by Dana Mason
“Wow, great bedroom,” her voice seemed to echo in the large room. Regardless of how much Sarah hated track houses, this bedroom was incredible. She walked to one of the windows and looked out, expecting to see another house exactly like this, but instead she faced the neighborhood park. Beautiful eucalyptus and redwood trees lined the park and connected walking trail.
Sarah stared for a minute, not sure what to do with herself. Then she grabbed her bag and laid it on the futon in Mark’s office. From the side pocket, she pulled out her most recent Stephanie Plum novel.
She took the book into Mark’s room and stretched out on the sofa in front of his fireplace, wishing it was cold enough to justify a fire. Being here, in his room, seemed like an intrusion. She couldn’t avoid thinking of his wife, and of this being the room they shared together. The thought made her lonely. She’d never shared warm memories with someone like Mark had. Even after a divorce, he still had a fondness for Ali. All Sarah felt for Kevin was fear.
Mark, Ali, and Jamie had been a family here, and knowing that...and being here, made her feel like she didn’t belong.
These lingering thoughts made her wish she hadn’t suggested he bring her here. She didn’t need a reminder of what she couldn't have.
An hour later, the alarm system started beeping. She reached for the cell phone, but when Mark entered a code, the beeping stopped.
It took him about fifteen minutes to come up the stairs, and she wondered if maybe he was avoiding her. When he came in, her gaze was fixed on the lifeless fire grate. A few seconds later, the fire came to life.
“That’s cool. I wish I would’ve figured that out an hour ago.”
He grinned and pointed to the switch on the wall near the mantel. “You like that?”
“Yeah, that’s the one regret I have about my house—no fireplace.”
“I like not having to lug firewood up the stairs.” He sat down on the end of the sofa and put her feet in his lap.
She jerked away and curled her knees to her chest.
“I don’t bite, you know.”
Her face grew hot. “Sorry, thought I’d give you some space.”
“Is that a tattoo I see peeking out from under your jeans?” He reached out and grabbed her foot before she had time to refuse.
She didn’t mind if he looked at the tattoo, but she wanted to tread more carefully with him, especially after sleeping in the same bed the other night...and again this morning. She’d slept better with him next to her than she’d slept in years. And that’s what scared her.
When he turned her foot and tickled her, she squirmed and said, “It’s a Celtic band.”
“What does the phrase say?”
“‘Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír’. It’s an Irish proverb, ‘There is hope from the sea, but there is no hope from the land’ or grave...depending.” She shrugged her shoulders, praying he didn’t ask why she tattooed that on her ankle.
“That’s beautiful, but what does it mean?”
“I’m sure it means different things to different people. It helps me get through difficult times and”—her grin faded—“deal with grief.”
“I guess it goes hand-in-hand with the Celtic Knot?”
“Yeah, helps me persevere.”
“So does the knot have a special meaning?”
“It’s protection, like a shield.” She hesitated, trying to find the words. “It’s hard to explain because it’s so personal to me.”
“Do you mind sharing?”
“No, it’s just...” She looked at the tattoo before continuing. “This represents my family, my life. Having such a mixed family like I do.” She pointed and ran her finger over the strands in the knot. “This helps me keep everything together. Each strand in the knot represents different aspects of my life interwoven into each other. Though each strand is individual, none can be separated from the whole, and all are never-ending. That’s how it protects, like strength in numbers or strength in love. All aspects joined together to defeat the evils in my life.” Her face grew warm again when she met his eyes. “I know, kinda corny, huh?”
“Corny—no. Thoughtful and powerful. It tells me where you draw your strength from, which is contradictory because you hate your family.”
“I don’t hate my family. Of course not.”
“Okay.” Mark lifted his hand. “Sorry.”
“They’re just...messy. I love them a great deal more from a distance.”
“I can honestly say I’ve never heard anyone describe their family as messy,” Mark said. “But after everything you’ve told me, I can understand why you feel that way.”
Sarah let out a sarcastic laugh, glad he hadn’t met her family. Messy was the perfect description for them. “I’ll spare you the details.”
He looked up from the tattoo. “Tell me about your house?”
“There’s not much of a story there.” She pulled her feet away again and tucked them under her.
“I love the way it’s off the street and hidden away in a little nook. Hard to see if you’re not looking for it.” He shrugged and said, “It’s beautiful, but not very secure.”
“I love my little place,” she said, her mood lightening. “Ava was dating a real estate agent, he told her about it. They showed me under the pretense that she wanted to buy it. I found out later she had no intentions, and instead, talked me into buying. She hoped if I bought a house I would stick around a little longer, and it worked. I’m still here.”
“So, you must like Santa Rosa?” He turned and rested his arm on the back of the sofa.
She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, nodding. “Yeah. I only planned to stay long enough to get a couple of years teaching experience before moving on. But I bought my house and never got around to leaving.”
“You’ve never been married.”
She chuckled.
“Nope. I’ve managed to dodge that bullet.” Almost literally.
