All That You Are (28 page)

She had to stand on tiptoe to reach him and he lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his thighs. She blended into his strong embrace, melting against him. His fingers burrowed into the depths of her hair as he kissed her back.

They kissed as if thirsting, their mouths greedily taking from the other and shattering the foundation of the resolve Mark had fought so hard to keep in place.

An aching need coursed through his veins and he could hardly keep from laying her on the ground and taking her.

He let her mouth trail over his cheek, brushing kisses on his eyelids and brows, finally settling on his earlobe. Torturous ecstasy rose from the depth of his throat.

It was too much.

Setting her feet back on the ground, he took a step back. As he clawed for breaths to fill his lungs, he raked his hand through his hair.

Dana struggled to stand firmly in place, a mixture of desire and an undefined emotion filling her eyes.

Clearing the hoarseness from his voice, he said, “We gotta be heading back if you're going to pick up your son on time.”

She managed to give him a half nod, then she turned and was heading down the trail. It was several long heart
beats before he was able to move without an aching tension in his muscles.

When he caught up to her, neither of them said anything the rest of the way down the hillside.

“H
EY
, M
ARK
?
Can you sleep over?” Terran asked, out of breath, wearing his helmet, knee and elbow pads. He'd been practicing on the skateboard ramp, showing Mark what he could do. His little boy face was bright with excitement.

Dana quickly curtailed that idea. “Terran, quit. Enough with the sleepover talk. Stop asking me.”

Mark shrugged with an amused expression. “It could be fun, Mom.”

His smile told her he was messing around. Ever since they'd come home from their weekend getaway, many of Mark's comments had reverted back to a casual flippancy, as if he needed to begin the process of distancing himself from her.

She should have been grateful he was making an effort to end things this way.

“See, Mommy—Mark wants to.” Terran painted a knowing smile on his mouth, a toothless one.

Feeling powerless to stop his burning desire for other people to spend the night with him, Dana cooked up a quick idea. “Terran, I think it's time we had a big boy sleepover here. We'll ask the entire hockey team to come and bring their sleeping bags and we can have hot dogs and cupcakes.”

“For real!” he exclaimed, and jumped up. “And my daddy, too, 'cause he's my hockey coach.”

Discomfort held Dana in a cold grasp. Mark's eyes caught hers and she looked away, unable to meet his. “No, baby. We've already talked about this. Daddy has his own house.”

Dejected, Terran's chin drooped. “Okay…”

Mark cut the grim mood as he said, “Come on, Terran, let me show you how to do something really cool.”

Dana watched as Mark took the skateboard and went up the ramp, flipped the board, then came back down. The stunt was quite impressive. For a man his age, his athletic agility was apparent and he impressed her son beyond measure.

“Now me, Mark!” Terran squealed, wanting to try the feat himself.

Patiently, Mark spent the next thirty minutes trying to prepare Terran to make the run in the same way. Of course Terran bit the dust more than he succeeded in getting the board to the top and turning it back down. But that didn't bother her son. From the red cheeks on his face, he was thrilled just to be hanging out with a big guy and being taught a new daring stunt.

Terran had always enjoyed a physical challenge—he got that from Cooper. Funny how there was something in a child's genes that paralleled the adult.

At that thought, Dana, who stood back watching, wondered if Mark would ever want children to raise. They'd not talked much, if anything, about it. Part of her was curious, another part told her to let the subject go. It was futile and proved nothing beyond her own simple curiosity. And maybe…hope.

Hope that possibly Mark wanted children and to be a parent. To be a father. But really, it didn't matter.

Dana didn't want to acknowledge the limited time they had left so she didn't. Instead, she smiled and clapped, encouraging her son to do his best while holding back when he fell. She refrained from helping him dust off. Any effort would have been a waste of her energy anyway. The spry little boy was up again barely after he'd smacked down.

Terran's bedtime approached and she gave him a five-minute warning for time to call it quits. As if he would never have another chance to use the ramp, he tried to get in as many attempts as possible at making the twist at the top.

He never succeeded and fell at least a dozen more times, his slender body sliding down the plywood slope. But he gave it his best shot, and she had no doubt he would eventually master the trick and command it.

