March Into Hell mt-2 Page 6

  Mark shrugged, a reluctant smile escaping as he conceded the point. "This is good. I haven't had homemade mac and cheese since I left for college." He took another bite, his appetite suddenly returning.

  The rest of the meal was filled with stories of the other situations the couple's son had managed to get himself into. Mark snorted with laughter when they told him about the time Thomas had gotten into the fridge and threw one egg after another on the floor. Before each throw, he had said, "Ball!" They had heard him, but just thought he was playing with his favorite toy. It wasn't until they went to investigate the funny noise that followed each 'ball' declaration that they discovered a slimy mess all over the floor.

  For dessert, Jen brought out a package of cookies. "I know it's not fancy, but with the move and all, the pickings are slim."

  "Hey, nothing wrong with store bought cookies, is there, Mark?" Scott snatched a cookie off the plate and handed it to Thomas. "There you go, little man."

  "Oh, Scott! I was going to give him an animal cracker. He's going to be a mess after eating that."

  Mark glanced at the boy, who had cheese smeared from ear to ear and several pieces of macaroni stuck in his hair. He guessed mess was a relative term when it came to kids.

  "Sorry, hon." Scott grinned at her and looked anything but sorry. Jen just shook her head and playfully punched him on the shoulder.

  "That's okay. Today is special so he can make a mess if he wants." She stood and crossed to a drawer, pulling out a package of baby wipes. "At least I can keep the damage to a minimum."

  After eating a second chocolate sandwich cookie, Mark looked at his watch. "Wow! I had no idea it was this late." He pushed away from the table and stood. "I have a couple of errands to run, but thank you for the great meal."

  "It was our pleasure. Really. I'm so glad Scott and I got to meet you, Mark." In that way mothers had, Jen seemed to focus on Mark, but all the while, she swiped at her son's face and hands with the baby wipes, somehow managing to efficiently clean the little boy in just a few quick passes. Finished, she pulled the now sleepy Thomas out of his chair. "Can you say good-bye to Mark?"

  Thomas smiled, his head resting on his mother's shoulder, but he stretched a hand out to Mark. "Bye, Mawk."

  "Good-bye, Thomas." Mark reached out and squeezed a little toe. He felt a lump come to his throat as the little boy popped a thumb into his mouth and turned to rub his nose on his mom's shoulder. Mark shifted his gaze to Jen, catching her watching him with a soft smile turning up the corners of her mouth. Embarrassed, he shrugged. "He's a sweet kid."

  She smoothed back Thomas's hair. "Yes. We're very lucky." She looked at Mark. "Thanks to you. You'll be in my prayers tonight."

  Surprise flooded him. He wasn't the religious sort, but he was deeply touched at her sincerity. "Thanks. I could use all the help I can get."

  Scott clapped him on the shoulder. "Here's your jacket. Do you need a ride? I can give you a lift wherever you need to go."

  "Oh, no. That's okay. I'll just take the 'L'; it passes right by where I'm going. Besides, you're in the middle of packing, and I've already taken up too much of your time."

  "You didn't take up any of my time." Scott walked with him to the door and once outside, his mood became quieter, pensive even. They stopped in front of the building. Scott reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. For a horrified moment, Mark thought he meant to offer him money, but all he did was pull out a business card.

  "Here, Mark. Take this. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call me."

  Mark glanced down at the card. Dr. Scott Palmer, Board Certified in Psychiatry. "You're a psychiatrist? I…I don't think I need one just yet." Humiliation burned through him. He had thought they were different. That maybe, for once, someone had believed him with no questions asked. He tucked the card in his wallet. "I'll do that." He stuck out his hand, barely able to suppress the hurt he was feeling. "It was nice meeting you and your wife. You have a great family."

  Scott shook his hand, but regarded Mark with concern. Instead of letting go of Mark's hand he tugged on it until Mark met his eyes. "I didn't give you the card because I think you're crazy. I gave it to you because, with the move, it's the only number that won't be changing soon." He released Mark's hand. "I want to keep in touch and if you ever want to talk, officially or unofficially, please call me. God only knows, you probably need someone to talk to."

