Homecoming - Christie Golden [25]
“Oh, Molly!” she called, kneeling and opening her arms to the animal. Molly looked up uncertainly at Mark, then back at Janeway. The Irish setter tilted her head quizzically.
Janeway forced a smile through the pain. Of course Molly wouldn’t remember her. It had been seven years. She straightened and laughed uncomfortably.
“That was a little foolish, I suppose,” she said. “You’ve been her master for most of her life.”
Mark smiled his easy, comfortable smile. “Hey, I’ve only been dog-sitting. She’s always been yours. I can tell you who took the puppies, if you’d like to know. Everyone was so excited about your return. They feel like they own a celebrity dog. They’d be honored if you’d visit.”
“Maybe I will,” she said, though in truth, she thought she probably wouldn’t. She didn’t know those dogs, those people. So much had changed. “Keep her, Mark. You’ve loved her and taken care of her for seven years. She’s your dog, now.”
He seemed about to argue, then took a long look at her and nodded. That, at least, hadn’t changed. He knew her so well. He always had been able to see through her bravado. It was that quality that had made her fall in love with him in the first place.
She sat on the couch that clashed horribly with the surroundings and indicated that he do likewise. Molly, [72] relaxed and calm, began to sniff Janeway’s still-packed things.
They sat, stiffly. There were only a few inches of distance between them, but it might as well have been kilometers. Neither spoke for a while.
Finally, Mark broke the uncomfortable silence. “Kathryn, this is awkward. For both of us. You know that if I believed you were alive and coming home, I’d have waited.”
“Of course I do,” she said swiftly. “You did nothing wrong, Mark. I’d have done the same thing.”
He looked haunted. “Would you? I wonder. It’s just—Kathryn, we were friends long before we were anything else. I have always admired and respected you, and that hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s grown. You’re ... amazing to me. I think about you every day. Carla understands how important a person you were in my life. I’d like for you to continue to be in my life as it is now, with Carla and Kevin.”
“Kevin?”
“Our son.” He laughed. “He’s a petty tyrant, but we love him. I’d like for him to get to know his Aunt Kathryn.” His eyes were somber. “Will he?”
There was no question in her mind, only happiness. She extended her left hand. He took it, squeezed it. “Of course,” she said. “I wouldn’t miss being a part of that for the universe, Mark.”
And for the first time since he’d walked back into her life, the ghost and shadows around his eyes lifted, and he smiled from his heart.
* * *
[73] She had dinner with the Johnsons the following night, and after a few strained minutes, Janeway found herself feeling right at home. The toddler Kevin was indeed a petty tyrant, but all was forgiven when he smiled. Not even Naomi Wildman had been so cute at that tender age.
Mark’s wife Carla was a lovely woman. She was a little younger than Janeway or Mark, with a sharp brain, a cheerful grin, and an easy manner that Janeway responded to immediately. Molly was obviously well loved and looked after, and as the evening progressed she seemed to remember Janeway a little bit more. It felt good.
A brief crisis came when Carla, who had tried to actually bake a soufflé, yelped in the kitchen. She stuck her head out. “Mark, Kathryn ... I’m so sorry. The dessert is a total disaster. I should have replicated it. I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“Carla, it’s all right. I’m so full from your delicious dinner that I probably wouldn’t have done it justice anyway,” Janeway said. It was no lie; her stomach was straining.
Carla seemed unduly distressed by the fallen soufflé. Janeway sensed it was more than just a failed dessert. Mark suggested that they take coffee outside. It was a balmy summer evening, and the Johnsons lived in the country. Janeway eased back in her chair and inhaled the redolent scents of roses and grass. Mark had gone in to get them each a second cup of coffee, and Carla took