"It's really quite a comfort to see that you're human," Tom commented, taking a sip from his own mug.
"How's that?"
"Well, up until yesterday I wasn't too sure."
Mackenzie only frowned at him, her mood no better.
"Yesterday you called for your mother, and today you're in a snit like a five-year-old. Makes me think there's hope."
If he expected anger over these statements, Mackenzie was going to surprise him. Her shoulders slumped a little, and she actually raised her cup to drink. They were silent for several minutes before Tom spoke.
"Are you going to make it, Mackenzie?"
"I don't know," she said softly, her chest rising and falling with a huge sigh. "I can't believe she's gone. I just don't even know what to think or do. She's gone, and all I can do is pour myself into my writing to escape the pain." The words were no more out when Mackenzie's eyes shot to Tom's. This action more than anything else told him she was not talking about Micah Bear books. He knew he had to rescue her.
"I'll tell you what, Mackenzie. When you're ready to talk about what you're writing, come to me."
Mackenzie licked her lips. "All right."
"Shall we get started on the books?"
"Sure. Tom?" she said when he rose. "You won't say anything to anyone, will you?"
"About what?"
Mackenzie took another deep breath and nodded. He did understand. "Thank you" was all she said, and the subject was dropped so they could get down to business.
Chicago
Delancey studied the subject at the front of the room, a barefoot blond male in blue jeans and a white T-shirt, before swinging her eyes to her easel. It didn't take long to see that her imagination did a better job. When she had to copy someone,
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she was too much of a perfectionist, expecting the painting to look like a photo, not a drawing. She had a tendency to fix things until the person was distorted.
"Looks good, Delancey," Tab McDonald, one of the male students, commented as he walked by. He was a senior and also the teacher's aide.
"Thank you," Delancey said briefly before going back to her work.
"Rumor has it that he's dying to ask you out," a soft voice whispered from beside her. Delancey glanced over to find Mona Reeve watching her.
"Well, we mustn't believe everything we hear."
"But considering that his sister is on my floor, it's a pretty sure thing."
Delancey looked at her. "I'm still not interested."
"Is it Tab or all men?"
The teacher came by before Delancey could answer, and she felt only relief. She knew Mona pretty well-they had met the first day of classes-but she wasn't very excited to talk with anyone about men. She didn't count on Mona's persistence. As soon as class ended, the other girl snagged Delancey and walked with her to their dorm.
"Would it really hurt to go out with him, Delancey? He's the nicest guy. All the girls are crazy about him, but he's picked you, and you don't even notice."
"It's not that simple, Mona," Delancey tried to explain. "I'm not interested in getting serious with anyone right now, and not very many men as old as Tab are interested in casual dating."
"What if he was?"
Still able to see Kyle's angry face in her mind, she shook her head. "There's no way to know that, and I'm not willing to take a chance."
Mona had plenty of things she could say to that, but stark pain filled Delancey's eyes, causing her to remain quiet. For a moment she had forgotten about Delancey's mother.
"Okay, Delancey, but if you change your mind-" She smiled, letting the sentence hang.
Delancey watched as she moved off. Mona was a pretty girl. Why would she care who Tab dated? Delancey wondered if she
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was only making sure the path was clear for herself, but as Mona said, Tab seemed to have his eye on her.
Delancey let herself into her room and lay across the bed. She had a class first thing the next morning, but for the rest of the day she was free. Her stomach growled with hunger and made her look down. Her jeans were so baggy in the waist that she could have tucked in five shirts. She knew she should go down to dinner, but she wasn't sure she would eat much. She was just dozing off when the phone rang.
"Hi, Deej," Mackenzie said softly from the other end.
"Oh, Mic." Delancey was instantly in tears.
The girls couldn't speak for some minutes. Mackenzie ached to be with her sister, and Delancey hadn't known how lonely she was until she heard Mackenzie's voice.
"It's so awful," Mackenzie sobbed. "I just hurt so much, and I hate it."
