CHRISTMAS IN WHITEHORN Page 10

  He hated the darkness inside his soul. Life had been a whole lot easier when he hadn't worried about anyone but himself.

  "I know what you need," Darcy said in a bright tone that sounded forced. "Sugar and caffeine. Go sit in the living room and I'll bring in some cookies and coffee."

  "No, I don't want to eat your cookies. You're going to sell them to the Hip Hop."

  "I'll be giving a bunch away to the hospital, as well, so don't worry about eating up my business. Besides, you really look like you need a cookie."

  Her blue eyes were large and innocent. She couldn't know how much he wanted that innocence to be true.

  "Okay. Cookies and coffee sound great."

  He walked into the living room, but instead of taking a seat, he prowled around.

  "Do you really want coffee?" Darcy called from the kitchen. "It's kinda late. What about milk instead."

  "Either," he said.

  On the mantel there was a picture of young girl with an attractive, well-dressed couple. He assumed it was of Darcy and her parents. Next to that was a small plant of some kind, and a pink and white box. He raised the lid, expecting to hear music. There was only silence … and the sound of his heart.

  Mark stared at the folded bills neatly placed in the small box. The thick wad of money seemed to be mostly fifties. There had to be at least a couple of thousand dollars here. In cash.

  He closed his eyes briefly, not wanting it to be her. Not Darcy. He wanted to find another reason for the money to be there. But the tips at the Hip Hop couldn't be that good, and Darcy hadn't been in town long enough for her business to take off. She didn't even have a contract with the Hip Hop.

  He slammed the top on the box and forced himself to sit on the sofa. There had to be another explanation. He refused to believe that Darcy was involved in money laundering.

  She smiled as she walked into the living room. A plate of cookies took up most of the tray. Two glasses of milk nestled together. She set the tray on the coffee table and settled next to him on the sofa.

  "These are my favorites," she said, picking up a cookie in the shape of a bell and nibbling on the edge.

  "Actually I like the icing more than the cookies, but I can't allow myself to sit down and eat just icing. So I choke down the cookie part, too."

  She smiled as she spoke, an easy smile that made him wonder if he'd imagined the money. But he knew he hadn't. He felt betrayed for the second time. Something he'd never wanted to experience again.

  Why did it matter if she was a criminal? He told himself he didn't care about Darcy. So maybe they'd been lovers a few times. They might have even started to be friends, but so what?

  He stood suddenly. "I have to go."

  *

  Darcy stared after Mark. One second they'd been sitting together talking and the next, he'd been gone. What had happened? She put down the cookie she'd been eating. It seemed that her run of bad luck with men was endless.

  She didn't know why Mark had left, but she had figured out that something was very wrong. Despite his claims to the contrary, he'd been avoiding her. What she didn't know was why. Had he found out about Dirk? Mark had sure been in detective mode with all his questions. Obviously he suspected something, but what? How could he have found out about the school and her brother's challenges?

  Did it matter? She slumped back on the sofa. For a while she'd thought that Mark's time in caring for his sister might have made him more understanding and accepting of her situation. Obviously she'd been wrong about that, and him. He thought she was good enough to sleep with, but not good enough for anything else.

  "The hell with him," she said aloud. But her voice was a whisper, and she was having a hard time ignoring the tears pooling in her eyes.

  Chapter Nine

  Darcy knocked on the counseling office door. Andrew looked up and waved her in.

  "I didn't expect to see you until the weekend," he said.

  She took the seat opposite his. "I just wanted to drop by and say hi to Dirk."

  Andrew raised his eyebrows. "We're fifty miles from Whitehorn on a two-lane farm road, Darcy. Is there a problem?"

  "No. Really. I'm fine. How's Dirk?"

  "Making great progress." Andrew leaned back in his chair. "Some things are easier for him to grasp than others. You know our goal here is help our students be as self-sufficient as possible in the real world. Dirk will never be a CEO of a major company but, as I told you when he first arrived, I think there are a lot of opportunities for him. Now that I've worked with him for six months, I don't see any reason to change my opinion. If anything, I'm more confident."

