All That You Are

by Stef Ann Holm

  By six o’clock, Mark’s adrenaline had been in overdrive for an hour. With a meticulous and efficient pace, he guided the crawler crane along the pier. Its driver slowly proceeded forward, the sixty-five-ton crane moving like a snail. Its boom was in a safety position as it finally came to rest in front of the bar and the barge. A smaller crane with a man-lift basket had been employed, as well.

  People who’d been out early or eating breakfast at the Pioneer Café, or who started work in nearby businesses, strolled over to have a closer look at the goings-on.

  Moving the heavy lengths of steel off the barge and into place at the Blue Note was a drawn-out process that interfered with the bar’s normal business hours. Mark sent word to Dana that he’d get things wrapped up as soon as possible, but wouldn’t rush the job as things got under way. One wrong move could mean disaster.

  By evening, the barge had been unloaded and was on its way. Then, as the sun still hovered rather high in the Alaskan sky, Sam Hyatt had the floatplanes taxi back into place to resume business operations the following morning.

  Throughout the day, Dana had come out of the Note to check on the progress of things. Mark had little opportunity to engage her in conversation. Days like this were stressful and he had to stay on top of every maneuver. Only once did he allow himself a moment to enjoy the way she looked when she approached him.

  He never failed to appreciate how beautiful she was, how with just one look, she could make him feel as if she only smiled for him. Her eyes always captured his attention and made him long to pull her into his arms and kiss her.

  But the day didn’t lend itself to thoughts beyond that, and he quickly moved on to complete another phase of the project. When he finished for the day, he popped into the Blue Note to find Dana, but found her occupied with Friday-night customers at the bar. He turned around without talking to her and headed for his truck.

  Mark, dead tired from a day that had stressed his muscles and patience, wanted nothing more than to head to his condo, shower and relax the rest of the night. But he’d made a promise to a little boy, and he intended to keep it.

  What Mark didn’t expect was to find a message on his cell phone from Suni Jackson saying she’d prepared a dinner for him and that she and Terran would be waiting.

  Arriving for a late dinner, Mark was led inside by Dana’s mom and ushered directly into the kitchen. He felt sort of out of place by the fact that he was here without Dana. Never expecting this scenario, he tried to reconcile to the strangeness of it.

  The house smelled like roasted meat, onions and garlic, and his stomach growled.

  Terran, excited to see him, bolted from his chair. “Mark, do you want to skateboard now?”

  “Terran, sit back down,” Suni chastised, quilted pot holders in hand as she moved for the oven. “Dinner first. Afterward you can play with Mark.”

  Mark held on to a smile. He hadn’t counted on being anyone’s playmate, either. But the prospect of showing Terran some more moves gave him a second wind. The boy was eager to learn, and he had no fear. He was a fun dude to be around, and Mark began to relax and settle in at the table.

  Suni pulled out a roast beef with carrots and potatoes that had cooked in its own gravy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a homemade pot roast.

  “Smells awesome,” Mark said, sitting politely.

  “All men bow to the robust flavor of a pot roast. Oscar did, for sure.”

  Mark had never bowed to any meal, but he’d been thankful for quite a few. He slid his napkin onto his lap. “Thanks for having me over.”

  “Thanks for coming,” Terran piped in with his adult-like reply. Then he gave Mark a toothy grin and a giggle. “Hey, Mark, do you like Spiderman?”

  “I’ve seen the movie.”

  “My bed’s a Spiderman.” Half off his chair, he asked, “Do you want to come see it?”

  “After dinner, Terran,” Suni remarked, placing the pot roast in the table’s center. To Mark, “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Whatever you’ve got handy. A pop would be fine.”

  Terran lifted his glass, milk sloshing over the rim. “Grandma, can I have a soda pop?”

  “No, you need to drink your milk.”

  “Make mine a milk,” Mark offered, changing his mind.

  Terran’s nose crinkled, as if he were happy the two dudes at the table would be chugging milk together.

