Blossom Street Bundle. Debbie Macomber
“Okay.” That meant the whole family was in on this, which was encouraging.
Barbie took her time, waiting until the last possible minute before slipping into the darkened theater. She purchased her popcorn and soda and lingered in the lobby until the show was about to start.
When she walked into the theater, the previews had already begun. She made her way to the row where Mark had parked his wheelchair, the same as usual. As she had previously, she sat one seat away from him.
He turned and stared at her in feigned surprise. “What are you doing here?” he whispered.
She could act as well as he could. “Oh, hello,” she said brightly. “Is that you again?”
For a moment she suspected the hint of a smile. She turned back to the screen just in time to see an ax-murderer heave his weapon of death into a wall next to a trembling woman’s head. Unable to stop herself, she gasped aloud and nearly dropped her popcorn.
“Frightens you, does it?” Mark asked in a far too satisfied tone. “Might I remind you these are only the previews.”
“Yikes.” She gritted her teeth.
Mark laughed, causing a woman behind him to make a shushing sound. “Yikes,” he repeated, lowering his voice. “Is that the best you can do?”
“Might I remind you I have sons.”
“And you’re a lady, right?” He spoke as if he intended that to be an insult.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” she said stiffly. “I know all the words you do. I merely choose not to say them.”
“I doubt it,” he muttered, then settled back in his wheelchair to watch the movie, which was just getting started.
He gave every appearance of enjoying it, but as far as Barbie was concerned, this was torture. She’d always avoided being around when her sons watched horror DVDs with the bloodthirsty gusto of teenage boys. Now she squirmed in her seat, covered her face frequently and dashed out of the the-ater twice. It was even worse than she’d expected. Special effects being what they were, little was left to the imagination.
Barbie knew very well that Mark had planned this. He’d guessed—and guessed right—that she’d hate a movie like The Axman Cometh and had intentionally subjected her to an hour and a half of disgusting violence. The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became. And yet, she was determined to prove she could take it. Even if she couldn’t.
After her second escape, when she’d hurried into the foyer to avoid watching another horrific scene, Mark leaned toward her and asked, “Are you going to finish that popcorn?”
“How can you possibly eat?” she snapped.
His grin seemed boyish as he reached for her bag and helped himself to a huge handful. Oh, yes, she thought grimly, he was enjoying her discomfort.
The movie wasn’t actually all that long but it seemed to drag on for hours and hours and hours. The music, the tension, the blood, the stupidity was simply too much. By the time the movie ended, Barbie felt drained. The lights came up and the twenty or so viewers filed out of the theater. Mark stayed put and so did Barbie.
Finally she turned to him. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Did what?” he asked innocently.
Barbie wasn’t fooled. She also decided that if this was a test, she’d failed. He knew she wanted to be with him, and because of that she’d endure this…this torture. She began to wonder if Tessa and her family had it all wrong. Maybe Mark wasn’t attracted to her. Maybe he was just trying to punish her. Barbie began to mistrust her own intuition, her certainty that he reciprocated her interest. If he meant to signal that he didn’t want her to bother him again, perhaps she should listen.
Fine. She would.
Barbie stood and, without another word, walked out of the theater.
Tessa, who’d been busy both times she’d fled into the lobby, was waiting for her.
“Well?” the girl asked anxiously.
“I don’t care if I ever see your uncle again,” Barbie said flatly.
Tessa’s mouth fell open.
“What?”
“You heard me. He’s rude and arrogant and…and…” She tried to think of a word that adequately described him. “Mean,” she concluded. Making her sit through that debacle of a movie was downright mean.
“What did he say?” Tessa demanded, trotting alongside her.
“He didn’t have to say anything. I got the message.”
“Tell me,” Tessa pleaded. “My mom and grandma are gonna bug me if I don’t tell them what happened.”
“Let me put it succinctly. Mark isn’t interested. Period. If you think he is, then you and your family are sadly mistaken.” Hearing his wheelchair behind her, Barbie whirled around to face him, ignoring the curious bystanders arriving for the next movie. “Isn’t that right, Mark?”
Mark was silent.
“You like her, don’t you, Uncle Mark?”
“I came to see a movie,” he responded, his voice impassive. “If I wanted to find my perfect match, I would’ve gone online. She is right. I’m not interested.”
Barbie tossed the girl an I-told-you-so look and stalked out. She was all the way to the exit when Mark called her name.
“What?” she asked angrily. “Don’t worry,” she told him before he could say a word. “I won’t make the mistake of sitting next to you again—at any movie.”
He blinked, then shrugged as if it made no difference to him. “Whatever.”
Over the years, Barbie had come to hate that word and its connotation of teenage apathy. With as much dignity as she could gather, she continued toward the parking lot.
She was surprised when Tessa ran out of the building after her. “He didn’t mean anything,” she said breathlessly. “How would he know you hated scary movies? He just wanted to find out if you’d be willing to see something besides a romantic comedy. The least you can do is give him another chance.”
“Why are you trying so hard?” Barbie asked. She was willing to accept that she’d made a mistake and move on. As attractive as she found Mark, she wasn’t going to invite his rejection over and over again.
“You have to give him another chance,” Tessa said.
“Why?”
Tessa paused, then answered on a heavy sigh. “Because my uncle Mark deserves to be loved.” Her eyes pleaded with Barbie’s. “This is new to him. He married his high school girlfriend and never loved anyone else and then she dumped him after the accident….” She gulped in a breath. “I’m positive he likes you—only he doesn’t know how to show it.”
Barbie hesitated. If anything about this entire evening astonished her, it was that Mark hadn’t come outside and insisted his niece mind her own business. Delving inside her purse, she searched for a business card. “Okay, fine. Give him this and tell him the next move is his.”
Tessa’s face shone with eagerness as she nodded. “Great! Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you. You won’t be sorry, I promise.”
That remained to be seen.
Feeling wretched, Barbie did what she always did when she needed solace—she drove to her mother’s house.
Lillie opened the door and immediately asked, “What’s wrong?” Without delay she led her into the kitchen. “It isn’t the boys, is it?”
Barbie swallowed