Thyme for Love (Cooking Up Trouble Book 1) Page 18

  I thought I’d described the deal with Dad so clearly. What exactly had I said? With my gift for gab, Marc had probably tuned out half my words. What was done was done, and I couldn’t change it, nor could I blot it from memory. What I could change was my heart. He needed to hear me say I forgave him as much as I needed to say it. I looked him in the eye. “I forgive you, Marc.”

  I felt him relax. “Sure?”

  “Yes. Maybe I didn’t communicate my dad’s edict very well. It’s time for us to bury the past.” The weight that had pressed against my chest for eight long years suddenly dissolved and our lips found each other in a gentle feathery kiss that left me yearning for more. He didn’t disappoint me.

  Well into our third or fourth kiss, an upbeat version of a Christian worship song sang out from my evening bag hanging from my shoulder.

  I retrieved the phone and checked the Caller ID. “It’s Flavia.”

  “Why is she calling?”

  “Probably because I forgot to send her a promised recipe. I’m sorry, Marc, I should take it.”

  He frowned and stepped back as I tapped on the accept button. “Hi, Flavia. I know I haven’t sent the recipe.”

  A soft laugh came through the connection. “I wouldn’t bother you, but we’re having a bridal shower for my cousin.”

  “I’d send it right now, but we’re at a restaurant. I’ll do it first thing in the morning.”

  “No problem. I know Marisol will love the cake.”

  “That’s great, I’ll talk to you—”

  “She’s going to be in a school play next weekend. She has the lead. It’s been difficult for her to learn the lines . . .”

  I tuned out Flavia’s chatter and looked over at Marc who sat in a wrought iron chair. Without a seat cushion the thing hardly looked comfortable. I pointed at the phone, then motioned that I needed help hanging up.

  He stood and came closer. “April, I think our steaks are coming.”

  “Okay. I’m saying good bye now. Flavia, I need to go. Talk to you soon.” I disconnected and glanced through the restaurant window. At least we weren’t lying. The waiter was setting our plates at our empty places. I’d make it up to her by sending her several dessert recipes.

  While devouring our filets, we filled in the blanks of the long years apart. Yet, he managed to skirt the information I craved. I didn’t want to burst the bubble of joy I’d felt over the past hour, but if I didn’t say something soon, we’d be on our way home. There had to be a way to say it easily. I excused myself and went to the ladies room where I could pull my thoughts together.

  When I returned, Marc pushed his chair back. “Ready to go?”

  I shook my head and sat. “One more thing must be discussed.”

  Chapter 35

  Marc glared at me. “Don’t you think that’s better discussed in private?”

  “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.” I glanced around the crowded room. No one was paying attention to us. I was tired of the runaround.

  He stood. “Let’s go. It’s better discussed in the car.”

  “Don’t you have to pay the bill first?”

  “I did while you were in the restroom.”

  It was all I could do not to stumble in an effort to keep up with him. We climbed into the Escape, and Marc started the motor. The Crowder CD we’d listened to on our way to dinner blasted through the speakers. He hit a button, and the cab became silent. I’d have much rather listened to the music than the pounding of my heart.

  He turned out of the parking lot and headed toward town. The words I’d put together in the bathroom were on my tongue, but they wouldn’t come out. Silence hung in the air like a heavy winter blanket.

  “The floor is yours.” Marc spoke first.

  I needed to say it. Not think about it. “What happened in California?”

  “I was right about the question.”

  “Then you’ve had time to compose an answer.”

  The blanket had lifted, but now the air felt like a rubber band on the verge of snapping.

  “Marc?”

  He hauled in a breath. “It’s not a big deal. I realized the doctoral program wasn’t right for me, so I came back here to regroup. Heard about the job at Rescaté, and here I am.”

  The story had more holes in it than Sponge Bob Square Pants. “That’s all?”

  We rounded a curve, tires squealing. My body strained against the seatbelt, and I grabbed the bar on the door.

