If you're just joining us, we're posting chapters of our Valentine novella here on the blog - one chapter per weekday through February 5. Then we're going to let the READERS decide Mara's hero that will be revealed in the final chapter of A Dozen Apologies, releasing Valentine's Day!
Read Chapter One.
Read Chapter Two.
Read Chapter Three.
Read Chapter Four.
Chapter Five – May
Collin Tate
“You have no experi-ahhnce.” The accent
sounded fake, played to the extreme.
“I served at a wedding once.” She didn’t
tell him she only cut the cake.
“Hmm.” He steepled his fingertips. “I
will give you a chance at a Chamber of Commerce award banquet tomorrow evening.
You will arrive at two o’clock and plan to stay until well after midnight.”
“I can do that.”
He smirked, making his cliché mustache
wiggle. “You will not turn into a pumpkin?”
“No.” She attempted a chuckle that fell
flat.
The man waved her off, and she scooted
back into the cloudy May afternoon.
She had a job. A decent one.
A blonde pregnant lady rounded the
corner, almost bumping into Mara. She laughed. “I’m so sorry. With this belly, what
little grace I did have is long-gone.”
Mara smiled. “So, I’m guessing you’re
not a ballet dancer, huh.”
“Hardly. I’m a cater-waiter.” She
pointed to the Se La Paris door.
“Oh, I just got a job here. I start
tomorrow,” Mara introduced herself.
“So nice to meet you. Dee Townsend …
and kid. This is a great place to work, super benefits, which I’m going to need
here in another month.” Dee opened the shop door. “I’m working tomorrow’s job,
too. If you have any questions, let me know.”
Mara thanked her. That help might come
in handy.
With a lot of day left, she could
concentrate on that next apology.
****
Garrett had never met the next man on
Mara’s apology list. Not so surprising. After their short courtship and massive
breakup, she’d never laid eyes on Collin Tate again.
Mara tried a search on the university
database first but found no listing for him graduating any time after they’d
met outside the science building.
She let their first encounter drift
through her mind.
He had looked like an old man, stooped
over the white fence wearing paint-covered overalls and a baggy t-shirt. A
stained ball cap hid his hair, and he carried a bucket of paint in one hand and
a bleached brush in the other.
“That’s your new fellow.” Jenny had
laughed as she joined Mara on the step.
Mara resisted, claiming he wasn’t a
student, just some contract painter, but then he turned around. Mirrored shades
and jet black tufts of hair curling under the edges of the cap revealed a
younger guy. A hick from the sticks by the look of things. An easy mark.
True to the plan, Mara had engaged him
in conversation.
He’d smiled and removed his glasses,
uncovering striking blue eyes. Cute. But definitely nerd-ish.
She asked about his odd job. The work-study
program was part of his baseball scholarship. He couldn’t receive actual money
for the job, but the university paid for most of his necessities.
Baseball? He was a dreamer, hoping to
pitch someday in the major leagues. Mara cared little about the sport, though
her dad had rarely missed a Braves game. But she had noticed how Collin’s face
lit up when he talked about his passion. And unlike most of the guys she knew,
he listened to her talk about her family and her classes.
He had chuckled when she told him about
her struggles in chem-lab. “I’m not a chemistry-major, but I’m pretty good at
it if you should ever need any help.”
“Actually, I could use some help
tonight but not on chemistry.” She’d gone on to explain how her escort for the autumn
banquet of her sorority had bowed out at the last minute. With a minimum of
eyelash batting she secured her new “date.” He even had a tuxedo. Bonus.
Mara rubbed her eyelids and
concentrated on the computer screen in front of her. A Google search showed
hundreds of men with variations on the name. She switched to images and scanned
down the page until one stood out. Unmistakable. His eyes.
She clicked the link and found the
local news website. Collin Tate was in a picture taken during a grand opening
for a Brim Café. He wore an apron, so he worked for them or he had. His curly
dark hair was shorter than it had been in college. Still a little messy on the
top with a few stray locks edging his forehead.
But where was he? The outside of the
Brim looked just like all of the others. A red ribbon spanned the entrance and
Mayor Milton Price held a pair of giant scissors. The photographer showed up in
the reflection of the glass. A small crowd had gathered near the street, likely
waiting for their first cup of the day.
Wait. Behind the people, she recognized
the buildings: Three Sisters Boutique, with its black circular awning, and the drug
store, bright white and still looking like it stepped right out of the 1940s.
Good thing Main Street didn’t change all that often.
