She tilted her head and resumed her wrapping. “I get it about the newspaper. But we’ve managed so far on the information you’ve had. I can’t see what difference my telling you more will make.”
He set his jaw. “Let’s give it a try and find out. According to what I read, the occasion was a party for graduating seniors.”
She shook her head. “You are something else, Mark Townson. Like the proverbial dog with a bone. Okay—” she leveled him a stern gaze “—but what I say goes no farther than this room.”
He held up both hands. “Of course not. You can trust me.”
She folded her arms and leaned against the counter. “Yes, it was a party for graduating seniors. Not a school-sponsored event, just some seniors getting together. A few of my friends and I tagged along. During the course of the party, Brett took me sailing in one of the rental boats. It was a really small boat, barely big enough for two people.”
His task forgotten, Mark focused on Eva. “Brett knew how to sail, of course.”
She waved a hand. “Brett knew how to do everything, or so he made people think. But, yes, he’d had a couple lessons. Anyway, we started off and by the time we got around to the other side of the island, out of sight of the resort, the wind had picked up, and then it started to rain. You know how fast storms blow in from the ocean.”
He nodded. “And I know that lake is big. You can barely make out what’s on the opposite shore, and with the island in the middle, seeing across the lake is practically impossible.”
She shifted her weight and turned slightly to look out the window. “Brett tried to get us to the island, but before he could, a huge wave swamped us and we tipped over.”
Mark could imagine the scene, the cold water, the wind, the waves. “But someone saw what happened.”
Eva nodded. “Two men who’d been working on their dock. They jumped in a motorboat and headed out. One of them pulled me into their boat. But Brett had disappeared.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that, he was gone.”
“Weren’t you wearing life jackets? I thought that was mandatory when you rented a boat.”
She gave a cynical laugh. “Brett wear a life jacket? We had them on when we left the dock, but as soon as we were out of sight, he took his off.”
“Did you take yours off?”
She looked down. “No.”
“And after the accident—”
She folded her arms again and walked to the window. He followed but kept his distance. Over her shoulder, he glimpsed the backyard, the grass overgrown and Seb’s tomato vines hanging limply on their string fence.
“Dad was a wreck. We all were. I felt horrible.”
“Because you survived and Brett didn’t.”
She nodded. “And Brett was Dad’s favorite. But not only because of that…”
He waited, and finally she said in a low voice, “Because the accident was my fault.”
His jaw dropped. “Why do you say that? Brett was the one who took off his life jacket.”
She turned, eyes flashing. “Because I kept begging him to take me out in the boat. He didn’t want to go sailing. He wanted to stay on shore and party with his friends. But I kept nagging him, and finally, to shut me up, he went and got the boat.” She stopped, sucked in a breath and then went on, her voice dropping to a whisper. “If I hadn’t kept at him, we wouldn’t have gone out, and, and…”
Oh, man, this was more than he’d bargained for.
“Dad didn’t know that part of it,” she continued, her voice still whispery. “I never told him.”
Seconds went by as Eva ran her fingers along a silver chain peeking out the neckline of her blouse. He’d noticed her fingering the chain at other times, too. He wondered if the necklace had something to do with Brett but didn’t dare ask.
Finally, she dropped her hand and continued, “Years later, after I’d graduated from college and Dad had decided he wanted me to work for him, to take Brett’s place, all I wanted to do was stay away. I didn’t want to come back here and, okay, I didn’t want to be second choice, either. But mostly I didn’t want to come back because then I’d be constantly reminded of what happened.
“But Dad wouldn’t take no for an answer. He kept at me until I told him something else, something I knew would hurt him.”
“And that was?” He held his breath. What more could there possibly be to this sad story?
“Right before we capsized in the storm, Brett told me that he wasn’t going to work at the Herald like Dad wanted him to. He wasn’t going to the U, either.”
“What was he going to do?”
“Enlist in the army. He’d been talking to recruiters who’d come to the high school. ‘No way am I staying in Willow Beach and working for Dad,’ he’d told me. ‘Not when I can see the world.’” A sad smile crossed her lips. “He was so excited about his future.”
“He wasn’t worried about your father objecting to his decision?”
“He didn’t care. He said he’d ‘take on the old man any day.’ When I told Dad that Brett had said those words to me that day in the boat, he didn’t believe me. We argued some more, and then I left Willow Beach. We didn’t talk much after that. And now he’s gone.”
She gazed at the table, as though she, too, were remembering that was where Seb had spent his final moments. Then she turned to him. “You satisfied now?”
Mark slowly shook his head. “I wish I’d known all this at the beginning.”
Her eyes flashed again. “Why? What difference would knowing have made? I still would have accepted the terms of the will, and we’d be doing just what we are doing, running the newspaper. But when my time is up, I’m going home. I could never live here again. It’s been bad enough all these months. The memories pop up constantly, sometimes when I least expect them.”
Mark nodded and paced a few steps to the counter and back. “I know about painful memories.”
“What do you mean?” A note of wariness crept into her voice.
“Oh, not to do with Seb. With my wife, Diane.”
