Chapter 19: Chapter Nineteen - GRACIE

Gracie lay awake and stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t stop thinking about her plans to become an art therapist. She was both excited and nervous, but she was also a little sad. The good things in life only felt good if you had someone to share them with—someone who got as excited about them as you did. And she had no one. Markus didn’t understand—obviously—and Cameron had only been interested in pop art like comic books and exaggerated carnival caricatures.

Gracie had been tempted to tell her mom about her plans when they’d talked on the phone earlier that evening, but Gracie hadn’t known how to bring it up. Her mom was still trying to figure out how to cut back on her hours at work, and Gracie was afraid if she told her parents about her plans, that would just add one more stressor.

She’d looked up how to become an art therapist, and it turned out she’d have to get a master’s degree. That was a lot of school. And a lot of money. Money her family didn’t have, especially if her mom was trying to work less.

It was then, in the middle of her raging thoughts, that Gracie heard something at the door—a small thump followed by what sounded like rustling. She immediately jumped out of bed and looked for something she could use to defend herself. She didn’t have anything—not even a curling iron, considering her curly hair didn’t need one.

Well, at least she knew now that in a fight or flight situation, her instinct was to fight. The fact that she had no skills and would probably be knocked out within seconds of an intruder bursting in didn’t matter, right?

Except, no one came crashing into the room. Instead, there was more rustling, like the sound paper made when being folded.

Gracie didn’t need to look over to know Stephanie was still fast asleep—her snoring announced it to the world.

With only a slight hesitation, Gracie crept over to the door, where a sliver of light from the hallway illuminated a folded piece of paper on the floor. She picked it up, then took it over to a corner of the room, where a lamp was attached to the wall. Gracie flicked it on, and Stephanie gave a small snort but then stilled.

Gracie sat at a small table situated under the lamp. When she opened the note, her first reaction was to laugh. It was a crude drawing—something a young child might do, though it was clear someone older had drawn it. She squinted and turned the paper, like if she looked at it from a different angle, she might be able to tell what it was. There were definitely two people there—one was a male, judging by the spiky hair on the stick figure. He wore a frown. Awww, poor guy. He looked so sad!

Next to him stood a girl with curly hair. The drawing had been done with a black pen, but Gracie had a feeling that if color had been used, the hair would have been red. Her stick figure did not look happy either. Over their heads were the words “I’m sorry” written inside a heart.

Gracie sat back in the chair and fingered the edges of the small note. It had been torn off a pad that had the hotel’s logo at the top.

It had to be from Mark.

Now Gracie definitely wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep. What she needed was to go for a walk. She slipped on a robe over her pajamas, then padded over to the door. Careful to not make any noise as she undid the interior locks, Gracie opened the door. She hadn’t expected Mark to still be there. He wouldn’t risk getting caught lingering outside her room. He and his precious rules wouldn’t be able to handle it.

And yet, he was.

Mark was leaning against the wall opposite her room. His hair was ruffled, and he wore flannel pajama pants with a T-shirt. Man, she couldn’t get over how good looking he was when he wasn’t trying. He straightened, his posture immediately tense when he saw Gracie.

They stared at each other for a moment before she said, “I got your note.”

He gave a tentative nod. “And?”

“And what?”

Mark held her gaze. His eyes were intense as he asked, “Do you forgive me?”

Oh. Gracie hadn’t thought that far. But it made sense that he’d lingered because he wanted to talk about what had happened between them. She had no idea what to say, though. He had blamed her for his mistakes at the food bank, and nearly making people sick from expired food. It hadn’t mattered that she hadn’t been anywhere near him at the time. And then when he’d asked about her plans for the future, seemingly as a way to get back on her good side, he’d blown her off when he hadn’t liked the answer.

“I’m not sure,” she finally said.

Something akin to panic flickered across Mark’s face. “I know I’m not good at relationships, or friendships, for that matter. But please, give me the chance to explain.”