****
After such a late night of searching,
Mara slept in a bit. Or maybe the late night was just an excuse to put off this
meeting. She snuggled against her feather pillow while the crisp air coming
through her window faded into the morning sunlight. She tried to put Collin’s
blue eyes out of her mind.
It wasn’t just his eyes, though. It was
the crinkle on the edges that popped out when he grinned. The way he chuckled
at her jokes and gave her a mischievous glance when he poised to say something
clever. And how he held her hand, not crushing palm-to-palm with fingers
entwined. Soft, caressing. Like a dance.
If only she’d embarrassed him that
first night instead of leading him on. But no. As the instigator of their
little game—the ruthless one—Mara had to win at all costs.
She cranked herself into an upright
position and zombie-walked to the bathroom. Taking a little extra time, she
swept her dark hair off her face to make it ready for the bun she’d use during
her job that evening. She donned her faded lime capris and a turquoise and
green top with some bright beads to match the sunny weather, and trotted down the
steps.
Hardly morning, by the time Mara
reached the Brim on Main Street, there was little traffic and fewer customers.
One older fellow sat with a newspaper, and a few others tapped away at laptops.
The entrance door jingled, and Collin,
standing behind the counter, lifted his head. His ready smile dropped off as
their eyes met.
Breathe. For an instance, she forgot
how.
“You wanted something?”
And walk. She stumbled forward, taking
a long inhale. “Um ... yes. I wondered—”
“Coffee?” The muscle in his jaw popped
just above the line where his dark stubble began.
“Uh, sure.” She’d had her speech all
planned out, but the words became jumbled.
Collin flattened his palms on the low
counter. Impatience painted his face. “What kind?”
Kind? Oh, yeah—coffee. She checked out
the menu hanging behind him, but her mind whirled. The sign might as well have
been written in Egyptian. “Just cappuccino.”
“Sure.” He stepped away.
“With vanilla.”
He set the cup on the bar and rang up
the total on a register.
Handing over the cash, she mustered her
determination. “May I talk to you?”
Snatching up a rag he walked around the
bar, approaching a recently evacuated table. “I don’t have time.”
“I don’t mind you working while we
talk.”
He began wiping down chairs. “I do.”
“Please, just for a minute.”
“What do you want from me?” He
straightened. “Was your little bash at the grove not enough of a lark for you?”
“I just want to apologize.” She looped
a strand of hair around her finger and tugged. “I know I upset you—”
“Upset me?” He bent over another chair
and rubbed away at the seat, uttering a scornful laugh. “Three guys from the
wrestling team held me down in the wet grass while you and all your sorority
sisters flung beer in my face.”
“I know. It was mean—”
“Mean doesn’t begin to describe what
you did. I was ready to commit to you, or did you forget the bracelet I offered
you that night? The one you laughed at before my alcohol shower.”
She shut her eyes. “I never expected
anything like that.” The foggy glade by the river, the laughter, and mixed
smells of dead fish and beer had haunted her dreams for years, even before she
came home. “You have to believe that the memory of that party is a nightmare.”
“The party was nothing. Being left out
there miles from the campus, now that was painful.” His arm muscle flexed as he
ran his towel over a table.
“That wasn’t my idea.” The limp words
hung like the rags on the hook behind his bar.
He whirled on her. “And what was your
idea, huh? Lead on some poor hick then make him the spectacle of your own private
Coliseum?”
The anger poured out of him with such
force that Mara took a step backward.
“I walked until almost dawn. Got picked
up by campus cops and jailed because I smelled like a brewery.” His volume
rose.
She edged toward the door.
“I got suspended from the baseball
team, my scholarship revoked. All because of your little game.” He shoved a
finger against her shoulder.
Her cup dropped to the floor as tears
brimmed and trickled down her cheeks. She had no idea she’d caused such pain.
“But you know the worst part?” He
straightened and rubbed the back of his neck before bending his face to her
level. The blue eyes narrowed to slits. “I worried about you. There I was, kicked
out and packing to leave, but all I could think about was how you were going to
study for your chemistry exam. How’s that for stupid?”
“I had no idea.” Her words barely
extended beyond a whisper.
“So you’ll understand when I ask you
nicely to take your flimsy apology and get out of my shop.”
Stumbling out of the door, Mara’s eyes
stung with tears. Main Street turned into a cubist’s painting with the sun’s
glare. Somehow she made it into her car and leaned her head on the steering
wheel, letting the tears go.