“Then...,” he said as he picked at a snag in the fabric on the back of the sofa, “why the name change?”
Sarah narrowed her eyes at him, the smile dropping from her face. How the hell did he know about that? “What are you talking about?”
“The yearbook...your picture said Sarah Lange? If you never married, why is your name different?”
She tried to relax again, but he was getting a little too personal for her taste. “Jennings is my father’s last name. Since they never married, my mother gave me her name when I was born. When I moved to San Francisco, I changed it to Jennings.”
“Is Lange her maiden name?”
“No, it’s Devon’s father’s name. He was her first husband and the love of her life.”
He lifted one eyebrow in question, making her laugh. Of course it sounded strange to someone who didn’t know the story, Sarah understood that.
“Oscar Lange was her first love, but he died right after Devon was born. She’s remarried a couple of times, but she’s always kept his name.”
Mark closed his eyes. “Wow. That is incredibly sad.”
“The sad part is that Devon never had a father.”
Sarah thought about Jamie and wondered how different her life might’ve been with attentive parents.
“Do you mind if I ask,” he grimaced, “how old are you?”
She grinned. “Lacking the math skills to figure it out?”
He looked confused for a second. “Math? Oh right, the yearbook. Ah...twenty nine, thirty?”
“Thirty.” She gave him a curious look. “And you’re thirty-five?”
“Thirty-five.” He dropped his head back against the couch. “Wow, do I look that old?”
She put her hand over her mouth and mumbled, “Sorry.”
“Kidding.” He snickered. “I just turned thirty-three.”
She smacked him lightly and gasped. “Thirty-three. You literally got married right out of high school.”
“We didn’t wait. I never doubted that decision until the day she said she wasn
’t in love with me.”
Mark frowned when he said this, which angered Sarah more than she wanted to admit. He had a broken heart and she could relate to his disillusionment.
“My parents have been married for thirty-five years. I wanted what they have. What can I say, I was young and stupid—and in too much of a hurry.”
Sarah couldn’t balk at that. She had been guilty of the same thing, young and stupid. God, the manipulation, and the emotional abuse Kevin put her through.
Her stomach quivered a little when she realized if her baby would have lived, she’d be eight now—the same age as Mark’s son. How funny life could be, and how cruel. When she looked back up at Mark, he was watching her with those searching eyes again. She smiled in an attempt to hide her heavy thoughts.
“Wait a minute. You said just turned thirty-three, so you recently celebrated a birthday?”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “A few days ago,” he finally said without looking up.
She chuckled at his reluctance. “Well, happy birthday. So what day was your birthday?”
He looked up from lowered lashes. “A week ago today.”
“Oh.” She frowned, unable to hide how miserable she felt about that. “You spent your birthday taking care of me?”
“I promised my mom I would pick her up from work and have dinner with her and my dad. That’s why I was at the school.”
“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.”
“Don’t be stupid...do you think I care about missing dinner?”
“Obviously, family is important to you.”
“I can have dinner with my family anytime I want.” He looked directly into her eyes now, holding her gaze. “Nothing that happened to you last week was your fault.”
He was right. She didn’t have control over what happened, and deep down she understood that. Sometimes it was hard to shut down the old programming.
“Please don’t do that. You’re going to make me feel bad,” Mark said when she grew quiet.
She waved him off. “I won’t feel bad, if you don’t. How’s Jamie?” she said to change the subject.
“He’s fine. I took him to lunch and he didn’t stop talking until I dropped him off at Ali’s.”
“I’m sorry he didn’t get to come home with you.”
“Me too, but you’ll get to meet him next Tuesday.”
“Why? What happens on Tuesday?”
“Ali agreed to let me spend the evening with him so I’m picking him up from school. I promised him the three of us would go out to dinner before I took him back to his mother’s.”
“Ah...” She was torn between curiosity and fear. Not once over the last few days had she considered meeting his son. “The three of us?”
“Yeah, I told him about you.”
Told him what about me? “What exactly did you say?”
“I told him we were friends and that you’d had an accident.”
“And did he believe you?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t he believe me?”
Maybe because if her mother would have told her that story, Sarah never would have believed her. “You don’t think this will be resolved by Tuesday. I can’t live with a shadow over my shoulder forever.”
Mark’s expression dampened. “Brian is doing everything he can. Hopefully you can tolerate me for a few more days.”
“No—you know that’s not what I’m saying.” This wasn’t personal, she actually liked him and enjoyed his company. “I feel restless and...” She pressed her lips together, trying to find the right words to explain. “I hate—and I mean hate not being able to take care of myself.”
Mark’s mouth quirked into a grin. “Yeah, I caught that.”
“It’s not funny.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I can’t stand being cooped up all the time. I can’t even go for a run in the park.”
He nodded in sympathy, but there was no way she could explain the length of her discomfort without offending him.
“You have a target on your back, and this guy doesn’t seem like the type to give up.”