  Mark nodded, feeling stupid that he had mis-interpreted Scott's motives, but also relieved. "I'll remember that, Scott. And if you're ever in the River North neighborhood, stop in the studio and say hello."

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Chicago cityscape slid by in a blur but Mark didn't notice. His mind wandered back to the time he'd spent with the Palmers. Their home, even with the mess created by moving, was comfortable and inviting. It was the kind of home he'd always imagined he would have one day. A home filled with love and laughter and kids. At least a couple of them. And a dog. Gotta have a dog. He shifted on the hard train seat in an attempt to ease the discomfort in his back. When he thought of the reason for the soreness, he smiled. Thomas's face, with his big eyes and mop of sun-streaked hair, popped into his mind. A little stiffness was a small price to pay.

  "Polk Street!"

  The announcement pulled Mark from his reverie, and he stood and headed for the doors. Several other passengers also prepared to exit and he noticed a few studying him curiously. He zipped his jacket higher and turned up his collar in hopes that it would conceal a bit of his face. He'd tried on a baseball cap, intending to use that to help hide his identity, but the edge of it rested right on the place he'd received his stitches and he couldn't tolerate the irritation. Maybe he should have worn sunglasses. He glanced up at the steel gray sky, the clouds threatening to either deposit snow or rain any minute. Sunglasses would have just called attention to him.

  Ignoring the stares of the few that seemed to recognize him, he exited and headed the short distance to Cook County Hospital. He wondered if the girl was still a patient and if she was, if they would even let him up to see her. The automatic doors slid open, and Mark approached the information desk.

  The volunteer manning it looked up. Her tight curls had a blue cast but her eyes weren't the least bit dimmed by age. "May I help you?"

  "I sure hope so. Could you please tell me what room Judy Medea is in?"

  "Let me just check." She pushed a couple of buttons on her computer and leaned forward to read the screen. "It says here that she has to be notified before any visitors are allowed." The woman picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers. "Hello. This is the information desk. I have a young man here to see you."

  The volunteer looked Mark up and down. "Yes, he's kind of tall…no…no, not that tall."

  Mark shuffled his feet, feeling a flush of embarrassment as the older woman continued to relay his description to Judy Medea. "He's a very nice looking young fellow."

  His face heated with a full-fledged blush. "Um…just tell her it's Mark Taylor; the guy from last night."

  The woman's mouth dropped open as her eyebrows shot up. Mark straightened and shook his head with indignation. "Not like that!" Sheesh.

  The woman relayed the information and finally hung-up. "She's in room 207. Second floor."

  Mark found the room without any trouble and knocked lightly on the open door as he entered. Judy looked a lot better now than the last time he had seen her. Her blond hair hung limply around her face and dark smudges stained the skin beneath her eyes, but her smile was bright.

  He stopped a few steps inside the door, feeling awkward now that he was here. "Hi. I just wanted to stop by and see how you're doing. "

  Judy pulled the covers up to her chin and swept her hands through her hair. "Hello. I'm doing okay." She shifted in the bed and bit her lip. "Mark…your name is Mark, right?"

  He nodded and stepped to the side of the bed, his hand out. "Mark Taylor. Nice to meet you."

  She shook his han
d. "I'm Judy, nice to meet you too." Judy smiled, then burst into giggles and covered her face with her hands. The gesture made Mark realize just how young she really was. She couldn't be more than twenty-two years old. After a moment, she stopped laughing, but her smile remained. "Gosh, this is so embarrassing. You've seen me in the altogether, and we're just now introducing ourselves."

  Mark dipped his head and jammed his hands in his pockets. "I wasn't looking… I mean, I don't really remember any details or anything." His face heated, and he was sure even his ears were red.

  Her face became serious, and she averted her eyes for a moment before meeting his gaze. "I didn't get a chance to thank you last night for what you did. For saving me."

  "I'm just glad I was able to help, and that you're okay."

