Mercer Street. Yesterday when she’d said she loved him, he’d nearly panicked. He wanted to tell her he loved her, too, but the mere thought of it caused him to break into a cold sweat. But he did love her. He couldn’t deny it. Still, loving someone and committing to marriage were two different things, weren’t they? What was he going to do? Should he suggest they stop seeing each other altogether before things got to the breaking point?
Strange how suddenly all of his well-learned textbook approaches to interpersonal relationships no longer seemed to hold any weight, he mused. But then, he quickly reminded himself, he’d traveled down this road once before. Hadn’t he learned his lesson the first time? Hadn’t he proven to himself that his professional life left no room for a wife and family?
Dashing aside his thoughts, he silently mapped out his plans for the rest of his afternoon. First, he needed to stop by the office and pick up his mail. He’d intended to do that yesterday, of course, but his plans had become unexpectedly diverted after he’d returned to his car and found Rebecca in such a state. But the bottom line was, any time now, he expected to hear from the Mental Health Board in Portland about the grant he’d applied for. If the application had been rejected, he would need to get back on line and search for other sources of funding.
Later he arrived at the office. His muscles tensed when he spied Joan’s Jaguar parked in her usual spot near the back of the office parking lot.
Well, guess who’s here? On a Sunday, no less. But on second thought, she did sometimes come in on her days off to catch up on paperwork, when she could be away from ringing phones and whirring fax machines. Despite her strange late-night appearance Friday, plus her equally “in your face” behavior after the coffee hour, he had to hand it to her. She was a good receptionist; she’d often worked extra hours without even a whimper. Yep, he really didn’t want to have to let her go if it wasn’t necessary.
Mark got out of the car and stood motionless for a moment. Time to face the music. Might as well get it over with now.
When he walked inside and found Joan working at her computer, she looked up in surprise.
“Mark! What are you doing here?” Her voice turned a bit catty. “I thought Sundays are your day of rest.”
He kept his voice even. “I might ask the same, but I won’t. I’m just dropping by to pick up the mail.”
“I put it on your desk.”
“Thanks.” He pulled up a nearby chair, sat down, and rolled the chair closer to her. Lacing his hands behind his head, he leaned back and said, “Yesterday after the meeting you said you wanted to talk again.”
“Yes, I did.”
“So here we are. Let’s talk. We might as well get it all out on the table now, don’t you think?” He set his jaw.
“Agreed. Just don’t scold me.”
“Scold you? Don’t be ridiculous. I have no intentions of that. But I would like to know what you were doing outside my place Friday night. And if you needed to talk to me so urgently, why did you take off the way you did?”
She wound a strand of hair around her index finger and kept her eyes downcast. “I . . . I have to admit, that probably seemed a bit crazy. But I couldn’t help it, Mark. It sort of just happened. When I stopped by earlier that night, you weren’t home, so I just drove around for a while, and then I came back. You still weren’t there, so I just stayed put. Then I saw you come home . . . with that woman . . . I think she works at the Chamber. You were carrying a little girl. Hers, I suppose.”
He tried to inflect understanding into his tone, but his patience was wearing thin. “I’ve told you before, Joan. I think highly of you. We make a good working team, but I’m not interested in a romantic relationship. I’m not cut out for that.”
“Then what about the woman?”
“Who? Rebecca?”
“Of course.”
He gritted his teeth. “My social life is my business, Joan. I don’t think it’s necessary that I go into the details with you.”
“Fine then.” Silence stretched between them. “But there’s something else I want to ask. Do you think I was stalking you?”
He met her gaze squarely. “Some might call it that.”
“Well, just for the record, that was the farthest thing from my mind.” She lifted her chin. “Let’s just chalk it up to a bad case of PMS, all right?”
“Good enough.” He got to his feet. “So that’s that, and now we can get back on track again, right? Wipe the slate clean.”
As she looked away from him, her mouth was drawn in tight. “Whatever you say, Mark.” Her voice turned sarcastic again. “Thanks for nothing.”