“You said she died in a bus accident.”
“Yes, but there’s more to that story, too.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Here was an out, if he wanted it. Yet, she’d finally confided in him. Didn’t he owe her as much? “I want to tell you. Unless you don’t want to hear it.”
She shrugged, then nodded. “You listened to me.”
“Yes, but I wanted to know about you.”
“Well…maybe I want to know about you, too.” She went back to the counter and picked up another plate and a piece of butcher paper. “Go ahead.”
Now it was Mark’s turn to stare out the window. That seemed safer than looking at Eva. “I’ll start back when we first came to Willow Beach. Diane wasn’t as enthusiastic about living here as I was. I knew I wanted to work for a newspaper, but I wanted the job to be in a small town where I could enjoy the out-of-doors. Diane would rather have lived in a larger city.” He stopped and smiled over his shoulder. “Kind of like you.”
Eva nodded. “I can relate.”
“She was interested in acting and said a big city would offer her more opportunities.”
“She was right about that.”
“I know. But we do have the Little Theater. And she joined their troupe. I thought that would be enough. We were happy. At least, I thought we were.”
“Until—”
“Until some dude from Hollywood came to town.”
“A talent scout?”
Mark snorted. “So he said. Actually, he was visiting his son, who lives here. And while he was here, he went to a play at the theater. A play Diane was in. He sought her out afterward and told her what a good actress she was. He said if she came to Hollywood, he would see that she got a screen test.”
“And you didn’t want her to go?”
He walked back to where she stood and faced her, propping his hands on his hips. “Of course not. If she passed the test,
we couldn’t up and move to California. Our life was here. We argued about it, and she backed off, and I thought she’d given up on the idea.
“Then one day I came home and found a note saying she was leaving me and Sasha and going to Hollywood.”
Eva stopped wrapping and set down the plate, eyeing him in disbelief. “Leaving you for good? Or just long enough to take the test?”
“For good. That’s what the note said.”
“But she never got there.”
“Nope. She didn’t get any farther than Grant’s Pass, Oregon. That’s where the bus went over a cliff.”
Eva closed her eyes and shook her head. “Does Sasha know why her mother left?” She looked up at Mark sadly.
“Not the Hollywood reason. I told her Diane was going to visit her brother. And that was true. Her brother lives in L.A. But that was all I told her. Anyway, I just wanted you to know you aren’t the only one dealing with a painful past.”
“I guess we’re both hurting,” she said, not meeting his eyes.
“I guess we are.”
Neither said anything more. He studied her, wondering what she was thinking. He ached to take her in his arms. Only a few feet separated them, and he could easily reach out, but in spirit, they were oceans apart.
She confirmed that when she looked up and said, “Well, now that we’re done with true confessions, do you still want to help me with these boxes?”
*
“WHAT DO YOU think of those shoes?” Susan pointed to a pair of tan-and-white athletic shoes in the store window and then turned to Eva.
Eva tore her gaze away from the black-and-white high heels she’d been considering and focused on Susan’s question. They’d been shopping in downtown Seattle for a couple hours, and each had made several purchases. After her and Mark’s intense discussion at Seb’s house, Eva desperately needed space and had escaped to Seattle the next weekend. Greg was out of town on a business trip, and she and Susan had taken the opportunity to do what they both loved—shop.
“Kinda fancy for casual wear,” Eva said.
Susan laughed. “I’ve gone beyond casual. Greg’s got me jogging, of all things. And since you’re a jogger, I thought you could help me pick out a good pair of shoes.”
“Those look more like walking shoes than jogging, although sometimes you can use the same pair for both. Generally, though, a running shoe needs more cushioning, especially in the heel.”
Susan pressed a palm to her forehead. “Uh-oh, my head’s starting to hurt already. But I knew you were an expert.”
“Let’s go in the store and find someone to help us. Choosing will be easy, I promise you.”
Half an hour later, they emerged from the store. “You were right, Eva.” Susan nodded to the shoe box tucked into her tote. “Between you and the salesman, I managed to avoid having a nervous breakdown.”
“You made a good choice.”
“Greg will be so impressed.” Susan pushed back the sleeve of her jacket and glanced at her wristwatch. “Lunchtime. What’s your pleasure?”
“How about The Sandwich Shoppe on Third?”
Susan’s eyes grew big. “I’m tasting their Monte Carlo Special already.” Then her mouth turned down. “But that’s loaded with calories.”
“They have a diet special, don’t they?”
Susan wrinkled her nose. “Everybody has a diet special. Turkey burger or chicken breast and a side salad. Bor-ing.”
Once they were settled in a high-backed booth at the restaurant and had given their orders—both opting for the Monte Carlo—Susan said, “Okay, Eva, enough about me and Greg. What’s happening with you and Mark?”
Eva leaned back against the seat and gazed at the ceiling fans lazily stirring circles of air. “Bad, bad, bad.”
Susan raised her eyebrows. “What does that mean?”
Eva sighed. “Oh, we got into the past the other day and spilled our guts to each other.”
“Why is that bad?”
