Second Chances in Lavender Bay (The Lavender Bay Chronicles #3)

41. Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Thirty-Nine

M ark put his arm around Diana’s waist and led her through the French doors to the terrace outside. The evening sky had gone from lavender and pink to navy. The air was warm but comfortable. Crickets chirped loudly. The land sloped away from the terrace, and you could no longer see the manicured greens of the golf course or the lake far off in the distance beyond it.

The flagstone terrace ran the length of the building and was bordered by a stone balustrade. Exterior lighting cast dim shadows across the terrace and the white cast-iron benches and small tables scattered throughout.

He led her to the far end, which was unoccupied.

In his eyes was the warmth and kindness she’d grown used to. There was comfort in his familiarity: the strong jawline, the prominent nose, and those eyes as blue as sapphires.

In the semi-darkness, he stood in front of her and asked, “Diana, are you all right?”

She nodded, unsure, but said, “I think so.”

He reached up for her scarf, which she held against the left side of her head. “Let me help you with that.”

But she was quicker than he was and stepped back, out of his reach. She knew she must look a sight with the skin graft on the left side of her head and the rest of her hair cut very short.

“Don’t, Mark. I’ll fix it myself.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She sighed. “Would you mind turning around for a moment so I can rearrange it?”

“Of course not,” he said. He turned his back to her, leaving her hidden behind him. He reached in his pocket for his pipe, something she’d seen him do hundreds of times. The familiarity of it caused an ache in her heart.

Deftly, she removed the headscarf, shook it out, rearranged it, and placed it over her head, winding it into place. She felt around and once satisfied that it was secure, she said quietly, “You can turn around now.”

With shaking hands, she went for her purse and realized she’d left it at the table.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I want a cigarette, but I left my purse inside.”

“I’ll be right back.” He walked away, approaching a couple at the other end of the terrace and exchanging a few words with them. He returned with a cigarette in his hand, which he held out to her.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully.

He pulled a matchbook from his pocket, tore off a match, struck it, and there was a sizzle and the bloom of a flame. He leaned into her to light her cigarette, then waved the match out and tossed it into a nearby bucket of sand placed on the terrace for that purpose. Diana took a satisfying lungful of smoke and blew it out the side of her mouth, the blue plume floating up along the side of her face.

They both leaned against the stone ledge topping the balustrade. Diana hopped up on it, and Mark parked half his bum on it.

“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” she said. What was unsaid and implied was that she hadn’t seen him in a while.

“Some of my colleagues invited me,” he explained.

He casually smoked his pipe, the air around them filling with the scent of cherry tobacco. Diana inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to close her eyes.

He waved his hand toward the cast-iron bistro tables. “Would you prefer a chair?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.” She took her time with the cigarette as it was the only one she had. She could easily go in and fetch her clutch, but she didn’t want to leave him. And the evening was so pleasant.

“We haven’t seen a lot of you lately,” she said. “Ma misses your company.” She did not take her gaze off him. But he didn’t look at her.

“I’ve been busy.”

“In the summer?” she countered.

He looked at her. “Do you miss me?”

Not understanding the question, she said smartly, “Of course. I was just starting to beat you in chess.”

The laugh that erupted from him startled her. He was usually so reserved. “So you were.”

She pushed him. “You didn’t strike me as a sore loser.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not. But I figured it might be best if I didn’t come around so much.”

“Did we make you feel like you were wearing out the welcome mat?”

“No, not once.”

“Is it me?” she asked. He looked up at her sharply. “I know I can be mouthy, and sometimes people don’t get my humor.”

“Those are some of your best qualities,” he said softly.

Diana went quiet, trying to figure him out. He’d paid her a compliment, and she wasn’t sure how to take it. A group of three tuxedoed men appeared and ended up at the opening of the terrace that led to stone steps. They were loud. She wished they would go away.

Soft strains of the orchestra floated out onto the terrace. The closed French doors muted the din of noise inside.

In the semi-darkness, she saw Mark swallow hard.

“I forced myself to stay away,” he said.

Diana scowled. “Why?”

Mark pulled out his pouch and refilled his pipe, setting a match to it. He struggled to get the words out. “Because I’ve grown to care for you very much.”

“We care about you too.”

His ensuing sigh was one of sadness and lost hope. “No, Diana, that’s not what I meant. I’ve developed feelings for you.”

She blinked several times. There was something about being unburdened and enlightened; it was as if heavy chains had slid off you, freeing you.

With a shaky voice and choosing her words as carefully as one might navigate a minefield, she said, “What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m too old for you.”

“Says you.”

“Yes,” he said. “Says me. Diana, I was an old man at the age of twelve.”

She burst out laughing. She nodded, adding, “Listening to classical music, playing chess, and smoking a pipe.” She could so easily picture it.