"If we could just be together, it would make such a difference."
"When is your spring break?"
"Not for three more weeks."
"Why don't you fly here?"
"Oh, Mic, I want to, but I feel so awful for Jack. I feel like I should go home."
The tears came again.
"Why don't you come to California, Mic?"
"I don't know if I can get the time off."
Delancey felt so light-headed all of a sudden that she knew she needed to eat. She didn't know how she would manage to hold anything down, but she was fading fast.
"Can you try?" Delancey finally asked her sister in an effort to ignore the spinning room.
"Sure," Mackenzie told her, but it wasn't quite true. She didn't want to see Jack at the moment. Every time she remembered the funeral, she grew angry. It wasn't anything she hadn't heard before, but now his talk of God infuriated her. She'd even received a letter from Oliver and Shay, but she couldn't bring herself to answer and thank them for prayers she didn't want.
"Are you still there, Mic?"
"I'm here, but I have to tell you, D.J., I'm not real crazy about going to San Francisco right now. I'm going to go this
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summer and help Jack sort out some things, but I don't want to be around him right now."
"Why, Mackenzie?" Delancey was thoroughly shocked.
"I just don't want to hear anymore about God's love and God's will and God's being in control."
"Okay," Delancey said with complete understanding. She was not as angry as her sister, but neither was she buying what Jack and her mother had been selling for more years than she could remember.
My mother served You with all her heart and what do You do?Give her cancer.Delancey was surprised at her own thoughts and wondered if she might be more angry than she realized. She calmed when she visualized Jack alone.
"I'm still going home," Delancey said. Jack still meant that much to her. "But I understand why you're not."
"Are you going home for the summer?"
"Yes, as far as I know. In fact, right now I'm not even sure I'm coming back in the fall."
"Oh, Deej." Mackenzie sounded pained. "I thought you loved it."
"I do, but I'll only come back if I can get an apartment by myself. I'm tired of dorm life and college food."
"Jack'll help you if you don't want to touch your savings," Mackenzie told her. "I know he will, and I also know that he will understand why you want to be alone."
"You think so?"
"Yes. And if I could just have that side of Jack, the one that cares for me, I would go home. But I can't handle the rest. If I'm there, I'm going to say something I'll regret."
Delancey understood, but she felt her throat close all over again. They needed to be together, and she wasn't sure she could wait until summer.
"Just make me one promise," she said through tears. "Promise you'll not change your mind about this summer. Promise me you'll come, Mic."
"I will, Deej. I'll be there. I want to go-I just don't look forward to it the way I did before."
"I can't believe she's gone," Delancey said softly, voicing both girls' thoughts.
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"I've got to get off here, Deej," Mackenzie whispered. "I'll call you later this week."
"Okay." Delancey hung up feeling so awful that she h
ad to lie back down. In the next few minutes she shoved the pain away, took a few deep breaths, and formed a plan for dinner. She worked at thinking about what sounded good to her in an effort to be prepared, but early as it was, she decided just to go and eat the first thing she saw. Her plan worked beautifully until she felt sick in line and almost dropped her tray. She didn't see who owned the hand that took it from her. Neither did she protest when that same someone led her to a table.
"Here, Delancey," one of her teachers, Mr. Fitch, suddenly said. "Drink a little of this water." He pressed a cup into her hand, and Delancey managed a few sips. She looked into his concerned face and shook her head.
"I'm just hungry," she said softly.
"What's that?"
"I'm just hungry," she said, a little louder this time. "I just need to eat."
He nodded. No one could miss the way she had dropped weight in the last month.
"I have to get to a class, Delancey, but I'm going to ask someone to sit with you."
"I'm all right, Mr. Fitch."
"I'm glad to hear it, but I'm still going to ask Tab to sit with you."