Gracie hesitated. “Fine,” she relented. “Maybe we should make our way down to the lobby, though. It would be bad if Mrs. Krump found us out here past midnight—in our pajamas.”

Mark looked down, seemingly surprised. “Oh. I hadn’t stopped to think…” He glanced back toward his room, like he wanted to change his clothes, and probably do his hair while he was at it.

Gracie chuckled and gave a quick shake of her head. “You’re fine, don’t worry about it. More than fine, actually.” She clamped her lips shut. Ugh. When she was with her friends, she was notorious for saying whatever was on her mind when she was tired. Maybe wandering off with Mark right now wasn’t a good idea.

Mark seemed amused, though. “Flannel really does it for you, huh?” he asked, his lips quirked up in a half-smile.

“Not usually,” she said. “But I have to say, you manage to pull it off nicely.”

This time Mark grinned.

And Gracie wanted to groan. Seriously, she needed to go back to bed. Nothing good could come from them being together right now.

“About me explaining myself,” Mark said, nodding toward the elevator down the hall. “I really do want to make things right.”

Well, she supposed she should at least allow him that. But she promised herself that nothing would come of it.

Mark led the way down to the lobby. Many of the lights were off, and no one was at the front desk. A sign said that they’d be back at 5:00 a.m., followed by a phone number if their assistance was needed. A few overhead lights lit the path to the entrance, but Mark led Gracie to a darker part of the lobby, where the couches were.

He chose one that sat near some windows with a view of a small pool, though it was still covered for the winter. He sank onto one end of the couch, while Gracie sat on the other end.

It was a moment before she prompted him by saying, “You wanted to talk to me.”

Mark leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, like he couldn’t bear to look at Gracie. “Yeah. What I said yesterday. At the food bank.” He paused, and his breaths seemed to come out shaky. “It wasn’t true. I-I panicked, and everything my father taught me came flooding back. But I’m not him—at least I’m trying not to be.”

Gracie watched Mark for a moment before saying anything. She didn’t want to feel bad for him. She wanted to be polite, and then move on with her life. She had enough complications in her life without needing to worry about a guy like Mark. He obviously had his own issues he needed to work through. But Gracie heard the sadness in Mark’s voice. She also heard a hint of the fear he’d alluded to.

She scooted a fraction closer. “What does your father have to do with all of this? You’ve mentioned him a couple of times this week.” She hoped that Mark’s father wasn’t abusive or something like that. Gracie shuddered at the thought.

Mark sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “He wants me to be just like him. Always has. He wants the best for me, and that means not settling.” He used his fingers to make air quotes around the last word.

Gracie immediately wondered if dating an artist counted as settling.

“What does your mother have to say about it?” Gracie asked. As soon as she saw the shadow pass across Mark’s face, she knew that was a question that should have remained unasked.

But to her surprise, Mark answered. “She left us when I was young. I still talk to her a couple of times a year, but my dad refuses to have anything to do with her.”

Gracie moved closer and placed a sympathetic hand on Mark’s knee. “I’m so sorry.” Maybe her mom had been working a lot lately, but Gracie knew her mom loved their family and would do anything for them. It made Gracie feel guilty for complaining about her life.

He blew out a long breath. “I’m just so tired of all the pressure. I’m doing homework all the time because my dad wants me to be better than everyone else. It’s like he’s trying to make up for what my mom did. He’s constantly quizzing me, making sure I’m on track to get into the top universities. I think he’s already planning what he’s going to tell people when they congratulate him on his son becoming an engineer, just like him. And one with a PhD, no less.”

Gracie was taken aback by the sarcasm that dripped from his words. She’d never heard Mark talk like this before. “If that’s not what you want, why have you been going along with it?”

Mark took a moment before answering, like he was trying to find the right words. “It was easier than resisting at first,” he said. “I wonder if my mom took the same path—going along with his particular ways of doing things, but then getting fed up with it.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned against the side of the couch so he was now facing Gracie. “He’s so distracted all the time with his own ideas floating around in his brain, I wonder at times how much he cares about me—how much he cared about her. There has been a time or two when I’ve felt brave and voiced what I wanted, but he acted like he didn’t hear me. Who knows, maybe he didn’t.”

