Storybook Dad (Harlequin American Romance) (14 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Mark paused, his fist inches from the door, and turned
toward the telltale sounds of a garden hose being used somewhere off to his
left. Sure enough, in a quick peek around the corner of the house, he spied the
very woman he was there to see, quietly humming to herself as she watered the
same flowers and bushes he’d admired two days earlier. Without a moment’s
hesitation, he retraced his steps to the sidewalk and then cut across the side
lawn.

“Hi, Kate. I was hoping you’d remember me.” He held out his
hand in her direction and was aware of the hesitation that accompanied hers in
return. “I was wondering if we could talk. About Emily.”

“What about her?” Kate squeezed the trigger once again and
aimed the water across a row of zinnias.

He followed the stream with his eyes and searched for the best
way to explain the jumbled mess in his head and why it had brought him to Kate’s
door. But before he could start, she’d moved on to the marigolds and her own
assessment of him. “You know, I thought you were a nice guy the other night. So
did my husband and the rest of our friends. In fact, if you want to know the
truth, I kept Joe up for hours that night, going on and on about how perfect you
were for Emily.”

A flick of Kate’s wrist brought the water dangerously close to
Mark, yet he resisted the urge to flinch. She was angry, of that there was no
doubt.

“But boy, was I wrong,” she hissed. “In fact, I’d go so far as
to say that it’s guys like you who give the entire male gender a bad rap.”

“I like her, Kate. I like her a lot.” He linked his hands
behind his head, only to release them just as quickly. “Do you think I’d be
here, subjecting myself to the possible drenching that’s mere centimeters—and
quite likely
seconds
—away if I didn’t?”

The spray of water came even closer. “Candy and flowers, or
even—get this—
a date,
are generally the preferred
ways to show a woman you like her, Mark. Telling her you’re not interested
because she has a life-altering condition doesn’t really have the same ring, you
know?”

He pushed his fingers through his hair and tugged, the
frustration coursing through his body almost enough to make him pull it all out
by the roots. “And if I handed my four-year-old son a toy truck and told him to
take it out onto the middle of Highway W and play with it there, would you think
I was a horrible parent?”

Kate turned the hose back on the zinnias, but kept her anger
focused squarely on Mark. “Oh, are you one of those analogy guys? The kind who
are always looking for some stupid little anecdote to justify their pathetic
selfishness?”

His head was beginning to spin. “No. I’m just a dad who loves
his son more than himself.”

Rolling her eyes, Kate released the trigger. “What on earth are
you babbling about?”

With the threat of a drenching removed, he gestured toward the
corner of the patio. “Can we sit out back and talk? Please?”

For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse, maybe even
turn the hose back on and actually point it at him this time. But in the end she
nodded, lowering her arms with reluctance. “You’ve got five minutes. So you’d
better get to the point. If you actually have one, that is.”

Oh, he had one all right. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure what
it was yet.

He followed her through the break in the dwarf bush honeysuckle
hedge and onto the patio. Once she’d claimed a spot on a cushioned chaise, he
settled on a nearby Adirondack chair. “I don’t know how much Emily told you
about me, but I have a son, Seth. He’s four and a half. In fact, if you watched
the news at all today, you probably saw him on television.”

“I didn’t. I slept in and then I had an appointment.”

“Anyway, his mother—my wife—passed away six months ago after a
yearlong battle with cancer. It would have been a tough go for any kid to lose
his mom, but Seth’s anguish was magnified tenfold by my selfishnes.”

Looking down at the stone slabs beneath his feet, Mark
continued. “You see, I shut down. I couldn’t stand watching her deteriorate,
knowing there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop it. I couldn’t fight it away
with my fists, I couldn’t hug it away with my arms and I couldn’t cajole it away
with my words. I was utterly helpless and, well, I guess you can say I don’t do
helpless all that well. Or, as was the case with Sally’s illness, at all.”

At Kate’s silence, he stole a glance in her direction, finding
the blatant irritation that had all but seeped from her pores earlier suddenly
gone. Temporarily, at least.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity her change in mood offered,
he went on. “So while I buried myself in my work during her struggle, my
three-and-a-half-year-old son was everything I should have been. He was her
arms, he was her ears, he was her comfort and her companion. Which means he
watched
her die, Kate.” His voice breaking, Mark
dug his elbows into his thighs and cradled his head with his hands. “I failed
her. And I failed my son. That’s a mistake I’ll have to live with for the rest
of my life.”

