by Lyn Cote
She sighed without making a sound. She had been trying to come up with a polite way to decline Naomi’s birthday party invitation. Without luck.
Marc moved away and sat down at a table below. Rosa forced herself back to reading the textbook open in front of her. She began to jot down a few notes on her steno pad. But her traitorous eyes kept straying to Marc. A trace of another feeling, a romantic feeling tried to stir. She pushed it down without mercy.
Still, this romantic stirring triggered the inevitable fear, fear which washed through her like a cold rinse. Would the sting from Trent’s rejection of her and their son ever heal?
She began to write furiously, forcing herself to think of the assignment. Then somehow interrupted or alerted, Rosa glanced downward. She saw the young red-haired girl, Penny Mason, whom Rosa had twice before seen watching Marc on campus. Penny had stopped just inside the library doors and gazed at Marc’s back.
Rosa had connected Penny with her sister, Caroline, and Caroline’s death with the January accident and with Marc who had been involved in it. She couldn’t regard Penny’s standing and watching Marc with a lack of concern. Rosa tensed. Was Penny one of those people who would express anger at Marc because he had survived while her sister had died? Was Penny going to say something to Marc? Would it be something kind or something unkind? Would that matter to Marc? Either might be hurtful to him.
So far Penny had not approached Marc. Rosa didn’t think Marc had glimpsed Penny. That eased Rosa’s mind and she glanced down at her text. But she couldn’t stop herself from watching them from the corner of her eye.
Then upsetting Rosa, Penny walked directly to Marc and sat down across from him at the table. She put her backpack down and leaned toward Marc, obviously speaking to him.
Rosa sat forward and watched, unable to look away. She wished she could hear what Penny was saying to Marc. How would it affect him? It’s none of my business. But Marc had become important to her.
Marc and Penny continued talking. Rosa noted the rigidity in Marc’s posture, a stiffness that had not been there before Penny sat down. Even though Rosa couldn’t hear a word, she felt as if she were eavesdropping. Still she couldn’t look away.
Penny finished talking, nodded once and then opened her book and began reading. Marc went back to reading or looking like he was reading. Rosa watched, thinking that she must be overreacting. She hoped that Penny taking the initiative to speak to Marc would turn out for the good.
A few minutes passed and then she looked back down again. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Marc rise, gather his materials and leave.
Rosa tried to start reading her textbook again. But soon the insistent prompting to go after Marc became undeniable. Sometimes God had nudged her to show His love and care to another person. Whenever she had ignored promptings like this, she had always regretted it.
With a grimace at herself, she pulled her materials together and headed down the steps and out of the library. When she stepped out into the early September afternoon, she realized that she didn’t have a clue of which way Marc had gone.
She looked around the parking lot. She spotted Marc’s truck far to her left. She walked toward it, wondering what she should say if Marc were in his truck. As she approached, she saw him sitting behind the wheel. His expression was pained. That cut her deeply, moved her forward. She reached the pickup. Without asking for permission, she opened the passenger door and climbed in.
Marc turned to look at her. His eyes appeared filled with misery and looked moist.
Her hesitance to intrude evaporated. “Marc, what is it? Penny?”
“How did you know?” His voice came out like a croak.
She sat sideways toward him. “I put it together a few weeks ago. I saw Penny watching us in the library and remembered who she was and…about her sister Caroline.”
He hung his wrists on top of his steering wheel and bowed his head between them. “You know about Caroline, about her dying in the accident?” he asked, his voice muffled.
“Yes.” Saying the single syllable shook her. “It was a dreadful accident. Dreadful.” She saw just one tear fall to Marc’s lap. She turned away to look forward. No man liked to be seen wrestling with such sorrow.
And most men didn’t know that talking things out helped. She forged ahead for the sake of this good man. “Were you good friends?”
He didn’t answer right away. Finally he muttered, “She was my first girlfriend in high school. That didn’t last but our friendship did.”
“It’s hard to lose a friend.” Rosa clenched her hands into fists to keep from reaching for Marc.