  "Are you okay? I sort of remember you got hit with the staff." She grimaced and rubbed her temples. "It's all kind of fuzzy in my mind."

  "I'm fine. Couple of stitches is all." Mark glanced around the room, noticing a lack of cards or flowers from anyone. "I was just wondering if you need anything. One of the detectives said that you used to be part of that cult-"

  "It's not a cult." Her chin rose and she glared at him. "It's a guild."

  Mark snapped his mouth shut in surprise and rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh. Sorry. I just thought-well, that's what I was told." He took a step backwards. "I guess I'll get going. Take care now."

  "Wait, don't go yet. I'm sorry I snapped at you."

  He paused at the doorway and looked over his shoulder to see Judy sit up and swing her legs off the bed as though to stop him.

  "Don't get up." Mark stepped back into the room and held his hand up in a stop sign.

  "It's just that our leader is normally so wonderful. Last semester, I was struggling at school. I had no money, I was behind on my tuition payments, and the leader paid for it all, and gave me a place to stay. I was treated like family."

  Mark bit back a response about how if that's how they treated family, he'd hate to see how they treated their enemies, but he didn't come to upset the girl, so he kept his thoughts to himself. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that the group wasn't a cult, and it's great they helped you out. All I was trying to say is that if you need anything, just give me a call." He pulled a business card out of his wallet. "Here's the phone number of the studio."

  "Thanks." She glanced down at the card and then up at him, her eyes wide with hope. "Are you hiring?" Her voice held a note of desperation. "As much as I love the guild, I'm not sure I can go back there, but I don't have a job."

  Mark scratched his cheek as he tried to hide his surprise. "Um, I hadn't really thought about it. It's just Lily, my business partner, and me running the studio. I'd have to discuss it with her first."

  Judy leaned forward. "I know how to edit photos! I took a few classes as electives. I'm good at it. Or I can be a receptionist, answer the phone, set up appointments-whatever you need."

  Things had been getting busy, and someone in the studio all day answering the phone could be a distinct advantage. It would mean potential customers would get a live person to ask questions instead of having to wait for a return call from either Mark or Lily.

  Lily probably wouldn't mind if he offered her a job, but on the other hand, he didn't know that much about the girl. He couldn't help the sense of responsibility he felt for her now. "I'll tell you what. When you feel up to it, come on down to the studio and talk to Lily. I'm sure we can work something out."

  The brilliant smile returned. "Thank you so much! I'll do that. I'm getting out of here later today and I'll come by first thing in the morning."

  Mark chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Great! Lily usually gets there around ten. I'll let her know you're coming by."

  ***

  "You offered her a job?" Lily stood in the doorway of his kitchen, her expression bordering on annoyed.

  Mark poured coffee for each of them. He handed Lily hers and took a sip of his own before answering, "Not exactly. I just said she should come by and talk to you." Placing his mug on the counter, he rummaged in his fridge looking for something to eat and had to settle for an apple and yogurt. Everything else was spoiled or a condiment. Someday soon he'd have to do some shopping and buy some real food. He thought about ordering a pizza a little later.

  "I don't know, Mark. She seems to have an awful lot of baggage."

  Speaking around a mouthful of apple, Mark defended his offer. "Aw, c'mon Lily. She's practically a kid. A desperate kid." He gathered his meager meal and went to the sofa and sat gingerly, a sigh escaping. It would be a miracle if he managed to stay awake long enough to wait for a pizza delivery.

  "I know, it's just that all that cult stuff makes me nervous." Lily followed him and took a seat on the chair beside the couch. "What kind of monsters would do that to a woman?"

  "Sick twisted ones, that's for sure, but Judy insisted that they weren't a cult." Mark downed the yogurt in record time and polished off the rest of the apple, sticking the core in the empty yogurt cup. He thought about going around the corner to the hot dog place to get something more substantial, but hated to risk seeing any more media. The horde had continued hanging out front and he had no idea what they hoped to learn by loitering. The most tantalizing tidbit would be what he preferred on his pizza.

