“He said he would.” Mark hesitated. “The schools in Goodwater are, like, all together, you know. I mean, they all use the same playing fields and stuff. So I could take high school math classes. And biology, I bet.” His voice was gaining experience.
She, too, had noticed the schools were clustered, logical when class sizes were so small.
“There might still be kids who are jerks,” she reminded him.
He ducked his head. “You mean, because they think I’m weird or something.”
“No, because they’re jerks,” she said, almost steadily.
He hunched his shoulders. “Yeah, well.”
“Mark, this decision is going to be yours. I will do my absolute best as your teacher, if that’s what you want to do. But if you’d prefer to enroll in school here, that’s okay, too.” She managed a smile. “I won’t be insulted, I promise.”
He stared at her. “Well...what do you think?”
Oh, he had to ask.
“I guess,” she began slowly, thinking about things Gabe had said and knowing he was right, “I do think you should give it a try. You need friends. Teachers who have different styles, different ways of looking at things. You know?”
He nodded.
“It’s...actually Gabe who has convinced me that part of growing up is learning to work with other people.” She had to give him his due. “To make friends, to deal with people who don’t like you or who you don’t like. It may be harder for you than it is for some kids—” She held up a hand at his expression “—not because you’re weird. Just because that isn’t your strength. You were smarter than most of the kids in your classes, weren’t you?”
After a minute, he nodded again.
“Some kids are athletic but lousy students. Some are good in one subject, not another.”
“Like Gabe. ’Cuz he didn’t read very well.”
“Right. Some are shy, some outgoing. Hardly anybody is well-liked by everyone. But most jobs require you to work with other people. Gabe and I are exceptions, being self-employed and working alone. With your interests, you seem more likely to end up working in a lab, or even becoming a college professor. So...that’s what I think. But I meant it when I said the decision is yours. And deciding to homeschool for another year doesn’t mean you can’t enroll as a freshman here in Goodwater. By then, you might really have made friends.”
His face went through gyrations as he thought.
Ciara smiled. “And you don’t have to make up your mind right this minute. We have the rest of the summer.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t have to think. I want to try. Unless, I don’t know, something happens this summer.”
Like some boys who would be classmates giving him a hard time. She nodded her understanding.
“All right.” She held up her right hand, and he gave it a high five.
“Cool! I can hardly wait to tell Gabe.” He leaped up. “Maybe I’ll go call him now. And Jennifer, too.”
“You call anybody you want,” she said with a laugh, hiding her pain, “after you load your plate in the dishwasher. You may note the kitchen is already clean.”
His head turned. “Oh. Sure.” With a few clatters and bangs, he complied. Before he could reach for the phone, she started upstairs.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GABE HUNG UP the phone, trying to decide what this meant. Ciara had been so adamant about shielding Mark from the bullies of the world. She’d been so defensive, he hadn’t thought she’d easily change her mind. And he’d been afraid her sister’s visit would, if anything, reinforce her fears.
So—what had happened?
Mom said it was you who convinced her. You know, that I need friends, and that I have to learn to work with other people.
Thanks to his ill-chosen words, she’d been pissed when he suggested as much. Although she’d also said she would think about it.
In his experience, angry people didn’t usually mean that—but it appeared she had.
Damn, he thought. Would she listen now if he were to apologize? But thinking about her pleasant, noncommittal expression during dinner, her tendency not to meet his eyes, he had a bad feeling the answer was no.
The bad feeling got worse when, two days later, Mark showed up to work on his second box with something in his hand.
“Cookies,” he said, handing over the lidded plastic container. “White chocolate chip with pecans.”
Gabe didn’t move, only looked at the container. Ciara hadn’t sent goodies this way since she started inviting him to dinner. She gave him cookies, homemade bread and leftovers in person now.
He closed his eyes momentarily. She hadn’t had to write a note to send a crystal-clear message. Those dinner invitations were going to come as seldom as Mark would let her get away with.
“What’s wrong?” Mark asked, sounding anxious.
Crap. Gabe thought a few other words, too, ones he wouldn’t have said aloud in front of a kid.
“Nothing,” he said. “Let’s get to work.” He set the cookies aside without so much as peeling off the top to inhale the sweetness.
* * *
CIARA WAS SCRUBBING out the refrigerator when Mark wandered into the kitchen. Carefully setting in place the glass shelf she’d just washed in the sink, she let her gaze linger on the sight of white athletic socks on skinny ankles. The two new pairs of jeans she’d bought that day at Costco weren’t enough. With a sigh, she bumped the refrigerator door shut with one hip.
“You know,” she said, “we have some serious shopping to do before school starts.”
He looked horrified. “You can just buy me stuff, can’t you?”
“You have to try some of it on. And maybe you should ask Jennifer what kids around here wear to school. I mean, do most of the boys wear Western-style jeans? What about shirts? Athletic shoes?”
“I bet they all wear their boots,” he said eagerly.
“We have to find out.”
His grimace was easy to read, but he also quit protesting. He’d have continued if he really didn’t care. It would seem now he did; he just didn’t want to go shopping.