She handed him a cold box juice from the garage refrigerator and he plopped down and huffed and panted from the exercise. He knew how to unfasten his helmet, and he did so. Then he greedily drank from the straw, sucking apple juice into his mouth.

“Can I get you a beer?” she asked Mark, who just inspected the ramp and checked the joints to his satisfaction.

Facing her, he declined. “I'm good. I have to take off soon.”

Regret momentarily held her in its clutches. She hated that he had to go, but knew that tomorrow was a big day at the Blue Note for him. The fire-exit steel was arriving, and he'd secured a crane to swing it into place.

Dana ruffled her son's sweaty hair, then smoothed its
shaggy length away from his forehead. He needed a haircut. “Finish your juice, baby boy, then it's time for your bath. You have to get to bed real soon.”

Terran smelled like damp clothes and marshmallow cookies.

As he removed his elbow pads, he asked, “Mommy, what time do I have to get up for kinny-garden?”

“No different than you do now.”

“Doncha want to set an alarm clock?”

“You won't need to, baby.”

“I don't mean me, Momma, I mean you. You don't get up too early.”

Dana traded glances with Mark, and she felt heat spread over her cheeks. “I will when you start school. I'll be there every day to drop you off.”

“And Daddy will be there the other days, won't he, Mommy?”

“Yes.”

“Who's going to pick me up?”

“Grandma or Daddy or the kids club bus—but just for a short time until Dad can get you when you're at his house.”

Terran's face grew serious as he processed the complexities of it all. “Okay,” he finally said, apparently whatever thoughts had been moving around in his head geared into place. Then to Mark, “Hey, Mark? Can you come over tomorrow to show me how to do this some more?”

Once again, Dana traded a look with Mark. She interjected, “Baby, Mommy has to work and I won't be home until really late.”

“But Mark could just come over.”

“That won't be—”

“Sure, if it's okay with your mom. I can come by after dinner and we'll work on it.”

Terran snapped his attention on her. “Doncha think that'd be okay?”

Dana kept her eyes on Mark, a tenderness inside her heart she would never expose, for it was too fragile for her to make sense of it. “Sure. If Grandma doesn't have any problem with it, that would be fine.”

That Mark Moretti would want to spend his Friday night at her house with her little boy, showing him how to do a skateboard trick, touched her more dearly than anything.

 

T
HE THREE
F
ISH
T
AIL
A
IR
floatplanes had to be relocated and the waterway in front of the Blue Note cleared to make room for the 175-foot-long barge. Before a hazy dawn broke the sky, a tugboat arrived, towing the barge carrying three sections of prefab, powder-coated steel to be assembled on-site.

By six o'clock, Mark's adrenaline had been in overdrive for an hour. With a meticulous and efficient pace, he guided the crawler crane along the pier. Its driver slowly proceeded forward, the sixty-five-ton crane moving like a snail. Its boom was in a safety position as it finally came to rest in front of the bar and the barge. A smaller crane with a man-lift basket had been employed, as well.

People who'd been out early or eating breakfast at the Pioneer Café, or who started work in nearby businesses, strolled over to have a closer look at the goings-on.

Moving the heavy lengths of steel off the barge and
into place at the Blue Note was a drawn-out process that interfered with the bar's normal business hours. Mark sent word to Dana that he'd get things wrapped up as soon as possible, but wouldn't rush the job as things got under way. One wrong move could mean disaster.

By evening, the barge had been unloaded and was on its way. Then, as the sun still hovered rather high in the Alaskan sky, Sam Hyatt had the floatplanes taxi back into place to resume business operations the following morning.

Throughout the day, Dana had come out of the Note to check on the progress of things. Mark had little opportunity to engage her in conversation. Days like this were stressful and he had to stay on top of every maneuver. Only once did he allow himself a moment to enjoy the way she looked when she approached him.

He never failed to appreciate how beautiful she was, how with just one look, she could make him feel as if she only smiled for him. Her eyes always captured his attention and made him long to pull her into his arms and kiss her.

