A House Divided

by Sydell Voeller

  “Well, Bandit certainly seems to be making up for lost time now.”

  He nodded. “And it’s terrific to see Wendy and the pup getting along so well.”

  Rebecca smiled, darting him a sidelong look. “As you know, Bandit’s the answer right now to my daughter’s prayers, especially since our plans to get a corgi didn’t work out. I guess it’s a good situation on both sides, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  They made small talk for a while, then Rebecca asked, “How is the application process with the county going?”

  When he told her about the noise pollution complaint, she realized that Norm McIntosh had been instrumental in pushing it through. She bit her lower lip in an attempt to refrain from speaking ill of him.

  “The judge ended up throwing the objection out last week, though,” Mark went on, “and I’m moving forward with my plans for the next meeting, the one I announced back at the church.”

  “The coffee hour?”

  “Right.”

  She touched his shoulder. “Congratulations. You are making progress.” Sincerity warred with uneasiness.

  Was she cutting her own throat, so to speak, hers and Wendy’s, by encouraging him this way?

  “Thanks. Yes, it seems a rather small victory, but it’s a victory nonetheless.”

  Hoping he hadn’t caught the reservation in her voice, she hurried on, “So when will it be? The meeting, that is?”

  “One week from tomorrow. The second Saturday of August. I’m planning to make it sort of a brunch, something special to draw folks in.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” Her smile turned coy. “I can turn out a pretty mean batch of chocolate chip cookies when I set my mind to it.”

  “Thanks, but I hate for you to bother with that.” The mottled sunlight that slanted through the maples played off his handsome face, and Rebecca felt her knees grow weak.

  “Next Monday,” he went on, “I’ll phone the bakery to place an order for doughnut holes and Danish.” He paused. “And as far as the cookies go, I’ll just order those, too. It’s much too hot to have to heat up your oven.”

  “I don’t mind. Really. Besides, the temps are supposed to be dropping by the end of the week . . . and . . . well, it will be fun for my daughter.” She hoped he might offer to help. August had never been home enough to participate in such homey little activities. Rebecca couldn’t help but feel Wendy had missed special times with him, even though having had a dad around part of the time had certainly been better than not at all.

  “Okay, but I can’t let you two suffer alone. I insist on helping.”

  She broke into a smile.

  “Only on the condition, though,” he added.

  “What?”

  “That we use your kitchen, not mine. Mine’s barely big enough to turn around in, especially with three people trying to work in it. How about next Friday afternoon?”

  “Perfect.”

  He hesitated. “So am I reading you right? Does your willingness to help out mean you’re planning to attend the meeting, too?”

  She tried to keep her voice light. “I’m sure, in addition to my baking cookies, you’ll also need a hand setting out the refreshments and cleaning up afterwards.”

  “Now that you mentioned it, I guess I will.”

  “So if I’m there for that, then it would make sense for me to stick around for the entire event.”

  His mouth widened in approval. “Now that’s what I like! A logical woman!”

  She chuckled, then added. “Well, after all, the meeting will literally be in my backyard too—” She stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing their conversation might lead her to places she had no intentions of going. She sucked in a deep breath. “But don’t get me wrong, Mark. Just because I’m helping doesn’t mean I’ve necessarily changed my mind completely. I can’t give you my full support yet, but I am willing to hear what the patients have to say.”

  “Fair enough.” Disappointment fringed his voice. Brow furrowed, he peered off into the distance, as if groping for something else to talk about. “So how’s work going at the Chamber?”

  “Visitors have been stopping by there frequently asking about the house, and I’ve had to break the bad news that the tours are off.”

  “I’m sorry you’re getting stuck with that . . . ” His voice trailed. “I’m sorry, too, I couldn’t take you up on the location scout’s offer to buy my property. That’s been heavy on my mind lately.”

  His admission surprised her, but as she studied his face, she saw the sincerity mirrored in his eyes.

