Pathfinder

Ahh… bliss.

Not that a porch swing on an Indiana farm is the usual definition of bliss. But today, it will do just fine.

Actually, I came out here to do some reading. But the summer’s heat and the gentle rocking of the swing was enough to make me forget about words. For once, I decide to just enjoy, so I leaned my head back and ….

"You know Kath, I would have never taken you for a coward."

The voice startled me. But the split-second realization of whose voice it was scared the hell out of me. I started, and the book slid off my lamp and bounced off the floor.

Gods. It is Mark. A little older, a bit grayer, but much the same as the last time I’d seen him.

Apparently he's a bit startled by seeing me, too. He stood there for a long second, looking at me, perhaps trying to decide if I’m real.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you," he says, finally.

"It’s all right" I say, gathering my composure and putting on my captain’s face – the one I thought I’d left in San Francisco.

"How are you?" I couldn’t quite pick up the tone in his voice. Funny, I used to be able to gauge his mood by his inflections.

"I’m fine, thanks."

"You look tired."

"I am," I allow. "But I’ll be fine," I say crisply. "So what’s this about my being a coward?"

He smiles, obviously pleased with himself. "You couldn’t call, or come to ask about Molly? You had to send a note?" He looks at me. "You do remember your note?"

Remember? It was all I could bear to write at the time.

Abrupt, I know, but at this point, a certain distance is a good thing. Seeing him now brings back too many memories, especially the ones from his last letter. And I’ve had too many losses already, thank you.

Well, maybe I can get this over with. "Did you bring Molly with you?" I ask, looking behind him for any sign of a familiar red coat.

He shakes his head. "No, she’s at my parents. I’ve been keeping her there since …. Well, anyway, they enjoy spoiling her."

That relieves me, somehow, and I sigh involuntarily. "She’s all right, then?"

He grins. "She’s a bit gray around the muzzle these days. Then again, so am I."

I smile at the joke, and he decides to take it as encouragement. "Look, I came to tell you that I’d be happy to bring her back, provided you gave me visiting rights. I have gotten attached to her."

Uh, oh. I was afraid of this, even though I expected it. I’m not sure what to say, but the look on my face gives me away. He sees, and the smile falls off his face.

"Maybe you’d better keep her then," I say softly.

He stares at me, uncomprehending, then the meaning sinks in, and he takes a step toward me.

"Kath .. I’m sorry. I know I hurt you…."

I don’t want to hear this. I put my hands up to stop him. "Please, Mark, don’t." I get up and walk across the porch, anything to put space between us.

"We’ve been through this, at least I have in that last letter." I remember that letter too well: I understood, I told him. He had every right to move on. I wished him well, though it hurt like hell to say it. "Look, it was all a long time ago. I don’t want to interfere in your life," I say.

He sits down on the step, saying nothing, just looking incredibly sad. I have a sudden urge to comfort him, but I resist.

"Maybe your wife is attached to her, too," I offer, trying to find a graceful way out of this.

He shakes his head again. "She’s gone, Kath. We divorced about a year ago."

I’m not sure why, but his words literally knock the breath from me, and I exhale in a startled gasp that Mark could certainly hear. He looks at me quizzically for a moment, then turns his attention back to the porch step.

"I’m sorry." It was all I could say.

He shrugs, still not looking at me. "It’s all right. Things happen."

I admit, I’m curious about what those things are . But it’s none of my business. And I’m half afraid he’ll say it’s because he found out I hadn’t died after all.

"Anyway, that’s why Molly’s with my parents," he continues. "I took an apartment .. figured she’d be happier with them."

He turns to look at me, still frozen in place next to the porch railing. "Kath .. please, come sit down," he says, patting the step next to him. "Please?" he asks softly.

I’m not sure about this, but in a way, it seems cruel to refuse him. So I quietly cross the porch and sit on the ledge, next to him, but not touching.

He smiles gratefully. "I’m sorry," he says, shaking his head. "I didn’t mean to act like a jerk.. I .. I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to think of what to say when I finally saw you." He looks at me sheepishly. " I thought maybe the humorous approach might be best."

I have to admit, I haven’t seen him so uncertain about anything since we were kids. I’m not sure what to say myself, so I just quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Hey, that bit about my being gray around the muzzle worked. You can’t deny that you laughed, right?"

The absolute audacity of that statement gets my Irish up, so to speak. And for a moment, we’re kids again, and I have to get my two cents in.

"No, I did not laugh," I say firmly. "Captains don’t laugh. I merely smiled."

I see a very familiar gleam in his eyes now, and he’s trying to hide a smile. "Oh, well, it’s that "captain" thing again."

"It’s always that "captain" thing," I assure him, amazed at how quickly we’ve connected here, and even more amazed at how comfortable it feels.

He laughs, his eyes crinkling, just like I remember, and shakes his head. "I’ve missed you, Kath," he says.

That statement should have brought everything to a screeching halt. But somehow, it didn’t. I’m touched, somehow. And though all the pain, all the loneliness of the past few years, I still know one shred of truth.

"I’ve missed you, too, Mark," I say, failing miserably to keep the tears from welling in my eyes.

He reaches over, and covers my hand with his. I turn my hand so our palms are touching, and wrap my fingers around his. He returns the squeeze, and we sit there for a moment, just looking at each other. He lets go after a bit, and I close my eyes – partly to stem the tears, partly because I suddenly feel lighter, as if something cold and heavy had lifted from my heart.

I hear him get up, and when I open my eyes, he’s standing in front of me.

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

I’m confused, and a bit unsure of what he wants.

"Maybe we need to talk…."

He shook his head. "No. I didn’t come here to ask anything of you, Kath. I’d just like to spend some time with you … if you’re willing."

"All right," I manage to say. "Where to?"

He grins. "I thought we’d walk over and get Molly, if you want. On the way, we could stop by the Bowman place. His grandson just built a house; thought you’d like to see it."

I’m not that much for architecture, but right now, seeing the new Bowman house sounds like a grand idea. "You’re on," I say as I start to get up. Mark offers a hand to help, and I take it, and forget to let go as we walk down the sidewalk.

We’re out the gate when something occurs to me. "By the way, how did you know I was here? I didn’t say anything in my note."

He gives me a sidelong glance. "Ah .. well, it was your mother."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "She called and said that if I knew what was good for me, I’d get over here….."

-fin-