The creak of Kate’s chaise was followed by a warm and steadying
hand on his shoulder. “There isn’t a rule book for something like that, Mark.
You didn’t know.”

He snapped his head up, the pain in his voice replaced by the
intense anger he felt for himself. “While I think that’s a piss-poor excuse for
my actions, I could only use it once. If I failed him like that again, I’d be
the worst father on the face of the earth.”

“Failed him again?” Kate asked, her eyes locked on his. “I
don’t understand what you mean.”

“There was nothing I could do about Sally getting sick. It just
happened. I should have been there for her, as a husband is supposed to be, and
I should have been there for Seth, too. But I wasn’t. And as a result, my
innocent little boy saw far more of his mother’s suffering than he should have.
Losing his mom at that age was horrific enough. Having to experience that and
play the part of the adult in the house at the same time? There are no words for
that except
inexcusable
and
pathetic
.”

At her obvious confusion, he filled in the blanks as succinctly
as possible. “I cannot sit back and allow my son to love a woman I already know
to be sick. It’s like telling him to take that toy truck I mentioned earlier and
play with it the middle of a four-lane highway. It would be certain
disaster.”

Kate’s gasp brought him up short. “Wait. You don’t think Emily
is going to
die,
do you? Because she’s not.”

For the briefest of seconds he felt a hint of hope, only to
have it disappear just as quickly. “Look, I’ll be the first to admit I don’t
know that much about multiple sclerosis, but I know it can be extremely
debilitating over time.”

“That’s true.”

“I don’t want Seth to have to watch someone he loves suffer
ever again.”

“And if you get sick, Mark? What then? Are you going to abandon
him on the steps of some church, just so he doesn’t have to watch you die? Do
you really think that would be better?”

He pushed himself from the chair and paced across the patio,
the thought of Seth being left orphaned one he hadn’t visited before. “That
falls into the category of things I can’t really control, beyond doing my best
to eat right and exercise more. But there’s a big difference between something
that’s out of my control and something in my control.”

Kate perched on the edge of the chair Mark had vacated, and
exhaled. “Oh. I get it now. If you let Seth get attached to Emily and she
suddenly starts going downhill, you’ve essentially handed his heart over to be
broken once again.”

Mark stopped midstep, deflated. “Yeah.”

“Have you seen Emily? Have you seen the kind of shape she’s
in?”

In the interest of avoiding saying anything that might get him
slapped, he opted to nod rather than put his feelings about Emily’s body into
words.

“You’ve got to know she’s not going down without a fight.” Kate
stood and made her way over to him, a genuine smile on her face now. “Couple
that with the fact that the medication she just started taking is designed to
hold this thing at bay for a long time and, well, I don’t think your reason for
denying yourself a second chance is all that valid. Especially since it would be
a second chance for Seth, too. A second chance to love and to be loved.”

A second chance.

Was that what he wanted?

Mark wasn’t sure.

And what about Emily? Was she even interested in a
relationship? He posed the question to Kate.

“Oh, to hear her talk? No. But like you, Em has let the fear of
what-ifs in life keep her from her dreams.”

He had to laugh. “Are you kidding me? From what I’ve seen,
Emily is all about chasing down her dreams.”

“That’s true for all but one of them.”

“Huh?”

Wrapping her hand around his, Kate pulled him toward the back
door. “Come. I want to show you something.”

Five minutes later, standing in her sunny kitchen, he found
himself staring down at a child’s drawing. The blonde figure depicted on the
page seemed vaguely familiar. “Is this one of Emily’s?”

“Yep.”

He couldn’t help but smile as he took in the glittery crown on
the subject’s head and the huge smile on her face as a brown-haired boy, also
wearing a crown, carried her into a castle in his arms. “She dreamed of being a
princess?” he finally asked.

“She dreamed of finding her prince.” Sweeping her hand toward
the drawing, Kate dropped her voice to a near whisper. “It’s the one dream
that’s yet to come true. Though if you ask me, it’s closer than she
realizes.”

He took in the innocence and hope that had belonged to a
ten-year-old Emily, and then handed the picture back to Kate. “So what’s holding
her back from making that dream come true, like all the others?”

Kate looked from Mark to the picture and back again before
depositing it in his hands again with purpose. “She’s afraid she’ll be a burden
to her prince because of her diagnosis.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he argued. “You love the person, not the
illness.”