“I don’t know. Now I feel funny around him. Self-conscious. I told him stuff I’ve never told anyone. How could I be so stupid?” She straightened and looked at Susan. “Do you and Greg share things from your past?”
“A little. But when I think about it, there’s a lot I don’t know about Greg’s past. I’ve never thought too much about that part of his life. I just know I love him and I trust him.”
“Aren’t you scared sometimes about being in love with him?”
Susan tilted her head. “I was at first. But the more time we spend together, the more sure I am that he’s right for me. Maybe what you need is more time with Mark.”
Eva shook her head. “Time is definitely something we don’t have.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“SO YOU’LL DO the interview with the colonel?” Mark asked Eva.
Eva leaned back in her chair and considered his question. It was Monday morning and they were in his office having their usual planning meeting. They sat at a small table near the window, papers and notes spread out around them. Outside the window, the maple tree had sprouted tiny green leaves, a sure sign that spring had arrived.
Eva picked up her tablet computer, brought up her calendar and studied it. “I suppose I could. Wednesday’s open.” She looked up. “But wouldn’t you rather? You said you knew him.”
“True, but you’re good with personal stories.”
Eva narrowed her eyes. “Trying to flatter me into taking the assignment?”
One of Mark’s eyebrows arched. “No, I’m paying you a compliment. A sincere compliment. I’ll say it again—you’re good with personal stories. You like interviewing.”
Eva had to agree. Her favorite assignments for Seattle’s Best had been interviews with interesting people.
“I’m also saying that we make a good team,” Mark added.
“Don’t say that. You know I—”
Mark leaned forward. “Come on, Eva, you can’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed at least some of your work here. Look at all the positive feedback on your coverage of the city-council meeting, for one thing. That’s gotta make you feel good.”
“Okay, I’ll admit appreciation is nice.” Eva briefly closed her eyes. “Are we done here?”
Mark glanced at his notes. “I guess. Why the hurry?”
“I have work to do.” She gathered the papers and photos on the table. In truth, she needed to get away from him. His nearness had kept her senses humming the entire time, and this sudden turn of the conversation threatened her somehow. She grabbed her tablet and pen, pushed back her chair and stood.
Mark rose , too, and as she turned to leave, he stepped forward and blocked her way. “Eva…”
His voice had dropped a couple notches. Eva’s pulse spiked.
He reached out and gently laid his palm against her cheek. Ran his hand along her jaw and down to the back of her neck, pulling her closer.
“Mark, we…”
“Shh.” He placed his other forefinger over her lips. “I wanted so badly to touch you that day.”
“What day?” she asked, although she knew very well what he meant. But if she kept him talking, then what she feared—or maybe what she wanted—wouldn’t happen.
“That day at Seb’s house—”
“Should never have happened. I never should have let you in.”
“But you did—and we did.”
“And nothing’s changed.”
“And everything’s changed. For me, for you—for us.”
He leaned closer and slid his arm around her waist. His warm breath spread over her cheek. “Maybe we should dance. That always seems to work. If I can get you to put down your tablet.” He shook his head. “Always something between us.”
“There’s more than just a tablet or a purse between us, Mark.” Eva gripped her tablet even tighter to her chest.
“There’s a lot between us, Eva. In a good way. It’s time you realized that.”
He came closer, and by the gleam in his eyes, she knew
he intended to kiss her. She put out her arms to stop him, but his lips brushed hers before her hands connected with his shoulders. Even the slight touch electrified her, as it always did. She leaned into him. The kiss deepened. The last time they’d kissed seemed ages ago. Too long ago.
“Ahem!”
Eva pulled away from Mark and turned toward the doorway.
April stood there, her face as red as her scarlet blouse.
Eva felt her own face flame. She put some more distance between her and Mark.
“What can we do for you, April?” he asked in a calm tone.
April flipped her hair over one shoulder. Her gold hoop earring sparkled in the light from the window. “I wanted to talk to you about my Police Beat column,” she said in clipped tones. “But I see you’re busy. I’ll come back later.”
“You can discuss your work with Eva here. What’s on your mind?”
April scowled. “I’d rather come back.”
Mark stepped to his desk and glanced at his calendar. “How about one-thirty? That work for you, Eva?”
Before Eva could answer, April turned and stalked out.
Neither Mark nor Eva said anything for a few moments. Then Mark raised his hands and said, “There is nothing between April and me, I swear.”
“Maybe you know that, but I don’t think she does.”
“I’ve tried to set her straight many times. When she comes back, I will have a very serious talk with her.”
“Don’t do that on my account, Mark, because it won’t change anything between us as far as I’m concerned.”
*
PROMPTLY AT ONE-THIRTY, April appeared in the doorway to Mark’s office. He did a double take at the sight of her red-rimmed, teary eyes and slumped shoulders. Quite a different picture from the angry young woman of a couple hours ago. Still, he wouldn’t let sympathy get in the way of what needed to be done. He squared his shoulders and steeled himself for what he figured would be an ordeal.
“Come in, April, and sit down.” He gestured to the chair by his desk.
April shuffled over and perched on the edge of the seat.
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