Gracie thought of her own parents. She knew they’d support her no matter what her choice. But now that she was planning on going to college—something she’d never thought too much about—she wondered how they’d react. She knew they didn’t have the money to send seven kids through college. Maybe that was why her mom had taken the job.

Oh, great. That thought made Gracie feel even guiltier about her attitude toward her mom’s new employment situation.

“I’m not going to college, though,” Mark said abruptly, interrupting Gracie’s thoughts.

“What? Like, not at all?” She knew he wanted to help people, whatever he decided as a career, but she figured that college was going to happen, no matter what. He just seemed like that type.

Mark’s lips pressed together in a resolute line. “No. I don’t need it to do what I want to do. People start non-profit businesses all the time without formal degrees. I haven’t decided on the specifics, of course. I’m leaning toward something that would help homeless children. But…my dad doesn’t know.” He paused, seeming suddenly sheepish. “He thinks I applied to all of the universities on the list we made together. I was going to leave a note explaining everything before I left for this trip, but I chickened out at the last minute.”

“How’s he going to react when he realizes you haven’t?” Gracie asked, her thoughts immediately jumping to the worst-case scenario. Mark’s dad didn’t seem like the most touchy-feely kind of parent.

Silence followed her question. Mark seemed like he’d somehow frozen, his body stiff. After several moments, Gracie poked his knee, just to make sure he was okay.

That seemed to startle him out of his stupor. “I think it’s time we talk about something else,” he said, his tone falsely cheerful. “What is your favorite art medium? Drawing, painting, charcoal?”

Gracie raised an eyebrow, unsure about the sudden change of topic. “I didn’t realize you are so interested in art, considering the drawing I received tonight.” She paused when she saw Mark’s fake smile dip into a frown. “Not that it was bad,” she said quickly. “It was very…cute.”

Mark rewarded her with a genuine smile. “You’re nice, but I don’t know the first thing about art. I’ve only read about it in books and watched videos online for an art history class I had to take.”

“You should try it sometime; it might actually help you with your conundrum.” Gracie was realizing more and more how important having an outlet to express yourself was. And she firmly believed that art could help anyone, even if they weren’t so-called artists.

“Uh…thanks, but no thanks,” Markus said with a small laugh. “It’s not my thing.”

“That’s your dad talking.”

Markus gave her a look of open-mouthed shock, and Gracie realized she’d done it again. She looked at a clock that hung in a shadowy corner of the lobby. It was almost one in the morning. She really shouldn’t be talking now, let alone be here with Mark. Her inability to filter herself was only going to get worse.

“How would you know?” he asked, suddenly defensive. “You barely know me. Shouldn’t I be the one who decides if I like art or not?”

Mark had a point.

“That’s fair,” Gracie conceded. “Come by my house after we get back. It’s the weekend so I don’t have to take care of my siblings. Then we’ll see if art really isn’t your thing.”

Wow. That was bold.

She almost rescinded the offer, but then Mark’s frown morphed into a smile that shone so brilliantly, she didn’t want to. In fact, she’d be devastated if he didn’t show up.

“All right,” he said. “But I have one question.”

“Okay.”

“Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”

Gracie paused. “If I said no, would you still come over this weekend?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Mark scooted close to Gracie, then took her hand in his. He looked her in the eyes as he said, “To prove I’m not the person who was so awful to you yesterday. I’m someone who will always be there for you, no matter what. When it seems like the world is falling apart around you, I’m going to be there.” He paused and rubbed a thumb over Gracie’s knuckles. It sent shivers down her spine, but in a way that left her wanting more. It was different than the night at the cemetery—deeper.

Gracie knew Mark could be just telling her what she wanted to hear. But she didn’t think so. She believed him. He wasn’t perfect, but he was real.

And so was the intense longing she was feeling for him at that moment.