  He slowed the vehicle. “When I quit the program, I worked at the Santa Alicia Country Club for a couple months. That’s what the post meant by SACC.” He halted at a stop sign and glanced at me. “I wanted to explain the day of your interview, but after hearing how you persevered to reach your goal without making a mess of things, I couldn’t.”

  “Persevered?” I uttered a sardonic chuckle. “I loved my cooking classes but lacked the guts to follow through. I’d still be doing tax returns if I hadn’t been laid off. Come on, Marc. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “If you’re saying that to make me feel better.”

  My gut twisted. “Do you think I’d use trickery to get you to talk?”

  “You pretended to be Candy’s friend when you agreed to go to the Apple with her.”

  I stiffened. “I really hoped I could be her friend.”

  “You know as well as I do, that wasn’t why you accepted her invite.”

  Nothing like someone naming your sin and having to own it. “That situation has nothing to do with ours. I’m in love with . . .” I clamped my mouth shut. Those weren’t the words I planned to say.

  “You’re in love with who?”

  I kept my gaze to the windshield.

  Behind us a horn honked.

  Marc drove into the intersection and turned right. A short distance down the street he pulled over to the curb and cut the motor. “Once you hear the truth you may not want to finish that sentence.”

  I slowly faced him. He sat as rigid as the nearby streetlamp, staring straight ahead. “I falsified data on my dissertation and was expelled from the doctoral program.”

  His words, barely spoken above a whisper, fought their way into my brain. Cheating and Marc didn’t go together anymore than an enchilada with teriyaki sauce. My voice finally untangled itself. “Did you say what I think you said?”

  “Yes.”

  Stunned into silence for one of the few times in my life, I wondered how long it would be before I’d wake up and realize this was only a crazy dream.

  “I’d been offered a position with His Helping Hands, contingent with getting my PhD by June. The data I needed for my dissertation had already been delayed a couple of times, and I’d been forced to ask for extensions. If I didn’t get my doctorate then, I’d lose the job offer.” He gripped the steering wheel. “When the researchers announced another delay, I fudged the numbers on the paper and turned it in.”

  “Why?”

  “The position was in their Buenos Aires office. I thought by living down there, I’d be able to erase the memories of us. The ministry wanted me, being fluent in Spanish and half Argentinean, until they found out I was a cheat.”

  “How’d you get caught?”

  “My advisor and the researcher were grad-school buds. Within a week, I was out of the program, and a few days later the job offer was rescinded. He slumped against the seat. “It’s doubtful I’ll ever get my doctorate.”

  Despite his horrible confession, sweet relief washed over me. What he did was so out of character with the Marc I knew, but it could have been much worse. With the truth out of the way, we could finally move forward. If that was the direction we were to go. “I’m speechless.”

  “No words are necessary. I thought I knew better than God what was right for me and took control.” He grasped my hand, giving it a squeeze. “I messed up everything including us.”

  “What happened when you got caught?”

  “I worked with my pastor out there and mowed t
he golf greens for about six months. Then I came home. Pastor Shay set me up with a mentor.”

  The mower attack flashed through my mind. “That’s why the police drilled you about knowing how to operate a large mower. They should’ve asked me. Your shoulders are much broader than the guy who tried to run me down.”

  “They seem to know everything about me from the time I was a Cub Scout.”

  “How’d you start working at Rescaté?”

  “For a couple months, I waited tables at my uncle’s restaurant. Then one day at church Kitty mentioned the Rescaté job and I applied. Ramón said he believed in second chances. Of course, it was God giving me a second chance, not Ramón.” He released my hand and gripped the ignition key. “Did you mean what you started to say? The part about being in love?”

  Moisture filled my eyes. There we’d been, two refugees from difficult relationships with our dads and neither of us willing to share the sordid details.

  “I guess the answer is ‘no.’” Marc began to turn the key.

  The tenor of uncertainty in his voice made it clear. We both needed to be transparent.

