28

 

Mark didn’t want to remember the night Chris died, and neither should Beth. He could only imagine what Tim told her about his episodes—and about how her brother died. Secrets that should have gone to the grave.

Sure Beth befriended him when he was in the chair, but what about now? What happened if she’d found out his problem was emotional, not physical? Maybe she could accept useless legs, but what about a useless mind? And what else had Tim told her? Not everything, not all the gory details, right?

Mark inhaled one last whiff of the floral perfume, dropped the envelope in his lap, and covered his face with his hands. Hurting Beth Martindale—the one thing he’d tried to avoid, and he’d been unsuccessful. Lord, help me. I don’t want to lose her.

Mark drove to the Playa Del Sol apartments Tuesday afternoon and knocked on Beth’s door. No one answered. He couldn’t blame her for shutting him out after the way he had treated her. He began to leave. As he rolled away, he ran into a young, short-haired brunette who was walking near Beth’s apartment. “Excuse me. Do you know where Beth is?”

The woman stared at him.

Mark put out his hand. “I’m Mark Graham. I’m friends with—”

She nodded and shook his hand. “I know who you are. I’m Marisa.”

So this was Beth’s friend, the one she wanted to set him up with. No offense to her friend, but he found Beth more attractive. Then again, he could be biased. “Oh, nice to meet you.”

“I live next door. You can come in for a minute if you’d like.” Marisa opened her door.

He followed her inside to her living room and wheeled next to her couch. If Beth had told Marisa what had happened, she’d probably think he was a jerk, too. Great. He glanced at the black cat clock on the wall. Its eyes moved, and the tail wagged. On an end table sat a jar of potpourri. The overpowering apple cinnamon scent attacked his sinuses.

“If you’re looking for Beth,” Marisa said. “She’s not here. She’s at the mall.”

Why had he accused her of spending money there? He shouldn’t care what she did with her cash. “Oh, with Pedro, or whatever his name is?”

Marisa shook her head. “Antonio? No. Didn’t she tell you? They’re not dating. In fact, they’re not even hanging out anymore. Ever since Beth got a second job at the mall, all she does is save her money and—”

“She’s working at the mall?” So she was single and worked a second job.

Marisa nodded. “Yeah, a lot of teachers have second jobs. Beth wants to save up extra money.” Marisa studied the piece of paper in Mark’s hand. “What’s that?”

He held it up. “It’s an invitation.”

Marisa smiled. “So she talked you into joining her for Thanksgiving dinner?”

“What do you mean?”

Marisa slouched in her seat. “Her dad asked about you. He wanted to know if you had plans for Thanksgiving. Beth was afraid if she asked you, you’d just say no.”

“So, her family wanted me to come. That’s…that’s nice.” So it was her dad’s idea. That made more sense.

“Well, maybe not the only reason.”

What other reason was there besides pity? He leaned closer. “Meaning?”

Marisa shook her head. “I tried to tell her, but she didn’t believe me.”

He folded his hands. “Tell her what?”

“C’mon, you’re a professor. You can figure this out.”

He stared at the ground. “Does this have something to do with the incident on the boat?” He’d replayed the event in his mind recently, trying to determine what had gone wrong.

“When she hooked her finger? Yeah. When she came to my apartment that day, she seemed very confused. I suggested she thought of you as more than a friend. Beth sort of freaked out.”

So being accused of liking him was that mortifying to Beth, so much so that it freaked her out. Not good. His shoulders tensed.

Mark gazed at her bookcase. “You actually own books by Solzhenitsyn?” Though his life could never compare with the author, in many ways, Mark’s secrets confined him. He desired to be free from his prison.

“Yes, have you read them?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. I teach history over at Riversdale Community College.”

“Beth mentioned you worked there, but I didn’t know you taught history.” Marisa’s eyes twinkled. “I teach social studies, too, but to high school students.”

“Now see, I knew you were a teacher, but I didn’t know what you taught.” Mark glanced at his watch. “It was nice meeting you.” He glanced at her table. Two yearbooks lie on top. One of them, a copy of Buckeyes. He pointed. “The yearbook from the school Beth and I attended. How’d you get that?”

“Oh, she let me borrow it. I was trying to get ideas for our school’s yearbook.”

“Mind if I …?” He picked it up.

“Not at all. In fact, I’m finished with it. I don’t think Beth would mind if you want to borrow it.”

“Thanks.” He waved good-bye then left. The yearbook was in his hands. It might be fun to remember things the way they used to be. Also, it presented the perfect opportunity to discover Beth’s crush. Not that it mattered much now.

He mustn’t tease her about anything. In fact, he should do something nice. Set things right. A few of the guys who’d been on the Beaumont Junior High football team when he was a senior owed him favors. Maybe he could arrange for her to meet the man of her dreams, assuming she was even still interested in the guy after all these years. The least he could do.