my relationship with Mark Taylor didn’t start out as a lovefest, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
After my husband was killed, I retreated from life, which in retrospect is perfectly understandable. For three years I lived in a shell. I took up knitting and gardening, adopted a dog named Rover. All of these were things I’d never have considered in my previous life.
The one constant the first three years I owned the inn was Mark Taylor, my handyman. He was grumpy, noncommunicative, and sometimes downright unpleasant. But as time progressed, Mark became a friend. I still found him irritating, but in a comforting sort of way. I suppose that doesn’t make much sense, but it’s the best way I can think to describe my feelings. In truth, it’s hard to explain.
Mark was around the inn a lot, mainly because I hired him to do a variety of projects and odd jobs. After a while, despite our clashes and differences of opinion, we grudgingly became friends. We argued, but our disagreements weren’t serious. I enjoyed teasing him. He loved my home-baked cookies, and I found I could get him to do most anything with the promise of hot-from-the-oven sweets.
The first time I laughed after learning about Paul was with Mark. He’d been painting, and when climbing down the ladder he stuck his foot into a five-gallon paint bucket. I thought it was hilarious and laughed until tears rained down my cheeks. Mark, however, wasn’t amused.
Over the years he took on a number of projects I wanted done around the inn, which included building a rose garden and gazebo. I saw him nearly every day, and often more than once. Spending time with Mark became part of my daily routine. Even when he worked elsewhere he would invariably stop by the inn for coffee. We routinely sat on the porch and chatted about our day. There were times when we said nothing at all. We didn’t seem to need words to communicate. Certainly there was no hint of romance; he was a friend and that was what I preferred. I was completely oblivious to the fact he might have come to care for me as more than that.
Just as I was coming out of my self-enclosed shell, Mark let me know that he’d fallen in love with me. His words shook me as powerfully as the 2001 Seattle earthquake. And then it hit me…and when I say that, I mean the shock of it turned me upside down. I discovered Mark had become more than a friend to me, too. Bottom line: I’d fallen in love with him. It’d been gradual—so gradual, in fact, that I wasn’t even aware of the subtle shift of my feelings for him. This was so utterly different from falling in love with Paul that I remained oblivious to what had happened until Mark revealed his love for me.
No sooner did I come to accept that my heart was open and ready for Mark’s love when he hit me with another shock. This one even bigger than the first. He announced he was leaving Cedar Cove, with no intention of returning.
What?
I didn’t have a clue what that was about. He made no sense.
“I love you, Jo Marie. Sorry, but I’m leaving and I won’t be back.”
Who does that? And for the love of heaven, why? And then he was gone. Really gone. Sold-his-house gone. Gave-his-belongings-away gone. Simply gone.
Not until later did I learn the reason for his abrupt departure. At one time in the distant past Mark had been in the military, the very service that had claimed my husband’s life. Mark had gotten out of the Middle East unscathed, but at a terrible price. He’d been forced to leave behind an Iraqi friend he’d worked with, an informant who’d become as close to him as a brother.
Even though the circumstances were beyond his control, Mark viewed himself as a coward for not doing everything humanly possible to save Ibrahim and his family. Mark had struggled with his conscience every day since returning to the States. The only way he felt he could properly love me was to go back and rescue the man who’d fed him vital information to help with their mission. But going back held life-threatening risks. He didn’t bother to sugarcoat the danger. He let it be known that there was every likelihood he wouldn’t return.
Now he was gone. I suspected he never really intended to let me know how deep his feelings