Dog Tags

by Heidi Glick

  31

  A week passed—a long, exhausting one. Mark parked near Beth’s car outside the grocery store, walked outside his van, and sighed as he grabbed onto a shopping cart for support. He had more physical therapy in his future before his legs gained their full strength. One thought kept him going. He needed to be strong for Beth. Will’s arrest helped him relax a little, yet the fear that the Knight could be still on the loose plagued him.

  Though Mark had endured a week of intensive therapy and counseling to get this far, there might be future relapses. Still, he’d taken one step further toward conquering his fears and putting the rest behind him, yet new issues lay before him. He planned on spending Thanksgiving with the Martindales. How much did they know? What would they feel inclined to share with their daughter?

  He pushed the cart inside the grocery store. Beth stood inside the front entrance, waiting for him.

  Hoping to surprise her with his progress, he’d been careful to avoid her over the past week. “Ready to shop ‘til you drop?” Did she look at him differently because he could walk?

  “I see you’ve made a bit of progress.” She smiled.

  “Thanks.” He could spill his guts about his progress or what he’d discussed with his psychologist…or wait until later. “Guessing you’ve never shopped for Thanksgiving dinner before?”

  Beth’s eyes widened. “That noticeable, eh?”

  “I’m guessing that’s why you asked for my help.”

  “I know you helped your mom cook, and I’ve never hosted Thanksgiving dinner before. I want things to be perfect for my parents.”

  “You shouldn’t underestimate yourself. I’ve tasted your buckeyes as well as your recreation of my mother’s pistachio salad. Not bad. Although I understand wanting things to be perfect. You know, it’s just a suggestion, but while you have a one bedroom apartment, I have an entire house to myself—well, Sparky and me. Anyway, we could all eat Thanksgiving dinner at my house, and your parents could stay there, too.”

  Beth raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? My dad snores.”

  Mark chuckled. “I’m well aware. I remember when he’d fall asleep on the couch while Chris and I were watching sporting events. But thanks for the heads up.”

  Beth removed a can of yams from a nearby shelf and placed them in the cart. “I’m OK with the arrangement as long as you don’t mind. I’m sure my parents won’t care.”

  Good move on his part or not—he wasn’t sure. Eating with Beth’s family was one thing. Having them stay with him was yet another. When Beth would go home each evening, he’d be alone with the Martindales. What if they confronted him about what they knew? He’d overcome a lot lately, but he wasn’t sure he was up to such a challenge. Still, if things were to progress between him and Beth, he might have to face the issue.

  Did Beth have feelings for him? Was now a good time to bring up the yearbook? He had experience with extracting intelligence. Perhaps he could use his experience to his advantage. “Not to sound ungrateful, but I’m curious as to what made you decide to invite me to your place for Thanksgiving.”

  Beth held up two packages of dinner rolls and appeared to compare them. “My dad asked me about your plans for Thanksgiving. I was afraid you might say no, but since I need your help cooking, I thought you might feel obligated to come.” She chose some rolls and placed them in the shopping cart.

  “You don’t need me to help you. Maybe you’ve never cooked Thanksgiving dinner by yourself before, but you could have done it without me.”

  Beth wrapped a stray hair around her finger. “I know, but it’s more fun doing it with someone else.”

  With someone else. Maybe he had gotten closer to the heart of the matter. “By the way, Marisa told me you weren’t dating Antonio. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I really was convinced he could have been the Knight, and I didn’t want to see you get hurt.” That and a touch of jealousy.

  “He was a friend. That’s all.” Beth shook her head. “Even if Antonio had been interested in something more, all he talks about are movies or video games or sports. Kind of annoying.”

  Mark chuckled. “Really? So the free spirit needs someone more serious in her life?” Interesting.

  Beth studied her shopping list. “I thought about what you said about planning ahead, and I want to save up, get my own house, maybe even a dog, get my Master’s degree. Who knows?”

  Mark wouldn’t mind seeing Beth’s appointment book fill up more than a week in advance. Maybe he wasn’t the only one changing. “Just remember you can’t plan out every minute of your life. What’s that verse—a man plans his ways or something, but God guides his steps.”

  “Yep. Planning ahead’s not so bad after all. Guess it means occasionally old people are wise.” Beth crooked her finger at him and narrowed her eyes. “But not always, so don’t let it go to your head.”

  He suppressed a smile. “Right.” The two of them appeared to be on friendly terms, but how friendly? He didn’t like playing games. Sure, there were certain things he must keep from her, that was a given. But he didn’t want their feelings for each other to remain hidden.

  ****

  Almost ten minutes into their shopping trip, Beth caught Mark staring at her.

  She lowered a sack of potatoes into the shopping cart and leaned toward him. “Thanks for helping me prepare for Thanksgiving dinner. Everything OK?”

  Mark walked beside her and pushed their cart around the produce section. “When you came to Riversdale, I thought I needed to watch out for you, like Chris would. In fact, it felt good to be able to help you.”

  Beth grabbed a stalk of celery, bagged it, and set it in the cart. “Is that why you’re helping me now?” Could that be the only reason? It made sense—helping move furniture, going to the school party with her, taking her to dinner, visiting her at the hospital, even holding her hand for a brief moment. His actions must have resulted from a sense of duty.