“You love the person, not the illness,” Kate echoed. “Hmm… I
couldn’t have said that any better if I tried.”

* * *

A
S
HEAVY
AS
HIS
HEART
had been when he pulled into
Kate’s driveway, the opposite was true on the way out. Mark really didn’t know
if it was a second chance he wanted or not. He was okay raising Seth on his own.
He was okay filling his days with work, volunteering at the foundation and being
a dad to the greatest kid on earth.

But whether it was about second chances or something entirely
different, he knew he wanted Emily. He wanted the lift she brought to his heart.
He wanted the hope she sprinkled around with the mere flash of her smile. He
wanted the contentment he felt with her in his arms. And he wanted the pure joy
he saw in Seth’s face whenever he was around her.

The ring of his cell phone broke through his thoughts. Seeing
the name and number of the foundation’s president, Stan Wiley, on his caller ID
screen, he answered. “Good afternoon, Stan. What can I do for you?”

“I saw you on the news just now. So glad you found your boy
safe and sound.”

Mark smiled. “Yeah. You and me both.” He pulled to the side of
whatever street he’d gotten himself onto. “I’m not even going to ask how I
looked. I barely remember talking into the microphone outside my mom’s
house.”

“You looked fine. Rattled, sure. Relieved, absolutely. But no
worse for the wear.”

“Good.” He made a mental note to call his mom the second he and
Stan were done talking, to give her a heads-up on his estimated return and to
hear Seth’s voice. “So what can I do for you?”

“You can pat yourself on the back, Mark, for a job well
done.”

“I wish I could take credit for finding Seth, but I can’t. That
was a woman named—”

“No. No. I’m talking about getting us that Longfeld donation.
Your hard work is going to end up benefitting a lot of people, Mark. A
lot
of people.”

“You mean we got the donation?”

“You bet we did. And it’s because of your hard work.”

“
My
hard work?” he echoed. “Stan,
I’m not sure what you’re talking—”

“Of course, there’s still work to be done, but that’s usually
the case with any accomplishment in life.”

Mark tried to make sense of the conversation, his confusion
growing with each word Stan uttered.

“I need you to take a welcome packet over to our newest client,
along with a hearty thank-you from all of us here. So, do you have a pen
handy?”

“Uh…yeah, sure. Hang on.” Shifting the phone to his left hand,
he opened the center armrest and extracted a scrap of paper and a pen from its
depths. Then, wedging the phone between his shoulder and his cheek, he propped
the paper on his steering wheel and prepared to write. “Okay, shoot.”

“Eight-one-six Sunset Street, Winoka.”

He repeated it, then capped his pen and popped it back in the
armrest compartment. “Got it.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot today, Mark, but as soon as
you’re able to get this taken care of, the better?”

Oh, how he wanted to say no, to continue on his journey to
Bucket List 101 and the conversation he wanted to have with Emily. But tomorrow
would be here before he knew it. A new day with the chance for a new start…

“I’ll check in on Seth first. If he’s still sleeping, I’ll
deliver.”

Chapter Sixteen

Emily crossed the living room and pulled open the front
door, her breath hitching at the sight of Mark standing on the porch, an
enormous envelope in his hands. And for a moment, as she drank him in, she
allowed herself to remember the way his arms had felt as he’d cradled her after
they’d made love—the contentment that had been eluding her for months, if not
years, finally hers for the taking.

Yet it had all been a farce.

What had meant so much to her had meant nothing to the man
standing on her porch now, looking from her to a scrap of paper in his hand and
back again, as if he’d been dropped in the middle of a foreign land.

“What do you want, Mark?” she asked.

“I…” He looked down at the paper one more time and then held it
up for her to see. “This is 816 Sunset Street, isn’t it?”

And then she knew why he was there. He’d been assigned her
case. Though, by the look on his face, she guessed he was still in the dark
about that.

“Yes, it is.” She knew she was being curt, but couldn’t help
it. He’d hurt her in a way no one ever had before. And while she understood his
stance, it didn’t negate the way he’d used her before he dropped the proverbial
hammer on her heart and her self-respect.

“I don’t understand. I’m virtually certain I jotted down the
address exactly as Stan told it to me.”

“Considering that’s the address I gave him, I’d say you did a
good job.”

The hand that held her address dropped to his side, and he
stared at her, confused. “You talked to Stan? At Folks Helping Folks?”

