Home for Christmas (Willow Park #5) (7 page)

She was surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“Just that you never knew how to make steaks like that
before. When did you start doing that?”

“Oh. I don’t even know. Some time.” She tried to think back,
realizing that naturally he wouldn’t know she’d learned to cook in the last few
years. “I guess I just picked a few things up after I moved here. Willow Park
doesn’t have as many options for eating out, so I had to cook more often.”

He was just standing around next to her, and that wasn’t
like him at all. Before he’d left the country, he’d always helped out around
the house, and he’d been better in the kitchen than she was. Remembering they
were supposed to be helping each other get back to who they’d been, she said,
“Do you mind cutting up the peppers and tomato for the salad?”

“Sure.”

She babysat the steaks as he made the salad, and in a few
minutes their dinner was done.

The steaks were perfect, and Mark ate all of his, so she
considered the meal a complete success.

He looked content and relaxed as he leaned back in his chair
afterwards, and Sophie had enough courage to ask, “What did you eat? There, I
mean.”

His expression changed, and he stared down at his plate.
But, to her relief, he answered immediately, “It depended. Sometimes almost
nothing. Sometimes regular food. It depended on who was on duty.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. There were some people who
were decent to you?”

“A few.”

“Okay.” She hated the thought of him imprisoned for so long
with people who hated him and those like him. She hated the thought of it so
much that it almost made her sick. “I’m glad there were a few.”

He nodded and didn’t speak, and she decided not to push any
further. She didn’t want to pressure him too much and have him clam up. In the
prep sessions she’d had in D.C., they’d warned her about doing that. Better to
talk in small moments and let him open up a little more every day.

They washed dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. Then Mark
asked, “What do you normally do in the evenings?”

“Not much. I walk on the treadmill, or talk on the phone, or
watch TV usually.” She felt kind of restless and realized it was because she
needed some exercise. “Do you want to take a walk? It’s not too cold out there
this evening.”

“Sure.”

They walked around Willow Park, and she pointed out spots of
interest and where the people she knew lived. He listened, evidently interested
in her commentary.

They were close to the apartment again when he finally said
softly, “You’re different.”

She straightened up. “What?”

“You’re different. You didn’t used to be so…so independent.”

“What?” she asked again, confused and ridiculously guilty.
“I’m not all that different.”

“Yes, you are. You used to go along with anything I wanted,
letting me make decisions. You used to not like to do anything by yourself. You
used to make me kill every bug.”

All of that was true. She hadn’t been weak before, but she’d
been yielding because she wanted everyone to be happy, and a lot of decisions
she just didn’t care about. She’d also used to be very social, not liking to do
anything alone.

She had changed, she realized. It was by necessity, but
she’d changed nonetheless.

Just like Mark had changed.

Maybe he felt like he was coming home to a stranger too.

“I guess I’ve changed some,” she admitted. “But I think the
core of me is still the same. And now that things are normal again, I can get
back to my old self. Don’t you feel the same way yourself?”

His features twisted slightly. “I…I don’t know. I don’t know
if the core of me is even left.”

Her throat and chest ached. “It is there.” She held his face
in both hands. “It is there. I can still see it.”

He made a rough sound in his throat and took her in his
arms. “I hope so,” he said at last, against her shoulder.

It felt like he needed her, and she desperately needed that
affirmation. She hugged him back, trying to convey her feelings in the grip she
had on him. “We’re going to be fine, Mark. We’re going to get back to who we
were,” she said. “I know it.”

“I’m glad you know it,” he admitted. “Because I’m not always
sure myself.”

“Well, I’m sure enough for both of us.”

She wanted to cry but she restrained the impulse, since she
wanted to make sure he knew she was strong in this, she wasn’t doubting or
wavering.

She added, “We don’t need to rush things. We have plenty of
time.”

They did have plenty of time, but she hoped things would be
better by Christmas. The holidays and the end of the year felt like a good time
to have a fresh start, to begin their lives again.

