Hearts Awakened (9 page)

“Let me look at you.” She leaned back, not breaking the circle of his arms, but framing his face with her palms. “It’s so good to see you. You’ve stayed away too long.”

His eyes prickled and he blinked. He couldn’t have gotten words out now if his life depended on it.

With a soft laugh, Myra patted his chest and stepped back, her sparkling gaze falling on Tori, who’d stopped at the hood and watched them with something approaching indulgence. Myra held out her hands. “And you must be Tori.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Honey, I’ve been dying to meet you.” Myra slipped an arm about Tori’s waist and hugged her close. “Glenn has been raving about you ever since he got home. Well, y’all come on back to the deck.” Releasing Tori, she waved them toward the house. “Glenn’s cooking and y’all need something cold to drink.”

Under Myra’s soothing attention, Tori’s brittle tension faded until she was relaxed and smiling, even laughing at Glenn’s bad jokes. Soon she and Myra discovered a shared love of all things antique and Myra was giving her the rundown on the best shops to hit in the historic district.

“Why do I see more junk browsing in my future?” he whispered as Myra hustled them to the table, where Glenn spilled the low country boil into a large pottery bowl.

She slipped into the chair next to his, her dark eyes glowing, all shadows gone for the moment. “Hey, we’re going to need something fun to do tomorrow after all those workshops.”

“I can think of plenty of fun things for us to do that don’t involve antiques, Tor.”

She fixed him with a startled look, her lips parted on a rejoinder, but Myra’s passing of plates and silverware forestalled her.

“Shoot, I forgot the bread.” Myra tapped Glenn’s arm. “Honey, come with me. We need the malt vinegar and you put it on that top pantry shelf again. Y’all serve yourselves; we’ll be right back.”

Tori spooned a generous helping of sausage, shrimp, corn and potatoes onto Mark’s plate, then her own. “What, exactly, is your idea of ‘fun’?”

The emphasis she placed on
fun
sounded almost sarcastic. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Something other than hitting every antique shop in town, maybe?”

“Mark. If I’m not going antiquing, I need options. You’re not exactly selling any here.”

He cast about for an idea. “I’m thinking.”

“This should not be that hard. What do you do for fun at home?”

Fun? When he wasn’t working, he hung out, sort of, with Tick. Which usually meant hanging out, sort of, with Tick and Falconetti, but since her pregnancy, there’d not been much of that. Every so often, he’d have a beer with Chris or one of his former colleagues from DCPD. He could get into a good football game, if FSU was playing. And he…

Well, hell.

“This is sad.” Turned sideways in her chair, Tori regarded him, her gaze incredulous. He flinched from the sympathy in those big eyes. “Are you telling me you don’t have anything outside of work?”

“I
like
my job.”

“So do I, but I also have a life.”

He lifted his brows and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry.” Her palm muffled the apology. “I did not mean that the way it came out.”

A laugh vibrated in his chest. Hot damn, she was cute when she was embarrassed. “Yes, you did.”

She lowered her hand, still watching him, and he chafed under that intent, watchful look. He rested his hands upon his knees. “Look, Tori, just because I’m not constantly running around when I’m not working doesn’t mean I don’t have a life. I lead a quiet life. I like it that way.”

“You lead a quiet existence. It’s not the same thing.”

“Sure it—”

“Here we are.” Myra swept back to the porch, Glenn on her heels. She placed a basket of steaming rolls on the table and settled into her seat. “I’m sorry we kept you waiting. Tori, while you’re here, you should visit Uptown San Marco. There are some great antique shops through there. Mark, you’d have no trouble finding it. They’re in those blocks before you get to the Mission.”

“Oh, I can find them, Myra.” He peeled a shrimp. “The question is whether or not I
want
to. You haven’t seen her turned loose in an antique store. We might never make it back to Georgia.”

“Behave.” Tori dug her elbow into his ribs. “I’m not that bad.”

“Of course you’re not.” He waited a second. “And your brother doesn’t like to fish.”

Laughter swelled around the table. They tucked into the casual feast, Myra continuing to draw Tori out as the meal progressed.

