quite get my breath back. Maybe this hadn't been such a great idea. Maybe the close, ragged edges of the mountain felt safer. Maybe—
My breath whooshed out of me, as if literally kicked, when I looked back up and right into Joshua's eyes.
He stood on the other side of the store, near the exit, in an orange parka and a pair of jeans. He stared right at me without a waver in his expression or . . . much expression at all at first. Seeing him wouldn't have been so frightening if he didn't look so utterly . . .
Nothing.
Then his gaze hardened. His lips pressed together. My heart slammed against my ribs for several seconds before I could recover my wits. The woman continued to prattle while she typed in the code for bananas, and the world moved on, but my gaze didn't falter from Joshua's. Not for a second.
Suddenly, all the memories rushed back.
The awkward silences at work after he'd said something inappropriate. The way he'd watch me walk to my car. The feel of his eyes on me in a meeting. Emails upon emails upon emails. The hidden pictures of his current wife.
All the pressure of his intensity felt like a heavyweight on my shoulders.
Now, he stared back at me with rage, frustration, resentment, and the bitter dregs of something gone very, very sour.
At that moment, I knew I'd made a mistake.
I'd vastly underestimated his sense of entitlement and the way he showed up in the world. His desire to not only scratch back at anyone that harmed him, like a festering cat, but to destroy. I'd assumed that Mark's larger-than-life personality and foolish sense of confidence made him safe from someone like Joshua. Joshua who lived far more quietly, but not less dangerously.
Most of all, I'd underestimated everything that Joshua had to lose. Had the company let him go? Did his wife find out and divorce him?
Or was his sense of being in love with me delusional enough to push him to this point?
It all came back to me at that moment, when the fury of a thousand suns seemed to channel from his gaze into mine. We'd always played a game. Cat-and-mouse. From the first day, I rejected his advance to this very moment.
And I'd just been ignoring it.
Joshua wasn't here because he was an angry, thwarted lover. No, Joshua was here because he was livid, probably on the verge of being destitute, and desperate. I was the one that got away.
When no one had ever got away.
My throat ached as I stared at him, hardly daring to breathe until a light touch on my arm pulled me from the trance. I blinked, looked at the cashier who must have asked me a question several times because she stared at me like I'd lost my mind, and realized that several people stared at me that way.
"You okay?" she asked
Her voice swam through several layers of thought before I managed to nod. "Sorry," I mumbled. "Yes."
"It's $205, dear. You got any more?"
Numbly, I passed over another $100 bill. My gaze darted back to the exit, but as expected, Joshua had left. No amount of searching helped, because he was gone. He'd made his point. He'd delivered his jab. He'd effectively cut off any hope and exhilaration and normalcy I'd started to feel again with Mark.
Just then, Mark nudged his way back through the line and at my side, a container of toilet paper in hand. The cashier dutifully rang it up and passed me my change. I barely registered Mark's annoyed exclamation once he'd realized I had paid. Then, like it happened years later, I felt his touch on my elbow.
"Stella?"
Concern colored his tone.
"Outside," I rasped.
Even I wasn't sure whether I was telling him I'd explain myself outside, or whether I wanted him to know that there was something outside. To his credit, Mark simply glanced around, got the change, thanked them for their help, put an arm around me, grabbed the ca
rt, and led me away. I stiffened as we passed through the doors where Joshua had stood, but he wasn't there.
Just as he wasn't in the parking lot.
Or near the car.
Or anywhere.
But now I could feel him. The power of that ugly gaze. The wrath behind the fire. The utter desperation of a man that may have nothing left to live for but to win. No, Joshua was coming.
And there was no way to stop him.
24
Mark
By the time we made it back to the car, Stella trembled.
I slung the grocery bags in the seat, shoved the cart with a bunch of others, and climbed inside. Her fingers shook against mine when I grabbed her hand and steered us away from the parking lot. What I wanted to do was pin her against the truck, wrap her in my arms, and help her speak. But I had little doubt as to what happened, and if Joshua was even maybe near, she'd want out of here.
