Chapter 13: Every Day - Love’s A Little Stronger
All Day, Every Day
As Mark pulled into Wawa and got
out of his car, he paused just long enough to feel the difference in the air.
Early November had settled in quietly overnight, and the chill carried a
sharper edge than he’d expected when he’d stood in the doorway that morning,
watching Kimmy and Brad head off toward Sunrise Academy. He zipped up his
jacket as he walked in, the automatic doors sliding open to the familiar hum of
morning routine—coffee machines steaming, voices low and steady, the quiet
choreography of people starting their day.
He made his way toward the coffee
station, reaching for a cup, when he spotted Allan just ahead of him, snapping
a lid onto his drink. Mark lifted his voice slightly, a grin already forming.
“Hey Brother—how you doin’ today?”
Allan turned, his face lighting up
as if the day had just improved by a notch. “Dude! It’s a good Monday morning,
right? What’s going on?”
Mark stepped in beside him,
filling his cup, the two of them slipping easily into conversation the way they
always did—no effort, no buildup, just picking up wherever they’d last left
off. They covered the usual ground: the weekend’s college football games, early
takes on the hockey season, a quick exchange about the latest performances on The
Voice, each topic flowing into the next like a well-worn path.
“I’ve got to pick up Kimmy’s paper
with the puzzle,” Mark said as he reached for a lid, tapping it into place.
“You know Monday is her favorite day.”
Allan nodded, lifting his cup
slightly. “That woman and her puzzles.”
Mark smiled, raising his own cup
to meet it. “It’s a thing.”
The soft click of the lids
touching carried more meaning than the sound itself, and with a quick exchange
of nods, Allan headed out toward his car while Mark lingered just long enough
to grab the newspaper from the rack by the counter, folding it neatly under his
arm before stepping back into the cool morning air.
At the pickleball courts, the late
morning sun had burned off the early chill, leaving behind that perfect
in-between warmth that made it easy to forget the season was turning. Between
games, Kimmy and Sally leaned back against the fence, rackets hanging loosely
at their sides, both still catching their breath.
Sally reached out and tapped
Kimmy’s racket with her own, smiling wide. “We taught those two a lesson,
honey. You played really well.”
Kimmy laughed softly, brushing a
loose strand of hair back as she shook her head. She reached over and rested
her hand on Sally’s shoulder. “Oh no, partner. That last string of wicked
serves from you is what sealed the game.”
Sally gave a small shrug, but her
smile lingered. “I look forward to our games every morning,” she said. Then,
almost casually, “Are we playing tomorrow?”
Kimmy’s face shifted—just a
little. A small smile, the kind that started in her eyes before it reached her
lips. Sally caught it immediately, her own eyes widening just a touch.
“Oh wait…” she said, drawing the
words out. “…tomorrow is Tuesday, and you have… ummm, plans, right?”
Kimmy couldn’t help it—she
giggled, nodding once.
Sally glanced around,
instinctively lowering her voice as she leaned in closer. “So… EVERY Tuesday
and Thursday?”
Kimmy’s expression softened, the
playfulness still there but now layered with something deeper. “Yes… every
single one,” she said quietly. Then, with a small grin, “and sometimes Tuesdays
and Thursdays come on other days of the week.”
They both laughed, Sally shaking
her head as if she didn’t quite know what to do with that.
Kimmy reached out again, this time
letting her hand rest lightly on Sally’s arm. When she spoke, her voice carried
a different weight—not heavy, but grounded.
“It’s not just about… you know,”
she said, searching for the right words for a moment. “When Mark was in the
accident, I felt… I don’t know… like…” She exhaled softly. “…like I just can’t
take anything for granted anymore. And we made the commitment that we needed to
put a priority on ‘us.’”
Sally listened without
interrupting, her expression shifting into something more thoughtful.
“That’s why we have Sandy come
over every week for a date night,” Kimmy continued. “Thanks, by the way, for
the recommendation—she’s been great with Brad. And we’ve promised ourselves to
find ways to continue to travel together.”
Sally nodded slowly, a quiet
admiration settling in her eyes. “I’m so happy you two are able to do all of
that,” she said. “Some day when Allan and I don’t have the whole work thing, we
hope to follow in your footsteps.”
From across the court came the
sound of rackets tapping impatiently.
“Oh hey—look,” Sally added,
straightening up, her tone lifting again. “Those two are ready for us to kick
their butt again. Hang on—we’re coming!”
Kimmy laughed as they pushed off
the fence together, the conversation settling into something unspoken but
understood.
The late afternoon sun was
beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the parking lot of Sunrise
Academy as Mark and Kimmy sat side by side in the pick-up line. The line moved
slowly, inch by inch, the quiet rhythm of idling engines and rolling tires marking
the end of another day.
Kimmy reached forward and pulled
the windshield ID tag from the console, placing the one marked “BRAD” carefully
on the dashboard as they approached the staff member standing between the
lanes, clipboard in hand.
She rested her hand on Mark’s leg,
giving it a gentle pat. “I am glad you’ve started coming with me to pick up
Brad after school,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “I enjoy the extra
time together… it’s good, right?”
Mark turned his head toward her,
his expression easy, certain. “It is, honey,” he said. “There’s no reason for
you to come here alone.” He glanced ahead, then back at her. “And I enjoy
hearing the boy’s excited report about his day when he gets in the car.”
Kimmy smiled, her fingers
lingering for just a second longer before she pulled her hand back.
A few minutes later, the back door
swung open with a burst of energy, and Brad climbed in, half hopping, half
scrambling into his booster seat before quickly buckling himself in.
