Pretense (56 page)

Mackenzie looked at him. She hadn't expected any less, but having Jack say it outright was a surprise. Nevertheless, it was what she wanted. If Jack's face could be trusted, he accepted the fact as well.

"I don't leave for two more days, Jack, and I'd still like to see my sister. Is it all right if I stay?"

"You've misunderstood me, Mic." His eyes were tender even though she wouldn't look at him. He was in pain, but his heart knew peace. "You can stay forever, but I'm going to live out my faith as I've always done. I'm not going to tiptoe around you, not today or ever, but you're welcome in this home, or any home I have, for as long as I live."

"Thank you," Mackenzie said softly, still unable to meet his eyes. She couldn't say she was sorry because she wasn't, but in some ways this was a relief. She knew the next two days would be strained, and indeed, they were very difficult.

Delancey hated the silences and the pain she saw on Jack's and Mackenzie's faces, but she had no idea what to do. Guilty as the thought made her feel, it was almost a relief to have her sister leave. She took her to the airport without Jack and cried all the way back to the apartment.

For Delancey, things were not as they'd always been with Jack, but she had to admit that it felt easier without Mackenzie. With her sister in the mix, she felt she had to choose, and right now she couldn't do that. She didn't understand, however, that her own quiet distance with Jack was, in fact, choosing, and Jack knew without having to ask that Delancey would not stay the whole summer.

403

Arlington

"Where are you taking me?" Mackenzie asked when Tom picked her up at the airport but did not take her home.

"To my place. I've got dinner ready."

"Let me guess . . . pizza?"

"Wrong. You'll just have to be surprised."

Mackenzie smiled at him. She was tired and a little achy, but it was nice to see him. She hadn't thought about missing him but now realized she had.

"So what did you do to keep busy these last two weeks?"

"All I've done is work," he told her without elaborating. "How was your trip?"

"It was all right."

Tom glanced at her. "Want to tell me about it?"

"I don't know. It's a long story."

"I have time."

Mackenzie looked at him. "Maybe some other time, all right?"

"Of course."

Mackenzie was glad that he let it go, and they finished the ride in silence. She was as relaxed as a cat, almost dozing, by the time they reached his place.

"Come on," he coaxed her as he opened her door. "I'll get a little Pepsi into you and bring you back to life."

Mackenzie went along with him, and when he finally sat her down at his kitchen table and gave her a huge sub sandwich and several deli salads to choose from, she was glad she had come.

"These are good! Gino's, right?"

"Of course. You wouldn't expect me to welcome you home with anything else."

"Thank you, kind sir."

"By the way, why haven't you asked me if I read your book?"

"Oh," Mackenzie's brows rose. "I thought of it when my plane was leaving San Francisco but then forgot again."

Tom was amazed all over again. He knew she'd been guileless with him about her feelings, but he hadn't thought her this at ease. Most people wanted to know if the other person approved. Mackenzie Bishop honestly didn't care.

"Did you read it?"

"I did, and it's excellent."

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Mackenzie beamed. "Well, Tom, coming from you, that's a real compliment. Thank you."

Tom took a bite of his own sandwich and mentally regrouped. This was not going anything like he had planned. He opened his mouth to try again but decided to wait until they were finished with the meal. They did the dishes, talking all the while, and Tom even kissed her when she got suds on her cheek, but she wasn't expecting the move he made after dinner. Taking her hand, he led her to the big chair and pulled her down in his lap. Their relationship was getting physical, but nowhere near this much. Mackenzie's eyes widened, and she wondered if he'd been drinking. She was almost sure of it when he kissed her long and hard.

"Tom, what in the world-"

"Do I have your attention now?"

"You've had my attention all evening."

"No, I haven't. I want you to listen to me, and I'll do anything to make sure you do."

Mackenzie stared at him in confusion before climbing from his lap. She sat on the edge of the sofa.

"You have my attention, Tom, and you can start by telling me what that was all about."

"No, I'm going to start by repeating what I said about
Access Denied.
It's good, Mackenzie,
very good."

"Thank you, Tom, but I did hear you the first time."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, because I'm serious, Mackenzie. I know he'll make some changes, not to the story itself, it's too good for that, but maybe a little with your grammar. You tend to use the word
just
too much and
that
a little too often, but he's-"

"Who, Tom? I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about Paxton and what he's going to say."

Mackenzie bolted to her feet.
"You gave the manuscript to Paxton?"

"No, but I'm going to."

Mackenzie collapsed back onto the sofa with relief, and Tom talked on for some minutes before he realized he'd lost her again.

"Do I need to get you over here in my lap again? I'm trying to tell you-" He stopped when Mackenzie just continued to shake her head. Tom took a deep breath and suddenly realized how

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emotional he had been. If ever he needed to be calm and professional, it was now. He sat up in the overstuffed leather chair, took a moment to compose himself, and looked at his guest.

"Mackenzie, your book is good. I'm not saying that just because I care for you but because it's true."

Mackenzie only stared at him.

"Access Denied
is the freshest thing I've read in five years. I was late for work the Monday after you left because I read until four in the morning and overslept my alarm, something I haven't done since I was a teenager. Your book needs to be in bookstores, and Paxton Hancock is the man to put it there."

"I can't," Mackenzie said softly. "I appreciate what you're saying, Tom. It means a lot to me. But you don't understand: I
can't."