  Mark drank in the boy’s face, studying it and smiling softly to himself. While he resembled Dana with dark hair, the shape of his nose and brows, his features, mostly reminded him of Cooper. The slant of his eyes wasn’t like Dana’s at all. More Anglo. His color was neither Cooper’s nor Dana’s, and Mark thought back to the photo of Oscar Jackson and thought he could see a similarity now.

  His bright and inquisitive face never seemed to let down in its innocent pursuit of things that made him smile. Even now he found pleasure in stirring his knife in his milk to make a pretend chocolate drink.

  “Terran, knife out,” his grandmother cautioned before turning toward the stove. Terran eased back in his chair, wrinkling his face and making himself look like a baboon with hunched shoulders and silent grunts.

  Mark almost laughed hard and loud, but didn’t think Suni would appreciate it.

  Suni brought gravy to the table, then sat. Unlike Sunday supper at his parents’ house, the meal wasn’t begun with a blessing and the rancor of a dozen voices fighting to talk first about the goings-on in their lives. Rather, Suni had Terran send his empty plate her way and she served him a modest-size portion.

  Terran talked about kindergarten and starting school—he held up fingers—in four days, not counting five and six days for Saturday and Sunday. He was very excited about it and wanted to know what Mark liked best about it.

  “You know what—I really don’t remember.” Mark knew that he had been a hellion in grade school, but going back in his memory to age five was digging rather deep. “I was young a long time ago.”

  “Yep, you look pretty old.” Terran talked around a roast beef wad stuffed into his mouth.

  “Terran, too much,” Suni chided, her brow arched in disapproval.

  With one enthusiastic swallow, Terran finished the meat in his mouth, then cut into another slice. “Hey, Mark, have you seen that movie Cars? Do you like Lightning McQueen?”

  “I haven’t seen the movie, no.”

  “My momma bought me a Lightning McQueen backpack for school. All my stuff is in it. I had the list for J instead of B.”

  Mark didn’t follow that line of thought, but he didn’t question it. The rich flavor of onions and carrots, potatoes with gravy, tasted great and he realized he’d been really hungry. “Great dinner, Suni. I appreciate it.”

  “It was the least I could do after all you’ve done for Dana.”

  “No problem.”

  Suni’s warm brown eyes and her bobbed hair made her seem regal in a way. She had perfect posture and a demeanor that rarely changed in temperament. From his brief time with her he knew that what you saw was what you got. She didn’t put on false airs, and when she gave a compliment, it was genuine and heartfelt. “It’s a big deal to her. She told me everything you’ve done and all the help you’ve offered. Not many men in today’s society would be so generous.”

  Her flattery made him slightly uncomfortable. He was no hero by any means, but Dana had dealt with his innuendos well and that gave him all the more fondness for her. Plenty of women wouldn’t have put up with him, for he had a way of turning things around to make light of situations when he shouldn’t.

  Overall, he’d call himself a good guy. Someone who wanted to make a difference in a life. And it had been his luck to find Dana, a woman who needed him. Mark had enjoyed the privilege of helping her, and he’d leave here a better man for it.

  After dinner, Suni refused Mark’s offer to help clear plates and he went into the garage with Terran to practice on the ramp and the skateboard.

  After ma
ny runs on the ramp, Mark asked, “Terran, want to see something way cool?”

  The boy nodded vigorously.

  Mark took the skateboard, then found a plastic storage bin on one of the many shelving units. He removed it, carelessly glancing at the label—Christmas Ornaments. Placing the box in the middle of the empty car stall, Mark set the board on the concrete.

  “Whatcha going to do?” Excited, Terran came toward him.

  “I’m doing an Ollie.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Something that I hope I don’t break my arm on.”

  “Mommy says skateboards break bones.”

  “Yeah, well—could be. I haven’t done this one in thirty years.”

  Mark positioned his feet on the bolts where the trucks were to keep balance. Posture not too straight, not too low and crouched. A check of his balance, arms out, then the back foot on the tail and he pushed forward, gaining a slow speed. Just before the bin, he made a tricky weight shift and hopped the box just like that, landing directly back on the skateboard without missing a beat.