Delancey could have groaned. She opened her mouth, but he was already headed across the room. She glanced at her plate and saw food she didn't remember taking. However, it looked good. She picked up her fork and took a mouthful of mashed potatoes and then another. From there she moved to an unknown salad concoction that was also very tasty. Tab was at her table a moment later, a trayfullof food in his hands.
"How are you?" he asked conversationally.
"Fine," Delancey answered, even as she glanced behind him. She thought Mr. Fitch would at least stop back.
"He was running late," Tab noticed, filling her in.
"Oh," Delancey said inanely, pushing some of her food with her fork.
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"Have you tried this?" He offered her a small dish. "It's a Mexican casserole. They've made it before, and it's my favorite."
"Thank you." Delancey took the dish and tasted it. "Oh," she said when she realized she had put her fork in it.
"It's all right. I've got my own."
"Thank you." Needing to do something with her hands, Delancey took another bite. It was good. She ate half of what was on the dish before she realized Tab had added other things to her side of the table.
"This is a lemon bar," he said when she looked up, "or if chocolate is more your thing, these brownies are pretty good."
"Thank you."
"And you can stop saying thank you and just eat everything I shove at you. Mr. Fitch will ask me how you're doing, and I need to be able to tell him you didn't faint or anything."
For some reason Delancey giggled. She hadn't felt like laughing in weeks, but this was funny to her.
"I've never fainted."
"No? Well, you've probably never been so underweight before either."
Her mouth fell open. "I can't believe you just said that to me."
"What? That you're underweight?"
"Yes."
"Delancey, your clothes hang on you right now. How could I miss it?"
"I didn't say it's not true. I just said it wasn't very kind."
Tab suddenly sat back and studied her. "I should get you riled up more often. This is the first time you've had color in your face in the last month."
Delancey's eyes narrowed. "Tell me, Mr. McDonald, do you have any othercomplimentsup your sleeve?"
"Yes, but I'm saving them for when you agree to go out with me."
"In your dreams," she wasted no time in telling him.
"You are in a lot of those," he said so softly that Delancey was momentarily disarmed. She looked down at her tray and picked up a brownie. She glanced up to find several people staring at her and wondered if their voices had been loud. Almost
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at the same time, she decided she didn't care. She raised 1 chin as she looked across at her dinner companion.
"Thank you for sitting with me, Tab, and for the food."
"You're welcome."
Delancey started to put her tray together.
"I'll walk you back to your room."
"No, thank you."
Tab smiled at her prim tone. He knew very well thatwasn't feeling like herself and wished desperately that he cot have gotten to know her before her mother died.
"I will be calling to ask you out, Delancey. You can counton that."
"Well, prepare to be disappointed, Tab. But then life is 1 of those little inconveniences."
Delancey stood, tray in hand, and moved to exit the roc Tab's smiling eyes still in her mind. Being unkind did notcomeeasily to her, but she made herself not turn around. It helpedtoknow that Mackenzie would have walked away without abackward glance and also that her sister would have been proud her.
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Thirty-One
Arlington
"You're a hard lady to get a hold of." Tom's voicesounded in Mackenzie's ear after work onenight.
"Am I?"
Tom snorted. "What have you been up to?"
"Nothing," Mackenzie said on a laugh, but she knew what he was talking about. She had started taking her phone off the hook. Jack had called on Easter Sunday, two-and-a-half weeks before, and the conversation had been very strained. Mackenzie did not wish to repeat the incident, so like a coward, she was keeping the phone off the hook and immersing herself in her writing. She called Delancey every few days to stay abreast of her state, but other than seeing Tom a few times, the rest of the world was very cut off.
"Come to dinner tomorrow night," Tom said. "I've got something to show you."
"All right. What are we having?"
"What do you want?"
"Anything but pizza. You've served that the last three times."
"That's gratitude for you." His tone was long-suffering.
"What are you going to show me?"
"You'll have to come and see."
"All right."
"What time?"
"About 6:00."
"Okay, but if the pizza man shows up, I'm leaving."