  I placed my palm over his hand. “Don’t you dare start that engine.”

  Chapter 36

  “I’ve loved you, Marc, even when I wanted to hate you.” I squeezed his hand, surprised that we’d intertwined our fingers.

  He pressed the release button on my seatbelt, and it fell away as his arm went around me. “Come here, you.”

  I stretched over the center console, ignoring an upturned map poking through the thin fabric of my dress, and nuzzled my nose into his neck. The heady scent of aftershave and man teased my senses. At last I was home. No more grabbing a hug or kiss and feeling like I shouldn’t.

  “Babe, I promise to make up for all the hurt I’ve caused.” He gently cupped my face in his hands, then feathered a trail of kisses over my face until our mouths connected. Kitty was right after all. Never again would I scold her for matchmaking because there wouldn’t be another time.

  There wasn’t anything left to say except, “Ouch.”

  He jolted back. “Did I pinch you?”

  “No, but this did.” I pushed down the seatbelt clip. Like a Jack-in-the-Box, it popped up.

  Marc chuckled, “Probably just as well we were interrupted.” He placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “We’d better leave before the chief comes along and arrests us for public display of affection.”

  I giggled. “You don’t think he would be sympathetic to our story of long-lost love reunited and allow for a little PDA?”

  “Not when my back has a large target painted on it. Ready to go home?”

  I fastened the seatbelt. “Let’s stop at Dina’s for coffee and see if LuAnn Dodge is working.”

  I recognized LuAnn the minute we stepped into the diner. Slim, with carrot-red hair caught in a jeweled claw clip at the back of her head, she stood next to a booth working her pencil over her order pad. We sat in an adjacent booth.

  A minute later, she sauntered up with a half-filled coffee pot and laid a couple plastic covered menus on the table. “Hi, Marc.” She turned her gaze to me, her facial expression asking why I looked familiar.

  I grinned. “Hi LuAnn. Long time no see. I’m April Love.”

  She slid the coffee pot onto the table, barely making her target, and stared at me. “Shut up! Are you kidding? The same April Love I played with while my mom cleaned the Montclaire mansion?”

  I nodded. “One and the same.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Oh, probably since we spied on Kendall Montclaire down in the boathouse.”

  LuAnn giggled. “We sure gave that know-it-all a hard time. I wonder if that girl ever saw him again. Hopefully we saved her some grief.”

  I answered with a laugh. “And to think I’m now the new chef at Rescaté.”

  “No way.” Her eyes rounded. “Did he remember you?”

  “Eventually. So, how are you?”

  She shrugged. “I’m good. Never did make it to beauty school. But, that’s okay. Life goes on. What about you?”

  “Worked for my dad for a while then moved to Atlanta. Bookkeeping by day and culinary school at night.” No use flaunting my college education.

  “Haven’t seen you in a while, LuAnn,” Marc said. “How’s it going?”

  “Same old, same old.” She pulled an order pad from her pocket. What can I get you guys? Fish fry is good tonight.”

  After the meal we’d just finished, I doubted I’d eat again for at least a day. I caught Marc’s eye and shook my head.

  “We’ll just have coffee,” he said.

  She snapped her pad closed. “Decaf okay?” She indicated the pot where it still sat on the table.

  I nodded.

  LuAnn turned over our mugs and splashed the dark brew into the cups. The telltale smell of old coffee floated to my nose. I reached for the creamer then looked up at my childhood friend. “The other day, you mentioned to my aunt that you worked the morning Ramón Galvez died. Would you have time to clear something up?”

  Her smile dissolved as she glanced over at the next booth. “I have another table. What’s my working that morning have to do with anything?”

  “I’m not sure it does. But do you remember if anyone from Rescaté came in here for breakfast that morning, say around six?”

  “I think that was the morning Candy Neer and her friend Gina came in.” She rolled her eyes. “That woman has a body to die for and eats like there’s no tomorrow. It just isn’t fair.”