She’d destroyed Collin’s whole life,
his dream of playing professional baseball. And for what? A dinner that she
hadn’t even liked?
“Oh, Lord, I’m sorry. I’ve done this
horrible thing.” A knot tightened in her stomach. Good thing she hadn’t eaten
anything.
She swiped the base of her hand across
both eyes and shifted into reverse. The least she could give the man was her
absence. Please help Collin forgive. Whether
I ever know about it or not.
****
A few hours and a good cry later, Mara
met Dee and helped her load the truck, amazed at all of the items they carted
with them. Not only food, but bins of plates, table wear, and crystal. At least
a dozen boxes of linens, tablecloths, and chair covers, filled half of the
truck.
A black BMW cruised into the lot,
causing Mara to veer out of its way.
“Be careful with that,” Mr. Onri
shouted as he climbed from the vehicle.
Startled, Mara jostled the elaborate
feathered centerpiece.
“Idi-oat. Those decorations are
fragile, worth a month of your sal-ry.” He flounced into the building.
Then
don’t snap at me. She sighed and set the box on the
bed of the truck before scooting it into place closer to the others.
“Don’t mind Mr. Onri.” Dee rolled a
filled cart toward the loading ramp.
“His bark is worse than his bite?”
She laughed. “Oh, no. His bite is
brutal. But he treats everyone with the same intense antagonism.”
Somehow that tidbit didn’t make Mara
feel any better.
The two women and a couple of men set
up the venue, the high school cafeteria. Surprisingly, the room didn’t look
half-bad when they finished, with a portion of the room set up as a dance floor
and the remaining area as an elegant dining hall.
By the time the guests began arriving, Mara
convinced herself that she had a handle on the cater-waiter job. Order and
deliver drinks. Serve hors d’oeuvres. Simple.
Then Collin Tate walked into the room.
Her heart stopped. Only a few hours after she’d determined to leave the man at
peace, she faced serving him all evening. Unless she could avoid him.
Her plan worked fine until the dancing
started after dinner.
Mara had relaxed a little. She and Dee
set up a chocolate bar. She hoped that Collin didn’t venture near, though
pitchers full of chocolate drew attention. She laid stacks of dessert plates on
the table while Dee assembled a set of three large bowls for a huge chocolate
fountain. Dee turned on the machine and emptied the pitchers of chocolate into
the top bowl.
The chocolate poured into the middle
bowl and spilled over into the bottom one. When it hit that lowest level, the
bottom dish shook and tilted.
Mara darted for the glass
configuration, but the bowl had a mind of its own, lurching forward and
splashing its contents over the front of her black vest and pants. She flung
her arms around the circumference, trying to stop its topple, but in her
current state, the machine kept pouring warm liquid into her shirt front.
Trying to step back, she slipped on the
soggy carpet and landed on her tailbone. The remaining chocolate in the bowl
splashed into her face. With the container removed, chocolate poured across the
table and spewed as air entered the pump.
Dee shut off the machine.
Several guests applauded.
Mara scooped as much of the dark liquid
into the dish as she could. She picked it up and squished her tasty-looking
shoes into the kitchen. At least she’d kept the huge glass bowl from
shattering.
With a stack of towels, she and Dee returned
to the scene and sopped up the mess.
“I saw what happened.” A flush crept
across Dee’s cheeks.
“The bottom bowl just moved, that’s
all.”
“That’s not all. I didn’t secure it
correctly. This was my fault.”
“I’m the one who grabbed the bowl in a
bear hug.” Mara stood.
Her new friend glanced up at her. “You’re
not going to tell Mr. Onri?”
Mara shrugged. “What good would that
do?” She laughed. “Besides, chocolate is definitely my color, don’t you think?”
Dee smiled.
But when Mara returned to the kitchen
to rinse out the towels, Mr. Onri wasn’t smiling.
“You are a laughingstock.” He shouted
at his full volume. “Incompetent. Clumsy. Idi-oat.”
“I tried to—”
“Save it. And get out of my sight. You
will never amount to anything.” He waved her away. “You’re fired!”
Mara pushed her sticky bangs out of her
eyes. Mr. Onri blocked the back door like a sentry. She wheeled and pushed open
the door to the dining room. The music still played, but only a handful of
people danced. Most of the crowd stood staring at her as she exited the
kitchen. Oh great. They’d all heard.
A few of them chuckled. And why not?
She looked like one of the hollow bunnies she used to get in her Easter basket.