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They rang off to the sound of Tom's laughter. Mackenzie went back to work the next day and did her best, but her mind was still on Tom's invitation. Not really thinking of herself as a curious person, she nevertheless arrived at his place early and found him just climbing from his car. Knowing exactly what she was about, he smiled and handed her a heavy envelope when she got out of her Jeep.
"What's this?"
"Open it."
Mackenzie did so and gasped, "It's early."
She reverently held the first copy ofMicah Bear and the Rainy Day.Across the bottom it said: Written by Mackenzie Bishop and illustrated by Delancey Bishop.
"Oh, Tom, this is it," she whispered, as if speaking louder would ruin the moment. "This is our book. We did it. My sister and I did it."
"That you did," Tom said just as softly. It was old stuff for him, but the delight in Mackenzie's eyes was very touching.
"I've got to call her." Mackenzie began to turn away. "I've got to tell Delancey."
Tom took hold of her arm. "Come inside and do that. I've got to cleanup so we can celebrate in style. Just call from here."
"Oh, Tom" was all Mackenzie could manage as she followed the editor inside. He handed the cordless phone to her, or she might have stood there fingering the book all evening.
"Call her and tell me what she says." He exited on those words, and Mackenzie dialed. It was a horrible letdown when Delancey didn't answer, but she kept the phone in her hand and went to the sofa. She sat down and slowly paged through the book, studying every detail. She had seen the artwork, the cover, and the galleys, but nothing could compare with the final package.
For Momwas all the dedication page said, and the excitement of the book fell a little flat. It wasn't enough that her mother had known they were to be published: Mackenzie was bitterly disappointed that she wasn't with them to see the finished work. Jack sprang into her mind, but she decid
ed to let Delancey tell him. She heard the shower come on and knew that Tom was going to be awhile. She tried Delancey two more times but still couldn't get her. It took a few moments for her to
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remember she was on spring break in California. Sitting back on the sofa, Mackenzie felt depression stealing over her.
Right now she had a choice to make: She could thank Tom for the book and go home, or she could put her hurt aside and go out and celebrate with him. The edges of apathy crept in ever so slowly. After all, she had worked all week and was tired. For several minutes she didn't care what she did and had no desire to make a decision. She heard the water being shut off, and with an effort she pushed those feelings back as well. By the time Tom arrived in the living room, dressed and ready to go, she had resolved to make the best of the evening.
Mackenzie didn't expect the kiss, but neither did she fight it. She and Tom were back from the restaurant. They'd eaten at a small bistro on the waterfront, but it was late, and Tom had simply walked her to her Jeep. Mackenzie was getting ready to thank him when he bent and kissed her. His arms went carefully around her, and Mackenzie kissed him right back. He was only two inches taller than she was, and she fit very nicely in his arms. Even when Tom broke the kiss, he stood holding her for several minutes.
"You're certainly a nice little bundle to hold, Miss Bishop."
"You don't feel so bad yourself."
Tom looked down at her, the overhead lights casting a bluish glow on her lovely face.
"Now, I'll be expecting you to change the sheets on my bed tomorrow and iron my shirts. After that you can fix some dinner."
Mackenzie smiled, remembering what she had said to him that first day.
"I'd better let you go," he said as he stepped away. "If I know you, you'll head home to take your phone off the hook and start to do whatever it is that you do. And since you'll do it until the wee hours of the morning, I'd best say goodnight."
Still smiling, Mackenzie shook her head but didn't bite.
"Goodnight, Tom. Thank you."
"Goodnight, Mackenzie. And you're welcome."
The smiles they shared were warm and genuine, but as Mackenzie drove away, she thought about what he had said and finally understood why she never talked aboutAccess Denied.
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There was simply no reason to discuss it. She had a story she had to get out of her head and onto paper, and that was about the end of it. What she hadn't figured on was Tom coming to visit her on base, something he'd never done before, and the way his friendship forced her to show her hand.