Jan glanced at him as their salads were served, and for a moment he thought she was going to question or challenge his statement on faith versus luck, but she didn't. Was it a good sign that she was giving what he said serious thought? He smiled and pushed her lightly for a response.
"No reaction?"
"I sometimes think about God and faith and spiritual matters." She sounded reluctant to make the admission. "But if some things in life aren't just plain old luck, don't we have to blame God for all the bad as well as give him credit for the good?"
"Meaning that we can blame him for Tim's death?"
"Tim's death. The collapse of our marriage." She sighed. "Wars. Disease. Famine. Floods. Hurricanes. The usual list of disasters."
"There's another biblical quotation—"
Jan rolled her eyes and groaned, but she also surprised him with an unexpected smile. "Somehow I can't quite get accustomed to you as a man who spouts Bible verses."
"Spouts?" His eyes narrowed. "Spouts? You make me sound like an overheated teakettle shooting off steam."
"Or maybe a rusty old hot water heater spouting more water than Old Faithful..." She flushed, obviously embarrassed that she'd brought up that long-ago mini-disaster, but then their eyes met and she burst out laughing.
He groaned and laughed too. "Me and my big plans for a romantic weekend."
"It was romantic, for a while," she consoled. "Candlelight, fire in the fireplace, dancing barefoot..."
Mark had wanted to do something special for Jan, to give her a little break from work and an energetic eighteen-month-old, so when a friend offered them the use of his rustic mountain cabin for a weekend, and the friend's wife said she'd take care of Tim, they jumped at the chance.
And, as Jan said, it had been romantic for a while. The cabin was more rustic than they anticipated, rustic to the point of tumbledown, actually, but they roasted hot dogs in the fireplace and danced to scratchy music from an ancient eight-track player.
"And then I had my big inspiration about turning that old bathtub into a romantic hot tub for two." He shook his head.
"I never did understand exactly what happened with the water heater," Jan admitted.
"There was so little water pressure that it looked as if it would take a month to fill the tub to the top, so I went outside and wrenched the valve all the way open. But the increased pressure was just too much for the seams on the old water heater." And boom! The explosion came like a giant water-filled balloon breaking, water spouting and spurting everywhere. "And then I rushed back outside to turn off the valve, but it broke when I was trying to get it closed, and the water just kept coming."
Jan started laughing again. "I've never seen so much water. I thought we were going to float away like Noah in his ark. I saw us swooshing down the mountain."
He grinned, remembering a certain bit of lacy lingerie. "And, as I remember, you weren't exactly dressed for travel."
And this time her flush was a full-blown blush.
By the time he'd found another valve at the well to get the water completely shut off, they, the cabin, and everything in it were drenched, and romance was definitely a casualty of the flood. They'd spent a nonromantic night mopping and draining and drying and cleaning up, and the next day had to get a plumber to come out and install a new water heater.
"What's that old saying about the best-laid plans of mice and men going astray?" he suggested wryly. "Which apparently includes the hot tub plans of an overenthusiastic husband trying to play romantic lover."
Jan swallowed at his mention of that intimate part of their married life. She took a sip of water, although whether to distract herself or him he was uncertain. By the time she put down the glass, she seemed in full control of herself again.
"Well, we got rather sidetracked there.” He touched her hand. "It feels good to laugh with you again, Jan."
She looked pensive for a moment, then shook her head as if clearing away cobwebs. "Let's see," she said briskly. "Where were we? You were about to enlighten me with some appropriate Bible quotation about luck, I believe." She held up a graceful hand with a Band-Aid around the little finger. "And explain to me that if it wasn't just bad luck that I found this big, painful hangnail on my finger this morning, what was it?"
He reached across the table, brought her hand to his lips, and kissed the exposed tip of the finger. "All better now?" He smiled, still holding her hand.
She stiffened at his unexpected touch, and he heard the quick intake of her breath. She inspected the kissed finger when he finally let it go. "We'll see."
He turned serious. "Okay, I don't remember the exact words, but the verse I was going to mention is in Matthew, something to the effect that the rain falls on both the righteous and unrighteous. We only have to look around to see that calamity—or hangnails—can happen to anyone. But the things that happen because of mistakes we make as sinful human beings can't be blamed on God. Instead, we can be grateful that he offered us a cover for those sins, Jesus' death on the cross."
Jan was silent for a moment, fingering her silverware. "Okay, I'll think about that," she finally said, and it sounded so much like the skeptical response Tim had once given him that for a moment he felt a wash of despair. But again she smiled unexpectedly. "But you can pray for me, if you'd like. Maybe that'll do the trick."
