With this little pep talk, Mackenzie knew it was time to go home and call her sister. For the first time she had an inkling of what her mother had felt when she left, but that wasn't what was important. There was no reason not to support Delancey's choice, and Mackenzie would go home, call her, and do just that.
"Good evening, Miss Bishop."
Mackenzie's head came up, and she found herself looking into Paxton Hancock's light blue eyes. He was leaning against the wall outside the men's locker room. Mackenzie had been headed to the women's showers.
"Hello, Paxton."
"How are you?"
"I'm fine."
"Just finishing?"
"Yes. You look like you've had a workout."
"A long one. I'm getting flabby in my old age."
Mackenzie smiled but thought he might be serious.
"There's a great coffee shop around the corner," Paxton volunteered. "Can I buy you a cappuccino?"
For some reason Mackenzie could not say no. She wanted to call her sister, and she did not want to encourage this man, but she still said, "All right. Will it work for me to meet you there in about 30 minutes?"
"That's fine. Do you know the place?"
"Yes."
"Good. I'll get a table and wait for you."
"All right. I'll see you there."
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For a moment Paxton stayed where he was. He thought his heart would stop when he had come from the weight room and seen her on the track. He knew he was foolish. Asking her to coffee was no way to get her from his mind, and if he thought her desirable in slacks and a blouse, she was downright distracting in a tank top and shorts, and her face flushed and moist. Paxton finally walked into the showers, thinking he'd better make it a cold one.
"I just got a letter from my sister," Mackenzie found herself confiding when Paxton asked her about her day. "She's joining the Army."
"Is that good or bad?"
"I don't know. I'm still a little off-balance. I'm going to call her and congratulate her, but inside I'm still trying to deal with it."
"Do you regret your own decision?"
"No, but there's something secure about knowing that my sister is home safe with Jack and my mother."
"Jack?"
"My stepfather."
"Did your parents divorce?"
"No, my father's dead."
"I lost my own father about 18 months ago. It's awful, isn't it?"
"Yes. Especially the first few years. It does get easier, but there's always a hole that no one else can fill."
"Is your stepfather okay?"
"He's wonderful," Mackenzie said softly. "I don't know if I'd have ever left home if he hadn't been there for my mom."
"That doesn't surprise me about you. You seem like the type who would naturally take care of others."
"That was a nice thing to say."
"I have a lot of nice things to say to you if you would let me."
Mackenzie's eyes were direct. "I can't say that I'm not flattered, Paxton, but if you're talking about a dating relationship, I don't have time for a man in my life right now. My career is very important to me, and I want to focus all my energy on that."
311
He studied her for a moment. "I don't scare you or anything like that, do I, Mackenzie? There are a lot of weird people on the streets today, and you might be thinking I'll attack you. If so, you might be saying that to hide your fear of me."
"No, Paxton, I'm not. And I have to be very honest with you about that as well, which means telling you that if you did try something, I'd take you apart."
She was completely serious, and Paxton knew he couldn't let her get away. It would kill him to keep his distance, but he desperately wanted to be as close as she would allow.
"What about an occasional date, just as friends?"
"Does that ever work? I didn't think men and women could be friends."
"Was that a nice way to tell me to get lost?"
"No, just an honest question. You've shown interest in me- at least I think that's what you're saying-and now you want to know if I'll go on casual dates. Just what is it that you want?"
"You do like to ask the hard ones, don't you?" His voice was so chagrined that Mackenzie laughed.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so intense, but I want to see what the Army has for me. A man in my life would only be ignored so I could pursue this job."
Paxton looked at her for a moment, reached for his pocket, and pulled out a card. He wrote something on the back, turned it over to the front, and slid it toward her.
"This is my business card. You have only to say it's Mackenzie calling, and they'll put you through. On the back is my home number. If you can't find me at work, try me there."
"And what am I calling about?"
Paxton shrugged, working to keep this casual. "I doubt you'll give me your number, so I'm giving mine to you. If you find yourself alone some evening and want to go to dinner, just call me."
"Paxton, don't you have someoneyoucan call, a more sure thing?"
"Not right now, and just so we're straight, I'm not looking for marriage or anything like that. I've done that, and I'm not ready to do it again. I would like to get to know you better, and I'm even willing to allow you to call the shots."
Mackenzie nodded, a little overwhelmed at his open attitude.
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"Frank Biddle was in my office today." Paxton added, knowing they both needed to be rescued from the moment.
"Frank Biddle?" Mackenzie repeated. "TheFrank Biddle?"
"One and the same." Paxton reached into the bag that was by his chair. "I thought you might like to have a copy of his latest book."
"Thank you." Mackenzie was so taken aback that she could only stare at the hardcover that featured an old-fashioned pocket watch.The Timepiecewas its title.
"Open the front cover."
Mackenzie obeyed and saw that the author had signed it- to her!
"Paxton," she began, then stopped. "I mean, you asked him? That is, how did you know you would see me?"
"I didn't, but I hoped I would at some point."
