Chapter 4
4
Mark parked on the street, two blocks down from the Baytown Methodist Church. The church's basement reception hall was large enough for groups to have meetings, and tonight was the American Legion monthly meeting.
He walked into the room, immediately recognizing almost everyone there. For someone who didn’t care for large groups, he found it comforting to have a camaraderie with these men and women veterans. Lifting his chin as he made eye contact with several, he walked over to a group of law enforcement friends. As he neared, he heard Ginny MacFarlane say, “I’d like you all to meet Karen Drummond if you haven’t already met her. She works for the county health department as a home nurse.”
His view of Karen was hindered. Ginny was tucked next to her husband, Brogan, who was large enough to hide whoever was on Ginny's other side. Brogan dipped his chin and said, “Nice to see you again, Karen.”
“Thank you. The girls have been begging to get back to the Pub. They love it there.”
Mark walked to the side so his gaze could land on the pretty blonde who had occupied his mind since he’d met her. He discovered her voice was as soft as he’d remembered.
Brogan replied, “That’s what we like to hear.” Brogan then turned and spied Mark approaching. “Hey, man. I heard you’re going to talk about the youth running club.”
He nodded, but his gaze only shot to Brogan briefly before returning to Karen.
Ginny piped up. “Karen, this is?—”
“We’ve met,” Mark said, his smile directed at Karen, noting the slight blush that crossed her cheeks.
“Yes… at Brad’s house,” she replied, her smile inviting.
“Oh, that’s right. You had to see Bess, didn’t you?” Ginny asked before turning to Mark. “Karen and I met in the Army.”
That news surprised him, but he didn’t get a chance to respond before Ginny lifted on her toes and kissed Brogan quickly before turning to Karen. “I hate to say hello and run, but Brogan’s mom has the kids, and we just got a call that the youngest is running a fever. I’m going to head home.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I hope he’s okay,” Karen said.
“Kids and viruses… but then I’m sure you know all about that,” Ginny said. “I’ll call, and we’ll get caught up, okay?”
“Sounds good.” Her gaze moved to Mark’s face before she cleared her throat and looked around the group. “It was nice to meet everyone. I’m going to get some coffee before the meeting starts.”
She walked toward the coffee and pastry table at the back of the room. A few others in the group started meandering toward the chairs, but Mark remained standing with Brogan.
“Ginny knows her well?” He felt self-conscious but didn’t want to ask anyone from work. The last thing he needed was to give his coworkers a chance to needle him about his interest… especially as it might be inappropriate if she was married or dating someone.
Brogan held his gaze, making Mark fight the urge to squirm. Finally, with a slow nod and lips twitching, Brogan replied, “Don’t know much, man. I know she and Ginny met when serving. Their paths crossed, and they hit it off. She’s been in the area for about a year. Comes into the Pub with her two girls.”
He nodded slowly, taking in what he could while still wanting Brogan to get to the one point Mark needed to know. Inwardly wincing, he couldn’t define why it was so important, but just when he thought he’d gotten what little Brogan knew, his friend added one more tidbit.
“She’s a widow, raising her girls on her own. Ginny had me and a couple of others help Karen move in, but since then, she works, and other than seeing her occasionally, I don’t know anything else.” Brogan pierced him with a hard stare. “I take it you’re interested?”
He opened his mouth, and the instinct to deny it immediately bubbled up, but no words came out. He clamped his jaw shut, the weight of Brogan’s question settling over him.
Brogan shook his head, and a low chuckle slipped out as he glanced to the back where Karen had gone. “Go on, Mark. You know I’m the last one to get into anyone’s business. But from what I know, she’s a good woman. I have no problem telling a good man to take his shot.” With that, he walked toward the seats, leaving Mark alone to stare at Karen’s back.
“What the hell am I doing?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. The last thing he needed was someone else’s opinion, but it didn’t stop his feet from moving in her direction. When he reached the back table, Karen was pouring cream into her coffee, holding a sweetener packet in her other hand. For some reason, the small detail stuck with him. He made a mental note of what she liked in her coffee, though he wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered.