"I'll pray for you," he agreed, and he did, silently adding the words at the end of the blessing. Although not the first prayer he’d said for her, of course.
Jan picked up her fork, signaling an end to the discussion. "Now let's eat, okay? Other people have come and gone, and we haven't even started on our salads yet."
He nodded, spooned ranch dressing onto his salad, and brought up another idea that had occurred to him after leaving the clinic.
"How about posting flyers around town? It probably wouldn't take more than a day or two to get something printed. Although I'm undecided what we should put on a flyer. We don't even have a definite description of Stardust to offer."
"We could just give Tim's and Stardust's names and say that if anyone had known either, we'd like to talk to them. But writing up something by hand might be a better idea than a printed poster or flyer," she added thoughtfully. "I think the people Tim and Stardust associated with might be suspicious or put off by anything too formal, anything that looked too much like some authoritarian wanted poster."
Mark nodded, appreciating her quick insight into a lifestyle that was so foreign to her. "You're right. We wouldn't want anyone to be reluctant to contact us because of fear they might wind up having to deal with the authorities in some official investigation."
"Yes. I don't care who they are or what they've done, if they'll just help us find Stardust." She dropped her fine-boned wrist to the edge of the table, as if the fork were suddenly too heavy for it. "Talking about it this way seems to suggest that deep down we're already acknowledging failure, that we know we'll be leaving here without finding Stardust or learning anything definite, and all we can do is hope someone may contact us later."
"We certainly haven't reached that point yet," he declared firmly. "I'm still hopeful that we'll walk in somewhere and Stardust will be there, either pregnant or with the baby already in her arms. And that she'll be delighted to see us."
Jan's slim body straightened in the chair, a forkful of shrimp paused halfway to her mouth. "It never occurred to me that she might not be delighted to see us. But that's possible, isn't it?" A hint of panic fluttered in her voice. "If she and Tim fought and split up, it's possible she won't want anything to do with us."
Mark groaned inwardly when he saw the discouraging possibility cut lines around Jan's mouth and cloud her eyes. Now he'd inadvertently given her something new to worry about. Then she brought up an even more devastating possibility that somehow had never occurred to him.
"What if after Tim died, or maybe even before, if they broke up, Stardust decided she didn't want a child," she said slowly. "What if we don't have a grandchild ... because she had an abortion?"
"Oh, surely not—" Yet abortions were performed all the time, thousands of them. His own apprehension closed his throat on a bite of shrimp, and he went into a sudden explosion of coughing.
A waitress rushed over, but he waved her away and managed to gasp, "I'm okay." He took a sip of iced tea and after another minute was more or less back to normal. "I’d simply never thought of that."
Now he had to wonder why he hadn't. Given his years in the criminal justice system, he was hardly a naive innocent about the appalling things people did out of selfishness or greed or casual disregard for anyone but themselves.
Unexpectedly, by the time his small choking crisis was over, the stricken look on Jan's face had smoothed. "If I had any doubts about your sincerity in all this, I believe that little episode convinced me. The possibility of losing our grandchild to an abortion really upsets you, doesn't it?"
"Of course it upsets me!" Then her first line hit him. "You've had doubts about my sincerity in wanting to find Stardust and our grandchild?"
Her slim throat moved in a guilty swallow. "Not exactly doubts. I mean, I've appreciated your diligence since we've been working together to find her."
"But why would I do all this if I wasn't sincere?"
When her gaze wavered off-kilter, an appalling thought struck him. "Did you think I was just using this search for Stardust as a way to—" He hesitated and then decided he may as well be blunt. After all, given his track record of atrocious behavior in the last months of their marriage, she had a right to such suspicions. "To inveigle my way into your bed? To liven up spring break with a quick fling?"
A faint color rose to her cheeks. "It occurred to me you might like to take advantage of the situation if you could. I get the impression that you still find me ... well, not unattractive."
"Not..." He shook his head. "Jan, I won't lie to you, I find you far more than just 'not unattractive.'" The color in her cheeks deepened, but he pressed on. "But no matter how much I may want to be with you, to hold or touch you, I won't."
Her gaze came to meet his, and what he saw there made his heart pound. Jesus, make me strong, for Jan's sake as well as mine. He drew a breath and went on. "Sweetheart, I told you not long after our divorce that I'd changed. I claimed it when I pursued you and showed up at your door with cruise tickets for a second honeymoon—"
She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand, stopping her. "You were absolutely right, of course. I hadn't changed then. That was before I'd found the Lord, and I was still the same old arrogant, if-it-feels-good-do-it, manipulative me. But I really have changed now. I've given up the practice of going around trying to scheme or seduce my way into a bed where I don't belong."
