Abiding Love (6 page)

Recognizing his anger as hurt, Adam let the pain roll across him. He was well versed in hiding hurt. He’d learned it from the cradle. Standing, he followed his instincts and tacked the sheet onto the refrigerator with the magnet from the local pizza parlor that kept them fed these days. He hoped his instincts were right, since instincts were all he had. That and trying to do the opposite of what he knew his parents would have done in any given situation.

“There,” he said, stepping back to admire the sight he’d missed for so many years. “Who cares how old you are? It looks right on the fridge. I promise if you have a friend over, we’ll take it down.”

“I don’t have any friends. Or haven’t you noticed?” Mark growled.

“You just haven’t come across anyone who shares your interests yet.”

“That’s what Ms. Lexington says.”

Adam gritted his teeth.
Ms. Lexington says—
How many times in the last three weeks had he heard that? She was the reason Mark’s report card made him feel so defeated. She had done what Adam couldn’t. Mark had settled down in school, had received high praise from all his teachers. At home it was a chorus of
Drop dead, Dad. Stuff it. Whatever. I’m going to my room.

“So what interested you in New Mexico besides schoolwork? What did you guys do on weekends?”

“Whatever.”

Adam decided maybe he needed to be a little less of a whipping boy. Ms. Alexandra Lexington’s advice wasn’t getting him anywhere. He kept listening for the clues she’d told him to, and every time he found one and responded to it, Mark slipped that stiletto tongue of his right through his heart. It was time he started following his own instincts for a change.

“I don’t know what ‘whatever’ means, Mark. What did you do on a typical weekend?” he pressed.

“I played softball and ran track. I’d just gotten into basketball when they—” Mark stopped and took a breath, looking close to tears. “We all went to my games or meets on Saturdays or helped raise money for the teams.”

“Have you thought about trying out for sports here?”

“The teams are full. Sorry,” he snapped, “I’m not
into sitting on the bench hoping some other guy breaks an arm or a leg.”

Adam arched his eyebrows and leaned against the counter. “Can’t say I blame you. So what else did you do? Track and softball don’t run year round,” he said, avoiding any mention of basketball since it clearly reminded Mark of the accident.

“We were a family. We did family stuff.” Mark had been getting testy, but now his tone changed. Wistfully, he said, “Sometimes we’d just go to the mall and laugh at Mom trying on really bad clothes. She never bought any of them, but there was nothing like seeing conservative Mom prancing around in a leopard miniskirt and leather vest.”

Conservative? Mallory? She must have changed over the years without Adam noticing. Most of the time when he’d stopped to get Mark, she’d had on jeans and a shirt. That was almost an American uniform, so it told little about her wardrobe or style.

“So what else did your…family do?” This was such a weird conversation, but maybe it was the right route. At least it had lasted three times longer than most of their conversations did. When Mark stayed silent, Adam coaxed, “You have to tell me. I didn’t have a normal American family, Mark. I don’t have a clue what one does.”

Mark eyed him like a bug under his microscope or an alien life-form. Adam didn’t care. They were still talking.

“We’d go to a movie,” Mark said at last. “Or Jerry and I’d do yard work or build something to
gether. He had a primo wood shop. Mom would bring us lunch and sit eating hers while we worked. Sundays we’d go to church. Sometimes have an early dinner there. We had a great life.”

“Maybe we should try church. Would you like that?”

Mark shrugged, looking conflicted. “I don’t know. God took away my great life. Why should I worship Him? Or listen to made-up promises about Him?”

“I don’t have a clue. But it’d be something for us to do together. Something families do. Even mine did.”

“I did belong to our church’s youth group. We did some cool things together,” Mark said, looking a bit interested.

“Maybe that’s where you could meet some kids. Ms. Lexington made it sound as if your school schedule was so tight you’d hardly ever have time to meet and talk to other students except on the bus. And you don’t take the bus.”

“Sorry you have to drive with me every day. If this stupid state didn’t have a six-month learner’s permit rule, I could just take the car.”

“Hey, I don’t mind. Teaching your kid to drive is a rite of passage for parents.” Except for those long, torturous, silent trips back and forth.

“How was your day, son?”

“Peachy.”

“Learn anything interesting?”

“That the Gestapo sometimes interrogated prison
ers for days. They lost the war. Take the hint, will you?”

Then silence. Deadly, nerve-racking silence would fill the car. What was he doing wrong?

“So we’ll go to church tomorrow, but not the one I went to. I’m not sure they’d be ready for either of our wardrobes even in this day and age. How about your aunt Beth’s church? Apparently jeans and tees are more than accepted, they’re expected. Then we could go over to Laurel Glen and see what you think of riding.” For Mark’s sake, he’d even put up with the memories that would evoke.

Mark stood looking agitated, almost…threatened. “We’ll see. I have a report I need to get on. Can I go now?”

“Sure. I didn’t mean to keep you so long. I have to make a call. I had an idea about someone who might be interested in the cleanup-crew job we talked about.”

“You mean a maid or a butler or something.”

“I was thinking of a guy I served with. Sully’s a fair cook and his place on base looked a whole lot better than this place is starting to look.”