Mackenzie stared at him. Did she really just meet this man in a bar a few weeks ago? She was not romantically interested in him-she had been honest about that-but neither was he a man you could ignore. There was something so worldly and sure about him that Mackenzie was fascinated. That he was interested in her only added to the captivation.
"Please thank him for me, and thank you again. I know I'll enjoy it."
"He even included me in the dedication this time." Paxton flipped the pages so she could read.
"Wow," Mackenzie's said softly, "you must feel honored."
Paxton smiled. He had been mentioned in dozens of books over the years. It was nice to see it through her eyes. Maybe he had started to take this distinction for granted.
"You must be good at what you do, Paxton," she surprised him by saying. Indeed, he could think of nothing to say.
"I hate to run," Mackenzie offered apologetically, "but I need to call my sister."
"How old did you say she was?"
"Seventeen."
Paxton nodded. "You must have gone into the Army just as soon as you turned 18."
"Yes. My birthday is in June, and I left for basic training last August."
"Now your sister will do the same?"
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"Yes. She'll be 18 in July, and even though her letter didn't say so, she'll probably be headed off in the fall. I shouldn't be too surprised. Our father was in the Army for more than 20 years. But I guess an older child always thinks of her younger sister as needing protection, and now she'll be out of the nest. It just feels a little weird."
"Will you say that to her?"
"No. I'll just tell her I'm proud of her and then try to call again sometime when she's not home, so I can see how my mom's doing."
Paxton was again reminded that she was protective of her loved ones. And for an instant he allowed himsel
f to think about what it would be like to be included. He nearly shook his head. He didn't even know her, and yet he was having this kind of emotional response.
You need a vacation, Pax; you need one badly.
Mackenzie was on her way just after that, and Paxton forced himself not to dwell on her. He got home and put on the weather channel. He had a sudden need to see just how warm it was in Florida this time of year.
314
Twenty-Five
Mackenzie could not believe where she was.She
racked her brain, trying to remember exactly how
the conversation had gone, but at the moment she
could not remember why she had agreed to attend church with
Aimee.
I always go at home.Aimee's words now came to mind, but not much else.
"Micki," Aimee whispered suddenly from the pew beside her.
Mackenzie turned to her.
"Did you go to church at home in San Francisco?"
"Yes, with my mom. She went a lot."
Aimee nodded and looked back to the front, but Mackenzie watched her profile. The service hadn't started yet, so Mackenzie felt free to ask, "Why did you want to come to church, Aimee?"
"I just felt so guilty," she admitted, her tone as hushed as Mackenzie's. "Ever since I was in the bar last month with the three of you, I haven't felt right."
"And you think that being in church today will help?"
"I don't know, but I hope so. Don't you feel better when you go to church, Micki?"
People were rising to their feet as a man came in from a side door, so Mackenzie was unable to answer. She did, however, start thinking.
A glance at her watch told her it was early in California. Her family would still be sound asleep, but she knew her mother would go to church that morning, and not out of guilt. She would go because she was delighted to be in the house of God and to fellowship with believers. Mackenzie had heard her say so often enough.
315
So what am I doing here? Aimee asked me, of course, but I've always told my mother I didn't need God.
It was a lame thought, even to Mackenzie. For the first time Mackenzie could remember, she wouldn't allow herself to think about God or her mother's salvation beliefs. She barely heard the sermon, so busy was she working to think of other things. And as soon as she arrived home, she disappeared into her room and started the Frank Biddle book that Paxton had given her. She didn't come out until lunchtime, and then only long enough to find something to eat. She read all day, and when Monday arrived, gladly immersed herself in her job once again.
San Francisco April 1987
Jack woke up abruptly, thinking for an instant that someone had broken into the apartment. He lay very still for several moments and then realized Delancey was up and in the bathroom. The clock read 2:15 a.m. He turned over to get comfortable again but then realized his stepdaughter was not going back to her room. He shifted again, and this time woke Marrell. He felt her lift up and look toward the open door. A light came from down the hall.
"I think D.J. is in the bathroom," he said quietly.
"Okay." Her voice sounded sleepy, but she stayed on one elbow. When a few more seconds passed, Jack made a move to get up.
"I'll go," Marrell stopped him. "It might just be that time of the month."
Not bothering with a robe, Marrell slipped out of bed and met Delancey as she came from the bathroom.
"You all right?" the older woman asked.
"My stomach is upset." Delancey sounded subdued as she moved across to her room. Marrell followed and saw in the dim light that Delancey did not lie back down. She sat up against her pillow, and Marrell took a chair by the door.
"Do you want something?"
Delancey said no, but Marrell didn't move.
"Mom," the girl said softly after a few moments of silence.
"Yeah, honey."
316
"I don't want to do this." Her voice shook with emotion.
"Don't want to do what?"
"I don't want to do the Army testing. I don't want to go into the Army."
She broke down, and Marrell moved to the bed. She put her arms around Delancey, and her daughter clung to her, sobs racking her slim frame.
"Oh, Mom, what will I do? What will Mackenzie say? I just can't stand to hurt her!"