"Why can't you?"

Mackenzie sat back, and for a moment she studied the white ceiling of the condo's living room. "I met Paxton right after I moved here, and at first he was interested in me, even when he found out I was so much younger. But when I told him I didn't want a relationship, he just became my friend. We did lots of things together over the months before he met Jodi, and if there was one thing I learned, it's that he
hates
aspiring fiction authors. He would moan until I told him to shut up whenever he attended a party and was caught in the corner by some long-winded wannabe who told him every detail of a book that wasn't written yet."

Tom started to shake his head, but Mackenzie went on, so he stopped.

"I also lived in his world for a little while, Tom, and I didn't like it. On top of that, I don't like to use people. Pax is my friend. The only favor I've ever asked of him was to look at Delancey's artwork, and that's how you ended up with Micah Bear. So you see, I can't."

"No one appreciates your not taking advantage of your connection to IronHorse more than I do, Mackenzie, and I mean that. You could have hounded me months ago about this book, but you didn't. You wrote it for yourself, and I love that. But there's more to this story. I may work in children's books, and I may keep more abreast of that market than any other, but books are still my passion. I love them. My bedroom is lined with one bookshelf after another, all packed with books I've read and reread. Paxton would

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not thank you for keeping this from him just because he doesn't like to be bothered with the wannabes of this world."

"Tom," Mackenzie tried another tact, "it won't work. He'll take one look at my name and laugh."

"We won't use your name."

Mackenzie's mouth opened. "Lie to him? Pretend I didn't write it?"

"Absolutely. I promise you, in the long run he will thank us."

Mackenzie could only laugh. He was serious, and she was incredulous. She sat still while he stood and went into the next room. He returned with a fat folder, obviously her manuscript.

"I'm headed to Paxton's right now to see if he's home."

"What will you say?"

"That my mother spoke out of turn and I've been roped into passing this manuscript on to someone."

"What name will you use?"

She stumped him with that. He walked back to his big chair and sat, the book in his lap.

"Ken Bishop," he suddenly announced with a smile.

"Ken? Where did you get 'Ken'?"

"Mackenzie."

That woman shook her head. "He'll pick up on the Bishop, Tom. It's too obvious."

The man thought some more, his brow furrowed.

"And Ken sounds like a doll."

"Mac then," Tom tried.

"You can't put that with Bishop. He'll know in an instant."

"What's your mother's maiden name?"

"Walker."

A big smile stretched Tom's mouth, and he stood. Mackenzie found herself staring again.

"That mother of mine," he spoke in a singsong voice as he moved toward the door. "Having her old friend's grandson just drop in on her like that. Why, she hadn't even remembered that Mac Walker was still in the state, and here he was all grown up, and me stuck with this manuscript."

Tom dropped the role just long enough to wink at her and tell her to stay put. He was out the door and long gone before Mackenzie asked herself,
What in the world have I done?

407

Thirty-Two

San Francisco Mid-July

Jack knew he would cry when she left, but he toldhimself to hold together until she was gone. It was

like losing Marrell all over again. Mackenzie had gone so far as to write to Delancey asking her to send some of her things. Several boxes had been mailed. Now the car they had purchased for Delancey was full of her belongings, far more than she needed for a year at school. Jack wondered if he would ever see her again.

How has it come to this, Lord? How did we get so far away? 1 know they were never on the same page with us spiritually, but 1 thought the girls cared.
Jack had to stop that train of thought before he sobbed like a baby.

Delancey was coming from her bedroom now, looking a little uncertain, but some of her black-belt training was coming to the fore. Jack had seen it off and on through the years, but not for some time had he seen that resolute expression on her face.

"All set?" he asked softly.

"I think so."

"Listen, D.J., I think you feel that you need to choose between me and Mackenzie. You don't. I don't think Mackenzie will care if we stay in touch." But Jack wished he'd saved his breath. He never thought Mackenzie had so much influence over Delancey, but right now she certainly did. Delancey looked more determined than ever after those words. It was as if she was ready to crumble and had to get out before it happened. Jack didn't want her to stay just because he'd begged her, so he let it drop.

408

"I'd better go," Delancey said.

"All right. If you think of it, just drop me a postcard so I know you made it. Illinois is a long way away."

"I will, and I'm still going to pay you back for the car, Jack."

"No, you're not, D.J., and I mean it. I'd even cover your schooling if you'd let me."

But she was already shaking her head. "I don't know if I'm even going to school the first semester, Jack. Thank you, but I have the account money from my dad and the advance money from the books. I'll be fine."

"Well, if ever you're not, you know the number."

Delancey trembled as he hugged her but was thankful he didn't walk her down to the car. He was right: She did feel as though she had to choose. Mackenzie wanted nothing to do with San Francisco and Jack, and Delancey didn't know how she could live in both her sister's and Jack's worlds. At times she felt Mackenzie was being unreasonable, but she was still her sister, and in her mind, the last family she had.

It was this thought alone that enabled her to check the map, put the car in gear, and drive away from California with no intention of returning.

Alexandria, Virginia

Mackenzie hung a childhood photo of her and Delancey on the wall next to her desk and stood back and smiled at the two little girls in poodle skirts grinning at the camera. From there she turned slowly to look at the room, not caring that it had little furniture, and smiled in delight.