“I can’t get over her dying that day. I was so close but I didn’t, couldn’t know she was. I keep thinking there was something I could have done, should have done.”
“Survivor’s guilt,” Rosa murmured, her heart breaking for him.
He drew in air. “The mist just came up—it swallowed us and formed a sheet of ice under our wheels. I lost control…cars were spinning, sliding…” He shuddered.
“It’s more than that,” he said, still hanging his head. “Caroline was about to be married.” He spoke as if each word was a heavy weight. “To a great guy in Madison.”
“Oh, Marc.” She couldn’t help herself. She gripped his shoulder. “Oh, Marc.” She couldn’t think of another word to say. She’d carried heavy sorrow like this. She bowed her head and began praying for this good man, for Caroline’s fiancé and family, for all those who had lost friends in the January accident.
Marc looked at Rosa out of the corner of his eye. What would she say if he confessed, “My rig was the first to skid?” From her bowed head, he knew that she was praying. That struck him. How many times had he prayed for relief from the pain, the sadness, the guilt? With no result?
Her dark chocolate hair had fallen forward, hiding her face from him. His fingers tingled with the temptation to sift through it. She’d dressed in red as usual and wore the turquoise-and-silver necklace, too. The cool silver tempted his fingertips there, so close under her chin. He gripped the steering wheel.
His mind dragged him back to Penny and their brief conversation about Caroline. It had sliced open his guilt, his sorrow like a razor blade. If only I’d left the night before as planned, I wouldn’t have been there.
But in January, Naomi had fallen and sprained her ankle. The rest of his family had been down with the flu. So he’d had to stay home until Naomi could get around by herself. Just before dawn that dreadful day, she had shown him she could get around with the walker. He’d left right after that and driven into the mist of freezing rain…
The loud bell inside the building sounded the change of classes. Rosa raised her head. “I have to go to class.”
“Me, too,” he managed to say, though his emotions lay open, raw and stinging.
They both got out of his truck. They walked side by side toward the nearest building. He wanted to say something but couldn’t think of anything that sounded right. Inside, Rosa turned to walk away.
“Thanks,” he murmured.
She merely smiled and waved. Then she walked away. He couldn’t help himself. He watched her go till she moved out of sight. Other students passed by him, laughing and chatting. He stood like a rock. Yet inside him an earthquake raged.
The physical consequences of the January accident came alive with pain. His bones that had been broken and the muscles that had been torn now smarted and then burned like fire, as if they were reminding him, prompting him to suffer all over again. What if he never was able to put this out of his mind? What if Caroline’s death and his guilt was going to tear him apart like this for the rest of his days?
If I hadn’t been there repeated in his mind for the millionth time. Nothing would have changed except he wouldn’t have been a part of the suffering and sorrow. And that sounded harsh, selfish even. Why should he have gotten off scot-free when Caroline and others hadn’t?
On the balmy and sunny afternoon of Labor Day, t
he day of his grandmother’s eightieth birthday party turkey roast, Marc wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. Trying to decide how to handle his attraction to Rosa and Johnny’s need for a man in his life had kept him up last night. Still trying to hide his sleeplessness, he followed Naomi out of the kitchen.
He carried her new sunflower-covered picnic tablecloth. While he hurried to shake and lay it over the long rectangular table that his grandfather had built, he tried to decide how to handle today. How could he keep his mom especially from jumping to conclusions about Rosa and Johnny’s presence here today? The day loomed like a mine field. His grandmother and Rosa’s grandmother were the wild cards. Who knew what they had planned to bring Rosa and him closer today?
Marc turned to find Rosa, Consuela and Johnny coming toward Naomi. His whole body contracted with tension. Rosa didn’t help matters by looking pretty in a new red blouse and jeans. Beside her, Consuela and Johnny were smiling. Though evidently trying to hide it, Rosa appeared stressed.
His mind flashed back to those moments shared in the cab of his pickup. He couldn’t recall exactly all that he’d said to her that day. That worried him. He walked toward her.