  “For a while, it seemed like we were having fun, and then not as much.” He gripped the handle of the cart. “This shopping trip seemed like a good idea, a chance to—”

  Wait, he considered their time together fun? Well, he wasn’t the only one. She rubbed the back of her neck. And yet, she wasn’t at ease. “Stock up on prune juice and vitamins for seniors?” She clenched her jaw. “Isn’t that what guys your age do?”

  “You know what I think about the wisecracks?”

  She grabbed an onion and examined it. “No, but you’re gonna tell me.”

  His eyes softened. “I think you do it to avoid being serious, to avoid getting close to others.”

  Why did he care? He certainly had no interest in her beyond the friend level. “Excuse me?”

  “You can be serious. I know that because I’ve seen that side of you, like when we were at the lighthouse. But most of the time, you avoid things that are serious or make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “Don’t we all?” She bagged the onion and dropped it in the cart.

  Mark turned toward her. “When we didn’t see each other as much, I thought maybe I had done something to upset or offend you.”

  Why’d he have to be so nice? It’d be easier to put him out of her mind if he’d been rude to her. He’d hurt her once long ago, but even that had been unintentional. Beth released a sigh and shook her head. “No, that wasn’t it at all.”

  Beth glanced at an upcoming shopping display. If she was going to make candied yams, she’d better hurry. “Only one bag of marshmallows left.”

  She and Mark both reached for it. As her hand rested atop his, her heart raced—nothing to do with the fear of not getting the marshmallows. Beth welcomed the opportunity to study his hand. Strong and warm. At first, she fought the urge to release her grip but then removed her hand. It might be awkward if she continued to hold on.

  Mark placed the marshmallows in the cart. “I’m impressed you brought a list. That helps, but maybe next time, we should shop a week in advance so things won’t be so pick
ed over.”

  Next time? Did he assume she’d ask for his help in the future, or was he hoping that, sometime in the future, they’d be doing this together again?

  She returned to the produce section and scanned the fruit.

  “Looking for something in particular?”

  “The right apples.” She stepped forward, examined two Granny Smith apples, and placed them in a bag and into the cart.

  “What do you plan to do with those?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Mark helped her find the remaining items on her list, including treats for Sparky. Afterwards, they drove back to his house to unload the groceries.

  After putting everything away and letting Sparky outside to play and enjoy a treat, she walked with Mark toward the living room. He put his arm around her and leaned into her. His balance had improved rapidly, but it was evident he wasn’t quite at a hundred percent. Not that she minded his touch.

  She settled onto the couch next to him. An acoustic guitar sat propped up next to one side of his coffee table. “Guitar? I didn’t know you played. That’s awesome.” What else didn’t she know?

  Mark glanced at her. “Do you play anything?”

  “The radio.” She flashed a smile. “In school, I was into the drama scene rather than band.”

  “That’s right. Chris told me you had a lead in a play.”

  “Chris told you about that?” Her insides churned.

  “Yep. It was always good to get news from home.”

  “How many other embarrassing details of my life did my brother share with you?” Hopefully nothing related to Valentine’s Day from long ago.

  Mark chuckled. “Hate to burst your bubble, but he didn’t share anything juicy with me. But now I’m curious. Maybe you could share some of these details with me.”

  “Maybe some other time.” Beth got up and headed toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

  “OK. I think I’ll bring Sparky inside.”

  Beth’s cell phone rang just as she was washing her hands. She looked at the display, dried her hands, and took the call right then and there. “Marisa. What’s up?”

  “How’d the shopping go?”

  “Great. The store was full of people, but—”

  Marisa lowered her voice. “Do you like him?”

  Where did that come from? Beth stared at the mirror, gazing at her reflection. Her eyebrows were arched. “Who? Mark? We’re just…friends.” Hadn’t they been through this before? Besides, he didn’t like her.

  “You’re sure? Because you are having Thanksgiving dinner with him.”

  Beth noticed a piece of hair that was out of place and fixed it. “Yeah, so he doesn’t spend Thanksgiving by himself.” Did it matter she was glad they were spending it together?

  “Did you know he’s read the works of Solzhenitsyn?”

  Beth removed her lip balm from her purse and applied it. “Who?”

  “Alexander Solzhenitsyn.”

  “OK…”

  “And he’s kind of cute, got that whole mysterious way about him and whatnot. I might ask him out for coffee sometime, since you’ve mentioned you’re only friends. But if you like him, I’ll back off.”

  Beth raised her voice. “You like Mark?”

  “Yeah. You’re OK with that? Right?”

  “Yeah.” Beth swallowed hard. “Of course.”

  “Good. Can you text me his number?”

  “Now? Sure.” She didn’t need to have served time in the military to know she was at Threatcon Delta.

  ****

  Time to extract some intelligence. Mark turned off the TV and held up his phone as Beth entered the living room and joined him and Sparky on the couch. “I got a text message from Marisa. What’s that all about?”

  “Already? What did she say?”