The tension across his forehead disappeared and his posture relaxed. “Something like that.”

“I’m thirty, Mark, not some nineteen-year-old ingenue.”

“I know.” He cleared his throat. “You could do a lot better.” There was a missed beat, and he added, “Than me.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but men aren’t exactly beating a path to my front door,” she said with a brittle laugh.

In all seriousness, he said, “Shame on them if they don’t see what a gem you are.”

Diana lifted one eyebrow and then frowned.

What was happening here?

“There you are!” came the voice of Laura as she rushed out onto the terrace. She came to an abrupt halt when she spotted Diana, her dress swishing around her legs as she did so. She looked over her shoulder. “She’s out here!” Joy appeared as well, and smiled at Diana. They rushed over to her but pulled up short when they realized she wasn’t alone.

“I’d like to introduce my neighbor,” Diana started as they approached. “This is Mark Sturges, he lives next door. Mark, these are my good friends Laura Knickerbocker and Joy Ruggiero.” Mark shook their hands, half amused and half wondering what her friends would make of all of this.

“Well, any friend of Diana’s is a friend of mine,” Joy said enthusiastically. Diana wanted to roll her eyes but refrained. She could practically see the images in Joy’s head of her walking down the aisle to the strains of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.”

“The men are ready to leave,” Laura told her, and she glanced at Mark. “Were you ready?”

Both she and Joy looked pointedly at Mark until he said, “I can give you a lift home, Diana.”

“All right, if it’s not too much trouble,” she said.

He smiled. “Not at all. You live right next door.”

“I need to get my purse,” she said.

Joy threw her hand up. “Nope. I’ll get it. Stay here.”

Before Diana could protest, Joy and Laura disappeared, and within minutes, Joy returned with her clutch. She was smiling so hard at Mark that Diana wondered if her cheeks hurt.

With a wink, Joy said, “We’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

When she was gone, he said, “You have nice friends.”

“They’re wonderful.” They were the reason she’d survived and created a life for herself. It was a debt that could never be repaid.

“Would you like to go inside,” he asked, “or would you like to go home?”

It had been a long evening. She didn’t have to think about it. “I’m ready to go.”

Mark stuffed his pipe into his pocket and with his hand on the small of her back, he escorted her through the main room and out the front door, handing his ticket to the valet.

They drove in silence back to Peony Lane, Diana thinking about everything he’d said on the terrace. Had she read too much into it?

On Peony Lane, he pulled into his driveway. The porch light was on at her house. It wasn’t late, a little after ten. Her mother would still be up.

They lingered. Took their time getting out of the car and stood for a few moments in the driveway, talking.

Diana looked around. The street was quiet. There were lights on in only a few of the houses. The stillness of the night relaxed her.

She voiced her thoughts. “It’s a shame to go in on such a beautiful night.”

She looked up at the sky. The moon was a pale yellow, and there was a sea of stars flung across the velvety sky.

“Would you like to sit on the porch? We could talk,” Mark said.

“I would like that.”

Mark had no chairs on his porch, so they sat next to each other on the steps.

“I suppose I should get some chairs. But I’m so used to sitting on your mother’s porch, I never got around to buying any.”

“There’s really no need,” she said.

“Maybe not.”

He stretched. She hoped he wasn’t in any hurry to go in. She was enjoying his company too much.

“I don’t have any wine or anything like that,” he said. “But I have a couple of bottles of Squirt in the icebox.”

“That would be nice.”

He stood and unlocked his front door and disappeared into the house. He soon returned with two bottles of Squirt, uncapped, handing her one before rejoining her on the step.

Diana took a sip from the bottle, unaware of how thirsty she was until the tart grapefruit soda hit her tongue.

It turned into a long conversation. Mark spoke about his late wife and the baby son he lost. He spoke about growing up with an older brother. Diana told him about the accident and how she hadn’t wanted to live afterward. How her mother and her friends had supported her during her darkest hours.

Finally, dawn broke, and the sky grew gray along the horizon.

“Diana, I’m sorry, I’ve kept you out all night.”

She stood. “Don’t apologize.” She wanted to tell him that it had been the best night of her life. As she grew older, whenever she heard crickets chirping or trains rumbling along in the middle of the night, she would always think of that night she spent on the porch steps with Mark, putting a name to the feelings she had for him.

He walked her home, although she told him it wasn’t necessary.

When they reached her porch, he said, “Goodnight, Diana.”

“Goodnight, Mark.” Boldly, she lifted up onto her toes and kissed him on his cheek. His ensuing smile was beautiful.

As she laid her hand on the door, she turned to him and said, “And you’re wrong, you know.”

He frowned. “About what?”

“There is no one better for me.”

And she left him there, staring after her, and slipped into the house.