* * *
Rebecca sighed with relief as she punched in her timecard and left through the back door of the Chamber. It was Thursday afternoon, and it had been an especially hectic day. The Freemont Frolics, the town’s annual summer festival, was just around the corner, and she’d been on the phone almost constantly, talking with vendors and publicity agents. Now that the tours at the Glasgow House had been suspended, it was even more critical that the proceeds from the festival help boost the city’s flagging economy. And one way or another, she was determined to do her part.
Most of all, the extra busyness at the Chamber lately helped keep her mind off Mark. Although she knew she’d most likely still be seeing him again, it would never be the same between them, of course. It seemed as if she was viewing the world through dark glasses once more. All hope for a future with Mark had suddenly been dashed away. All hope of new love vanished.
Then there was Benny. He’d finally left a brief message on her cell phone, assuring her all was well. He’d driven back up to Washington, he’d said, to visit an old friend and check out some job opportunities there. He also said he’d call her again next time he was passing through town, but didn’t indicate just when that might be.
The message cheered her a little. With any luck, maybe his friend had connections and could help find Benny a job. Hopefully Benny was sending out “feelers” with everyone he knew.
Inside her car, she turned the key in the ignition. First, she decided, she would need to make a quick trip to the dry cleaners, pick up milk at the grocery store, then drive to Missey’s place where Wendy would be waiting.
Her cell phone rang. She grabbed it off the console, then flipped open the cover and answered.
“Becca! Hi!” Missey chirped. “Have you left the Chamber yet?”
“I’m still in the parking lot.”
“Oh, good, then I caught you in time. I’m calling to let you know we’re not at my house, but yours. Wendy wanted to show us Mark’s dog and give us all a chance to play with him. And what a cutie he is! The girls, especially, are having a blast. We’re in the backyard right now.”
“Good. I have a couple of errands to run, and then I’ll be right home,” Rebecca said. She remembered that Mark had told her he planned to leave Bandit outside in the fenced portion of the backyard during the day most of the time now. That would give Wendy extra time to play with the dog.
“And oh, before I forget!” Rebecca hurried on. “If you’d like something cold to drink before I get there, there’s a fresh jug of sun tea upstairs in the fridge. Wendy has a key, of course.”
“Hmmm, sun tea sounds wonderful.”
“See you soon!”
When Rebecca arrived, she unlatched the gate and hurried towards the backyard, grateful for the chance to finally kick off her shoes and sit with Missey beneath the shade of the old maples. She crossed the yard, inhaling the sweet fragrance of roses and freshly cut grass that wafted in the late afternoon heat. Yes, a relaxing chat with her sister and a frosty glass of iced tea would be just what she needed right now.
Yet as she drew closer to the guesthouse, the sound of a stressed cry stopped her short. She strained to listen more closely. It was a child’s cry. A distressed cry.
Wendy!
Rebecca’s heart pounded, her mouth went dry. Whatever was wrong, it had to be serious.
“What’s going on?” Mark appeared from seemingly out of nowhere.
Missey quickly joined them from where she’d been clipping a bouquet of crimson roses, leaving the suddenly-dropped flowers scattered on the lawn.
“Bandit,” Wendy sobbed. “He . . . he . . . he won’t wake up.”
“Oh, Bandit” Jodie cried, too. “Open your eyes! Please, doggie!”
Mark squatted down to get a better look. “Hmmm . . . this looks bad.” Rebecca and Missey dropped onto their knees alongside him.
“Poor Bandit,” Rebecca breathed. Her spine stiffened at the sight of the partially conscious dog who was barely breathing. Next to her were the shredded wrappers from several chocolate bars. A pile of frothy white vomitus, mixed with bits of chocolate, lay close by.
“Someone’s poisoned Bandit!” Wendy hiccoughed between sobs. “See! It’s the chocolate . . . it’s the chocolate you said can poison dogs.”
“I don’t get it,” Mark said. “We were just playing with Bandit a few minutes ago. We hadn’t turned our backs but just a minute.”