She blinked at his frankness, then sat up straight, her fingers folded together on her lap. "I'm glad to hear that."
"But I'll say it again. Saying that I find you 'not unattractive' is the understatement of the year! Jan, you are, as you have always been, the most attractive, most appealing, most desirable woman I have ever known. I know you may find that hard to believe, given my past wrongdoings, but it's true."
She swallowed. "That's very ... flattering."
"And I have to admit that what you suspected about my wanting to share your bed is a thought that hasn't been entirely absent from my mind." His grin held a certain chagrin. "But I don't want to be with you for some fling!" His voice went husky. "I miss you, Jan, in every way it's possible for a man to miss his wife. But there isn't an ulterior motive behind why I've stayed to search for Stardust with you. I want to find her and our grandchild as much as you do. Another family and a houseful of grandkids, as you suggested earlier, isn't even a remote option for me. This is also the only grandchild I'll ever have. And I intend to do everything in my power to find this baby."
She nodded, tears suddenly bright in her eyes.
"As for the abortion, well, I don't think we should grab worries ahead of time. There's just as much possibility Stardust hasn't had an abortion and will be delighted to see us when we locate her. The Lord has already done so much for us here. He's provided us with Tim's journal, which let us learn that Stardust and the baby exist. I also think the fact that we came here at the same time, that we met on that trail, is more of his doing," he added almost recklessly. "A verse in First Peter says, 'Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.' And that's exactly what I think we should do, trust in the Lord, in his guidance and care, and not get sucked into worry about remote possibilities."
Jan smiled, a smile that wobbled a bit, but still a smile. "Still spouting those Scripture quotations, I see."
"Which doesn't mean I'm not still stumbling and making mistakes. As the familiar old saying goes, Christians aren't perfect, just forgiven."
Her expression, a little blank, reminded him that that was undoubtedly not a familiar old saying to her. And he also had to remember what she'd once told him, that she didn't really care whether or not he'd changed because it was too late; she didn't love him anymore. It was a powerfully sobering thought.
Mark picked up his fallen napkin and set it on the table. Their meals were still unfinished, but he felt as if he'd had enough to eat. Jan, too, was now angling her silverware across the plate.
“Look, would you like to take a walk or drive or something?" he asked. "Maybe we'll feel like having coffee or dessert later."
***
A walk sounded good to Jan. She hadn't brought a jacket, however, and the evening had turned cool. They took the Mercedes back to her motel, and he waited outside while she ran upstairs for a jacket. When she returned, he tucked her hand under his arm.
"So, where shall we walk?" He smiled. "It's a big choice, you know. We can walk down the west side of the street and come back on the east, or walk down the east and come back on the west."
"I don't feel up to making decisions right now. You decide and I'll follow." She resisted the temptation to rest her head against his shoulder.
He chose the west, and they strolled along, stopping once to look at a lighted display of properties for sale in a real estate office, another time to study an eclectic collection of old tools and household utensils in the window of an antique store. She didn't really feel like talking, and apparently that was fine with Mark.
Do we look like an old married couple? she mused as she studied their dim reflection in a window, arms linked. Maybe. She took in Mark's reflection. There was no denying it, he was certainly physically attractive. Lean, with a long-legged, solid-shouldered build. The kind of shoulders a woman could lean on. Good-looking, clean-cut features ... no, more than that. Handsome. Definitely handsome. And that mouth ... so strong, and yet with an upturn of good humor, giving the impression of a ready smile. An assured stance, a hint of mature virility—a man who'd stood the test of time and come out strong.
A trick of the street lighting silvered his dark hair, giving a clue of how he'd look in years to come. One look would tell any woman, here was a wonderful man to grow old with.
No doubt about it; if she were seeing him for the first time, she'd turn around for a second look! And she'd want to know more...
Sadness washed over her. And that was the problem. She did know more. More than she'd ever cared to know. How he'd betrayed her, the heartbreak he'd caused her.
She swallowed around the sudden tightness in her throat. She didn't want to risk that kind of devastation again! And yet...
His touch, his voice, his looks, all the old physical appeal still stirred her, and the changes she was seeing in who he was now, and how he lived, intrigued her. His steadier, less volatile temperament, his abandonment of his high-powered legal career, his sincere regret for his wrongdoings. Even his commitment to the faith she still didn't understand impressed her.
Her emotions twisted and floundered. Something that felt all too much like love unexpectedly burgeoned within her, and she instantly clamped down on the unwanted feeling, shoved it through the paper shredder of her mind.