It was three weeks still until Christmas. Surely, in that
amount of time, they could put their marriage back together again.

Six

The following Monday, Sophie woke up
snuggled against Mark’s body. It was mostly dark in the room, so she knew it
was still early.

She was tired and felt warm and cozy nestled against him
like this, so she didn’t roll away. He was holding her in his sleep, in that
way he’d started since he’d gotten back.

He’d never done that before. He’d always rolled over after
he fell asleep, explaining that he needed some space. She had never minded,
since she knew how much he loved her, but it was strangely moving to feel him
holding her tightly like this, when he was asleep and unaware of what he was
doing.

She tried very hard to stay still, since she knew he woke up
if she moved around too much. But she had an itch on her back, and one of her
feet had gone to sleep, so she eventually had to shift a little, trying to
scratch her back and shake her foot very discreetly at the same time.

“Are you having a spasm or something?” Mark muttered, his
eyes still shut.

She giggled and shook her foot more rigorously. “My foot is
asleep.”

“So was I, once upon a time.”

She knew he was teasing from the dryness of his tone. She
gave him a gentle swat on the chest as he opened his eyes. “I can only go so
long without circulation in my foot.”

He’d rolled onto his back and was shaking the arm that had
been beneath her. “My hand empathizes with your foot.”

When her foot started to feel again, she nestled back down
at his side, pulling the covers up over both of them. Since he was lying on his
back, she had access to his chest, so she stroked it possessively. It was still
thinner than it used to be, but she loved the feel of it. She played with the
coarse dark hair as she rested her head on his shoulder.

His arm was around her again, this time by necessity, given
her position, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s not even five yet,” he murmured, evidently having
glanced at the clock.

“I know. We don’t need to get up any time soon.”

He tightened his arm around her. “Good.”

They lay together in silence, and she kept fiddling with his
chest hair, until finally he asked wryly, “Are you trying to braid it or
something?”

She gave a little huff of amusement. “I don’t think it’s
long enough to braid.”

“I wouldn’t think so.”

Feeling soft and playful, she brought her other hand up to
his chest. “Although I could try.”

“Seriously?”

“Why not?” She was hiding a smile as she studiously made a
half-hearted attempt to braid a small bit of his chest hair. He had more than
some men but not an unusually thick amount. She’d always liked how it looked
and felt.

“Having any luck down there?” he asked after a minute,
lifting his head to look down at her progress.

She couldn’t restrain the giggle as she smoothed down the
hair. “No luck at all.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He adjusted her position so she was
nearly lying on top of him, and both of his arms were around her. “I would have
had to seriously rethink my grooming habits, if you could braid it.”

She was smiling as she lifted a hand to stroke his beard. “I
bet I could braid your beard.”

“Let’s not try that one.”

With another giggle, she relaxed on him, idly stroking his
shoulder.

They were silent for several minutes, and her heart warmed
at how intimate it felt, being close to him like this, having him hold her like
this, like he really wanted to be with her and wasn’t acting out a role, the
way it sometimes felt he was.

After a long time, she tilted her head up to make sure he
was still awake. When she saw his eyes were open, she smiled and murmured, “I
don’t want to get up.”

“You don’t have to yet.”

“In another half-hour or so, I guess. I need to get to the
store early today. We had someone drop by a few hundred used books I need to
sort and get up on the shelves.”

“That’s a lot of books.”

“I know. She was doing some household purging, I think, and
getting rid of books she didn’t want anymore. That happens a lot. You wouldn’t
believe some of the crazy stuff we get in.”

“Do you shelve all of it?”

“Nah. Just the stuff that’s likely to sell. We can be more
flexible with the used books than the new books, though. Those, we can only
afford the ones I know will sell.”

Mark was quiet for a minute, one of his hands stroking her
hair. Then he said, “You really enjoy working at the bookstore, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.” She tried not to sound surprised, since there
was no reason why he would have known such a thing. He’d only seen her in the
bookstore for a week or so.