So I settled for holding her hand as we disappeared down the canyon, toward Adventura. A warm fall sun beat down, as if scoffing at the idea of snow that was supposed to descend.
By the time we returned, her uneasy breathing had calmed. She tracked every car that passed us, but especially the ones that followed behind. No one seemed to tail us through the canyon, and just to be sure I pulled off once or twice. No one followed and she didn't ask what I was doing.
Silently, we unloaded the groceries into the kitchen fridge, then the creamer and snacks at the cabin. Not for the first time, I thought about the almost-desperate need to remodel the cabin. It was all just a distraction, though, from what really simmered beneath the surface.
Joshua. Joshua. Joshua.
Finally, Stella paused, her hand halfway to the table, when she realized there was nothing more to put away. Then she turned to face me and her eyes were drawn. The rage I battled ebbed slightly in the face of her fear.
“Stell?”
Without a word, she stepped into me and buried her face in my chest. Relieved, I wrapped my arms around her and waited. Minutes passed while she breathed into my shirt. It wasn't until I felt something damp that I realized she was crying. To comfort myself, I ran my fingers through her hair.
“I saw him,” she whispered.
“I figured.”
While she explained what had happened, goosebumps formed on her skin. I kept her anchored against me as I listened, but my mind spun with ideas in the background. Could I call the owner of the store to look at the security tapes? Call Dad, for sure. Confront this guy myself? Go to all the hotels in Jackson City and see who is booked there? No, that would never work. Hadn't in Pineville, anyway. Plus, there were too many places a guy like him could disappear here. For all I knew, he'd pitched a tent in the forest.
I didn't realize how far into my thoughts I'd spiraled until a little sniffle drew me out. Sheepishly, I realized Stella had pulled away and been staring at me. Her fingertips touched my face.
“Where are you?”
“In my head, beating the sh—”
“Mark, it's—”
I pushed her hand away. “I'm sorry, Stella. I'm not mad at you. It's . . . him. I need to call my dad.” I shoved a hand through my hair and began to pace. “He can let his buddies in Jackson City know that Joshua is confirmed here. He's already passed on the pictures and information we sent earlier this morning, so he can send them to Jackson city.”
“But Joshua still didn't do anything wrong.”
“He looked at you.”
She laughed, but it was forced. “Yes, he looked at me. How dare he? He walked into a grocery store and he looked at me.”
“With the intent to frighten you! It’s a threat, Stell.”
Her hand grabbed mine, stopping me. My whole body had become tense, and under her touch, I only calmed slightly.
“I need to lift,” I muttered. “And throw something very heavy many, many times.”
A half-smile found her. She nodded.
“You should.”
“Or we could go on a run together.”
She nodded. “We could.”
Her calm softened me. Why was I the one freaking out? She should be able to do that. I should be the calm, steady one in the face of danger. But isn't that how we saved each other all the time?
“I'm sorry.” I closed my eyes and pressed our foreheads together. The steady warmth of her breath on my cheek reassured me. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.”
When she curled into me, I pulled her close. We stood there for several moments before she tilted her head back to look at me. I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
“I have to confess something,” she whispered.
“What?”
“I paid the Adventura bills.”
I frowned. “The mortgage is an automatic withdrawal.”
“Right, but you needed more, so I mailed in the credit card payment and the rest of the mortgage. Justin took it into town with him the other day.”
Several questions bubbled to the surface all at once, but before I could ask any of them, she said, “I paid the credit card a little bit early, and did the minimum balance with a little bit extra.”
“But—”
She pressed the tips of her fingers to my mouth. “I did it a few days ago and didn't want you to know. I know you never check and would be upset so I didn't want to tell you until it was already done.”
If I hadn't been so heated already, maybe I wouldn't have felt the bubbling frustration under my skin. The humiliation. The annoyance. The—
“You save me,” she whispered, “I save you.”