Her stomach did a little flip at that. No, she didn’t want to be face-to-face with that guy again. She placed her feet on the floor and looked into the fire, not sure where to go from here. She didn’t have her gun, she couldn’t force Ava to take time off—her options were limited, to say the least. “I’m not sure what I should do.”
“You’re already doing it.”
She slapped a hand on her thigh and stood. “That’s the problem. I’m not doing anything. God, I don’t want to go stay with my mother.”
She closed her eyes and dropped her head, knowing she didn’t have a choice.
He chuckled. “You don’t have to call your mother, Sarah, just hang out with me for a few days...maybe a week. It’s not a big deal. When you’re recovered enough, I’ll go running with you at Spring Lake.” He grinned. “At least I’ll try to keep up with you.”
“That’s nice, Mark. Thank you for what you’re doing. I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate all the help you’re giving me.”
He stood and approached her. “If you’re so appreciative, then accept my help. It makes me feel better knowing you’re safe...I do this for a living, remember?”
“What about Jamie?”
“Let’s just take this one day at a time. If by Friday this attacker isn’t in custody, we’ll figure something out.”
“Jamie didn’t question your explanation? It’s not like he’s ever heard of me before.”
“Oh, he asked tons of questions,” Mark smiled. “Especially once he found out you’re a teacher.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.”
“I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure he’ll love you once he meets you.”
Sarah didn’t know how to take that. It sounded like she already had a strike against her.
Chapter Fifteen
Reluctantly, Sarah agreed to let Mark help her. They spent a couple of days at his house, and on Tuesday when Brian didn’t have anything new on her attacker, she and Mark returned to her house. She found she didn’t mind him sleeping on her sofa, but this arrangement couldn’t go on forever.
She was having a difficult time being objective about him. It would’ve been easier if he wasn’t so attentive and sweet to her. He never let her do anything for herself, and it was to the point of being annoying. She didn’t want to get used to relying on him, and she didn’t feel like she deserved his attention, especially after the way she’d treated him in the beginning.
He was also adamant about her having some protection, and she understood why. She wasn’t ready to be on her own either, not after the break-in, the note, the phone call...the idea of facing her attacker again scared her senseless.
Sarah pressed the play button on her answering machine when she entered the house, while Mark carried in their overnight bags. After the long beep, Gabby’s booming voice echoed out of the machine.
“Sar-rah, it’s Gabby—where the hell have you been? I hope you’re not sitting around getting fat on me, girl. Don’t make me come over there and drag your hot, little ass out of bed.”
Sarah grew warm with affection. Gabby, her personal trainer, was also a pretty good friend.
Gabby left two messages, and while listening to the second, she realized she’d completely flaked on their planned run around Spring Lake on Sunday.
She grabbed the handset and called him back.
“Hey, Gabs, phone tag, you’re it. And no, I’m not getting fat.” She laughed. “Sorry I flaked on our run Sunday. I hurt myself. Gotta take a break—doctor’s orders. Call me back.”
She clicked the phone off and looked up at Mark when he stepped back inside the house.
“You won’t tell family about your attack—”
“I didn’t tell Gabby either, and even if I did, he wouldn’t freak out like my mother.”
Mark smirked. “Gabby is a guy?”
“Yes, Gabriel is my personal trainer and a friend.”
“Personal trainer? Okay.” He handed her a stack of envelopes. “Here’s your mail. No strange notes this time, but letters for Robert Jennings from Stanford.”
“Ah, snooping through my mail, huh?”
“No, I just...” He stopped when he realized she was kidding. “Robert...brother, right?”
“Yeah, he’s at Stanford. I need to go drop these off within the next couple of days.”
“Drop them off?”
“I have to drop them off at my accountant’s office.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Your accountant—you pay your little brother’s tuition at Stanford?”
“Yes, I do,” she said, flipping through the mail, hoping like hell he didn’t ask any questions. Some information she planned to keep quiet about, and her money was on a need-to-know basis only.
“I have to pick up Jamie from school at two-thirty. Do you want to come with me? He’ll need to finish his homework before we go out.”
“I think I’d like to stay here.” She saw the argument dangling on the tip of his tongue and held her hand up. “Pick me up for dinner later. You can’t be with me every waking moment.” She smiled. “Go spend some time with your son.”
"Fine, but I need you to take some precautions first.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right, lock the doors, set the alarm to stay mode, and keep my phone on me at all times. I got it.” She laughed. “Go on.”
Chuckling, Mark headed for the door. “All right, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
He stepped outside with a wave, closing the door behind him. She punched the stay button and clicked the locks. When he finally backed out of the driveway, she inhaled deeply, glad to have a moment to herself.
She spent the afternoon on her computer, catching up with her family. She wrote messages full of lies about how well she was doing and how much she liked her group of first graders this year. She e-mailed Devon too, hoping to hear from him soon. When she had messages sent off to her mom and dad, she instant messaged with Ava until Ava refused to stop hinting about Mark, or the superhero, as she liked to call him.
Sarah liked Mark, but she knew she couldn’t allow anything more than a friendship between them.