  "Thanks." She fidgeted with the strap of her purse. "I'm still going to be able to make monthly payments, right?"

  "Absolutely." Andrew chuckled. "Actually, you've caught me in the middle of putting together a financial-aid package for you. Now that Dirk has been here long enough for us to evaluate him, we're going to start the process of applying for scholarship and grant money."

  "You can do that?" she asked, not daring to hope.

  "We can try. We don't talk about it as an option when we get a new student because there are restrictions. One of them is how much the student can be helped. Our belief is that Dirk will be about ninety percent self-sufficient by the time he leaves here. He'll be able to hold down a job, live on his own and, within reason, support himself. That and the fact that he doesn't have any financial resources makes him eligible."

  Darcy bristled. "I pay for things. I've never been late with a tuition payment."

  "Hey, don't make me the bad guy. The foundations we work with don't consider you a primary source of income. You're a sibling, not a parent. This is a good thing. It makes Dirk more eligible for funding."

  "Oh." She considered the information. "I'm not going to start planning a trip to Hawaii or anything, but if we could get some financial aid, it would really help."

  Andrew nodded, his expression turning serious. "I know you're hanging on by a thread, Darcy. Don't give up. I'm guessing within six months, we'll have funding for at least three-quarters of his tuition."

  "That would be terrific," she admitted. "Some months it's difficult to pay all my bills." If the funding came through she might actually be able to save money for an emergency.

  "We're not cheap," Andrew admitted. "I like to think we're worth it." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "What else is wrong, Darcy? You don't seem to be your normal, cheerful self today."

  She shrugged. "Just life. You know – there's always something."

  "I'm a professional. I'm willing to listen."

  "That sounds really tempting, but you're Dirk's counselor, not mine."

  "I'd like to think we're friends. Talk to me."

  She hesitated. "I don't know. There's this guy."

  "Ah. A matter of the heart. I should have known."

  "I don't know if this qualifies as a 'matter of the heart.' More like a confusing situation between people who are friends."

  And lovers, but she wasn't comfortable confessing that. "He lives next door. We've hung out a few times." Did sex qualify as hanging out? "I thought we were getting along great, but last Monday he turned weird on me. I don't know. He mentioned some big case at work, but I'm not sure I believe him."

  "What kind of work does he do?"

  "He's a detective. He worked in New York for a while, but he was injured on the job. I guess he left to recover and now he's here. He grew up in Whitehorn."

  "Sounds like he's made a lot of adjustments. First to the big city and now to coming home. How long has he been back?"

  "A few months. I think a suspect shot him."

  Andrew frowned. "That can't have been easy. Do you know any of the details of the shooting?"

  "No. Just that he was in the hospital for a while and then in rehab." She thought about the scars on his body. "One gunshot was to his thigh, the other his torso. I know that no major organs were hit, but I think it was pretty close."

 
; "Facing one's mortality is never easy. Es- pecially if his injuries were serious enough to cause him to leave his job."

  Darcy considered Andrew's statement. She hadn't thought about the reasons for Mark's return to Whitehorn. "I don't know if he came back because he couldn't physically do the job, or if it was something else."

  "Neither is going to make him feel good about himself," Andrew told her. "Men frequently define themselves by what they do. If your friend couldn't do the job he loved, he would need some time to get used to that reality. If he left because he didn't want to deal with the pressures anymore, then there are different things going on. Either way, he's in for an adjustment."

  "You're right. I had just sort of assumed that it was all about me – his being weird, I mean. Maybe it isn't. A friend of his killed herself a few days ago."

  Andrew whistled. "A former girlfriend?"

  "I don't know. Maybe. Probably." She shifted uneasily. "Maybe I'm fooling myself, but I don't think he's lost the love of his life, yet there's something going on. It's hard to explain."

