A House Divided Read online

  The more she thought about it, the more she became certain. The man’s voice had to have been Mark’s.

  Chapter Ten

  Mark hurried down the stairs and crossed the shadowy backyard, silvered in moonlight. He peered at the sporty little car parked on the side street. Someone was sitting inside in the driver’s seat. The car and occupant had been parked there when they’d arrived back home from the beach about an hour ago. But what was he or she still doing there now?

  He narrowed his gaze to key in more closely. The dark figure was sitting ramrod straight. Silent. Assessing. Yet the longer Mark considered, the more he was certain: the car had to be Joan’s metallic blue Jaguar.

  Finally the driver rolled down the side window and called to him. “Mark. It’s Joan. Get over here. I need to talk to you.”

  Irritation swamped him. It was Joan. How long had she been waiting before they’d arrived?

  He started for the gate. “What on earth are you doing out here at this hour?” He suspected he already knew. Hadn’t she made it obvious at the office she was attracted to him? And now, waiting here like a skulking alley cat, could she be spying on him, perhaps even checking out her competition? He was in no mood for head games—or being stalked, if that’s what she was up to. Especially after such a fabulous day with Rebecca and Wendy.

  “We need to talk,” she repeated. Her voice, tinged with sarcasm, filled the night silence.

  He lifted the latch on the gate. “Hold on. I’m coming.”

  Yet before he could close the remaining distance between them, she shut the window and revved the engine twice. Then the car squealed out of sight.

  Three hours later, Mark, wakeful, paced back and forth in his small, cramped bedroom. Though the futon he was sleeping on took up only a small amount of space, the boxy area felt several times smaller, for some reason.

  He strode into the living room and wandered to the side window, then glanced outside. Thank goodness. No more Joan and her hot little car. Now, if only he could keep it that way. But what was she up to anyway? Maybe the best way to put a stop to this nonsense would be to fire her. Though he’d noticed her Jaguar parked outside the office many times before, it had never occurred to him until now that if she could afford the car, maybe she didn’t even need a job. Or on second thought, maybe she was in up to her ears in debt.

  Yep, he didn’t want to fire her if he didn’t really have to. She was an efficient receptionist, dealt warmly with the patients, and the two of them usually managed to be civil enough to each other. Maybe tonight she’d just been out of sorts, for whatever reason. Still, her showing up here in such a bizarre manner did seem very strange.

  He raised his eyes to Rebecca’s apartment and noticed a soft glow from behind the closed mini-blinds in her front room. Interesting. She doesn’t normally leave that light on. Maybe she can’t sleep, either, and decided to try reading. He yearned to go back up there, sit with her, talk some more, but decided against it. No, he’d only be playing with fire.

  He found the woman much too desirable, too endearing, too wonderful in every way.

  He heaved a sigh. Rebecca. What had come over him when he’d decided to tell her all about his mother? Had it been the way her intriguing blue eyes had glinted in the moonlight? The way the firelight had danced its reflection off her face? Or just a sudden overwhelming need to trust someone fully—a need not to feel so alone, like a solitary traveler on some uninhabited planet.

  Why had he given in to the overwhelming desire tugging deep within him and kissed her—and not just once? Her lips pressed against his had felt wonderful beyond all imagining and his blood had grown hot. Yes, he’d yearned to hold her not for just the moment, but an entire lifetime. And that could lead to nothing but trouble with a capital T.

  Come on, man, get a grip. Falling for a woman isn’t gonna help one iota in getting the job done. And now more than ever, you can’t afford to get sidelined.

  * * *

  Saturday dawned warm and sunny. Rebecca sat at the kitchen table, still bleary-eyed after having drunk her third cup of coffee. Wake up! There’s work to do. This is Mark’s big day! Yet it had been a long, restless night, and sleep had evaded her. Thoughts about Mark had continued to tumble in her mind, thoughts that had caused her to question whether she and Wendy should have even agreed to go to the beach with him. But that was yesterday, she reminded herself. And today is a new start. It’s time to get busy and put last night behind you.