  “Benny’s up in Washington state now, trying to find a historic home that resembles the Glasgow place.”

  “Washington? Did he say where specifically?”

  “He planned to start looking at the neighborhoods on the peninsula across the bridge. I haven’t heard from him yet, but I imagine he’s worked his way farther north by now. I’ve phoned and left messages, but so far there’s been no answer.”

  “I’m sure he’ll get back to you eventually.”

  “Yes. I hope so.” Unexpectedly her thoughts shifted from Benny to the petition that had been circulating through town. Renewed guilt seeped through her veins. It was now or never. She had to tell him about her part in it. “Before I lose my nerve, Mark, I have a confession to make.” She drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

  “What about?”

  “The petition. Matilda Rivers mentioned it briefly during the meeting at the church, so I know you’re aware of it.” She let out a sigh, thinking that it was lucky Mark hadn’t arrived at the Chamber in time enough to hear McIntosh ranting about it, too. If he’d overhead them talking at all, it would have been near the end of their conversation when they’d been discussing the railroad.

  “Yes, I am aware of the petition,” he said evenly. He hesitated. “So?”

  “So back when the kids from the drama club came through on their tour, they talked to me about getting the petition up and running. I . . . I’m afraid that I encouraged them, told them it was a great idea.” She held up one hand. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t get directly involved, but I do admit I endorsed it. Several of the kids were upset about the potential fate of the house, especially after learning of its history.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. The great thing about kids is that they can be so spontaneous and open. While that doesn’t help my cause, of course, I do understand.”

  His calm answer astonished her. “So you’re not angry with me then?”

  “Of course not.” To her surprise, one corner of his mouth lifted in a wan smile as he added, “But I do think you’re an enigma. One minute I walk in the Chamber and hear you standing up for me, the next minute you tell me this.”

  She gulped. “Oh! So you did overhear my talking with Norm and Madge.”

  “Sure did.”

  “Then I think you have every reason to feel confused. Sometimes I’m so confused, myself, I just don’t know what to think anymore.” Yes, why were her thoughts such a muddle most of the time? Had her mourning for August left her depressed, unable to know her own mind?

  “Look,” he said, taking her hand in his. She fought against the ripples of awareness tingling down her spine. “Cut yourself some slack, okay? You’ve been through a lot this past year, and even though Freemont isn’t a new place to you, you’ve still had to make some pretty big adjustments.”

  Wendy sprinted up to them with Bandit close on her heels. “Guess what, you guys?” she called out.

  “What, sweetie?”

  “Bandit likes to chase squirrels, but they’re always faster than him and run up a tree.”

  “Well, there are plenty of squirrels around here to keep Bandit running for a long time,” Mark said with a chuckle. He reached out and ruffled the girl’s hair, smiling. “How would you like to take Bandit to the beach sometime where the two of you can really play?”

  Wendy clapped her hands and giggled. “Oh, can we?” />
  “Whoa! One thing at a time, you two!” Rebecca exclaimed. “First we’ve got to make a shopping list for the cookies we’re going to make next Friday afternoon.”

  “Cookies? Mark’s gonna help us bake cookies?”

  “Yes, a triple batch of chocolate chip.”

  “Gosh, Mama, isn’t that an awful lot?”

  “It’s not for us, sweetie. It’s for the coffee hour Mark’s hosting right here in the yard next Saturday.”

  “What’s a coffee hour?”

  “It’s going to be a very special meeting with coffee, tea, and goodies to eat. Our neighbors and several of the people Mark works with will be getting together to talk about . . . er . . . some plans for the future.”

  “Cool!”

  “So why don’t you run upstairs and get my recipe for chocolate chip cookies out of my files? You know, the one you like that uses all brown sugar, instead of half brown and half white? I’m sure we have at least half of the ingredients on hand. I just bought two packages of chocolate chips the other day. But I think we’re probably out of vanilla flavoring and a few other things.”