Yet even that couldn't take away a certain confusing regret that he hadn't tried to go further than just think about renewing the physical intimacy that had once been such a powerful force between them.
Although she certainly would have rejected any such gesture anyway.
She suddenly realized Mark had turned away from the display window and was studying her.
"You look as if you're having some big argument with yourself," he observed, much too accurately for her comfort.
She managed a smile. "And why would I argue with myself when I have a perfectly good ex-husband to argue with?"
A crowd of teenagers congregated around the burger stand, but when Mark gave her a questioning glance, asking if they should stop and talk to the teenagers, Jan shook her head. She wanted to find Stardust. The possibility of never knowing her grandchild made a hollow emptiness inside her. But for the moment, she didn't feel like prying and digging for scraps of information. She was weary of trying to put two and two together and coming up with a question mark. Tomorrow she'd jump back into the investigation, attack it the way she did a difficult selling or financing problem, but tonight she simply wanted to stroll in the peaceful evening with Mark.
They were holding hands as they strolled now, and his felt solid and warm, like a secure anchor in a sea of uncertainty. Self-consciously, thinking of her too intimate thoughts about him only moments earlier, she transferred her hands to the pockets of her jacket. She knew the small gesture did not go unnoticed, but he didn't comment, simply linked arms with her instead. And it would seem prissy and rude to object to that, she decided.
"The weather is supposed to be sunshiny and nice again tomorrow, according to a report I heard on the car radio," he said.
She appreciated his understanding in turning the conversation to trivial, everyday matters just now. He apparently understood that for the moment she wasn't up to deep discussions. A little dreamily she said, "I think I'll set out some petunias when I get home, and maybe marigolds on the west side of the house where it gets so hot in summer."
"Alfredo still takes care of the yard, doesn't he?"
"Yes, but I think I'll set out the petunias and marigolds myself."
He glanced at her but didn't comment on the oddity of that, although she noted to herself that it was odd. Not since the early days of their marriage, when she had a profusion of hanging plants and overflowing window boxes, had she done any gardening. In fact, it had always amazed her how talented Tim was at growing things. But something, maybe the fertile scent of spring in the air, a time of new life and renewal, gave her an urge to get out and start digging and planting. Or maybe, she thought with an inner smile, it was just a grandma thing.
"We had a community garden on a vacant lot at Linhurst last year. I know as much about gardening as I do about rocket launching, but I put in some cucumber plants, those long, skinny kind I like. And then some of my students played a joke on me and substituted Brussels sprouts plants."
"You hate Brussels sprouts!"
"Right. But when I finally caught on, which unfortunately took quite a while, considering my lack of gardening expertise and plant identification, I didn't tell the students. I just waited until it was time to harvest my crop and invited them all to a barbecue at my place." He chuckled. "They were expecting steak, and I served Brussels sprouts. Lots and lots of Brussels sprouts. Which they turned out to be no more enthusiastic about than I am."
Jan laughed delightedly. "Did you have a Brussels sprouts rebellion?"
"Mostly just some grinning students who realized they'd been had. And eventually I did bring out hot dogs and burgers, so all was well."
Jan realized she felt a certain envy. There was something so warm and happy-family about his relationship with the students. She thought of her own huge house, silent and empty. Of course it was marvelous for entertaining clients and business associates, she reminded herself. And a friend once pointed out that she had so much space she'd never have to throw anything away in her entire life. It also didn't have to be silent. There was a fantastic sound system; she could fill the house with anything from Pavarotti to Taylor Swift with the flick of a switch.
They had reached the sidewalk's blunt end at a grove of dark pines. They crossed the street, which was also the highway that passed through town, and headed back toward the motel. Instead of going to the restaurant for dessert, they stopped at the brightly lit grocery store, one of only two in town, and bought chocolate-and-nut dipped ice cream bars.
Jan had served an elegant frozen creation from a specialty shop at her last dinner party, resplendent with silvery sparkles and imported chocolate. It hadn't tasted nearly as good as this, she decided as she let a smooth chunk of ice cream melt in her mouth. Although this wouldn't be so good, she suspected, without the scent of spring in the air, the stars overhead, the croak of frogs ... and Mark beside her. Somehow they were holding hands again, and this time she didn't pull hers away.
At the motel, he walked her to the steps leading to her second-floor room. She thought he might kiss her, but he merely brushed a strand of hair back from her temple and tucked it behind her ear.
"Do you know you're more beautiful now than you were back in high school? And you won a Spring Queen crown back then."
She knew she should simply murmur a graceful thanks for the compliment, but she couldn't help lightly saying, because he had to have noticed, "Blond hair and all?"