Met with her silence, he stuffed the paper into his pants
pocket and shifted from foot to foot. “Why?”

“Because that’s who the receptionist put me through to when I
called.”

“You called the foundation?”

She shrugged. “How else were they supposed to know I need
assistance?”

Mark stepped forward, only to stop when she held up her hands.
“Why? Did something happen today after you found Seth? Are you feeling bad?”

It took everything in her power not to turn around and slam the
door in his face. This man, who knew nothing about her beyond the lapse of
judgment that had allowed her to be a one-night stand, was so quick to assume
she was weak. Sickly. And it made her angry.

“For the umpteenth time, Mark, I’m fine. I’ve been saddled with
a scary-sounding condition, but I’m fine! Not that you’ll ever get that or,
rather,
want
to get that.”

For a moment it was as if she’d slapped him. He drew back,
blinked, and then simply looked sad.

She couldn’t take it anymore. “Look, I called because I
realized I could use my condition to help other people.”

At his raised eyebrows, she continued. “By making my business
more accessible, with the help of the foundation, I’ll be able to provide
opportunities to clients I couldn’t have otherwise. And if I’m going to hang my
hat on being the kind of company that helps people check off items on their
bucket lists, I can’t ignore the fact that individuals with disabilities and
conditions have lists, too.”

“So you’re going ahead with the assistance just to help
others?” he inquired.

Emily hesitated briefly. “At this particular moment in time?
Yes. But anything can happen, with me just like with this segment of the
population I’ve been overlooking for far too long. I don’t need help now, but I
may very well in the future.”

“Oh, Emily, I know how hard it must have been to make that
call.” Mark took another step this time trying to draw her in for a hug. But she
stepped back out of his reach.

She didn’t need his touch. She didn’t need him, period.

“I assume that’s the paperwork Stan said he’d send over?” She
pointed to the envelope under Mark’s arm, and then reached for it at his nod.
“I’ll look it over, sign what needs to be signed and have Trish bring it by the
foundation before week’s end. Will that work?”

He relinquished his grasp on the packet and nodded. “Uh…yeah.
That should be just fine.”

“Well, then, we’re done here, yes?” Without waiting for a
response, she wrapped her fingers around the edge of the door and tried to push
it closed. But when it was just shy of the click, Mark pushed it back open.

“Emily, please. We need to talk about it.”

“I’m sure the paperwork is self-explanatory. If I hit a snag,
I’ll call the office.”

He moved his hand from the door to her cheek. “No. We need to
talk about what happened the other night. With us.”

She covered his hand with hers and closed her eyes for a
moment, her heart in a losing battle with her head. “There is no
us,
Mark. Now go home. Be with Seth.”

“But—”

Fighting back tears, she kept her voice as steady as possible
when she said, “I’d ask you to give him a hug for me and tell him once again how
glad I am he’s safe and sound, but I also know you don’t want me tarnishing his
world with my sickly presence.”

Again, she tried to close the door. And again, Mark stopped it
with his hand.

“Please, Emily. I need to talk to you. For me
and
for Seth.”

* * *

H
E
SUPPOSED
HE
SHOULD
look around, maybe comment on the framed
photographs or various knickknacks he couldn’t quite make out from his spot on
her living room sofa, but Mark couldn’t.

Not yet, anyway.

All that mattered at that exact moment was finding a way to
explain himself and his actions in a way that would wipe the hurt from her big
brown eyes once and for all.

“I didn’t shut down on you yesterday morning because I didn’t
care, or because I’d gotten what I wanted and I was done with you.” He leaned
forward and studied her, her defensive posture alerting him to the battle he had
ahead. “Please tell me you know that, Emily. Please.”

When she didn’t respond, he continued, his desire to cross the
space between them and pull her into his arms almost more than he could
handle.

Take it slowly, buddy…

“You touched something inside me the first moment I laid eyes
on you in that orienteering class. It was like someone opened the curtains on my
world for the first time in over a year.” He saw her swallow, and knew he had
her ear, if nothing else. “I guess you could say that part was all physical
attraction, and maybe you’d even be right. I mean, look at you! You have the
most expressive eyes and breathtaking smile I’ve ever seen. I’d be a fool if I
didn’t notice that, Emily. I’d be a fool, too, if I didn’t find the way your
hair curls around the edges of your face sexy as all get-out. And I’d be a blind
fool if I couldn’t see how unforgettable your body is.”