“I never would have thought you’d like something like that.”

“Me either,” she admitted. “I loved that PR job I used to
have, but then…” She sighed, but resisted the temptation to back away from what
she’d been planning to say. “But then, after you were gone, that whole job felt
so…so fake and shallow. I know it’s not fair. It was a worthwhile job. I just
couldn’t seem to do it.”

“Yeah. I can see that, I think.”

“And I really enjoyed working with Grandpa in the bookstore.
I just started it for something to do, really. A way to get away. But I think
I’m good at it. I have all sorts of ideas to build up the business, if I can
talk Grandpa into it.”

“I’m sure you can. You could always talk anyone into
anything.” Mark’s low murmur was warm and affectionate.

She flushed with pleasure. “We’ll see how it goes. I might
not have time to do all my plans, if we end up moving. But that would be just
fine.” She added that last, since she didn’t want Mark to think she was hinting
that they should stay in Willow Park.

Mark had never been a small-town guy, and the jobs he’d
always wanted had to be in big cities. If he wanted to return to the man he’d
been, they would have to move.

And it was fine. Sophie would do anything she had to do, in
order to get them back to where they’d been before.

***

Mark didn’t go to the bookstore with her that day, like he
had the week before. It worried her, but after their nice morning, she didn’t
want to make an issue of it.

Surely it was okay to let a few things go. Yes, he wanted her
to help him be who he used to be, but she didn’t always want to feel like she
was pushy and nagging.

When she came back from the store at around six, she
realized Mark hadn’t even left the apartment all day. He was still wearing the
sweatshirt and flannel pants he’d been wearing when she left that morning.

Worry tightened in her chest. It wasn’t like him. At all.
He’d never been the sort to lie around the house all day. If she was going to
do what he’d asked her to do—to help him be himself again—then she’d have to
encourage him to get out this evening.

He was standing over the stove, stirring a pot of soup, and
he smiled at her over his shoulder.

She smiled back, rather distractedly, since she was trying
to think of something to suggest that would get him out of the house. “That
smells good.”

“It’s just chili,” he said.

He offered her the spoon, and she tasted it, nodding and
making a sound to let him know how good it was. “We should go out for dessert
afterwards,” she said, making sure to sound light and casual. “There’s a really
good doughnut shop down the block that you’ve never tried. They’ve started baking
really good cupcakes.”

“Maybe,” he said, turning back to his pot. “Let’s see how we
feel.”

She sighed and went to the bedroom to change clothes, since
she was wearing a skirt today and didn’t want to keep it on all evening. She
changed into a warm tunic sweater and a pair of black leggings, and she was
opening the closet to hang up her work clothes when she realized that the door
opened smoothly.

She called out, “Did Micah send someone over to fix the
closet door?”

“No. I fixed it.”

“Oh. Really? I didn’t know you could do that.” She opened
and closed the closet, pleased by how well it was working. Mark had never been
particularly handy around the house before—but maybe it was because he’d never
really had the time.

She came back into the kitchen area smiling. “Maybe after
dinner, we can go out and take a walk, if you don’t want any cupcakes.”

“It’s a good evening to stay in. I’ll go get you a cupcake,
if you want,” he said, staring down at the chili pot, which he was still
stirring.

“No. That’s all right. So you don’t want to go out?”

“Not really.”

“You’ve been in all day, haven’t you?”

“Yes. What’s your point?”

He was sounding distant, slightly guarded now, which he
hadn’t sounded earlier, when she’d first come home. She felt a swell of
frustration. She just wanted to let the whole thing go. If he didn’t want to go
out tonight, then he didn’t have to. But he’d asked her specifically if she’d
help him be who he used to be, and she didn’t want to let him down.

She had to be strong, even when she didn’t want to. “You’re
not the kind to hang around the house all day, is all I meant.” She walked up
to him, staring down into the chili, which he was stirring as if his life
depended on it.

His jaw looked tense. “I guess not.”