"Color it purple with puce stripes, and you'd still be beautiful."
She couldn't help laughing at the extravagance of that flattery. "And what do you know about puce?"
"Not much. But I know what I like." His eyes roaming her face told her what that was. "See you at breakfast?"
"Bright and early."
***
The next morning, over Mexican omelets, they debated whether to try the "retreat" on Ladyluck Road or go back out to Red Dog's cabin. Jan suggested a morning expedition to Ladyluck followed by an afternoon hike up the trail to the cabin, and Mark agreed.
Ladyluck Road, to Jan's surprise, turned out to be easy to find and well marked. But the "hippie retreat" of the past had definitely changed. A half dozen neat greenhouses lined the road, and at the gate an impressive sign arched over the driveway read: Ladyluck Farm and Herb Gardens. Farther back was a big warehouse building plus several houses and trailers. The only thing that was as Jan expected was the long braid of the man who stepped out of the warehouse when they drove into the yard.
"Quite an operation you have here." Mark's surprise was obvious. "We were expecting—"
He broke off without saying what they'd expected, and the lean, long-haired guy in patched overalls grinned.
"Dirty hippies, junk cars, the smell of pot in the air?" Candidly he added, "That used to be us, but after seeing enough of our friends go down on drugs, we wised up, kicked out the druggies, and went legit. Now we're the biggest herb-producing farm in this part of the state. We ship our products all over the country." The pride in his voice was obvious.
With a wry grin Mark said, "The people we want to talk to you about may have been some of the ones you kicked out."
Again he went through their story about Tim and Stardust and a possible grandchild. An unexpectedly pleasant scent lingered about the herb grower as he listened carefully, the tangy fragrance of some dried herb he'd apparently been packaging in the warehouse. Jan sniffed, trying to identify it. Basil, perhaps? Or thyme?
"Yeah, I remember Tim. Hard worker when he wasn't spaced out on something. I think he left before we got around to kicking him out. Took up with a guy called Red Dog. But you probably know that because it was Red Dog's place where Tim was found dead."
"What about Stardust?" Jan asked. "We don't have a description of her, except that Tim's journal said she had lupine-blue eyes."
The braid wagged in a negative shake, sending off another wave of the herb scent. "I don't remember ever hearing of her. Bonnie was Tim's girlfriend here. I'd hoped she'd help him straighten out, but it didn't happen."
"Can you think of anyone else who might know anything helpful?" Mark asked.
"Red Dog, of course. Or I think Tim lived with some people out on Hangman Creek for a while, though I don't know any names. Tim was a likable guy, even though I heard he got—" He paused, apparently to amend whatever words he'd started to use to describe Tim's aberrant mental condition. "—kind of different along toward the end there."
Once more Mark left his name and address.
On the drive back to town, Jan struggled with a down-spiraling discouragement until a new thought suddenly occurred to her. "Is it possible that Bonnie is Stardust? That for some reason she started using a different name, or maybe Tim just decided to call her that? The description that girl at the burger stand gave sounds a little like her, small and dark-haired, and her eyes are blue."
"I hadn't thought of that, but I suppose it's a possibility," Mark agreed, though she could see the idea didn't hit him with the same excitement it had her. "Although we certainly didn't see any baby, and she didn't look pregnant."
"But it's possible she's only—" She'd been thinking in terms of a baby already born or due soon, but that could be all wrong. She hurriedly calculated backward. "She could be less than four months along and not showing yet. Maybe we were that close, just inches away from our grandchild and didn't know it!"
Jan felt a pang, an ache, as if she'd let something indescribably precious slip through her fingers.
"But wouldn't she have told us?"
"Not necessarily. Maybe she figured it would make Red Dog angry. Maybe he'd warned or threatened her not to tell anyone."
"But if it was something Red Dog didn't want us to know, wouldn't he have torn the part about a possible pregnancy out of the journal too?" Mark argued.
That sounded logical, but— "Maybe Bonnie is letting Red Dog think it's his baby."
"I don't know, hon." Mark shook his head. "Bonnie and Stardust being the same girl... It's possible, I suppose, but it just doesn't strike me as very probable."
For a moment Jan's thoughts were brought up short when Mark used the small, casual endearment hon. Did she like it? Resent it? She wasn't certain. She jerked her attention back to his doubt about this new possibility she'd suggested. "Just circumstantial evidence?"
"I don't think it's even strong enough to be considered circumstantial."
"But it is a possibility."
"Maybe."
Mark might be doubtful, but it was a possibility. And, Jan vowed with a growing sense of excitement, she was going to confront Bonnie with it this very afternoon.