  Still wearing her pajamas, bathrobe, and slippers, she got to her feet, headed into the kitchen, and reached for a box of cold cereal from the overhead shelf. Yesterday with Mark had been more than wonderful, but after the day was done, she’d felt restless and confused. Her thoughts drifted back to Benny. Why hadn’t he returned her calls? He must be terribly busy. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me until there’s something positive to report.

  She sighed. How bittersweet. Her dreams of reliving her cherished memories were vanishing as quickly as snowflakes against a warm windowpane. Nevertheless, she took comfort knowing she and Wendy could stay in the Glasgow house until after school started. That would hopefully give Wendy enough time to get adjusted before Rebecca would have to remind her that they would be moving again.

  And when Benny did find the new site—if he hadn’t already—what a mixed blessing that would be. The hundred thousand dollars would undoubtedly keep her afloat for the couple of years, and hopefully by then she would have been working full time for quite a while. Yes, money. Survival. Perhaps she might pray about that . . . that is, if God was willing to hear her.

  * * *

  While Mark and Wendy set up folding chairs in the front yard, Rebecca worked beneath a white portable gazebo, arranging cookies and chocolate doughnuts on large ceramic platters. The rich scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted from an over-sized percolator. Trays were heaped with sliced muskmelons, bananas, fresh pineapple, and clusters of plump red grapes that Mark had picked up from the farmer’s market in town earlier that morning.

  “Great looking munchies,” Pastor Alan said, approaching the table with a broad grin. They exchanged introductions and he pumped her hand in greeting. He wore a white, open-collar shirt and beige slacks. His short dark brown hair was streaked with gray.

  Rebecca smiled politely. “Mark’s told me so much about you. I’m glad we finally have had the chance to meet.”

  Pastor Al seemed so approachable, so friendly. And she especially like the way he openly supported Mark, as did most of the congregation. If only she could offer such unconditional support as well. But there were so many issues, too much unresolved tensions still stirring inside of her.

  “Please feel free to drop in anytime for our worship services,” he said. “The times are posted on the sign outside the church and in every Saturday issue of the Freemont News Tribune.”

  “Uh . . . thank you.” Hesitant, she changed the subject. “Care for a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure! Thanks.”

  She started to lift a Styrofoam cup to hand to him, but he insisted on helping himself. Meanwhile, she noticed she’d forgotten the sugar cubes, and made a mental note to hurry back upstairs to get them.

  Folks were beginning to meander in their direction. Rebecca spied the woman from the first meeting who’d introduced herself as Matilda Rivers chatting amicably with another silver-haired woman. Two younger couples dressed in khaki shorts and t-shirts were pulling up on bicycles, wearing backpacks and carrying bottles of drinking water. An older balding man brought up the rear.

  Soon the registered nurse and two orderlies from the hospital, who were transporting the patients, were due to arrive also. The anticipation caused her anxieties to stir. Would listening to the patients really change her mind about people with mental health issues as Mark had suggested? Would her heart warm to them as it had to Mark’s story about his mother?

  Rebecca surveyed the refreshment table one final time. What else was needed beside the sugar? Oh, yes, she’
d also forgotten the cream.

  “Mama! Mama!” Bright-eyed, Wendy dashed up to her. “Guess what, Mama? Mark says I’m the best helper there ever was! Isn’t that cool?”

  “Why, yes!” Rebecca patted her daughter’s shoulder and laughed. “That’s more than cool.”

  Wendy started to grab a chocolate chip cookie, but Rebecca quickly stopped her, tapping her hand. “Whoa! Hold on there! That’s for after the speakers are done talking, not before.”

  “Oh, Mama! Please! Don’t forget, I helped Mark make them.”

  “So you did.” She laughed again. “All right then. But just one. And speaking of helping, there are a few things I see I’ve forgotten here. Stick close to Mark or Pastor Al while I run back upstairs, and don’t talk to strangers. I’ll hurry.”

  “Sure, Mama.” Wendy munched on the cookie, appearing happy as a kitten with a new catnip toy.