A hint of red tinged her cheeks and he felt his body react
almost instantly. “But it wasn’t just a physical reaction. I’ve seen attractive
women before—they’re on virtually every corner, if you’re of a mind to look. But
that initial reaction to you was different, and I’m not sure how, exactly, to
explain it beyond that. And then you started talking, and I found myself getting
excited about things.
Important
things like life…and
living.”

“I’m glad my class impacted you like that,” she whispered.

He dropped his hands to his thighs and stood up, his attention
trained on the woman seated on the other side of the room. “It wasn’t the
class
that impacted me like that, Emily. It was
you.

“It’s one of the reasons I took Seth fishing that night.
Because I needed to clear my head. I’ve only been a widower for six months now,
Emily. Six months. What kind of heel can have feelings like that for another
woman within six months?”

He was mentally chastising himself for the way his voice was
growing raspy when she finally looked up, her eyes fixed on his. “And then there
you were…as gorgeous and fun as you’d been in the classroom and in the woods,
and you were making my son
smile
.”

Running a hand across his mouth, Mark tried to rein in the
emotions that threatened to annihilate the courage that had him talking in the
first place. “It wasn’t an I’ll-smile-because-Daddy-just-told-me-a-silly-joke
smile or a hooray-we’re-having-ice-cream smile, Emily. It was a real one—the
kind I haven’t seen on his face in far too long.”

“I got as much from Seth as he got from me that night,” she
finally said. “He made me smile a real smile, too.”

“A real smile?” Mark repeated.

She uncrossed her arms and laced her fingers together, twisting
them ever so slightly. “Ever since I was diagnosed six months ago, I feel like
everyone is always looking at me funny—my mom, Kate, Trish…My clients don’t
know, of course, but that’s a different relationship, anyway. But with Seth, it
was like he saw me. The
real
me. The me that even
I
was beginning to doubt was still there.”

Mark took a tentative step forward and gestured to the vacant
space on the sofa beside Emily. “May I?”

A pause gave way to the faintest of nods.

“It all came crashing down, though, on the way home in the car
after pizza. Suddenly that smile on Seth’s face was gone, and in its place was
worry.” Shifting his body, Mark reached for her hand, then stopped, uncertain.
“Seth is only four, Emily.
Four
. He’s not supposed
to worry about anything beyond which kind of milk he wants, chocolate or
regular, and which crayon will make his latest castle the most glittery. Yet
there he was, sitting in the backseat…worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Pushing aside any residual hesitation, Mark took her hand and
squeezed it gently. “No,
I’m
sorry. I’m sorry I
didn’t call and explain when I decided to bail on the rock climbing because of
my own hang-up. But I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was
protecting my son from another broken heart.”

Emily tried to pull her hand away, but Mark held on tight.
“That’s what I don’t get,” she stated. “How was rock climbing with me going to
break Seth’s heart?”

“I saw the worry on his face after spending only two, maybe
three hours with you. Can you imagine the concern he’d have for you after really
getting to know you?”

At the understanding in her eyes, Mark continued, his voice
breaking once again. “I promised Sally I would look after Seth. That I would do
everything in my power to keep him happy and safe. And the way I was seeing it
at the time, allowing him to get close with someone I knew to be sick would be
like purposely ignoring that promise.”

“But I’m not going to die from this, Mark. I may not ever show
any outward signs that anything’s wrong at all.”

“I know that now. But even so, there’s also a possibility that
you could be in a wheelchair in five years. Such a fate for someone as active as
you would be awful. Seth is the kind of kid who feels that. Truly feels
that.”

The slump of her shoulders told Mark she understood.

“But when I saw you again after we didn’t show up for the
lesson, and we spent all that time together at Kate’s, and then later on the
climbing walls at your office, it was like I’d forgotten all the reasons I had
to stay away from you. And when we made love…in my bed…I was whole again. Until
Seth called, anyway. And that’s when I remembered that my job, my promise, has
me being a father first.”

“And so you put up a wall,” she mused.

“Yeah, I put up a wall.” Taking hold of her other hand, Mark
slowly lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her fingertips. “But Seth
and Kate made me see that that wall isn’t just holding back potential hurt and
pain, it’s also holding back any chance at true love. For me and for Seth.”

Mark watched as Emily closed her eyes and worked to steady her
breathing, his own hitching in response when she finally looked at him again
through tear-dappled lashes. “True love?” she rasped.

“True love.”