All the tension died down. A rare tear seemed to have formed in her eyes and they sparkled there now.
“We save each other,” I finally whispered.
She smiled, and it was mixed with relief. I pinned her to the wall and kissed her breathless. Stella had bought us—literally—another four weeks to figure something out. With any luck, I wouldn't need four weeks, but the fact that she wanted to save me as much as I wanted to save her rang something deep in my chest.
For the next day or two, we could enjoy the sunshine together before the storm. I wouldn't let her out of my sight. Joshua would leave us alone, and we'd be happy here in the fall mountains, when life was still vibrant before it faded into cold and quiet. Benjamin could come check the place out, she'd realize we had saved Adventura with his willingness to set up a training camp here, and we'd celebrate with another 007 movie.
Somehow, I had to believe that everything would be okay.
25
Stella
While Mark and Benjamin stood in the dining hall the next day, arms waving as they mapped out something with mats and bumper plates, Atticus and I slipped away from the kitchen.
Benjamin had arrived alone in a black SUV with shiny rims and thumping bass. Despite arms like mountains and an intense expression, he had a warm smile. Mark had an interesting way of playing off of other people’s energy in different situations. Instead of his usual vivacious self, he'd been more subdued and even-keeled with Benjamin as they spoke. With the muscles I could see moving beneath Benjamin's jacket, I had no doubt he'd destroy whatever opponent waited for him in three months.
The fresh fall air had turned chilly and gray, with a loamy blanket of clouds racing from the far horizon, when I headed toward the woodpile. Pre-emptive snowflakes fluttered down in anticipation of the big storm that was supposed to start soon. A warm lunch sat in my stomach, and my phone lay heavy in my pocket. My mind skipped around a few movies I wanted to snuggle up and watch, but there were chores first, and I sort of loved that.
Atticus lolled around on the ground while I restocked the cabin, swept up the dried pieces of bark scattered around the hearth, and puttered around Adventura. I stayed within earshot of Mark while I cleaned out the cabin where Megan had stayed. Mark looked back for me often, but kept the rest of his focus on Benjamin.
Once all the main chores had been settled, books updated, and dinner set in a crockpot i
n the kitchen, I grabbed a coat, my phone, and headed for the lake. Atticus trotted happily next to me, content to stay at my side while Justin ran Megan to her Mom's house in Jackson City.
After this, I'd never live without a dog.
Or Mark, if I could help it.
Mark caught my eye as I hit the footpath. I showed him my phone, pointed to the lake, mouthed grandma before he looked for Atticus, and gave a quick nod. With a storm like this, we may need to hole up for days. I'd rather enjoy the open space before the snow collected too heavily.
Minutes later, I sat at the edge of the pier, legs crossed, and stared at a grumpy sky. An unusual thud, thud, thud rocked beneath me. When I peered through the slats and into the water, I could just make out an old canoe stuck under the pier.
Mark really needed to audit his equipment better.
I made a mental note to ask him about it later, then dialed grandma, eager to hear her voice. She was like hot chocolate on a cold day. Atticus foraged through the trees at the edge of the lake, looked up every now and then, then turned back to his nose work. Seconds later, the ringing stopped.
“Stella Marie?”
I grinned. “Hey, grandma. Happy birthday!”
“Well, it's about time you called. And let's not talk about birthdays.” Her voice dropped. “It's rather gauche.”
A laugh bubbled out of me. “I'm sorry, it definitely has been too long since I called. But yes, we're going to talk about your birthday. Your life should be celebrated, especially when you're in your 80's!”
“You could call me every day, Stella Marie, and it wouldn't be enough. Not until I can hug you again. My birthday is fine. My stocks are up. Ranger brought me a new pen. The staff sang to me at breakfast, and rumors of an ice cream cake are circulating around those of us that aren't diabetic. Enough about birthdays. How are you? Tell me everything.”
Her creaky voice soothed the rattled soul inside me. She always underplayed her birthday, then overplayed mine. It was our favorite game.