“I’m bored,” he said.
“Call and see if the Ohlers are home.”
“Oh. I guess I could do that.” But he kept hovering. “Do you think Grandma and Grandad will come back for your birthday?”
“Probably not, when it’s so soon. Maybe we should go visit them.” Then she thought of Watson and Daisy. “Oh, except what about the dogs?”
“We could take them,” he said enthusiastically. “Or I bet Gabe would take care of them. Except...if we go then he can’t be at your party.”
She evaded her son’s gaze. “But it would be nice to be with family.”
“But it’s Gabe,” he said in puzzlement.
Oh, God. It was all she could do not to double forward in pain.
“Let’s not worry about my birthday yet, okay?”
“But...”
“That’s an order.”
Expression discontented, he found the phone. From his side of the conversation, it was clear that Jacob wasn’t home, but Will, the younger brother, was, and he’d like it if Mark could come over. Ciara took the phone briefly when Sabine asked to speak to her.
“Pretty, pretty please,” she said. “Will’s driving me crazy. If I hear one more whiny I’m bored, I may crack.”
Ciara laughed. “You and me both. You know, you can send either of your boys over here anytime, too.”
“Yes, but here they can ride.”
“Sold.”
When she hung up, though, Mark stayed.
“Can we ask Gabe to dinner tonight?”
“Not tonight.” She injected a little steel in her tone.
“That’s what you say every day.”
“Maybe later this week.”
Suddenly stubborn, he didn’t move. “Do you not like him anymore?”
“Of course I like him.” I love him. For a moment, aghast, she was afraid she’d said that out loud.
“Then why—?”
“I think that’s between him and me,” she said firmly.
He looked at her like she was crazy. “But it’s not. He’s my friend, too.”
She hated to admit it, but he was right. If she’d thought she could ease back into something more like the early days with Gabe without Mark noticing, she’d been deluding herself.
“Did you ask Gabe?” she said finally.
He shook his head. “He won’t come to dinner if you don’t ask him.”
“Maybe in a couple more days, okay?”
Her son shuffled his feet. “Did you guys, I don’t know, have a fight or something?”
“Not a fight.” She hesitated. “Not exactly.”
“Well...I want to know!” he burst out. “Was it because of Aunt Bridget?”
“Why would you think that?” she asked, surprised.
“’Cuz that’s when you two quit talking.”
Startled anew that he’d noticed, she hesitated, studying him. He wasn’t the same boy he’d been when they moved here, only a few months ago. Maybe he cared only because Gabe mattered so much to him, but she wasn’t going to get away forever with not telling him something.
“I suppose you could say we had words.” Words. There was an answer. “I—” She scrambled for the right way to say this. “There was a lot he didn’t know about me. I think as he got to know me better, well, he cooled off. That’s all.”
She’d earned another are-you-crazy look from her son. “He cooled off? But— Gabe likes you!”
“You know, there’s no rule that says he and I have to be best friends. He’s good to you, Mark. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”
“No!”
“Yes.” Ciara made sure he could tell she meant it. “Now get. Will is waiting for you.”
“But—”
She crossed her arms. “No.”
Face sulky, he went.
Only when she heard the front door close behind him did she let herself sag. At least she’d avoided having to admit that Gabe had good reason for deciding he didn’t like her all that well.
* * *
MARK WAS UNUSUALLY quiet the next time he showed up in Gabe’s workshop. He handed over today’s offering from Ciara—a loaf of pumpkin bread with raisins and walnuts—then got right to work.
They’d been practicing cutting dovetail joints, and today he was marking the wood he’d chosen for his next box and making the first cuts. With his need for perfection, Gabe had expected him to concentrate fiercely. This was different, though. Gabe kept sneaking glances at a face that was usually so open. Today he seemed to be brooding.
When they broke for lunch, he slouched behind Gabe across the yard into the kitchen.
“How about grilled cheese today?” Gabe asked.
“Yeah, okay.” Mark watched him take a large frying pan from the drawer beneath the stove.
“You know where the bread is,” Gabe said mildly, turning on the burner.
Now he looked sulky, but did take the bread from the drawer.
“I wish you came to dinner at our house the way you used to.” He sounded sulky.
Gabe raised his eyebrows. “Your mom hasn’t been inviting me.”
“You could have us here!”
Gabe’s mouth tightened. As the pan heated, he began to butter the bread.
“She says you don’t like her anymore.”
His hand stopped. He turned very slowly. “What?”
“Well, she didn’t say that exactly,” the boy mumbled. “She said...I don’t remember.”
“Try.”
Mark flinched, making Gabe realize he’d injected the single word with something like menace.
“She said you didn’t used to know her very well. And, I don’t know, once you did, you cooled off.” His jaw jutted as he glared at Gabe. “But she’s nice. Why wouldn’t you like her anymore?”
Not like her? Stunned, he tried to wrap his mind around a completely different interpretation of what had gone wrong between them.
He flashed back on the evening she’d walked him out to tell him how much she despised herself for being ashamed of her sister.