  “Son of a gun,” Mark breathed, surprised he could still do it.

  Terran stood there, short legs spread apart, and echoed, “Son of a gum.”

  Mark smiled. “You know what?”

  Terran looked up, face focused on him. “What?”

  “You’re a pretty cool dude.”

  Puffing out his slight chest, he replied, “I know.”

  Then Mark grew unexpectedly reflective. This was probably the last time he’d see the boy. He extended his hand and, rather than hold it out for Terran to shake, he crouched lower and raised his palm for Terran to give him a high five.

  Mark rose. “You be good in school for your mom, okay?”

  “I will.”

  “No joking around.”

  “I won’t.”

  “No talking back to the teacher.”

  “Nope.”

  “No chasing girls.”

  He giggled. “No way.”

  “No making fake dog-do from playground mud.”

  Brown eyes alert, he closed in and said, “Huh? How do you do that? Did you ever?”

  “Yes, but I was a rascal.”

  “What’s a rascal?”

  “A kid who’s always doing something so other kids will laugh.” Lowering his voice, Mark pretended that the following information he revealed was a covert operation. “I’ll tell you how to make the do—just as long as you don’t leave any on the hallway floor.”

  “Okay.”

  Mark enlightened the little boy, then his grandmother came to tell him it was time to get ready for bed. Mark followed him inside and, before Terran climbed the stairs, he turned around with a big smile. “Mark, can you come back over tomorrow?”

  The request cut Mark and he hated the answer he’d have to give. “No, Terran. I’m going to be heading home soon. I live in a place called Boise, Idaho.”

  “I don’t know where that is.”

  “You have to take an airplane to get there.”

  “So you won’t come over again?”

  Mark’s answer stuck in his throat, and he had a hard time forming the word with Terran’s wide-eyed gaze on him. Suni came into the room and waited, her expression curious, as well.

  “I don’t know,” Mark finally replied, unable to give an answer either way.

  “Terran, I’ll be up in a minute. Pick out your pajamas.”

  Taking two of the stairs, Terran paused, then came back down to give Mark a hug around his leg. “You rock and roll, Mark. Thanks for my skateboard and stuff.”

  Briefly placing his hand on Terran’s head, Mark managed to say, “You’re welcome.”

  Then Terran bounded up the steps without a backward glance.

  The emotions filling Mark’s chest were foreign to him. He could relate to the warmth and longing that pertained to Dana. She was a woman he had feelings for, felt a love toward. But with Terran, the pang next to his heart was more of regret that he had no son like this. No boy to do things with, to teach, to hang out with.

  Collecting himself, Mark closed off his features so Suni could read nothing in his eyes. He managed to nod to her, then find his voice. “Thanks for dinner, Suni.”

  She approached with a slight hesitation, as if she weren’t quite sure what to say. “May your spirit be well, Mark. I thank you for all you’ve done for Dana. You came at the right time on her calendar.”

  Mark shifted his weight. “Suni, with all due respect, there is no right or wrong time. Dana’s going to be all right from now on.”

  “I know this as well and don’t disagree. Hardship and pain are a part of life and unavoidable, but I’ve been waiting for a long time to see a smile on my daughter’s face again. Having patience is the most written-about practice in my belief. You have rewarded my patience with your kindness to Dana, by giving her the gift of heart.” Then Suni reached for the coffee table where silk cloth wrapped an object. She handed it to him. “So I have a gift for you.”

  He pulled the silken red drawstring and lifted out the noisy object. They were wind chimes with a set of four ornaments. The chimes sounded serene when he ran his fingertips across them.

  “Brass chimes,” Suni said, noting the etchings on them with a point of her hand. “Each one represents goodwill and prosperity. They’re called grading bells and are found in Buddhist temples.”

  “Thanks, Suni. Very thoughtful of you.” He lowered the bells back into the bag and pulled the string. “I’ll hang them off the patio in my backyard.”