She seemed lost in thought, her gaze scanning the platters of pastries as she stirred her coffee absentmindedly. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer.
“Excuse me, Karen,” he said, reaching for a cup near hers.
Startled by his voice, her hand jerked and spilled coffee over the rim of her cup. “Damn!” she cursed softly as the liquid splashed onto her hand.
“Shit! I’m so sorry!” Mark fumbled, dropping his empty cup and grabbing a stack of napkins. Without thinking, he reached for her hand, dabbing at the spilled coffee with a frantic urgency. “Are you burned? I didn’t mean to?—”
“No, no,” she said quickly, taking a few napkins from him and gently pulling her hand away. Their eyes met, and she shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Honestly, Mark, it’s okay.”
He winced, his gaze dropping to her hand again, relieved to see no sign of redness. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like an awkward teenager. Get a grip. I haven’t been this clumsy since high school.
“Really,” she repeated, her voice soft as she leaned a little closer, her face filling his vision. “The coffee wasn’t even that hot. It’s more lukewarm at best. I was just drinking it for the caffeine.” Her lips curved upward, her eyes twinkling with humor. “Certainly not like Bess’s coffee.”
Mark found himself lost in her brown eyes, the same ones that had stayed with him since their last brief encounter.
Karen tilted her head, a blush rising to her cheeks as she smiled again. “Let’s start over, shall we?” She held out her hand. “Hello, Mark.”
He smiled, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders as he took her hand in a gentle grip. “Hello, Karen. And again, I’m really sorry for startling you.”
She laughed lightly, and the sound sent a ripple of warmth through him. “Don’t worry about it. My mind was elsewhere—I probably would’ve jumped at anything.”
Mark chuckled softly. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“No, I haven’t come very often,” she admitted, shrugging slightly. “It’s just hard to find the time these days. By the time I get home and settle the girls in for the night, I’m ready to crawl into bed, not drive all the way into Baytown for a meeting.”
Her confession came with a sigh, and for a moment, she seemed almost embarrassed by it. But the honesty in her words only made her seem more real to him. He didn’t want her to feel self-conscious… not about the difficulty of single parenting.
Before he could respond, the call to take seats rang out across the room. Karen tossed her half-empty coffee cup into the trash, and Mark sighed inwardly, disappointed that their conversation was being cut short just as it had started to find its rhythm.
"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing toward a couple of empty seats near the side. At her nod, he led her to the row, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of their brief but unexpectedly warm exchange.
As the meeting began, Mark struggled to focus on the speakers at the front. The words blurred together as his attention kept drifting back to the woman sitting beside him. Every now and then, he’d catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye—the way her hair brushed her shoulder and the soft lines of her face illuminated by the overhead lights. He tried to shake it off and concentrate on the business at hand, but it was no use. His thoughts kept circling back to Karen.
Thirty minutes into the meeting, he was called to the podium to report on the newly formed youth running clubs with which he was assisting. Looking at her wide-eyed expression, he quipped, “Save my seat.”
Her smile made him want to hurry through his short presentation and get back to her side.
Once there, she leaned over and whispered, “I didn’t know the AL had a running group for kids. I’m afraid I’ve been woefully out of touch with what is going on.”
“It’s new,” he whispered in return, loving the excuse to be closer. A delicate scent of vanilla and something floral drifted past, reminding him of a candle his mother loved. Sea Breeze. His dad made sure he bought the candles from the little gift shop in Baytown. And when they stopped carrying them, he would order them straight from the company that made them. “Your momma asks for very little, Son. If a candle makes her happy, then I’m gonna do what I can to give it to her.”
As the program continued, she leaned back in her seat, and he missed the closeness. They stood for the closing, and while many members went to the Pub afterward to have a meal or a drink, he wanted to extend his limited time with her. “May I walk you to your car?” he asked, not wanting the evening to end just yet.
