She didn’t know about Mark, but she was getting sick and tired of The Hitching Post meals. And even if she weren’t, she didn’t like him paying for everything.
She hadn’t made a list, so they wandered from aisle to aisle, picking up pinto beans, rice and tortillas.
In the produce section, she selected tomatoes, green chilies, cilantro and onion. And in dairy, she grabbed a half gallon of milk, sour cream and a bag of Monterey Jack cheese.
As they neared the butcher case, a woman wearing an oversize black sweatshirt with a sunflower appliqué gasped and placed a hand on her chest.
Was something wrong?
The woman’s gaze had locked on Mark’s, and subsequently, so did Juliet’s.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Hi, Mark.”
Juliet froze, a package of chicken breasts gripped in her hand. She studied mother and son, saw their tension-filled stances, felt the awkwardness. And it broke her heart. The reunion should have been exciting, something worthy of a hug, a bright-eyed smile.
“I…uh…was hoping you’d come by the motel,” Mrs. Anderson said. “We’ve missed you. We both have.”
“I’ve been busy.”
The woman’s eyes dropped to the bundle of pink flannel Mark held. Then she glanced at Juliet, a hundred questions in her gaze.
“This is my friend,” Mark said. “Juliet Rivera.”
“How do you do?” The woman reached out a hand. Her eyes begged for answers, for more of an explanation, for something Mark wasn’t providing her. But she remained silent. Watery eyes told Juliet she was hurting, but not because Mark’s presence had disturbed her.
“This is Juliet’s baby,” Mark said. But he didn’t unwrap Marissa. Didn’t reveal her sweet face.
Juliet stepped forward and withdrew the edge of the pink flannel blanket. “Her name is Marissa. And she’s a week old today.”
Mark’s mother smiled, sentiment glistening in her eyes. “What a precious baby.”
“She certainly is. Thank you.” Juliet should have been pleased that Mark had introduced them, but she suspected he’d merely meant to avoid any of the questions that hung in the air.
How have you been?
Why haven’t you called?
When will we see you again?
“I was just picking up things to make a special dinner to celebrate Marissa’s birth,” Juliet said. “Do you like Mexican food, Mrs. Anderson?”
“Yes, I do.” The woman’s green eyes grew wide and bounced from Mark to Juliet and back again. “My husband and I don’t get a chance to eat it very often, especially when it’s homemade. Having been brought up in Texas, we miss a good Mexican-style meal.”
“Then maybe you’d like to join us for dinner,” Juliet said.
Mark tensed.
“Why…” The woman paused, then looked at Mark as though wanting him to second the invitation.
He held his tongue.
Juliet wanted to kick him in the shins. Couldn’t he see the woman was hurting? Maybe more than he was?
“My husband isn’t feeling well,” Mrs. Anderson said. “Perhaps another time.”
“Of course.” Juliet offered her a sincere smile, which was far more than her son had offered.
As Mrs. Anderson turned to leave, Juliet stopped her. “Wait, please.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a slip of paper and a pen, then jotted down her telephone number. “Let me know when your husband is feeling better.”
The woman took the paper, holding it close. In that moment, Juliet knew they’d all been hurt. Deeply. And by something she didn’t understand. Something that needed to be fixed.
“Well, I’d better get back to the motel,” Mark’s mother told him. “Your father is working the front desk by himself, and it’s been very busy today.”
Mark nodded. “I’ll stop by and see you before I leave town.”
“Please do.” Mrs. Anderson’s lip trembled, then she looked at Juliet. “It was nice meeting you. And I will give you a call.”
Juliet flashed her a sincere smile.
Then the woman pushed her empty cart away.
Mark’s jaw locked, like the Tin Man’s after a heavy rain.
But Juliet had a feeling he might not be silent when they got back to the car.
Chapter Ten
Mark gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. He didn’t want to fight with Juliet, but he didn’t want her getting chummy with his folks, either.
Not while he was still in town.
He wasn’t up for a family reunion. Not yet. And maybe not ever.
“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” Juliet said. “Are you angry with me?”
“No, not really.” He was just frustrated, especially since he refused to share enough of his past to make her understand.
Years ago, Susan had tried to push him to reconcile with his family before their wedding, since Mark had refused to invite his parents.
“I don’t want to chance ruining a day that’s supposed to be happy,” he’d told her.
Like Juliet, his fiancée hadn’t understood the falling-out and had thought the absence of the groom’s family would look weird to people. When Mark had finally leveled with her, opening his guts and explaining why he and his parents didn’t have a close relationship, she’d backed down.
It might have been his imagination, but she’d never seemed to look at him the same after that. So, from then on, he’d intensified his resolve to keep his shameful secret to himself.
Still, Mark didn’t want something from the past to affect his relationship—or rather his friendship—with Juliet. “It’s your apartment, and you can socialize with anyone you want. But I don’t appreciate you inviting my parents to dinner without talking to me first. That’s all.”
She nodded, as though she actually understood his feelings rather than the filtered half-truth.
“I’m sorry it bothered you.” Juliet turned in her seat, facing him. “I should have waited to say something. But your mother seems very nice. And since I’m a new resident of Thunder Canyon, I like meeting people who live in the community.”
He could understand that, but he
