by Tracy Krauss
"Harmony!"
"Not like she’d be falling all over you, or anything like that, but just like, if she needed to, you know, call on you for moral support.” Harmony’s voice took on a touch of pleading. "I mean, she is an old friend."
Mark shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "Harmony Graham, you can be a real pain sometimes, you know that?"
"Why?" Harmony asked quickly. "I mean, it’s not that bad, is it? Pretending to like Amy, I mean."
It was absolutely the opposite of bad. But he couldn’t let his little sister know that. "No, no of course not. That’s not what I meant."
"Good. Then you’ll be there?"
Mark hesitated for another second or two, looking over at his computer screen. "Sure. I’ll be there. Just let Amy know I might need to call in a similar favour one of these days."
"Oh?" Harmony asked, all curiosity. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing.” Mark laughed. "Now get off the phone so I can get some of this work done before I have to meet you."
"Thanks, Mark. You’re the best. Oh, and I forgot to tell you. You should dress up."
"Dress up?” Mark repeated.
"Yeah, you know, a suit or something."
"Whatever you say. Sounds like you have it all worked out."
"Absolutely," Harmony agreed.
Okay, Mark admitted to himself after hanging up the telephone. The prospects of seeing Amy Walters again so soon were not that bad. In fact, it was probably just what he needed to rid him of any niggling doubts about his upcoming presentation.
Chapter Twenty
Mark entered the dim interior of the upscale restaurant and scanned the room for his sister. No sign of her. She could be running late. That wouldn’t be unusual for Harmony.
He tugged at the suit jacket and straightened his tie. He didn’t much like suits, but he did own a couple. Doctors of Archaeology had to make speeches on occasion and they came in handy once in awhile. The last time he’d worn this one, though, was at Jack’s funeral. Probably not the best comparison for tonight’s event.
"This way, sir," the hostess said, leading him further into the interior of the building. Mark was surprised when the hostess stopped and he was confronted with Amy Walters. Alone.
"Hi.” She waved and smiled.
"Um, where’s everyone else?" Mark asked, looking around.
"Harmony just called. She said they’d be late. Cory’s car wouldn’t start."
"They could always take a cab," Mark suggested, more to himself than to her. He sat down across from Amy and glanced her way. There was definitely something different about the way she looked. Her hair was swept up off her neck in an elegant style and the dress… spaghetti straps, low V-neck - nothing indecent, but definitely not the demure type of clothing he was used to seeing her wear.
He cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on the tabletop instead.
"Is everything okay?" Amy asked.
"What? Oh, absolutely," Mark replied and tried for a relaxed smile. "I was just - I mean, you look different this evening. That’s all."
"Oh." The syllable sounded flat.
"I mean, in a good way. Nice… but different."
There was more awkward silence. Amy let out a long and heartfelt sigh. "I, um… I don’t think I’m very good at this," she admitted.
“Oh? And that would be…?"
"This.” She made a vague gesture with her hand.
“I’m not following.”
Amy sighed. ”Harmony planned this whole thing. She thinks we would, you know, make a good couple or something. It was all her idea, and I didn’t stop her. I’m really sorry because now I feel so stupid for going along with it.”
Mark’s eyebrows rose slightly as he took this information in. “So, I take it she and Cory aren’t actually coming?”
Amy shook her head, her gaze focused on the table top. “No.” She looked up and captured Mark’s gaze with her own. “I feel so embarrassed right now I could die.”
“It’s me, remember? We’re old friends.” Mark smiled in what he hoped was a casual way. His own heart was actually pounding in his ears and he wondered if she could hear it.
“I know. That’s what makes it so silly. You probably still think of me as that foolish little girl. You sister’s little friend.”
“No. Not exactly.”
“If you want to we can just leave," Amy said, looking down.
“You probably think of me as the ancient older brother,” Mark countered. “Is that it?”
“No!” Amy looked up.
“Good.”
“Then you’re not mad?”
“Should I be?”
Amy rolled one of her shoulders. “We did kind of trick you.”
“I’m a little ashamed to say I fell for it so easily.” A slight smile was playing about his features. “I should have known Harmony would be up to something. I hate to think of all the teasing I’m going to have to put up with, though.”
“We don’t have to stay."
"There’s no hurry. Now that we’re here we might as well have dinner.”
“You’re sure?’
“Positive.”
"Okay.” She nodded and ducked behind her menu.
◇ ◇ ◇
The rest of their evening at the restaurant went smoothly. There were lots of things to talk about - safe things - like family and football and warm fall weather. When the conversation began to wane and they’d had as many refills of coffee as either could stand, Mark offered to drive Amy home.
"You just need to turn up here," Amy pointed as they neared her street. "Third house in with the blue door."
"I know the way," Mark said with a smile.
"Oh. Right.” Amy laughed.
Mark pulled up in front of Amy’s parents’ home and put his SUV in park, letting the motor idle. There was a moment of awkward silence before Amy made a move to get out of the vehicle.
"Hold on," Mark said, grabbing her hand.
Amy blinked.
The atmosphere in the confined space was electric. “Amy, you must know I want to kiss you," Mark stated.