  “No, on second thought, you’d better come with me.” She grabbed Wendy’s hand. Small town or not, she couldn’t be too careful. Mark might have insinuated that she was a little naive, but she certainly wasn’t going to take chances when it came to her daughter.

  A car passed by on the front street and slowed, diverting Rebecca’s attention. Then it sped up again and disappeared around the block. The driver had had a round, beefy face, and reminded her of Norm McIntosh. Someone else had occupied the passenger’s seat; it appeared to be a woman with short hair and wearing sunglasses. For a long moment, Rebecca wondered whether there was any significance in what she’d just seen, but quickly brushed it off. The man and woman had probably just been curious, like the others who had been cruising by for the past hour or so and slowing to get a better look.

  Inside the apartment, while Wendy was loudly rummaging about in her room for heaven knew what, Rebecca checked her cell phone. The message screen indicated someone had called. She’d been so preoccupied, she’d somehow missed it. She entered the retrieval prompts.

  “Hey, doll. Benny here. Call me as soon as you can. I’m back from Washington, checked in again at the Freemont Motor Suites.”

  Rebecca punched in Benny’s number. He answered on the first ring.

  “Benny! Finally! How are you?”

  He ignored her question. “We got a problem. A real problem.”

  “Oh? What is it?”

  “The sequel’s off. Worse yet, Galaxy Productions is off.”

  “What?” She gasped. She held her hand on the table to steady herself. “What are you talking about, Benny?”

  “The company’s folding. Dead as a doornail. They’re filing Chapter 7 bankruptcy. You and I are out of a job. Especially me.”

  “Oh no!” Her sharp intake of breath burned her throat. “What happened?” With weak knees, she sank into a nearby chair.

  “Too little activity at the box office, mounting debts, a ton of problems.” She heard him sigh into the receiver. “Big problems all around. I’ll fill you in on the details later when we can talk face to face.”

  Her spirits plummeted. Her dreams, compromised as they’d already become, had just slipped into total oblivion.

  “That’s terrible, Benny. It’s the last thing I expected to happen! Can you get on with another studio? Surely there must be work for you somewhere else.” As for herself, she would manage somehow. But poor Benny. His livelihood—no, his entire life—depended on this job. Single for all these years, Galaxy Productions was not only his sole income, but practically his family, too.

  “Hollywood’s no place for an old man like me, doll.”

  “But you’re only forty-eight!”

  “Big deal. That doesn’t mean a thing. Anyone over fifty in Hollywood’s considered toast.” She heard the desperation in his voice. “And I’ve been hanging on by a bare thread as it is.”

  “Look, Benny. There’s another meeting going on this morning about the halfway house, this time right here in the yard. It’s due to start anytime now, and I’m helping out. I’ll drive to the motel as soon as I can afterwards, though. Then we can talk.”

  “Thanks, but don’t bother.”

  “What?” Her head spun with confusion. “You don’t want to see me this time?”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong, doll. It’s just that I’m practically dead on my feet. Bone tired. Too much running around, I guess. And the news has sort of hit me square in the gut, you know. Takes the starch right out of a guy.”

  “I understand. Absolutely. And meantime, I’d suggest you get some sleep. That should help.”

  “I will. In fact, I think I’ll hit the rack right now.” A few beats of silence passed. “The bed here looks decent. Hopefully I can sleep all day. All night, too. And as I said, don’t take me wrong, doll. I didn’t mean for it to sound as if I don’t want to get together. That’s the last thing I’d want you to think.”

  “How long to you plan to stick around? Can we get together in the morning or should I come sooner?”

  “Tomorrow’s fine. I have no reason to rush back to L.A. when there’s nothin’ to go back to, so take your time.”

  “Okay. I’ll see if Missey will take Wendy for the rest of the weekend. That’ll give us time to talk without interruptions.” She inhaled deeply, wishing there was something she could do or say to cheer him without offering mere platitudes. “Try to hang in there, okay, Benny?”

  “I will. You too.”

  She ran her hand through her hair and sighed. Benny’s devastating news was indeed a blow, but nevertheless, she had many blessings in her life to be thankful for. A beautiful little girl. Missey and her family. And Mark. Yes, Mark, although she still wasn’t quite sure how he fit into it all.