“It was obviously long enough for him to get into trouble,” Missey supplied.
“Oh, dear Lord …” Rebecca stood up and urged Wendy to her feet, also, then held her daughter close. She wished there was a way she could shield her from all this. But she couldn’t. It was too late now. She felt Wendy trembling and struggled to still her own shaking.
“Hold on.” Mark pressed gentle fingertips on the dog’s neck. “His heart’s still beating.” His brow was etched in a deep frown. “And he’s breathing, too, thank God.” He looked up at Rebecca. “It’s probably too late to induce more vomiting, but if we don’t hurry, he’s gonna slip into a full blown coma and then we’ll really be in big trouble.”
Standing, he reached into his hip pocket, fished out his keys, and handed them to Rebecca. “Here. Fire up the Lexus while I grab a warm blanket. We need to take him to the closest vet right away.”
“But it’s going on six,” she said. “Are any of the two clinics in town even open this late?”
“I’m not sure,” Mark replied, “but we’ll find out. There’s no time to waste.”
“Anything I can do?” Missey asked.
“Thanks, but no. After we get back from the vet’s, I’ll give you a call.”
Minutes later, Mark carried the swaddled dog into the veterinary clinic while Rebecca hurried ahead to hold open the door. Meanwhile, Wendy remained in Mark’s shadow, never taking her eyes off Bandit for even a moment.
“I’m guessing Bandit ingested close to two pounds of milk chocolate,” Mark told the veterinarian inside the exam room. “At least that’s what it looked like, judging by the wrappers.”
Rebecca, who was standing a few feet back from the examining table, squeezed her daughter’s hand. Frigid fear sluiced through her.
“Is Bandit gonna die?” Wendy asked in a small voice. “Just like my daddy died?”
Rebecca closed her eyes and gripped Wendy’s hand more tightly. Oh no, please God, no.
“Let’s just let the veterinarian do what he can for Bandit,” Rebecca said raggedly. She felt as if someone had ripped out her insides.
And what could this incident possibly mean? Who had given the dog the chocolate? How long would this monster wait to strike again? And most importantly, who could it be? There were undoubtedly many in town who still opposed Mark.
“Your mom’s right, Wendy.” Mark glanced over his shoulder and sent her a reassuring wink, but his expression belied his casual demeanor. “Don’t worry. Doc Mullinson is the best. He’ll do everything possible to help Bandit.”
The vet’s gaze skittered from Mark to Rebecca as he disengaged his stethoscope and let it drape around his neck. “Your pup’s heartbeat is extremely rapid, too rapid to count. A bad case of tachycardia. I’m going take an electrocardiogram, then fax the results to the Animal Cardiac Clinic in Portland. It’s often typical for life-threatening cardiac arrhythmias to take over under these circumstances, but as I said, there’s still hope.”
Yes, hope, Rebecca thought with a growing lump in her throat. But the little bit of hope she could muster up seemed to be dwindling quickly.
A short while later, Dr. Mullinson strode back into the examination room, his face grim. “I just received a call back from the specialist. Your dog’s heart rate is over three times more rapid than it should be. I’m going to give him Lidocaine to stabilize the rhythm and treat him with medications to check the effects of the chocolate. If he survives this first hurdle, he’ll still have to stay for more care and observation, of course.”
Wendy started to cry again.
Rebecca’s head swirled and the room seemed to tilt. “Come, Wendy,” she said. “Let’s go outside in the waiting room until Mark and the vet are done talking. I’m sure it won’t be much longer.”
To Rebecca’s surprise, her daughter complied without a whimper. While they waited, she wondered what Bandit’s full treatment might entail, if he in fact did survive, and the resulting costs. But whatever it added up to, Mark could easily afford it, she reassured herself. And most of all, the dog was like family to him. Yes, he would undoubtedly pay any price necessary to save Bandit.
Later Mark joined them. The tight lines around his eyes and mouth had softened some.
“So?” she said, her shoulders rigid.
“Bandit’s heart has converted to a normal rhythm, but he’s still semi-comatose. We’ll just have to take it one day at a time.”