  "Suicide is difficult for those left behind," Andrew said. "Your friend is probably feeling a lot of conflicted emotions. Being in a new relationship is only going to add to his confusion and guilt. Try not to take it personally." He shook his head. "Unless all this is too much work and you'd rather pass. You don't have to get involved with this guy, Darcy."

  "It's not that." She didn't think Mark was too much trouble. "I guess so much has happened so fast that I'm having trouble keeping my equilibrium." She tried to smile and had a feeling she didn't do a good job. "I'm so used to guys taking off the second they find out about Dirk. All this stuff with Mark isn't about that."

  "It's tough to find out we're not the center of the universe," he teased, then sobered. "Are you okay, Darcy? You're dealing with a lot right now."

  "I'm fine." At least she was trying to maintain some semblance of normal. Mark didn't make it easy.

  Andrew leaned toward her. "Do you want to talk about Dirk's impact on your social life?"

  "I'm not sure there's anything to say. It's not a new story. I love my brother and I would do anything for him. One of the realities of the situation is that people – men especially – don't want to get involved if it's not going to be easy. Dirk isn't easy. There are emotional and financial commitments that will last a lifetime. At least if a woman has kids, the assumption is that the kids are going to grow up and be on their own eventually. That may not happen with Dirk."

  "I think it's a very good possibility with your brother," Andrew told her, "but it's not a sure thing. As for the men you've met, I'm sorry they've all been so shallow. There are a few good ones out there and I suggest you keep on looking."

  "Oh, I haven't given up. I just have gotten more cautious."

  And foolish, she thought, as she remembered Mark. When he'd agreed to her request to be friends, she'd allowed herself to hope things might be different with him. Ironic that she couldn't blame his disap- pearance on Dirk.

  "Keep looking, Darcy," Andrew said. "You're a wonderful woman. Any man would be lucky to have you in his life."

  "Right. When you meet this paragon of virtue, be sure to give him my number, okay?"

  "I promise."

  Darcy rose and left Andrew's office. As she entered the hallway, she tried to take comfort in his words – that Mark's problems might not be about her at all and that eventually she would meet someone who would see Dirk for the amazing young man he was. But the cheerful thoughts didn't brighten her mood. Part of her didn't believe she was ever going to meet someone that farsighted. Part of her didn't want to meet anyone else.

  She leaned against the wall and sighed. There was a truth she could have gone another few years without knowing. That she didn't want to meet Mr. Perfect Instead she wanted Mark to be the man of her dreams. She wanted him to stop acting strange and fall in love with her. She wanted him to meet her brother and be okay with Dirk and what his special circumstances meant.

  Darcy told herself to get real. Wishing for the moon was only a waste of time. She would be better off convincing herself that Mark was a jerk and that she should be happy he was out of her life. Unfortunately, she didn't believe that one, either.

  *

  "Hey Mark, where's the pretty lady with the cinnamon rolls?" Josh Anderson asked as Mark walked into the gym on Sunday morning.

  "Busy."

  "Too bad. She's a great cook." Josh eyed him speculatively. "Not bad looking, either."

  Instead of answering, Mark grunted. If he were any kind of decent human being he would tell Josh that Darcy was indeed a great cook and very pretty. She was also smart, funny and incredible in bed. He grimaced. Okay, so he should probably keep that last bit to himself. But he could tell Josh the rest of it. After all, the thirty-something contractor was single. If Mark didn't want Darcy for himself…

  He shrugged out of his jacket, then pulled off his sweatpants and sweatshirt until he was down to shorts and a T-shirt. No way was he going to encourage Josh in the Darcy department. He tried telling himself it was because she was a suspect in a police investigation, but he knew that wasn't it at all. He might not want Darcy for himself, but he sure as hell didn't want any other guy sniffing around her.

  The rest of the guys showed up and the game began. Mark found it difficult to keep his concentration on the ball and his teammates. Conversation flowed around him. He tried to participate, but a large part of his brain was too busy reminding him how long it had been since he'd last seen Darcy.