  Judging from the fact her pupils dilated, he’d struck a chord. Still, he wanted to play it cool. “She asked me out for coffee.”

  Beth played with the ends of her hair. “Huh. Imagine that.”

  “Did you know about this?”

  “I did. And it’s just great. She’s great, you’re great. It’s all…great. I’m really…happy.” She made a poor attempt at a smile.

  Was that a hint of jealousy he detected? He bit back a grin. “You don’t sound happy.”

  Beth shrugged. “It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted from shopping.”

  “You know, Beth, when Chris died, I was glad I survived. Everyone started talking about how lucky I was, but then there were other times I felt guilty, like it should have been me who died, and Chris should have lived. I was supposed to be happy, but I wasn’t.”

  Beth patted her lap, and Sparky joined her.

  Mark sensed he was on the verge of collecting some good intel. He leaned closer to Beth. “So what’s the deal?”

  “The deal?”

  “Why aren’t you happy?”

  Beth cleared her throat, and Sparky jumped off the couch. “Who me? I’m upset with myself. No one else’s problem.” Beth grabbed a sports magazine from atop the coffee table and buried her face inside. “But, getting back to you, you should go out for coffee. That’s great.”

  She may have been into drama in high school, but that was the worst acting he’d seen in a while. “I’m glad you feel that way, and Marisa seems nice, but I don’t have, um…feelings for her. I want you to know I’ll politely decline her request.”

  “It’s OK. I’m fine with the two of you going out.”

  Perhaps she really didn’t care. “Maybe you are, but that’s not what I want.”

  “Right. I understand.” She looked up for a second then just that quickly, buried her head in the magazine again. “You’re interested in that blonde. Fine.”

  “Blonde?” He wondered about the source of Beth’s misunderstanding then suppressed the urge to chuckle. “You mean Carol? You thought we were going out?” Mark folded his arms and released a sigh. “So…you’re upset with yourself?”

  “A little.”

  “Why?”

  She sighed. “Just because.”

  Mark turned toward her. He pushed the magazine down and away from her face. “Because?”

  She turned to face him. “Ugh. Enough with the twenty questions. You want to know why?”

  He kept his gaze fixed on her.

  She hid her face behind the magazine again. “Because Marisa said how great you are, and I realized she was right. Then when she said she liked you, I was mad at myself for not recognizing how I felt earlier, for not dealing with my emotions. Are you happy now?”

  “So…you were mad at yourself for not realizing how you felt earlier. And how do you feel now?”

  “Like you’re a great friend,” she said. “I enjoy spending time together.”

  “A great friend, eh?” Maybe her schoolgirl crush was a thing of the past.

  She placed the magazine on the coffee table and bit her lip. Was she able to read the look of disappointment that surely must have crossed his face? “Yes, but different.”

  Mark moved his head to maintain eye contact with her. “How so?”

  “You think Marisa is nice, but…” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Just like I think Tim and Bill are nice, but…”

  “They’re just friends?”

  Beth nodded.

  He fought to maintain his famous military stare. “Which means we’re…more than friends?”

  “You’re asking me?” Her cheeks reddened.

  “Is that how you feel?”

  Beth fidgeted with the sofa armrest. “That’s what I’d like.”

  He’d found out what he needed to know—no sense in tormenting her, no sense in making her more flustered, causing her to turn an even darker shade of red. “OK, I wanted you to say it. I started to feel that way too, but then you stopped coming around as much, and when you did, you were with Antonio.”

  “Because I felt uncomfortable around you. Which is why I couldn’t deal with my emotions.”


  “Uncomfortable? Why?”

  “I wasn’t sure about what I felt, and I was a little afraid. What if you didn’t feel the same way? It was better to hang out with Antonio, because I could keep you at a distance.”

  “You did a pretty good job. I was confused. But that’s in the past. Let’s forget about it. And move on.”

  It took a moment for him to realize where he stood, physically and emotionally—back on his own two feet, about to spend Thanksgiving with the Martindales, and perhaps on the verge of a relationship with Beth Martindale. Was he prepared for these challenges?

  Dear God, help me. How can I explain everything to her? I know you’ve forgiven me. Can Beth do the same?

  ****

  After they’d rested and watched some TV, Mark turned off the show and placed one hand on Beth’s shoulder. “I was thinking of heading over to the Surfside Coffee Shop? Up for some caffeine?”

  “I could use a little.” Beth rubbed her eyes. “Are you sure you want to drive all the way over there when you’re just going to order it black anyway?”

  Mark rose to his feet. “Actually, I want hazelnut.”

  “Sure you want to be that daring? Shouldn’t you stick with plain?”

  He caressed the right side of her face. “Pretty sure I know what I want.” He fixed his gaze on hers and refused to look away, causing a familiar shade of red to return to her cheeks. “C’mon.” He tugged on her hand, and they walked toward his van. Midway there, he stopped and headed back to the house.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I forgot something. I’ll be right back.”

  How could he almost forget? Mark hurried inside, grabbed a box, and carried it out it to the van, shielding it so Beth wouldn’t see. He placed the box in the back of the van. Minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the Surfside Coffee Shop.