  “A wise choice.” Then awkwardly, she began to say something, but paused. Then after a few seconds, she spoke again. “Dana was very lucky to have you cross, then enter, the path of her life.”

  “I was the lucky one. She’s an amazing woman.”

  “You love her.”

  The declaration threw him slightly off-kilter. While the words were true, he’d kept them to himself. Hearing them gave them veracity that he couldn’t deny. He responded truthfully, “Yes, I do.”

  “Will you tell her?”

  Mark withdrew into himself. “I don’t know.”

  Suni’s dark eyes were like pieces of stone. “Should the winds blow you back this way, you would always be welcome at our dinner table. Your mother, as well.”

  “She’d enjoy that.”

  With a subtle shake of Mark’s hand, Suni said, “Safe travels if I don’t see you again.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “LOOK WHAT I AM SEEING with mine owned eyes. You come to buy de bling, mon.” Cardelle came around the counter of Jewels of the Nile to welcome Mark.

  “You wore me down. You’re a good pitchman, Card.”

  “I be dat, fo’ sure.” Cardelle wore a white dress shirt and a colorful blue-and-yellow tie without a coat. Tailored black slacks emphasized his lean muscle structure. “What can I show you?”

  “Pearl necklace for my mom.”

  “Beautiful. I have jus’ de one for you.” Cardelle wound his way through the shop with its glass case assortment. High-intensity minilights illuminated the selections and Mark glanced at the many gems. It struck him that Dana didn’t wear much jewelry of any kind. He knew what she liked, and it was a different kind of fashion statement.

  Mark stopped at the pearl case while Cardelle opened it with a key anchored to a plastic, spiral-curled chain. “I’ll see you at the bar at eight o’clock. We’ll install the canvas after Leo sends Dana into the kitchen.”

  “Dat is de plan. It be my best work. I am happy, mon. Life is good.”

  Mark still hadn’t seen the mural Cardelle had painted for the Blue Note. Described as one long piece on freeform canvas, Card had Mark build a frame and mount it on the wall with very specific measurements. Card would bring in the canvas and they’d attach the length of the picture on the frame already in place.

  “Dis here.” Cardelle laid out a pearl necklace on a black velvet pad and noted the uniform pearls in a simple circle. “Elegant for de m
others.” He beamed. “And I give you discount—even d’ough you not be one of de cruisers.”

  Mark laughed. “Sold.”

  HER BABY WAS a big boy now.

  Dana fought back the tears that every mother experienced on the day they released their child to the care of others: kindergarten.

  She and Cooper opted to drive him together rather than put him on the bus his first day. Cooper had picked them up at nine-thirty. Terran’s school day would be from ten o’clock in the morning to three-twenty in the afternoon. It seemed an eternity to Dana, but Terran was ready to go.

  He’d been awake since seven, dressed in his favorite shirt, hair slicked in a neat part and Velcro straps on his shoes in place. He chowed down pancakes Grandma made him, then brushed his teeth in a sloppy quickness. Then he’d positioned himself at the living room window looking for his dad’s car to pull up, anxious to be off.

  The school, its colorful paint, beckoned like an easel, waiting for students to lend their creativity and presence.

  The stuffed backpack strapped to Terran’s back made him seem smaller than ever. Terran grabbed both their hands. Cooper’s left. Her right.

  The trio walked into the school.

  They found Terran’s classroom and the teacher was warm and friendly, so very welcoming. When everyone arrived, she introduced herself, then gave them a classroom tour and made a quick trip to show them where the restroom was. Once they were in the hallway, Dana reached for Terran’s hand again. Only he pulled away this time and it choked her up beyond measure.

  Then the teacher said it was time to say goodbye to moms and dads. Dana held tight on to Terran, giving him a hard squeeze.

  “Mommy…” he said in a muffled smother, trying to wiggle free. He seemed unfazed by the whole process of leaving his mom and dad and being with a teacher. He stood before them, a little man, and said, “It’s okay, you guys. I’ll see you later.”

  Dana slid her gaze to Cooper, who, for a macho hockey player, fought to keep a tick in line in his jaw. A brave front.