  “Okay, Mama!” She looked pleadingly at Mark. “Can I take Bandit with me?”

  “It’s fine with me if it’s all right with your mother.” His gaze met Rebecca’s.

  “Sure,” she said with a chuckle, then turned to her daughter. “But just don’t feed Bandit any chocolate. It can be very poisonous to dogs.”

  “Oh, I won’t, I promise! I won’t give Bandit anything to eat unless I check with Mark first.”

  “Atta girl.” He winked.

  “Your daughter’s something else,” Mark said as they watched Wendy and Bandit run off again. “You and August were lucky to have had her.”

  “We were lucky. My biggest regret is that he couldn’t have lived longer to enjoy raising her as I am.”

  “And what about Wendy? How has she been adjusting?”

  “It’s been rough, and I’m hoping she’s beginning to adjust. But she still dreams about him and wakes up in the middle of the night, crying.”

  “I know that must break your heart, but try not to worry about it too much. That’s fairly normal, even after a year.” He hesitated, as if choosing his next words. “She must have been close to her dad.”

  “She was, even though his work took him away from home a lot. August was a wonderful daddy and husband, despite the fact he couldn’t always be here for us as much as he would have liked to. He loved Wendy more than life itself.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  As she studied the tenderness on Mark’s face, she once again felt—and struggled against—that familiar shiver of awareness. Strange, too, how much easier it was becoming to talk about August, even easier now than the first time she’d told Mark about him.

  But what was Mark’s role in all of this? she wondered. Was he merely acting as an empathetic therapist, a role that obviously came so naturally to him? Or was there something more to that concerned tilt of his head, the intense, but compassionate look in his dark, dark eyes?

  Suddenly it dawned on her that she didn’t want to know.

  Chapter Nine

  The following Friday arrived at last. Now Rebecca, Wendy, and Mark passed the afternoon in much banter and laugher while they turned out one sheet after another of melt-in-your-mouth cookies. This is an advantage in having a part-time job, Rebecca thought now as she had many times in the past since she’d started working at the Chamber. Being off every Friday gave her extra time to share with Wendy.

  Mark rolled up his shirtsleeves and, elbow-deep in dough, mixed it vigorously by hand. Then he doled out a portion into a second mixing bowl and invited Wendy to do the same.

  “Mark, how come you don’t care if you get your hands all gooey?” Wendy asked with a giggle.

  “It’s a matter of practicality,” he’d assured her with a wink. “These humongous batches of dough would probably burn out the motor in your mom’s electric mixer. And besides, it’s much more fun to squish your hands through the dough, anyway.”

  Smiling, Rebecca nodded her approval. Mark seemed so serious and focused on his work normally; it warmed her heart to see him cutting loose this way.

  “Sure is fun!” Wendy giggled again, then thrust her hands into her own mound of cookie dough.

  Mark angled the girl a mischievous look. “Just promise me something, okay?”

  “What?”

  “Promise to look the other way and don’t tell your mom when you see me licking the dough from my fingers.”

  Wendy let out a squeal of delight, and falling bait to his suggestion, immediately scooped up a piece of dough, nibbled on it, and smacked her lips loudly.

  Turning away, Rebecca tried to hide the sweeping sense of contentment stealing over her. It was becoming clearer with each passing day how much her daughter was taking to Mark, although she was most certainly hungry for attention from any father figure who might happen her way, Rebecca was quick to remind herself. Just look how she’d attached herself so to Benny.

  In no time, the small kitchen was filled with the sweet, rich fragrance of baking dough. The oven was compact, accommodating only one cookie sheet at a time. But what did it matter? They had the entire, lazy afternoon stretching out before them. And Rebecca had to admit, she was enjoying it immensely.

  Later, while they sat at the table and Bandit slept beneath it, they consumed a plateful of the warm chocolaty morsels, chased down by glasses of ice-cold milk.

  “Mark?” Wendy asked around chewing her cookie.

  “Yes, Wendy?”