“So what have you done while you’ve been here?” Myra asked after she’d set her empty plate aside.

Mark caught the glance Tori cast at him beneath her lashes before she leaned forward to answer Myra’s question. “Last night we had dinner at O.C. White’s then walked St. George Street. That was fun.”

He draped his arm along the back of her chair, his fingers dangling just above the smooth skin of her arm. “Even without antiques.”

“Yes.” Her soft laugh tickled his ears and warmed him. “Even without antiques.”

Myra watched them with indulgence. “Make sure he takes you out to climb the lighthouse. The view is a must-see, but be prepared…your legs will feel like spaghetti afterward.”

“Now that sounds great.” Tori turned an eager look on him. “Do you think we could put that on tomorrow’s agenda after the seminars?”

“Yeah.” He managed to get the syllable out in an ordinary-enough voice as the conversation turned around him. Sudden memories tumbled through his head. Climbing the circular iron stairs in the lighthouse as the last patrons of the day, Jenny’s youthful laughter echoing off the plastered walls. Their second date…no, their third. They’d been kids, still in high school, his senior year, her sophomore one. He’d been so lost in her already then, and he’d loved how her eyes glowed at him. Atop the structure, she’d turned into his arms and he’d kissed her for the first time, a chaste mingling of warm lips.

Weird how here, not just in town, but at Glenn and Myra’s, Jenny had been so far from his thoughts for the afternoon and evening. Hell, most of the day. He’d felt lighter, freer, somehow. Normal. That’s what it was. Sitting at the old plank table on the Rigsbys’ screened porch, surrounded by laughter and conversation, with Tori at his side, he felt normal again.

Normal wasn’t in his vocabulary anymore. It hadn’t been since Jenny. For a while tonight, he’d forgotten that, forgotten
Jenny
.

The tines of his fork ripped into the sausage, which definitely wasn’t on his diet. Usually, he only found that forgetfulness when he was buried deep inside some fairly anonymous woman and it never lasted longer than a few minutes. The hurt and the guilt always came crashing back in. Tonight, though, it wafted over him in soft wavelets, washing in and out, but not lingering.

Heaven help him, forgetting felt good, like losing the extra weight he’d carried the last few years. He didn’t want to pick up the pain and anguish again. What did that say about him, that desire to forget? Jenny deserved better than that.

Tori’s sweet laugh drifted over him and he pushed his plate away. This had been a lousy idea, coming here, bringing her with him. They weren’t going to be together, he didn’t need to get any more wound up in her and he sure as hell didn’t need to let himself forget the past.

Her easy touch on his arm dragged him from his miserable reverie. “You didn’t really?”

He looked into the sparkling depths of her dark eyes and his chest tightened. “Didn’t what?”

She rolled those pretty eyes and gave him a “duh” look. “Ask the desk clerk to make the naked guy a pot of coffee.”

The memory returned and his lips twitched. “Yeah, I did.” He looked at Glenn, the remembrance passing between them. “What else was I supposed to do? The guy had already told me he was invisible.”

“Well, at least you did throw a blanket on him,” Glenn drawled.

Laugher rippled around the table again, but he couldn’t relax. Everything he’d eaten seemed like cold lead in his gut and each of Tori’s movements filled his nostrils with her light floral perfume. The meal couldn’t end soon enough for him. Finally, Myra began clearing the table.

“Let me help you.” Tori stood and reached for Mark’s plate as well as her own. Her arm pressed his shoulder and he froze. Then the whispery contact was gone and he could breathe.

Glenn pushed to his feet and picked up the nearly empty serving platter. “Come on, Mark. Let’s get this stuff in the kitchen. I think Myra’s planning one of her marathon Scrabble games.”

She might be, but he wasn’t planning on staying. Mark kept the thought to himself and gathered the breadbasket and cloth napkins. Inside, the warmth of Myra’s chicken-decorated kitchen engulfed him. He settled his items on the tile countertop. Tori stood across the long, narrow room, perusing the array of photos on the wall.