Without the ears.
“Thanks for the floor show.” One woman
didn’t venture close, but she called her comment out, drawing a laugh from
several people.
Floor
show. Good one.
Mara exited and sank down at the top of
the stairs that led to the parking lot. Maybe if she let her chocolate behind
dry, she wouldn’t dirty her car. At least not much. Lightning flashed in the
distance. Shame the shower couldn’t be closer. She could really use a bath.
But she couldn’t cry. Not over this. She
deserved every ounce of mortification she got.
Instead she prayed for Dee and her
baby. “Thank You that Dee has such a good job. Help her to keep impressing Mr.
Onri so she can keep her benefits.”
A sound startled her.
Collin stepped around the corner.
“I suppose you saw all of that. Go
ahead and gloat. You certainly deserve it.”
“Did you mean that?” He slipped his
hands into his pants pockets, taking on a pose from GQ.
“The gloating part or the deserving
part?”
“The praying part. What you prayed
about that other woman. The one who muffed the setup of the chocolate fountain.”
She rested her chin on her knees. “Oh,
you saw that, too.”
“I saw everything. But I never thought
I’d hear what I just heard. When did you start praying?”
“I just recently learned about Jesus
and became a Christian. That’s why I felt the need to find you and apologize
about my actions back in college.”
The moment of silence that followed
deafened.
“The other woman, why didn’t you tell
your boss it was her fault?”
“Dee is gonna have a baby. She needs
the health insurance from this job. More than I do.”
“Seeing your gracefulness in there, I’m
not so sure about that.” Mischief played across his face.
Did he just crack a joke? With her?
“Thanks a lot.” She might as well play
along.
He shrugged. “I call ’em as I see ’em.”
Mara recognized the umpire phrase. “I
hear the baseball lover coming out.”
“I work with a Little League team.”
“Sounds like you still have the passion.”
She offered a half-smile.
He caught her gaze. “Funny. The Mara I
knew wouldn’t have helped at all. In there. She wouldn’t have stickied her fingers with such a job in
the first place.”
Right.
Cold and heartless before. Chocolate-covered and ridiculous now.
Turning, he stepped down the stairs,
stopped halfway, and looked back. “About that apology ... Accepted.” He nodded.
“And thanks.” Without another word, he disappeared into the darkened lot.
UPDATE:
VOTE FEBRUARY 5 THROUGH FEBRUARY 8 FOR YOUR FAVORITE HERO!
Voting opens at Noon (EST) on Feb 5.
Because we want YOU to choose the best hero for Mara, we're going to try to keep the author/creator of each chapter a secret until after the voting is over. If you know one of the authors, and pick out her chapter, please help us keep the secret. We want the hero chosen based on his personality and his chemistry with Mara, and not make it a contest between authors.
We're depending on you to help us spread the word!
Our authors are also offering some inside glimpses into the writing process, some interviews with authors, heroes, and even the publisher. And that Marji - she somehow got hold of Mara's journal, so you'll be able to read some of her thoughts as she goes through this experience. Check out all the links below to stay on top of the latest.
Thanks for joining us in Mara's adventure - we hope you have a great time!
Friday's Bonus Blogs:
Friday's Bonus Blogs:
Thursday's Bonus Blogs:
Wednesday's Bonus Blogs:
Jennifer Hallmark guest blogs on Patricia M. Dyer's blog: God’s Plans vs. My Own
Betty Owens: What is a Novella?
Monday's Bonus Blogs:
Marji Laine at Faith~Driven Fiction: Mara’s Journal – Road Trip
Marji Interview at Kathleen Maher’s blog
Fay Lamb: Let the Fun Begin blog post: On the Ledge
Jennifer Hallmark devotional at Jewels of Encouragement
Phee Paradise blog post about repentance on Delighted Meditations
Betty Owens: What is a Novella?
Monday's Bonus Blogs:
Marji Laine at Faith~Driven Fiction: Mara’s Journal – Road Trip
Marji Interview at Kathleen Maher’s blog
Fay Lamb: Let the Fun Begin blog post: On the Ledge
Jennifer Hallmark devotional at Jewels of Encouragement
Phee Paradise blog post about repentance on Delighted Meditations
1 comment:
Ah yes, the six most difficult words in the English language or any language, for that matter: "I'm sorry; will you forgive me?"
Whenever I try to skirt around an apology, the Holy Spirit hounds me until I'm miserable and have to go to the person I've offended.
Thanks for the reminder in fiction.
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