  I laughed. “My sentiments exactly. She didn’t happen to have on exercise clothes did she?”

  “Candy? In workout clothes? That woman thinks exercise is lifting food to her mouth. Another reason she’s so disgusting.” She laughed at her own joke then flicked her gaze between Marc and me. “So, you two dating or something?”

  I offered a coy smile. “Something.”

  “Dating,” he answered, his words chasing mine.

  LuAnn smirked. “I’ll leave you two alone so you can figure out what you are.” She stepped over to the booth behind us. “Can I get you guys anything?”

  Marc fixed his eyes on me. “Something?”

  I sipped my coffee and made a face. Even the extra dose of cream couldn’t mask the burnt taste. “I didn’t know what to say.”

  “How would you define us?”

  Words raced through my head. Reuppers? Was that even a word? Reconnected. Re . . . re. . . “Restored and growing?”

  “How about restored, committed, and growing?”

  “Are you committed?”

  “All the way.”

  “But don’t we need some time?”

  Marc’s smile faded. He pushed his untouched coffee to the side and took my hand, rubbing his thumb across its back. “How much time?”

  With the warmth exuding from his touch sending chills up my arm, my heart wanted to suggest we elope tomorrow, but reason won out. “Can’t we take it day by day?”

  “Sure, we can, sweetheart. You take all the time in the world because I’m not going anywhere.”

  The delicious quiver filling my stomach suddenly turned sour. “I guess if I want to be sure of that, we’d better make sure the chief doesn’t interfere.”

  Serious concern replaced his irresistible lopsided smile. “Why’d you have to remind me?”

  Chapter 37

  At seven the next morning I climbed out of bed and floated downstairs, chasing the fragrant aroma of fresh ground coffee. After filling my mug and adding a large dollop of half-and-half I headed for the sun porch.

  Kitty looked up from her Bible reading. “What are you doing up so early on a Saturday?”

  I sat on the couch next to Tulip and set my freshly poured brew on the table in front of me. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “From that goofy smile on your face am I to surmise the dinner date went well?”

  “More than well.” I laid my head against the cushion back and grinned at the ceili
ng, while scratching behind the cat’s ears. “Marc and I are back together.”

  She let out a whoop, sending Tulip flying off the cushion. “I knew you two were meant for each other.”

  “And you’ll never stop gloating about your manipulating the situation to make it happen. I’m doomed.”

  She eased her Bible to the floor and rested her elbows on her knees. “So I presume he finally told you about California?”

  I drew in a breath and held it. She was my confidant, but not everything was meant for others’ ears, including hers. “Yes. But it’s up to Marc to tell you, not me.”

  Disappointment registered for a split second. She sat back and picked up her coffee mug. “Fair enough. The important thing is now you know. So when’s the big day?”

  I held up a hand. “Whoa. It’s only been a couple weeks. I’m not ready to jump to that conclusion.”

  “I don’t know why. You love each other and were engaged before.”

  “We also need time together as a couple again. Besides, there’s more than just our personal relationship to deal with.”

  Her smile dissolved. “What do you mean?”

  “Yesterday, Chief Bronson and another officer interrogated Marc. He’s been advised to stay close. From the line of questioning, it sounds like they’re making tracks to charge him with murder.”

  Her cheeks colored. “What evidence do they have?”

  “We don’t know. Of course he’s being framed, and whoever is doing the framing must be laying out a convincing case. We need to find out who ASAP since the police appear to think the information is believable.” I sipped my coffee. “We talked on the way home about the possible people who could have killed Ramón.”

  “But do they even have solid proof he was killed?”

  “We don’t know that either. May have been a bluff to get him to confess, but they implied to Marc that they were about to autopsy the body.” Helplessness washed over me. “If only we had those pills.”

  Kitty shook her head. “Even if you did and poison is found in Ramón’s system during the autopsy, I’m afraid it wouldn’t get Marc off the hook.”