Myra dropped a handful of cutlery in the dishwasher and gave him a gentle push. “Go tell her who everyone is.”

He stopped behind Tori and she smiled at him over her shoulder, pointing at one of the photos, taken on the deck of Glenn’s pontoon boat one sunny afternoon not long after Mark had joined the force. “You were so young.”

“Yeah.” He studied his younger self, one hand holding a fishing rod, the other arm wrapped around Jenny’s still-narrow waist. Man, he’d been just a kid and Jenny looked like a baby herself. That had been only a couple of days before they’d learned she was pregnant. The bright sun glinted off her blonde spiral-permed hair and a brighter smile crinkled her face as she looked up at him. The devotion in that expression made him ache.

Tori looked closer. “She’s really pretty. Old girlfriend?”

He didn’t want to have this conversation, but he couldn’t deny the girl who’d loved him so fully. He swallowed, throat raw like he’d downed shards of glass. “My wife.”

“Your…” Tori stared at him, her mouth a surprised “O”. “I didn’t know you’d been married.”

“It was a long time ago.”

Tori tilted her head to one side, her gaze straying to the photo once more. “You’ve been divorced awhile, then.”

“I’m not divorced.” The words emerged with painful harshness and she looked at him again, her eyes wide. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

“But sometimes it feels like yesterday,” she said, her voice a soft comfort. A wry expression twisted her mouth. “That feeling I can understand.”

He rubbed a hand over his nape. “Are you ready to go? We’ve got another early morning ahead of us.”

She studied him for a long moment, her expression astute and assessing. Analyzing. He chafed under that look, but finally she shrugged. “Sure. I’m just going to thank Myra and Glenn.”

He nodded. She moved away and he started to follow, but Jenny drew his attention. The love shining on her face felt like an accusation of betrayal. The weight descended on him again.

Forgetting wasn’t an option.

Disentangling from Myra’s protests took a few minutes, but finally, they were outside, in the damp evening air. At the car, Tori pulled in a deep breath, the pain and tension that had visibly blanketed her gone. “This was wonderful and just what I needed. Thank you for bringing me.”

“You’re welcome.” He waited for her to unlock the car, the memories clawing at him, his emotions raw and bleeding. Damn it, coming here had been the worst freaking thing he could have done.

He needed a couple of drinks and a hard, wild lay, not necessarily in that order. Anything to appease the ghosts, make them go away. He needed to bury himself for a little while.

“Do you mind driving?” Another sweet smile and she held out the keys. “I hate night driving anyway and you know these roads better than I do.”

“No problem.”

She pressed the keys into his palm, her fingers brushing his skin, and he recoiled from the warm sensation. Her smile faltered and she stepped away. Good. He didn’t want to contaminate her and tonight he would. Tonight, he was surely the foulest thing on earth—a husband who grieved his wife and child by screwing women he didn’t know, didn’t want to know.

In the Miata, he slid the seat back and adjusted the mirrors. The quiet click of her seatbelt filled the silence. The weight of her gaze lay on him like a physical touch as he backed down the Rigsbys’ driveway. Moonlight turned the road to a ribbon of silver.

“Mark?” Her quiet voice wrapped around him. The soothing note grated, made him itch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“It might—”

“Don’t tell me it’ll help. It doesn’t.” Deep woods rose on either side of the rural road, and he shuddered. Was this where Jenny waited for him? He’d screamed her name out here until he was hoarse, the cries of the volunteer searchers ringing in his ears. For the longest time, he’d felt her the strongest in this area, as if she called to him, wanting him to find her, to bring her home.

He’d failed her. God, he’d let her down so bad. It didn’t matter what else he did in his life; he could never make up for how miserably he’d failed Jenny and their baby.

Thankfully, Tori didn’t push the matter. She pulled a knee up on the seat and propped her chin on it, her gaze turned out to the darkness beyond the window. He put the little car through its paces, trying to place as much distance between himself and the memories as possible. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t outrun the past, not for long. When he’d first moved to Georgia, gone to work for the Dougherty County PD, leaving everything behind had been his motive, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure out he would never leave it behind, not really.