Johnny raced to meet Marc. “Where’s your dog? Mom says you have a dog now.”
As if on cue, Amigo propped his front paws on the chain-link fence of the dog run and began barking. Marc grinned. “There he is.” He pointed to the dog run. “Go introduce yourself. His name is Amigo. Your mom named him that.”
“Wow!” Johnny raced to the dog run where Roxie and Dottie had joined in welcoming Johnny. Ready to play.
Marc greeted a beaming Consuela. Rosa looked up at Marc. “What can I do to help?”
He stared down into her face; the smooth olive skin drew him. He imagined cupping her soft cheek with his palm. “Help?” he repeated, lost in her dark brown eyes. The sound of the barking receded in his mind. Words he knew were for Rosa simmered just inside his lips, pushing him to say all he was feeling for, for sweet, loving Rosa.
Chapter Six
Rosa gazed up into Marc’s open honest face. The pull to move closer to him strained, conquered her better sense. Resistless, she leaned forward.
A familiar voice intruded. It broke the invisible connection. “Hey, Rosa! Hi!” Luke loped toward her.
“Luke,” she gasped. She nearly blurted out, “How are you and Jill doing?” But she caught herself just in time. “Great to see you again.”
“Ditto. Hear you were the one who helped Marc here get his own pet.” Luke nodded toward the dog run. Johnny had already entered it and begun petting the three delighted dogs, who were leaping and licking Johnny’s delighted face.
She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a soft touch.” She noticed Luke looked different today. The confident and expectant expression he wore contrasted so from the insecure one he’d worn throughout their double date. Did this mean anything, anything she needed to know?
“Rosa—” Naomi appeared between Marc and Luke “—so glad you have come.” Then Consuela joined them. Naomi swept Rosa and her grandmother up into the festivities and made them known to arriving guests. The turkey being roasted on the rotisserie grill scented the air, making Rosa’s mouth water.
Shaking hands and smiling, Rosa couldn’t help beginning to relax and enjoy herself. She had come out of friendship for Naomi. She had come on her guard and for good reason. When Marc had greeted her, what she feared had almost happened. He had looked at her that way, that way that singled her out as special. She found it harder and harder to keep up a barrier against him.
Today everywhere she looked Johnny hovered right beside Marc. And she couldn’t muster the energy to try to draw Johnny away from Marc. Seeing her son so happy soothed her soul. Yet honest worry wouldn’t release her.
And Luke’s bright expression never wavered. What did he have up his short sleeve? And would it involve her or Marc?
The Chambers family members—aunts, uncles, cousins—and longtime neighbors gathered and filled the yard. Among the crowd, Rosa noticed a few people obviously tracking the interaction between her, Johnny and Marc. These people wore speculative expressions.
However, again Rosa couldn’t summon any sense of caution. She sat sipping homemade lemonade under a large shady oak, happy to let the cheerful chatter carry her along on its easy current. Luke greeted people and laughed a lot. Rosa caught Marc staring at his brother. Was it because this was unusual behavior for Luke?
Then a middle-aged couple, a slender blond woman and a stocky man with crew-cut gray hair, appeared from the lane between corn rows. They entered the yard bearing wrapped gifts. Rosa watched them approach. They must be the next door neighbors.
Just then she realized what this meant. She recalled that the mailbox next door read Bud Tracy Luke Chambers. These were Marc’s parents. The thought shocked her like an electrical short.
Naomi brought them directly over to her. “Tracy, I don’t think you’ve met the Santos family. Rosa, this is my son, Bud, and his wife, Tracy, Marc and Luke’s mom and dad. And Tracy, beside Rosa is Consuela, Rosa’s grandma, and over there—” Naomi pointed “—that’s Johnny, Rosa’s son.”
Rosa stood and offered her hand. “Hello.” She didn’t trust herself to say more. Why hadn’t she thought about the probability of Marc’s parents attending this event? Was Marc’s mother already “eyeing” her? Or was it her imagination?