“That means Bandit’s okay?” Wendy asked, her eyes round and pleading.
“So far, Wendy,” Mark answered. “I’m afraid, though, Bandit’s not out of the woods yet. We’ve got to give him a chance to get better, so he’s going to stay with the vet for a few days.”
Once again Rebecca marveled at his gentleness, his easy way with her daughter. It’s a pity he didn’t specialize in pediatric psychiatry. She also couldn’t help wondering what kind of father he’d be with his own flesh-and-blood child . . . and realized in an instant, the answer was something so powerful it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
“Well,” Mark continued, heaving a sigh. He exchanged a quick glance with Rebecca above Wendy’s head. “Now that Bandit’s heart is better—at least for right now—I think this calls for a celebration. Anybody hungry? We could grab a hamburger or a pizza somewhere in town.”
“I’m not hungry,” Wendy said, her eyes downcast.
After all the commotion, Rebecca had to admit, she wasn’t either. But it was obvious Mark had his mind set on bringing a smile back to her daughter’s face.
“Well, nothing saying we have to go for a full meal then. How about stopping at the Ice Creamery for a banana split?”
That did it.
“Oh, can we?” Wendy exclaimed, her face lighting up like the sun moving from behind a gray cloud.
“You got it!” Mark chuckled.
“Sounds good to me,” Rebecca put in.
Wendy tugged on Mark’s shirtsleeve. “Can I please have a cherry and whipped cream on top of mine?”
* * *
On their way to the ice cream shop, Mark tried his best to keep his troubled thoughts at bay. Oh yes, there was no doubt in his mind that Bandit’s poisoning was intentional. Hadn’t the writer of the note promised there’d be more grief in store? Now it seemed more crucial than ever to discover who it was, to put a stop to this nonsense before something really serious happened.
The more he thought about Bandit, the more his blood boiled. He wanted to punch the jerk’s lights out, despite the fact he himself was a God-fearing man and had no business even thinking that way. Yep, whoever he or she was, he or she certainly knew how to deliver a low blow. Taking it out on an innocent dog . . . not to mention, nearly breaking a little girl’s heart. His own, too.
&nb
sp; They drove past an antique shop, a variety store, the finally the Chamber of Commerce, where he noticed Norm McIntosh’s car parked near the back door—but the rest of the lot appeared empty. Mark glanced over at Rebecca, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, the contemplative tilt of her head, her soft lips. She looked downright beautiful.
Forget it, Simons. You’ve already set the record straight with her. You told her you aren’t the marrying kind. He narrowed his gaze on the road ahead. Too many appreciative glances in her direction, and they could all be in trouble big time, perhaps even end up in the ditch.
Still, having a woman like her to have and to hold—a wife, he reminded himself—would certainly help make the tough times like this a bit more bearable. Whatever made him think he was really cut out to go solo through life?
At the Ice Creamery, he and Rebecca shared a banana split, complete with chocolate sauce, whipped cream, ground peanuts, and a maraschino cherry on top. Wendy, though, had devoured her own banana split, barely leaving a trace. While they ate, their conversation remained subdued with short bursts of excitement every so often from Wendy. So far, she hadn’t uttered another word about Bandit, thank God. Still, he couldn’t help but sense her worrisome thoughts of the dog were right on the edge, and she’d probably start talking about him once they hit the road again.
He was right.
“Is Bandit gonna get well?” Wendy asked later from the back seat of the Lexus. Her voice sounded small and pleading. “Will we get to take him home tomorrow? Will he still want to play with the Frisbee?”
“We’ll just have to wait and see, honey.” He set his jaw as he switched lanes to pass a slow moving vehicle ahead. “I promise to call the clinic first thing tomorrow morning and check, okay? I might even try later tonight.”
Rebecca, looking out her side window, remained totally silent, apparently at a loss to know what to say to her daughter. He quickly touched her shoulder and she met his gaze, her eyes soulful and questioning.
A House Divided Page 17