She smiled, but a touch of hesitation flickered in her eyes. “Thank you, but you don’t have to.”
Their gazes locked, and Mark felt the air between them thicken at that moment. His experience with women might have been rusty, but his ability to read people was as sharp as ever. And what he saw in her eyes, what he hoped for, was that she was just as interested. "I may not have to," he said gently, “but I’d like to.”
The electricity between them hung in the air as they stood there, neither moving. Mark held his breath, waiting to see if she’d turn him down or accept. Doubt crept in, making him second-guess himself, but then, slowly, her lips curved into a smile.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “It would be lovely for you to walk me out.”
Relief swept through him, easing the tightness in his chest. He hadn’t known what to expect—he had no smooth lines or practiced charm—but she hadn’t shot him down. It was just a walk to her car, but to him, it felt like the first step toward something he hadn’t realized he’d been hoping for.
As they exited the building, her warm and soothing voice drifted in the cool night air. His hand rested lightly on her back as they crossed the street, their steps falling into a comfortable rhythm. The other attendees continued to mill around, but once they moved farther from the church, the street grew quieter, and the only sound was the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet.
“How many girls do you have?” Mark asked, glancing at her with genuine curiosity.
Her face lit, and the smile she gave him was so full of love and pride that it was contagious. “Two. Laura and Olivia. Laura’s fourteen, and Olivia is twelve.”
Mark couldn’t help but smile in return, recognizing the same joy he felt when talking about Benji. Something was so grounding and real in how she spoke about her daughters. It made him feel connected to her in an unexpected and comforting way.
But as much as he enjoyed hearing about her life, he felt the need to be upfront with her and clear the air. “Karen,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, “I have to be honest. I know that you’re a widow. That’s all I know, but it didn’t feel right to have that personal information without you knowing.”
She stopped beside her small SUV and turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “You asked about me?”
“Yes… I just wanted to know if you were married or in a relationship since I didn’t see a traditional wedding ring on your finger.”
She glanced down at her left hand, her fingers wiggling slightly at the small ring she wore, the red and green stones twinkling in the faint streetlight. “This is a mother’s ring. It has my daughter’s birthstones.” Looking back up, she added, “I’m a widow. Jeffrey died almost four years ago.”
“I understand,” Mark admitted. “I’m a single dad. I have a ten-year-old son. Benji. And like you, once I get home, have dinner, and make sure homework is done, I’m beat.”
Scoffing softly, she leaned her hip against the side of her vehicle, apparently not in a hurry. This simple fact filled Mark with a quiet sense of satisfaction.
“Yet you lead a youth running group and make these meetings,” she teased.
“Hey, don’t think I’m Superman. My dad lives with us and helps out. He makes most of the meals, gets Benji off the bus, and handles things when I can’t. Plus, I was raised out here, so when Benji and I moved back, we had a lot of support.” He shifted slightly, leaning his own hip against her car, and for the first time, he realized how at ease he felt standing there with her, talking about their lives.
“Do you mind if I ask if Benji’s mom is in the picture?” she asked gently, her eyes searching his.
Mark’s heart gave a little tug, and he realized he hadn’t fully explained. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear,” he said quietly. “I’m a widower. Benji’s mom passed away five years ago.”
Karen’s expression softened instantly. She reached out, her fingers wrapping around his hand in a gesture that was both simple and profoundly comforting. “I’m so sorry.”
Her touch was warm, and for a moment, the weight of their shared loss hung between them, a quiet understanding that didn’t need words. “I’m sorry for your loss, too, Karen,” he replied, his voice low.
For a while, they stood in the stillness, neither rushing to fill the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it felt like a shared moment, heavy with meaning but not with burden. Mark realized with a startle that he hadn’t had many conversations like this—not with someone who truly understood what it was like to lose a spouse, to carry the weight of grief while raising a child alone, and to navigate life in a different way than planned.
He wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, he felt a quiet sense of possibility, standing there with Karen, her hand in his, in the calm of the night.