"Delancey . . . Delancey . . ." Marrell's voice was soothing. "It's all right. You can't do this for Mackenzie or anyone else. You have to do it or not do it for you. Your sister would never wish this on you. She would tell you to stop right now."
"But the process is already started."
"Just barely," Marrell reasoned. "Now is the time to tell them you've changed your mind. They've heard it a thousand times, and this is when they want to hear it, not after you're on your way to basic training. You can call on Monday, ask for Sergeant Wallace, and explain that you've changed your mind. You can call Mackenzie in the morning and tell her. She's only going to say she loves you and understands."
Tears were coming again, but Delancey felt better. She hadn't known how to deal with this, and even though she'd gone to bed a little after 10:00, she'd not slept. She had even tried to write a letter to her sister to explain but ended up feeling worse.
"Do you know what I want to do, Mom?" Delancey sniffed a little.
"What?"
"I want to draw and illustrate. That's all I've wanted to do for so long, and if I go into the Army, it might be years before I can pursue that. Do you think Mackenzie will really understand?"
Marrell flicked on the bedside light and waited for their eyes to adjust.
"Look around this room, D.J.," she commanded softly. "Just look at the walls covered with your artwork and tell me your sister's not going to understand. You draw like a master, and Mic has been your biggest fan for as long as I can remember. She'll do nothing but cheer when you tell her you're going to chase your dream."
317
"Oh, Mom." Delancey's voice held relief. She had never thought of it that way. She did dream of illustrating-it was all she ever dreamed of-and now her mother was saying it was all right.
"Can you sleep?"
"I think so. I was tired when I went to bed, but then I just lay here and made myself sick."
Marrell stood. "Slip under the covers."
Delancey obeyed, and Marrell bent to hug her.
"What will Jack say?" Delancey asked suddenly.
"Jack will saylove you, D.J.' just as he always does."
"Thanks, Mom." Delancey's sigh was great.
"I love you, Delancey Joy."
"I love you too."
"Go to sleep."
"All right."
Marrell smiled down at her daughter before turning out the light. She moved slowly until her eyes adjusted and then sought her own bed. Her husband did not wake up, but Marrell had been right. As soon as Jack heard the news the next morning, he hugged Delancey, told her he was proud of the way she had come forward with her change of mind, and also said that he loved her.
Arlington
"I've got tickets for a show this Saturday night," Paxton said as soon as he heard Mackenzie's voice. "I have to go and I don't want to, so you're going to have to doll up and go with meorI'll lose my mind."
"You know," she said dryly, working not to laugh, "this is the third time you've called this week. Unlike some people who have the cushy life of an editor, most of us have to work for a living."
"Cushy?" He sounded outraged. "Do you know how much rewriting was required on Brett Kirby's last book? I didn't think we'd ever get done."
"Did you ever go out with his sister?" Mackenzie asked.
"Yes."
"Was she nice?"
"No. The evening couldn't end swiftly enough. All she did was talk about the book she wants to write. Save me from aspiring writers."
318
Mackenzie laughed, but inside she was cringing. Never in a million years would she tell Paxton she'd been playing with a story
of her own-not just playing, but writing in earnest on a personal computer she had splurged on and bought the month before. She hadn't done any serious writing since the summer she took a writing course, but after readingThe Timepiece,a book she enjoyed, she felt vaguely dissatisfied. Most of the book was fabulous, but she would have written a completely differently ending, and there wasn't a need for the sex scenes, or for that matter, the swearing.
Mackenzie was no prude, but in high school she'd had a teacher who was very firm on several things, one of which was "cut the superfluous." She could still hear him: "If the scene doesn't add to the story, cut it. I don't care how well-written you think it is, cut it. I don't care if it's your favorite part, cut it."
To say such a thing to Paxton would hurt him. After all, he was the editor, but Mackenzie would have probably cut a good 50 pages from the book. The finished length was well over 700 pages, and in her opinion, no one would have missed the scenes she didn't like.
"Are you still there?"
"Yes."
"So are you free Saturday night or what?"
"I think so. Just how dressy is this?"
"Very. I'll be in a tux."
"Are you serious?"
"Um-hm." He sounded too satisfied by half.
"Pax, I don't have anything that dressy, and none of my roommates is the same size."
"Go shopping."
"For a dress I'll wear one night?"
"You buy a dress, and I'll see to it that you wear it again."
Mackenzie wasn't sure she found that a deal, but Paxton Hancock was turning out to be a great friend. His expectations of her were next to nothing, yet he was always ready to give of himself.
"Come on, Mackenzie," he coaxed. "You'd look good in black."
"I'll be sure and look for red."
"Mmm, red would work too."
319
"I don't know, Paxton. Can I think about it?"
"No. Now tell me you'll go shopping tomorrow and be ready with bells on Saturday night."
Mackenzie heard herself agreeing. It was the first time he'd ever demanded anything of her, and a sudden desire not to be so self-centered caused her to acquiesce.
"Six o'clock" were the words he rang off with, and for a long time Mackenzie stood looking at the kitchen floor. She would shop, but not before she ruled out her roommates' closets. Hoping one of them had the perfect dress, she moved to the living room to give them the third degree.