“So you want to go out to get cupcakes or something after
dinner?”

“Sure. Why not?”

She should feel like it was victory, but she didn’t.

***

The next day, Sophie talked Mark
into coming to Bible study with her.

He didn’t really want to come, since he was still
uncomfortable around a lot of people he didn’t know. He hadn’t come to church
with her on Sunday, something that really worried her, since he’d always been a
faithful attender before. So she told him that the Bible study was small—only
three other couples and a few single women from church—so it would be a lot
less intimidating than the church service of a couple hundred people.

Since she didn’t let it go after his first hesitation, he reluctantly
agreed. She knew he wasn’t particularly happy as they were leaving the
apartment and getting into the car, but he didn’t look angry or resentful.

And he had to start making some advances if he was ever
going to get back to his old self again.

He couldn’t just hang out with her in their apartment the
rest of his life. That wasn’t who he was at all, and she was sure that wouldn’t
be good for him.

“They must have put up the Christmas decorations this
afternoon,” she said, noticing the white lights and ribbons on the light poles
down the main streets in town. She was driving. Mark had been letting her do
most of the driving. That wasn’t like him either, but she wasn’t yet prepared
to make an issue of it yet.

“I saw them working on them about four,” Mark said. “They
got them up quick.”

Sophie felt better as they drove to Daniel and Jessica
Duncan’s house, where the Bible study took place. Mark seemed fine. He wasn’t
particularly withdrawn or anxious. He would do fine tonight, and he would keep
getting better.

The decorations in town were attractive and festive, and
Sophie almost felt in a holiday mood for the first time that year. She said,
“We should get a Christmas tree.”

“Sure. As long as it’s a real one.” He gave her a little
smile.

She giggled. Her parents always had an artificial tree—the
same one they’d had since her childhood—and Mark had been horrified when he’d
heard about it.

They’d never actually spent a Christmas together. They’d
started dating in November, so they’d spent that Christmas apart—as they
weren’t committed enough yet to travel to her family together. They’d gotten
married in July, and he’d left on assignment in November, so she’d spent the
following Christmases without him.

This year, Christmas was going to be good. She was finally
going to get to spend it with Mark. “They’ve got several places around here
where we can go pick one out and cut it ourselves.”

“You’re planning to cut down a tree, are you?”

“Well, I figured you’d do the cutting. I’d do the picking
out.”

His eyes were resting on her face, looking soft and
affectionate. “Is that the way it works?”

“Yes.” She tried to look resolute, but she was so distracted
by his expression that she was having trouble keeping her eyes on the road.
“That’s the way it works.”

It only took a few minutes to get to the Duncans. They lived
in the church manse—a lovely old house with a wide porch and big windows. Most
of the other people were already there when they entered, and Sophie was
worried it would be too much for Mark as they walked in to a lot of staring
eyes.

Everything went fine, though. Jessica and Daniel greeted
them with causal friendliness, and the others introduced themselves without
giving Sophie and Mark an interrogation.

Maybe they’d all resolved not to put Mark on the spot, but—for
whatever the reason—it was easy to take their seats and join the conversation
without any pressure.

Sophie kept giving Mark discreet looks to make sure he
wasn’t tense or uncomfortable, but he looked fine. As the small talk turned to
prayer and Bible study, he even joined the conversation, answering some of the
questions about the passage from Galatians they were studying and even asking a
question about the meaning of a word.

Sophie was thrilled. She’d thought he would sit quietly the
whole time, since he hadn’t wanted to go. But he didn’t appear to have any
trouble at all, fitting in and involving himself with the others. When the
Bible study broke up, he even asked a question of Chuck Todd, a guy about his
age who was sitting beside him, who had mentioned he played with a community
basketball team.

It sounded like Mark wanted to get involved.

So Sophie was on a high as the Bible study ended and she and
Mark stood up. The others were mingling, one couple already making a move to
leave, since they had a babysitter with their kids at home.