“Whatever,” Mark said, and walked out.

Adam watched him go, wondering what had just happened and if there was a way to officially strike
whatever
from the English language. He felt buoyed and deflated at the same time. For a while there they had really “communicated,” as Ms. Lexington would call it. But now that the conversation had fallen apart, Adam felt once again bereft of the company of his
son. And worse. As if there had been something deep going on in Mark’s head and he’d once again failed to tune in to it, as Ms. Lexington would also point out.

Maybe if Mark found some friends. Maybe at Beth’s church. Maybe he’d be Mark’s hero again for thinking of the idea. Yeah, tomorrow they’d go to church. Mark would meet nice kids and Adam would win points. Alexandra Lexington hadn’t helped Mark find friends. After tomorrow he’d be ahead.

“Wait a minute,” he muttered aloud. “When did this Lexington woman get to be my opponent in a contest for Mark’s affections?”

“A
dam, Mark, welcome to the Tabernacle,” Pastor Jim Dillon said as he offered his hand to both of them in greeting. The pastor was standing on the sidewalk leading to the front door of the barn-church. He was dressed even more informally today in jeans and an open bomber jacket that showed off a shirt with a decidedly Hawaiian twist. It look as if Adam and Mark weren’t underdressed in their jeans and tees. Maybe choosing this church really had been a good idea.

“Do you want to attend services with your father or head on over to the youth hall?” the pastor asked Mark as the two shook hands.

Mark’s “Whatever” reply had Adam cringing.

Jim Dillon, however, chuckled and glanced Adam’s way with a wink before he said, “Definitely the youth group service. Mark, if you follow that path back around the side of the church you’ll see the door to
our youth hall. In fact, there’s my son. Hey, Ian,” Dillon shouted to a dark-haired kid walking toward the far end of the barn. “Come here. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Still grinning, the pastor told Mark, “He can show you the way and introduce you to the whole motley crew.”

Mark turned and watched Ian Dillon, his gaze wary and hopeful at the same time. As the kid drew closer, Adam could see that Ian looked a lot like his father. Ian was about Mark’s age but by the time he reached them, he was huffing and puffing like an old man.

“You okay?” his father asked, concern written on his features as he laid his hand on Ian’s shoulders.

“I had to round up the twins for Mum. They ran off for the woods so I had to give chase,” the teen said in some sort of diluted British accent. “This cold air’s got me. That’s all, Dad. I’ll be right as rain once I get inside.” He turned toward Mark. “So, hi. I’m Ian…but I guess you figured that out by now. And you are?”

“Mark Boyer.”

“Hello, Mark. Come along, then. Meet the rest of us. Prepare yourself for a treat. We’re the absolute best Chester County has to offer. Our moderator…”

“Your son seems like a nice kid,” Adam said after the two moved on and Ian’s slightly halting conversation faded.

Jim Dillon smiled as he watched the boys make their way toward the smaller building. “Ian’s a great kid. He isn’t supposed to exert himself in the cold but it’s hard to keep him down. These frigid temperatures
aren’t too good for his asthma. So, you decided to give our congregation a try,” he continued, looking back to Adam once more.

Adam wanted to put a quick end to Pastor Dillon thinking he’d found a new, dedicated member for his flock. “Mark’s mother and I were divorced. Apparently, she and her husband took him to church, so I thought I should, too. They were killed recently, and Mark’s with me. He’s not meeting other kids since I brought him east. I thought a church might be a place he’d meet some nice kids.”

Grinning broadly as if enjoying a private joke, Jim Dillon reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve heard slimmer excuses. I don’t care why you came and, believe me, neither does the Lord,” he assured Adam. “Hope you enjoy the service.”

Adam was still wondering what the pastor had meant when he noticed an approaching couple surrounded by a horde of children. Jim Dillon smiled and raised his hand in greeting.

Considering the distraction a reprieve, Adam beat a hasty retreat and took a seat at the back of the sanctuary. He looked around the structure, once again admiring the imagination it had taken to envision carving a church from an old barn. Then, before he knew it, a band began playing an upbeat tune much like the ones that had been played at Beth’s wedding. He shook his head. A barn and a rock band. Who’d have thought of this as a church setting?

Jim Dillon made a few announcements, cracked a couple of pretty amusing jokes, and then asked every
one to open to Matthew 6:26 “Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” he began. Interspersed with the dry wit Adam assumed was a trademark, Jim Dillon endeavored to convince his congregation that God cared about them and could certainly be counted on for help because He was as indulgent as any good father.

That, Adam thought as he looked from smiling person to smiling person, was probably fine for these people to believe. God had obviously given them good lives. And judging from the peaceful, happy expressions on the faces he saw, they hadn’t seen the side of life he had or had their safe comfortable lives turned inside out and upside down as often as he had. He doubted there was a man there who had ever come home one day to find his wife and child gone without a warning.

Maybe he’d been blind not to have seen how unhappy military life was making Mallory. Maybe he’d been wrong not to take notice of her restlessness when he returned home after missions. Maybe, because he had missed the signs, he’d even deserved the end to his marriage. But he didn’t think he had deserved the way she’d done it.