  Lily's brow furrowed. "How could she say that? Normal people don't treat someone that way."

  Mark leaned back into the sofa, stifling a groan. His back had stiffened already. "I don't know. Could be she's embarrassed that she ever became involved with them."

  "I suppose."

  They fell silent for several minutes, and Mark almost dozed off when Lily broke the silence. "Hey, how did it go with the little boy today? I'm assuming you were there in time?"

  Rubbing his eyes, he nodded. "Yeah. Just barely. The little guy landed like a sack of potatoes right in my arms."

  "So he was okay?"

  "Oh, sure. Shaken up a bit, but fine." Mark touched the back of his head, feeling a raised swelling where he'd thumped against the pavement. It was tender, but the ibuprofen he'd taken earlier had helped with the headache.

  Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. "And you? Did you get hurt?"

  Mark shot her a look. "Not really. Just a little sore. But…the parents recognized me from the Tribune article."

  "Yikes. What did they say?"

  "Actually, they were surprisingly calm about it all. The dad heard me call the little boy's name before the kid fell, and questioned how I knew his son's name." Mark paused, feeling a lump rise in his throat as he remembered his near breakdown. "I…ah…" He swallowed the catch in his voice. "I finally said I just knew." Mark tried to chuckle but the sound, when it finally squeezed past the lump, was harsh. "Pretty quick thinking on my part, don't ya think?"

  Lily sat forward and put her hand on his knee, giving it a slight squeeze. "Mark, are you all right?"

  Leaning into the corner of the sofa, he stretched his arms over the rear and side and let his head fall back against the top. He didn't answer for a long time. When he finally did, his confusion and anger escaped. "Why is this happening, Lily? What's the point? I have this camera that has some spooky power from…God only knows where… and I try to do my best, but it seems like every time I turn around, some one is…is throwing marbles in my path."

  "I don't know why that reporter decided to write an article. She was probably just looking for a story and your name popped up." She shook his leg. "Listen to me, Mark. I know everything happens for a reason. God doesn't do things on a whim, without a plan. He just doesn't. There's a purpose for all of this."

  Mark rolled his head to look at his friend; amazed to hear Thomas's dad's words coming from Lily. He narrowed his eyes. "Did Scott Palmer call you today or something?"

  Lily straightened and pulled her hand away, her expression confused. "Who?"

  Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thomas's dad. The kid I caught today. His dad's name is Scott Palmer, and he said th
e very same thing to me over lunch. He said I should listen to you."

  Her shoulders went back, and she beamed. "I've never spoken to him, but I can tell he's a very wise man."

  He laughed. "Of course he is."

  Lily chuckled, but then turned serious. "Have you ever tried asking God what his plan is for you?"

  Mark squirmed on the couch, then sat forward. With a drawn out sigh, he rubbed his hand over his face before resting his forearms across his knees. "How am I supposed to do that, huh? It's not like I can just call him on the phone or…or send him an email. I can ask it in my head but…God's not there…he's…I don't know where the hell he is…"

  He stood and stalked to the window, bracing his arms on either side of it. Maybe if he just looked really hard, he'd see God down there strolling the streets of Chicago.

  Why couldn't he feel the same sense of certainty that Lily felt? She just seemed to know. He thought of the Tribune article that suggested that he, Mark Taylor, might be the second coming. His mouth twisted ruefully. Even thinking something like that made him feel uncomfortable. If only they knew. Not only was he a far, far cry from the second coming of Jesus, but, he wasn't sure he even believed in God.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kern motioned to the chair opposite his desk. "Please, have a seat, Judy."

  The young woman scuttled from the door to the chair and sat with her hands clasped, head bowed. A large bruise marked her pale neck. Was she trembling?

  He'd made sure to send the most nurturing member in the Guild, Claire, to pick Judy up from the hospital this morning. His instructions were to act as if it had been the plan all along for Judy to escape from the ceremony. Not only had he advised Claire to be comforting and supportive, but gave her money to buy a complete outfit for the poor girl.