  “The other day, you said we could take Bandit to the beach sometime.”

  “So I did.”

  “Can we take him today?”

  “Well.” He glanced across the table at Rebecca. “I don’t see why not. That is, if your mom hasn’t made other plans for the rest of today.”

  “Uh . . . no. I don’t have any plans.” Her heart leapt in her throat. What a perfect ending that would be to an already perfect day. “Going to the beach sounds wonderful.”

  Mark’s sudden grin seemed to light up the kitchen. “Great! And maybe on our way out of town, we’ll stop at the deli for fried chicken and coleslaw and—”

  “And let’s take chocolate chip cookies!” Wendy interrupted with a giggle.

  Laughing, Rebecca got to her feet. “All right, you two! There’s more to this outing than just food, you know. Wendy, make sure you bring an extra change of clothing. And oh, don’t forget the sunscreen . . . and your fleecy yellow jacket for later this evening.”

  “And let’s remember to take Bandit’s Frisbee,” Wendy put in. “There’ll be all kinds of space at the beach to throw it!”

  “Great idea,” Mark agreed. “Dogs and Frisbees have a way of going together at the beach.”

  As he spoke, Rebecca studied his tantalizing dark eyes and wondered whether her own eyes shone with as much gratitude as she was feeling inside. Yes, what an extraordinary day this was turning out to be.

  * * *

  They loaded the trunk of Mark’s Lexus with extra jackets, an oversized blanket, the Frisbee, bottled water for Bandit and themselves, and a large marine-blue cooler. Then they all—three humans and one dog—piled inside the car and crossed the bridge that spanned the Columbia River. A short while later, they came to the state park on the southwestern tip of a rocky peninsula often known to be battered with rough winds and high seas. The day-use area, a protected, rocky cove, lay at the base of a lighthouse.

  “I’d nearly forgotten how beautiful it is here,” Rebecca said as they threaded their way down to the damp slate-colored sand. The sun hung low in the western sky. The tide was out, exposing driftwood and jagged rocks.

  “I don’t come here enough myself,” Mark said huskily.

  “You’re learning how to relax a little, maybe.”

  “Hmmm.” He flashed her a tantalizing smile. “Yep, maybe. I guess, considering my line of work, I should practice what I pre
ach about finding ways to relieve stress in our lives.”

  She grinned back at him, feeling the sun against her face, the warm sand cushioning their footfalls.

  They set out the folding beach chairs that Mark had packed in the trunk of the car, then sat down. Meanwhile, Wendy began throwing the Frisbee for Bandit to retrieve, and the dog obliged her every time. His excited yips mingled with the shrieks of the seagulls circling overhead.

  Rebecca and Mark passed the next hour in companionable conversation. They talked about her work at the Chamber, his work at the hospital, and how quickly the summer seemed to be slipping away. Somehow, however, they managed to avoid talk about the inevitability of her and Wendy having to leave the Glasgow place in September—and that was good. Nothing should be allowed to spoil this most magical day, Rebecca silently vowed. And most of all, it confused her to realize that this wonderful man who was admittedly beginning to capture her heart, still played an adversarial role in her life in small, nagging ways.

  Don’t think about that now, her inner self suddenly cautioned. Just enjoy these beautiful few hours with him. There will be time later to deal with reality.

  While Wendy and Bandit continued to play, Rebecca and Mark watched the sun slip over the horizon. It cast a palette of pink, orange, and lavender onto streaks of white clouds. A pearly glow illuminated the sky.

  “Every time I watch a sunset, I wonder how many people on this earth will be experiencing it for the very last time,” Mark said. He slipped his arm around her.

  “Oh, Mark—such a sad thought.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so down.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder, wishing there was some way she could recapture their earlier lighthearted mood. Still, she couldn’t blame him. There was something about a sunset that brought tears to her eyes also. And today was no exception. She sniffed, then swiped the side of her moist eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Did you come here much when you were growing up?” he asked.