He’d come home on a stretcher, seriously considering retirement lest his son grow up without a father—lest his wife have to raise Mark alone. Then he’d awakened to find not his loving wife but his base commander standing by his hospital bedside with a
short note from Mallory. She’d explained in only a few words that life as he’d known it was over. That his son would have another father now. That her lawyer would contact him in regard to the dissolution of their marriage and division of property. That he was alone once again.

Mallory had literally run off with a sailor who’d recently been discharged, and she had replaced Adam with him. Adam still wondered if he would have been able to lure her back with a promise that he’d leave the SEALs for her. Leave the Navy altogether. But pride, hurt and anger had stopped him. She clearly didn’t need him. She’d even found a new father for Mark. Rather than retire, Adam had worked toward his physical recovery with single-minded intent and he’d made the SEALs his family, advancing through the ranks to command his own team.

And Mark grew up without you,
he berated himself silently.
Now, when your kid needs you, he doesn’t even know you and you sure don’t know him.

Of course, part of the problem was that Adam didn’t know who he was himself these days.

“Excuse me,” a soft female voice said, calling him back to the present. Adam blinked, then a disquieting feeling descended as the voice he’d heard penetrated the fog in his brain. He looked up and into the startled eyes of Alexandra Lexington.

Well, there you go. Murphy’s Law strikes again. Mark’s gonna love the kids in the youth group and I’m gonna run the risk of seeing her every single Sunday.

And be annoyed.

He stood to let her by. He didn’t have a choice if he didn’t want her standing there staring down at him like a bug under a microscope. In the instant it took for her perfume to fill his senses, the truth smacked him upside the head. His edgy reaction to her had more to do with attraction than irritation.

He stood transfixed by her startled eyes. Right then they looked more ice-blue than blue-gray. Her gaze, he realized with a second flash of insight, was wary but interested in spite of her anxiety. And with that knowledge came a internal kick to his solar plexis the likes of which he hadn’t experienced during the toughest combat.

Adam was horrified. He prized loyalty over every other virtue. How could he feel this for a Lexington—one of the people who had clearly persecuted his sister for years? And she was the woman luring his son’s affections away from him.

Or was he just jealous that she seemed to like Mark, yet had loathed
him
on sight?

Xandra swallowed hard and dragged her gaze from Adam Boyer’s vibrant green eyes. “I really must get by,” she told him, scrabbling for composure and losing ground quickly. Why would she notice the verdant color of the man’s eyes, especially when seeing him unexpectedly rattled her so badly? And worse, now she realized that her heart had begun pounding and her pulse throbbed and it was all spawned by his intense stare and sudden nearness.

Then he blinked as if coming out of a trance—or at least a fascinating introspection—and stepped into the aisle to let her pass. “Sorry,” he said, an embarrassed scowl settling on his face. “I was deep in thought,” he continued. “I hadn’t realized it was time to leave.”

Since he’d sat through a rousing hymn following Pastor Jim’s sermon, his thoughts must have been deep indeed. Funny, she’d thought of him as a man of action and certainly not in the least introspective. How else could he continue to misread Mark as he did?

“It’s okay,” she told him, unaccountably touched by his undisguised chagrin. “Pastor Jim’s sermons are supposed to provoke reflection. He stays up front in case anyone wants to talk over their thoughts.”

“I think for myself. I don’t need the good pastor to judge my motives and insights.”

She refused to let him rile her. Or scare her. “When I first came here, I thought faith was a private thing, too. But I’ve learned that sharing thoughts with people of like mind is more liberating than confining. Believe me, I value my freedom too much these days to give away even a scrap of it. I assume Mark is with the youth group?”

“It’s the weekend, you’re off duty. Where Mark is isn’t any of your concern.”

“No. It isn’t. Tell me, do you always attack people who are only trying to help you? A simple ‘Thank you, Xandra, for helping my son get acclimatized to a new and strange school’ would be a little more than
in order. You know, you rank up there with some of the most insufferable men I’ve ever met. No wonder Mark’s so miserable. All I can say is that Beth must be blind.”

She didn’t give him a split second to respond. Xandra pivoted and left him there with his mouth hanging open. It wasn’t until she stomped past Holly Dillon and her two-year-old twins without stopping to cuddle one of them that Xandra realized he’d done it again—sparked a shamefully angry response from her. He’d stolen her peace. Robbed her of her joy.

Why? How?

Remembering her conversation with Beth about her brother, she realized she couldn’t put off thinking about why she reacted to him the way she did. Something Beth had said suddenly flooded her mind.
You remind me of myself when I first met Jack.

Her body went hot, then cold. “Oh, no. That’s not possible,” she gasped as she got behind the wheel of the New Life Inn’s discreet SUV. “I’m not attracted to him. I’m not!”

But as she steered carefully through the lot, she saw Adam waiting for Mark at his car and felt her pulse once again take off at too fast a rhythm.

“What are You doing to me, Lord? I don’t want a man in my life. Never, ever again. Especially a man who is so much a…a
man.
He’s too big. Too bold. Too charismatic.”

And maybe, just maybe that’s why he scares me.