“No,” Amy said. “No one is taking the tent down. I have a list of projects for tomorrow. We have less than forty-eight hours before the ribbon cutting.”
The conversation turned to the plans for Saturday, then moved on to various people in town expected to attend. Dinner ended and Mrs. Benton brought out dessert. The Benton brothers joked, taking jabs at each other when they could.
Mark listened and watched, feeling as if he was slipping further and further into the past with each word. How many times had he felt this table shake from one brother kicking the other during dinner? He’d heard Mrs. Benton firmly scold them, her voice filled with equal parts exasperation and love, over and over for years.
Darren and Mark had bonded over a shared love of sports, dogs, and the fact that they were both being raised by a single mother. But that was where the similarities between their home lives ended. Mark’s father had been a first-class bastard. Mark didn’t know if the man was still alive, and he didn’t care.
But Darren’s dad had been a steady, strong presence in his boys’ young lives until he’d given his for his country. Add to that the fact that the Benton brothers had each other and financial security, thanks to previous generations, and Darren’s and Mark’s homes might as well have been in different countries.
Mark stared at his pie. His childhood wasn’t a place he wanted to revisit.
“I’ll clear some of these dishes,” Mark said, pushing back from the table. He collected a pile of empty dessert plates and headed for the kitchen. Moving through the familiar space, he set the plates by the sink and went out the back door. On the deck, he drew a deep breath. He just needed a minute and then he could go in, say good-night and walk back to Amy’s house.
He sat at the top of the three wooden steps connecting the yard to the deck and stared at the stars. Maybe coming here had been a mistake. He could have stayed on base and then shipped out for another tour as soon as possible. PJs were always in high demand. It probably wouldn’t be long before he got back out there.
But Amy had asked him to come to Heart’s Landing, so here he was.
Mark stared up at the crescent moon high in the clear night sky. He heard the back door open. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted her. Amy. Jango trotted past Mark, down the steps and off into the darkness. He heard the door close and felt her claim the empty space beside him on the step.
“It’s cold out here,” she said, hugging her sweater tight around her middle.
“You don’t have to stay,” he said. “I can let Jango back in.”
“No, the fresh air feels good,” she said. “Unless you’d rather be alone. Judging from the way you jumped up to do the dishes, I thought you might have reached your limit.”
“Getting close.”
She started to rise, and he reached out, resting his hand on her leg. “But I’d like you to stay.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod as her eyes tracked Jango’s movements in the distance. “Can I ask you something?”
Mark moved his hand off her leg, knowing if he didn’t do it now, he might give in to temptation and run his fingers up her thigh. He was close to reaching his limit in more ways than one. Lacing his hands in front of him, he rested his forearms on his knees. “Depends.”
“Have you been back for a family dinner since Darren died?”
“Yeah, I have.”
“But you still miss him more when you’re here,” she said quietly.
“That’s not it.” He lifted his hands, running his palms over his face, searching for the right words. “I practically lived in this home as a kid. Eating here brings back memories.”
And feelings. Of being the kid who had a place at the table but never quite felt as if he deserved to be there.
“Good ones?” she asked.
“Some.” Mark stared out into the night. “But I can’t help thinking about the fact that every night I was here, I wasn’t with my mom.”
“I thought she worked the dinner shift at The Last Stop Diner back when we were in school.”
“She did. And breakfast over at the inn. She’d come home and eat a bowl of the Cheerios she kept in the cupboard, so there would be something for me just in case. Then she’d go to bed, sleep for a few hours and do it all over again.”
“Everyone in Heart’s Landing admired how hard your mom worked to take care of you,” she said softly.
“She didn’t have a choice. Someone had to pay the rent.” She’d never asked him to work, demanding instead that he focus on school and his future. His mother had wanted him to push beyond living for the next paycheck.
“Every night I sat down to eat here, I felt welcome, sure, but also like I didn’t belong,” he continued. “Tonight took me back.”
“I can understand that.”