She worked her bottom lip and nodded.
“But I can’t help thinking about the difference in our ages. I mean, you’re young. You don’t want to get entangled with a fossil like me."
“You’re hardly a fossil," she breathed.
“And you’re not a little girl,” Mark said. "And believe me, I noticed - even without the recent make over."
"Oh."
There was no more questioning the wisdom of the inevitable. They leaned toward one another and allowed a first tentative kiss. Mark hated to draw away, but knew, for both their sakes, he had to take it slow.
"You know, my sister told me I had to come tonight to protect you from some guy who had a crush on you," Mark said.
"Oh?" Amy asked, blinking.
"Yeah. She said you wouldn’t appreciate his advances, so we might have to pretend to, you know… like each other."
"I didn’t know she said any of that.”
“I’m not pretending," Mark said quietly. She didn’t say anything. "And I hope you don’t mind."
"No, no I don’t," Amy whispered.
"Good." He leaned over for another kiss, this one slower and more deliberate. When they separated, both were breathing more heavily.
"I have a message I want you to give to my sister," Mark said, a slight smile spreading across his face.
"Oh? What’s that?"
"Tell her, her matchmaking services are no longer needed."
Chapter Twenty-One
"I brought that package by," Russ said, stepping into Mark’s office.
Mark looked up from his desk. “Hm?”
"The package," Russ repeated. "The one that came to our house by mistake. From…” he read off the package, "Charlene Howard."
"Oh that. Just put it there." Mark gestured to a pile of other unopened mail on his desk.
"Oh. Guess I needn’t have bothere
d then, if it’s not important.” Russ shrugged. "I thought it might have something to do with the top secret whatever it is you’re working on."
“It’s not top secret.”
“But nothing you can share with your old man," Russ stated, clearly fishing.
"Look Dad," Mark explained. "You already know from what I told you that I’m going to run into some opposition. I just don’t want to put you in a compromising position, that’s all."
"Who am I going to tell?"
"No one, but…” He sighed. "Look, I might as well tell you. I’m planning to head to Texas next week. I’m still working on putting together an airtight dissertation on that excavation site. Only now it’s got to be sooner than later."
"That sounds like good news," Russ offered.
"It is, but I still need to be careful. There are some people out there that won’t take kindly to what I have to share."
"Are you being threatened?" Russ’s eyebrows descended.
"In recent enough history that I don’t want to take any chances," Mark admitted. "I just want to be safe, alright?"
"Are you sure you should go through with this?"
"Not a doubt in my mind.” Mark sat up straighter. “Look, I’d love to tell you everything, but I think it’s best for everyone if I just keep it under wraps until the actual day of reckoning."
"Sounds ominous."
"Don’t worry, okay? Everything is going to turn out alright. But I just think it would be better for you - and Deanie - to know as little as possible. Once everything is out in the open, you might see my reasons. But for now, you’ll just have to trust me."
"You know I always do," Russ said, surveying his son for a moment. "Just be careful." He cleared his throat. "Okay. Well, there’s the package anyway." He patted it where it sat on Mark’s desk and turned to leave.
"Dad?”
Russ stopped and turned around. “Yes?"
"There’s something else on my mind, if you have a minute." Mark smiled sheepishly.
"Okay. Sure," Russ responded, eyeing his son as he sat down.
Mark took a deep breath. "So what was it like for you when you first met Deanie?"
Russ blinked, obviously surprised by the turn in the conversation.
"When you first knew you might have feelings for Deanie," Mark rephrased. "How was that for you?"
"I don’t even want to tell you what I thought of Deanie the first time I saw her," Russ said.
"Love at first sight?" Mark asked with an amused grin.
Russ laughed. “Hardly. I thought she was a little tramp.”
"Okay. So once you figured that part out, then what?"
Russ leaned back in his chair, considering. "Sometimes she made me so mad. I couldn’t really sort my own feelings out. But I knew I couldn’t live without her.”
"And what about the difference in your ages?" Mark persisted. "Was that a problem for either of you? How did you reconcile that in your mind?"
Russ squinted his eyes at Mark. “Why all the questions all of a sudden? This doesn’t have anything to do with Amy Walters, does it?"
"How did you know?" Mark’s own eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Your sister isn’t that good at keeping secrets," Russ stated dryly. "How old is Amy, now, anyway?"
"She’ll be twenty-one pretty soon," Mark replied.
"And you are?"
"Thirty-three."
Russ nodded. ”Thirty-four next month, if I remember correctly.”
"Yeah. Right," Mark agreed, his tone flat.
"So that makes you thirteen years older than her, give or take a few months."
"I know," Mark said with a grim sounding sigh. "I don’t know what’s gotten into me."
Russ just shrugged. "I’m almost fifteen years older than you stepmother. Seems to me you’re like your old man in more ways than we imagined. We Graham men just take a little longer to decide on a mate, that’s all. We’re choosey. But when the right one comes along, there will be no other choices."
Mark thought about that for a minute. Amy Walters was his choice. Now he just had to convince her of that fact. "Thanks. That helps a lot."
"Good. Well, I better get going," Russ said, rising.