He’d never managed to squash that idiocy. Him, he’d been tangled up in the later conversation, the one where he lost his temper and told her she was smothering Mark.
Could she possibly have imagined—?
He turned off the burner and yanked the pan off it.
“Why’d you do that?” her son cried. “I’m hungry!”
“I have to talk to your mother. Make yourself lunch. I don’t care what you have. Just don’t burn the house down.”
The kid’s mouth went slack before he pulled himself together. “But— I could come with you.”
“You stay here until I come back. Got it?”
“After I eat, can I work on my—?”
“No. No tools when I’m not with you.” Gabe left the kitchen at a near run. He took time only to close the barn doors and lock them before he jumped in his pickup, backed it in a sweeping turn and tore down his driveway.
* * *
DISSATISFIED WITH HER OPTIONS, Ciara frowned at the spool of thread she’d reluctantly decided was the best match to the crushed panne fabric she’d just cut out. There were moments like this when she wished she could dash out to a fabric store. As it was, she could use this or set the whole project aside and work on something else until—
The sound of a vehicle coming fast up her driveway had her dropping the fabric onto the ironing board and the spool of thread on top of it. Who on earth...?
It was Gabe’s truck, she saw out the window, and she’d been right about the speed.
A clamp closed around her heart. Oh, God. Something had happened to Mark. Images of spurting blood had her descending the stairs recklessly. She flung open the front door to find Gabe with his fist raised to pound on it.
“Mark?”
He scowled at her. “You think I’ve cooled toward you?”
Bewildered and uncomprehending, Ciara said, “Mark’s not hurt?”
The scowl didn’t abate. “No, he’s not hurt. God damn it, Ciara, he wanted to know why I don’t like you anymore!”
She should have known her darling son would let his mouth run away with him. Why hadn’t she stuck to her guns and refused to explain?
“It’s true,” she snapped. “So why the big act?”
“True?” He crowded her enough to get across the threshold. “That’s bull, and you know it.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re the one who pulled back, not me. You told me to go away.” He thrust his chin out, and clenched his jaws so hard he was in danger of cracking his molars.
“I told you I needed to think!” she yelled. “I didn’t say you couldn’t call or come back or—” Hot tears burned her eyes, and she backed away.
“Oh, damn.” He moved faster than she could, pulling her up against him and wrapping his arms around her. Into her hair, he mumbled, “I thought—”
Digging deep for pride, she raised her head. “You thought?”
“You were telling me to get lost.”
Seeing the torment on his craggy face, she gaped. “Why would you think that? I told you the worst thing about me because I thought you needed to know.”
“Do you have any idea how chilly you’ve been since then?”
Her whole body stiffened. “You weren’t exactly friendly yourself.”
“You were mad when I said what I did about Mark.”
She wrenched free, putting several feet between them. “You told me what a crummy mother I was, and you didn’t think I’d be mad?”
Gabe made a raw sound of frustration. “I didn’t say anything like that. I said you’re a good mother, that I know you love him and are only trying to protect him.”
“You did not!” Except...maybe he had said something like that, she thought grudgingly. Only, somehow it hadn’t been very convincing when it was followed up with the accusation
that she was smothering her son in the name of protecting him. Trying to deny him friends, opportunities, anything she couldn’t provide. “You made me sound like psycho parent.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he growled.
“And where’s Mark anyway?” She peered past him, toward the open door.
“I left him at home. I told him to feed himself and stay put until I got back.”
“But what if he...?” Oh, Lord. There she went with the overprotective thing. “I don’t understand why you’re here.”
“Because I love you!” he roared.
* * *
HER MOUTH DROPPED OPEN. She looked so stunned, Gabe didn’t know what to think. God. Maybe Ginny and Abby hadn’t known how much he loved them. Maybe he shouldn’t have let himself off the hook.
And maybe Ciara looked stunned because she hadn’t guessed, either, and was now grappling with how to deal with this new, unwelcome knowledge.
“I know you probably don’t feel the same,” he said woodenly.
“But...”
His eyes narrowed. “But what?”
“I thought...” she stuttered.
“That I didn’t like you?” he asked roughly. “You really believed that?”
Her head bobbed.
“How could you?”
“I told you!” Her eyes had a suspicious shimmer again, but she also sounded mad. “I’ve spent years despising how I felt about Bridget. I decide you need to know, and what do you do? Attack me!” Her voice dropped. “At least...that’s what it felt like.”
“I was trying to help.” He’d known he had been inept, but...this was worse than that. “I thought if you understood that your feelings about your sister had tangled with your fears about Mark, you could ease up on yourself.”
“It did help.”
Gabe shook his head, sure he’d heard wrong. “What?”
She swallowed. “I did think, and you were right. That’s why I decided to encourage Mark to enroll in school here this fall.”
“All right.” At this exact moment, he didn’t give a damn where Mark went to school. He didn’t even know why they were talking about Mark. “Ciara...”
“Did you mean it?” she asked abruptly, those vividly blue eyes fixed on him as if she was trying to penetrate beneath the surface.
“That I was trying to help?”
More Than Neighbors Page 25