  Nearly a week, he thought as Josh passed him the basketball. Mark headed for the far end of the court and tipped the ball into the net. He barely heard the calls of congratulations from his side and the boos from their opponents.

  What was she thinking, he wondered. Had she noticed he hadn't been around? He shook his head as he realized that wasn't a fair question. Of course, she would have noticed. She wasn't Sylvia. Darcy didn't have an agenda. Although if she was laundering money, then the last thing she would want was to get involved with a detective. Unless she thought she could fool him. Which brought back too many uncomfortable memories.

  A week. He hated that he missed her. Nearly as bad, he didn't feel comfortable going to the Hip Hop, so he'd been forced to actually cook a couple of meals. That had been a disaster.

  "Heads up, Kincaid," someone called. A second later, the basketball slammed into his back.

  Mark turned. Josh glared at him. "Are you playing or what?"

  "Sorry." He took the ball out of bounds, then tossed it back into play.

  He kept his concentration on the game for a few minutes. Then his thoughts once again drifted to Darcy. Had she realized that he hadn't been to the café? Did she wonder what had happened to their supposed friendship?

  "I know what the problem is with Kincaid," one of the guys said. "Chick trouble. Darcy's not here. So you guys had a fight, right? What'd you do wrong?"

  Josh grabbed the basketball. "What makes you think it's his fault?"

  Nearly everyone laughed. "It's always the guy's fault."

  Mark raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "It was me and I don't want to talk about it."

  He was joking but also telling the truth. Walking out on her without saying anything had been the coward's way out. He should have confronted her about the money. The thing was, he didn't want to know that she was involved. He'd spent most of the week investigating her, and he still couldn't link her to anything illegal. Which didn't mean a thing.

  He stopped in the middle of the court and swore under his breath. He knew the next step. He would have to take his suspicions to Rafe and together they would get a search warrant for her place. As he couldn't explain the cash, there wasn't any other choice.

  "Mark!"

  Mark turned toward the sound of his name. As he moved, he felt his foot slip on a damp spot in the court. He scrambled to regain his balance, but it was too late. His ankle twisted painfully. His still-healing leg couldn't sup
port his weight and he felt himself crashing to the ground. His last thought before his head connected with the wooden floor was that this was gonna hurt like hell.

  *

  Darcy carefully placed the template on the baked sheet of gingerbread. She'd already cut out the walls of the house. Once the roof was done, the pieces would need to cool a little more, then she would start assembling the two houses. She had all the candies she would need, but she was going to be a little short on the icing. After this was done, she would make a quick trip to the store to—

  The phone rang.

  She glanced up at the instrument, hating the sudden fluttering in her chest. There was no way Mark was phoning her. She hadn't seen the man in nearly a week. He'd disappeared from her life with no explanation and no warning. She was working through the stages of mourning just fine, thank you very much, although today she seemed to be stuck in anger.

  The phone rang again. Reluctantly she put down her knife and picked up the receiver.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, Darcy."

  All the blood rushed from her head, forcing her to sink into a kitchen chair. She briefly closed her eyes and wished she didn't care that he had finally called her. How was she supposed to act? Happy? Angry? Hurt?

  She settled on casual. "Mark. Nice to hear from you. How's it going?"

  "Things have just gotten real interesting." He hesitated. "Are you mad that I haven't called?"

  She sucked in a breath as annoyance filled her. "Not at all," she said through slightly clenched teeth. "I've been so busy getting ready for the holidays that I barely noticed. How's work?"

  "I've been busy, too." There was a pause, then something that sounded oddly like a moan. "Darcy, the reason I'm calling is that I need a ride home."

  Annoyance turned to fury. How dare he expect her to be at his beck and call after first running out on her with no explanation and then ignoring her?

  "Mark, I'm in the middle of making a gingerbread house. This is a very delicate time in the process. I'm not sure I can get away."

  "Okay. I understand. Josh is driving my car back to the duplex. I guess I'll page him to come get me here when he's done. I didn't mean to bother you."