Tracy looked past Rosa, evidently also quick to observe Marc on the other side of the yard. He was pushing Johnny on the tire swing on a tree. “Luke mentioned your son a few days ago,” Tracy said, turning back to Rosa.
“Really?” Rosa replied, but did not trust her voice to ask for more.
“Yes, Luke said that you had gone to high school together—” Tracy’s blue eyes that were so like Marc’s studied her “—and that you were going to the local college now.”
“That’s true.” Rosa hoped someone would come and distract Tracy Chambers. Now Rosa recalled why Luke hadn’t wanted his parents to know about his dating Jill. Tracy Chambers must be one of those women who eagerly anticipated weddings and in quick order, grandchildren.
Not a bad attitude in general, Rosa thought. Yet Johnny’s birth grandparents lived less than a half hour from where Rosa stood this minute. And they wanted nothing to do with Johnny. Another poisoned thorn, still buried deep inside Rosa’s heart.
No doubt the new grandchild in Florida would be welcomed. Rosa fought the stinging bitterness, which tried to ooze up and spoil this pleasant day.
After exchanging a few more comments with Rosa, Tracy and Bud soon had to move away to speak to other friends. Tracy, however, did glance back at Rosa several times. Fretting, Rosa sat down and tried to reclaim her earlier tranquil mood without much success.
The turkey was carved and served along with a myriad of side dishes. Rosa had never tasted turkey cooked like this. The flavor was amazing. Finally, everyone gathered around the picnic table, dominated by Naomi’s cake, a vast lavishly decorated chocolate sheet cake, sporting two candles, one the number eight and the other a zero.
“Cool candles,” Johnny said. “Eight-zero, eighty, cool.”
Nearby Consuela chatted with a couple of Marc’s great aunts. But Rosa kept a watchful eye on her son from the end of the table. He, along with every other child, hovered around the cake. In fact, youngsters ringed the table, not wanting to miss any of the cake festivity.
Rosa smiled, reading Johnny’s expression and posture. The cake tempted him to steal a finger full of chocolate icing. Rosa was about to say something when Marc pulled Johnny back a few inches to stand in front of him, planting one hand on each of his shoulders. Her son grinned up at Marc. This simple gesture spoke volumes of volumes. Rosa loved it and feared it.
Marc’s mother, Tracy, who also appeared not to have missed this telling piece of body language, lit the candles and clapped her hands. “Okay, let’s sing to the birthday girl!”
The singing, the blowing out the candles—Naomi
asked the children to help her—and the cutting of the first slice kept everyone busy. And then Luke called out, “Jill!” He went jogging down the drive toward Jill and her father.
Everyone turned to watch a thrilled Luke walk up the drive with Jill beside him. In silent communication, Rosa and Marc’s eyes met across the table. Then watching Luke present Jill to Naomi, Rosa wondered at Luke’s choice of this time and place to let it be known that he’d begun dating Jill. It certainly showed courage.
“I didn’t know Luke had this much guts,” Marc murmured in her right ear, matching her sentiment.
She gave a start and glanced up. She’d been so busy watching Luke that she hadn’t even noticed Marc moving near her. The nape of her neck tingled at his nearness. She nodded. “What happened, do you think?”
“I guess he decided to get it over with in one big bang,” Marc said.
Luke reached the others grouped around the table. “This is my girlfriend, Jill, and her dad, Tom Bellers, from Rhinelander.” After this blanket announcement, Luke took Jill to his parents. Rosa caught the emphasis on the word girlfriend. The simple pride of the word radiated from Luke, unseen but palpable. Rosa warmed herself in Luke’s innocent triumph.
The exciting announcement over, the two women, who were helping with the cake, snapped back to doing their jobs. One sliced cake into generous squares and the other scooped up mounds of vanilla ice cream. Then though every eye might have politely turned away from ogling the newcomers, Rosa reckoned every ear remained tuned into what Luke was saying to and about Jill. Most everyone here had probably watched Luke grow up. Their happiness at his bringing a girl home to meet his family spread out through the smiling guests eating cake and ice cream, chatting and watching the children take turns on the tire swing.