"Um, one more thing," Mark stopped him again. "About that package. I was debating whether I should say anything or not, but I think maybe I need to."
Russ frowned. "What is it?"
"Maybe you should sit down again," Mark suggested.
Russ did as he was told and waited patiently for Mark to continue.
"I’ve been contacted by this Charlene Howard person. Actually, she came here with her husband and child not that long ago. I was going to tell you then, but I chickened out."
Russ just raised his eyebrows but didn’t prompt any further.
"Yeah… she’s actually my sister.” Mark could see the change in his father’s countenance the moment the words registered. "She’s Miranda’s - my mother’s - daughter," Mark continued quickly. "Apparently she remarried and never told any of them about me - or you. There’s a boy, too. Harmony’s age."
"And how do you feel about this?" Russ asked tightly.
"Confused, angry, indifferent… how should I feel?"
"I suppose she wants to meet with you," Russ stated. "After all these years."
"As far as I know, Miranda doesn’t know Charlene made contact. It was an accident that she even found out about my existence when she ran across a scrapbook Miranda had been keeping about my career."
"I see.” Russ rose abruptly from the chair. "Well, you do whatever you want to. I won’t stop you. You’re a man, after all."
"Dad…”
Russ shook his head and gave a self-depreciating laugh. "After all these years. I thought I was completely over it. I’m surprised at how - vulnerable I feel right now."
"Me too."
"I’m not sure what I’m going to tell Deanie," Russ mused.
"You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to."
"Are you kidding?" Russ laughed. "Your stepmother has this uncanny sense - like radar. She can spot when something’s troubling me from a mile away. I’m afraid I’m not that good at keeping secrets. At least not with her."
"Sorry, Dad. For upsetting you," Mark offered.
"I’ll get over it. I’m not totally soft, you know."
◇ ◇ ◇
"So what did you think of the show?" Amy asked as she and Mark strolled hand in hand down the darkened downtown street.
Mark shrugged, allowing a slight smile to play at his lips. "Okay, I guess. I must confess I haven’t been to a movie in a long time."
It was only a short stroll from the theatre to Mark’s apartment. Their hands had been intertwined almost from the beginning of the movie. As soon as the lights had dimmed, Mark had reached over and taken her hand into his. It fit so perfectly; felt so comfortable.
"Now let’s see.” Mark stopped by his vehicle, still in its designated spot outside his building, as he dug in his jacket pocket. "I was sure I brought the keys with me when I left. It’ll be hard to take you home without them.
"Hope you didn’t drop them at the theatre,” Amy said.
"They’re probably just up in the apartment," Mark said. "You might as well come up for a minute while I go get them. You wouldn’t want to stand down here on the street."
Amy nodded. Mark took her hand again and they walked up the sidewalk to the old three story. He led her up the steep flight of steps along the side and unlocked the entrance to his own dwelling. "Not very elegant, I’m afraid," he apologized. "And excuse the mess. I’ve been a bit preoccupied with work."
It was rather cramped and certainly not new. But as far as any mess went, it looked pretty orderly for a bachelor pad. It was basically one room, except for a door, which led to the bedroom and bath.
"I’ll just be a minute," Mark said. "I think I left them on my dresser." He disappeared into the bedroom and was back in just a moment. "Ready to go then?"
"Hm? What’s that?" Amy asked absently.
"I was just wondering if you’re ready to go," Mark repeated. "Unless you’d like to stay for a bit. I could make coffee…” He trailed off.
"Coffee would be great.”
"Okay. You can just throw your coat over that chair if you like."
She nodded again and did as she was told, then lowered herself onto the sofa that was one of the few pieces of furniture in the compact room.
Mark busied himself with the coffee maker in the adjacent kitchenette and then turned with a smile. "That should only take a few moments." He crossed to the sofa and sat down beside her. "So How was your day at school?"
"Fine," Amy said. "Yours?"
"Fine."
"Good."
There were several minutes of tension filled silence. Mark felt as if his lungs were about to burst until he realized he was holding his breath.
"You’re awfully tense," Amy noted.
“Sorry." His arm had crept around the back of the sofa. "Did I tell you how very beautiful you look this evening?”
“Thanks.”
“Um… can I kiss you?”
“I thought you’d never ask!” Amy said with a giggle.
Their lips met, softly at first until it heightened into an explosion of light and stars. He leaned into her, pushing her backward onto the couch into a semi-reclining position.
"Wait."
The one syllable was so small, so tenuous, that he almost missed it. He pulled back slightly. "It’s okay. Don’t be afraid."
"But I am."
Mark pulled away fully, repositioning himself a short distance away. "I would never hurt you. You must know that."
"I know," she whispered. "It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s me."
"If it’s sex, we can wait if you want to," Mark continued. "For as long as you need." He stroked her cheek gently with the back of his index finger.
"Thanks. I - I appreciate that," she said, looking down. "You must think I’m awfully old fashioned. Or naïve."
"I think you are very, very beautiful." He bent his head for another kiss. Their lips met gently this time, tenderly, until the hunger took over again. This time it was Mark who pulled away.