But the day didn't lend itself to thoughts beyond that, and he quickly moved on to complete another phase of the project. When he finished for the day, he popped into the Blue Note to find Dana, but found her occupied with Friday-night customers at the bar. He turned around without talking to her and headed for his truck.

Mark, dead tired from a day that had stressed his muscles and patience, wanted nothing more than to head to his condo, shower and relax the rest of the night. But he'd made a promise to a little boy, and he intended to keep it.

What Mark didn't expect was to find a message on his cell phone from Suni Jackson saying she'd pre
pared a dinner for him and that she and Terran would be waiting.

Arriving for a late dinner, Mark was led inside by Dana's mom and ushered directly into the kitchen. He felt sort of out of place by the fact that he was here without Dana. Never expecting this scenario, he tried to reconcile to the strangeness of it.

The house smelled like roasted meat, onions and garlic, and his stomach growled.

Terran, excited to see him, bolted from his chair. “Mark, do you want to skateboard now?”

“Terran, sit back down,” Suni chastised, quilted pot holders in hand as she moved for the oven. “Dinner first. Afterward you can play with Mark.”

Mark held on to a smile. He hadn't counted on being anyone's playmate, either. But the prospect of showing Terran some more moves gave him a second wind. The boy was eager to learn, and he had no fear. He was a fun dude to be around, and Mark began to relax and settle in at the table.

Suni pulled out a roast beef with carrots and potatoes that had cooked in its own gravy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a homemade pot roast.

“Smells awesome,” Mark said, sitting politely.

“All men bow to the robust flavor of a pot roast. Oscar did, for sure.”

Mark had never bowed to any meal, but he'd been thankful for quite a few. He slid his napkin onto his lap. “Thanks for having me over.”

“Thanks for coming,” Terran piped in with his adult-like reply. Then he gave Mark a toothy grin and a giggle. “Hey, Mark, do you like Spiderman?”

“I've seen the movie.”

“My bed's a Spiderman.” Half off his chair, he asked, “Do you want to come see it?”

“After dinner, Terran,” Suni remarked, placing the pot roast in the table's center. To Mark, “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Whatever you've got handy. A pop would be fine.”

Terran lifted his glass, milk sloshing over the rim. “Grandma, can I have a soda pop?”

“No, you need to drink your milk.”

“Make mine a milk,” Mark offered, changing his mind.

Terran's nose crinkled, as if he were happy the two dudes at the table would be chugging milk together.

Mark drank in the boy's face, studying it and smiling softly to himself. While he resembled Dana with dark hair, the shape of his nose and brows, his features, mostly reminded him of Cooper. The slant of his eyes wasn't like Dana's at all. More Anglo. His color was neither Cooper's nor Dana's, and Mark thought back to the photo of Oscar Jackson and thought he could see a similarity now.

His bright and inquisitive face never seemed to let down in its innocent pursuit of things that made him smile. Even now he found pleasure in stirring his knife in his milk to make a pretend chocolate drink.

“Terran, knife out,” his grandmother cautioned before turning toward the stove. Terran eased back in his chair, wrinkling his face and making himself look like a baboon with hunched shoulders and silent grunts.

Mark almost laughed hard and loud, but didn't think Suni would appreciate it.

Suni brought gravy to the table, then sat. Unlike Sunday supper at his parents' house, the meal wasn't begun
with a blessing and the rancor of a dozen voices fighting to talk first about the goings-on in their lives. Rather, Suni had Terran send his empty plate her way and she served him a modest-size portion.

Terran talked about kindergarten and starting school—he held up fingers—in four days, not counting five and six days for Saturday and Sunday. He was very excited about it and wanted to know what Mark liked best about it.

“You know what—I really don't remember.” Mark knew that he had been a hellion in grade school, but going back in his memory to age five was digging rather deep. “I was young a long time ago.”

“Yep, you look pretty old.” Terran talked around a roast beef wad stuffed into his mouth.

“Terran, too much,” Suni chided, her brow arched in disapproval.

With one enthusiastic swallow, Terran finished the meat in his mouth, then cut into another slice. “Hey, Mark, have you seen that movie
Cars?
Do you like Lightning McQueen?”