  She pulled her thoughts back. “Oh, Benny, before I forget, which unit are you staying in?”

  “Number sixty-five. Lower level.”

  “Got it.” She gripped the cell phone a little more tightly. “See you soon.”

  * * *

  Mark began the meeting with his typical warm welcome, reiterating his plans for the halfway house. Close to one hundred community members, Rebecca guessed, were seated before him. And to her astonishment, Missey had slipped in to the back row, her head held high, wearing a broad smile. When had Missey grown so interested in Mark’s project? Or did she, in reality, have an unspoken agenda—such as trying to determine whether there might be sparks igniting between Mark and her?

  Rebecca left her post behind the buffet table and seated herself in the empty chair alongside her sister.

  “Psst.” Rebecca elbowed Missey and chuckled. “You didn’t tell me you were planning to come today.”

  “And since when have I ever told my ever-lovin’ sis everything I intend to do?” Missey’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Besides, I just had to get another look at Mark Simons. Seems he gets more handsome every time I lay eyes on him.”

  “Oh, honestly! Just look at you—a married woman, at that!” Rebecca teased, then smiled to herself. She remembered the day Missey had whisked the girls off for an afternoon of shopping, leaving Rebecca and Mark alone with her ailing car. Leave it to Missey to insist on playing Cupid.

  After Mark was done, he turned the rest of the time over to the three patients who were designated to speak. First there was Ted Hegwood, a young man close to her own age, Rebecca guessed, who was not only friendly and up-beat, but articulate too. He spoke about how families were often incapable, even fearful, of taking recovering mental health patient back in their homes. Furthermore, they were untrained in ways that would best help them, whereas the staff at the halfway house was well grounded in their professional skills. “That’s the reason halfway houses play such a significant role in today’s health care,” he concluded. “Mental illness can happen to anyone. It’s just like any other illness. With proper diagnosis, treatment, and follow up, patients can achieve a normal, productive life and most importantly, no longer be shunned by society.”

  A productive life, Rebecca mused as her thoughts bounced back to Benny. How she hoped Galaxy Production’s demis
e didn’t mean the demise of his productive life, too. She’d certainly heard the many horror stories of displaced workers and how their forced, early “retirement” had sent them into depths of depression. But no, not for Benny. There had to be something else out there for him.

  A ripple of applause sounded as Ted finished his talk and sat down. Though Rebecca had been so immersed in her own private thoughts she’d missed the last few moments of what he’d said, she could tell by the looks on the faces of those sitting around her, his words had proved effective.

  “I’m impressed,” Missey said in a stage whisper, leaning closer. “Everything he said makes good sense.”

  “Yes, it does. He seems like just about any other nice guy you might want to know—a brother, even.”

  Next came Jeffrey Smegal with his shy smile, clean-shaven face, and steady blue eyes, not quite fifty, perhaps. While he seemed a little less confident in his speaking abilities, his warmth and sincerity came through loud and clear. He told how a new medication had helped him reclaim his life. He also spoke about his background in horticulture and his love for watching plants grow, stating he was especially looking forward to helping keep up the grounds on the old Glasgow property, once the new building was in place.

  As Rebecca listened, it seemed as if a door somewhere deep in her soul was beginning to open, allowing a growing wedge of light to enter. What a difference between these folks and August’s killer, she realized wonderingly. Why, the two men who had just spoken wanted to get well, to get their lives back on track again. August’s killer, on the other hand, had shown no remorse. And maybe she really had lacked a conscience. At any rate, the jury had accepted her plea of insanity and acknowledged her inability to have known right from wrong. Undoubtedly the woman had had the presence of mind to realize that life in the mental hospital was much better than time in prison.

  The sound of the third patient’s voice pulled her back again. Paul Torion, a balding man with a middle-aged paunch and infectious laugh was saying, “The residents and I will try our best to be an asset to this community. While some of us plan to find jobs in the community, there will still be others of us who’ll be home watching over the neighborhood while so many of you are at work. We intend to get involved in a neighborhood watch program, sponsored through the local police department.”