“Hi Mom, Dad! Look at what I got
today!”
He was already reaching into his
backpack before the door had fully closed, pulling out a slightly wrinkled
certificate and stretching it forward toward Kimmy.
She took it, turning it over as
she read aloud, her voice lifting with each word. “October Student of the
Month.” She looked back at him, her face lighting up. “Oh honey, that’s
amazing. Look, Daddy—Brad was named the top student for last month.”
Mark glanced up into the rearview
mirror, catching Brad’s reflection—those bright, eager eyes waiting for his
reaction.
“Wow, buddy,” he said, his voice
warm with pride. “We are so proud of you. Did Miss Looney say anything when she
gave this to you?”
Brad paused, thinking hard, then
nodded. “Miss Looney said I was a kind boy and that I do my work.” He leaned
forward slightly, excitement building again. “And guess what, Mom? She wrote my
name on the board and I had to stand up. All the kids clapped for me.”
His smile filled the car,
something pure and unfiltered in it, and for a moment neither Mark nor Kimmy
spoke. They just looked at each other.
Kimmy’s eyes shimmered just a
little as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a soft whisper meant only
for him.
“So I guess we are doing
okay as parents… right, baby?”
Mark reached over, his hand
finding hers without looking, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah,” he said
quietly. “I’d say we are.”
Mark walked into the house
balancing two cups of coffee in one hand, the newspaper tucked neatly under his
arm. The morning light filtered through the kitchen window, casting a soft glow
across the counter as he set one cup down in its usual spot.
He paused, then reached over to
straighten the Mickey & Minnie figurines, adjusting them just slightly
until they felt right. He unfolded the newspaper, smoothing it open to the
puzzle page with careful attention, flattening the crease with the palm of his
hand.
He stepped back, taking it all
in—the coffee, the puzzle, the small details—and allowed himself a quiet,
satisfied smile.
Perfect.
He picked up his laptop and headed
out to the porch, settling into his chair as he placed his coffee on the edge
of the fire pit. The familiar sound of the creek just beyond the railing filled
the space, steady and calming.
Reaching into the front pocket of
his navy 1st Bet hoodie, he pulled out his phone and opened his messages,
scrolling until he found “SANDY.”
He typed: Just confirming for
Thursday—about 6pm. We good? See you then. FYI—Brad was named “Student of the
Month,” cool right?
He slipped the phone back into his
pocket, opened his laptop, and began typing into the search bar: Mexican
restaurants near me.
A list populated quickly, and he
leaned forward slightly, scanning through options, clicking one, then another,
comparing menus, reading reviews with the quiet focus of someone who enjoyed
getting the details just right.
The soft ding of his phone
broke his concentration.
He pulled it out, glancing down to
see Sandy’s reply—two simple emojis: a thumbs up and a clapping pair of hands.
Mark smiled, a small, satisfied
expression, and tucked the phone away again.
He returned to the screen,
clicking into a listing for “Azteca,” scrolling through photos of plates piled
high with tacos, enchiladas, bright colors and warm lighting that felt like
exactly the right kind of place.
A moment later, he heard Kimmy’s
car pull into the driveway. The sound of the engine cutting off, the front door
opening and closing, footsteps moving through the house.
Then the back door slid open, and
Kimmy’s face appeared, framed by the soft evening light.
“Hi honey,” she said, her smile
immediate. “Our student of the month got off fine.” She leaned against the
doorframe, eyes already dancing. “How about I join you and we work on the
puzzle before, you know…” she lowered her voice slightly, “…we mess up the bed
again?” She giggled softly.
Mark looked up at her, the corner
of his mouth lifting. “Sure, baby. I want to show you something.”
She disappeared for a moment, then
returned carrying the newspaper, her coffee in hand, a pen tucked behind her
ear, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail that had already begun to
soften around the edges.
“What does my handsome man have
for me today?” she asked as she settled beside him on the sofa, curling
slightly toward him.
Mark turned the laptop so she
could see, and Kimmy reached for her glasses, slipping them on as she leaned
closer. The screen reflected in the lenses as she read.
“Oooooo—I love tacos,” she said,
her voice bright. “Are you thinking for date night to go?”
Mark nodded, pulling his phone
from his pocket. “I texted with Sandy—all good for Thursday night. So… okay to
make reservations here?”
Kimmy didn’t hesitate. She leaned
in and kissed his cheek, soft and easy. “Anywhere you’re going, I’m all in.
Let’s do it, honey.”
She reached for the paper, tapping
it lightly. “Now… let’s try all the across clues,” she added, a playful note
slipping back into her voice, “and then we’ll take a break… and, uh…” she
glanced at him sideways, “…mess up the bed, okay?”
Mark let out a quiet laugh,
shaking his head slightly as he reached for the pen.
They leaned in together over the
puzzle, shoulders brushing, the two of them moving through the clues in that
familiar rhythm—one calling out a hint, the other filling in letters, small
victories marked by shared smiles and the occasional soft “Got it.”
The creek murmured steadily just
beyond the porch, the sound weaving itself into the moment, grounding it,
holding it.
And when they finally set the
paper aside, neither of them said anything.
They didn’t need to.
Their hands found each other as
they stood, fingers lacing naturally, and together—without hurry, without
pause—they walked toward the back of the house. 💛
You’ve Got Mail
Brad sat at the table, eyes locked
on his iPad, one hand absentmindedly reaching for another chicken nugget as if
the two actions were somehow connected. The soft glow of the screen reflected
faintly across his face, his focus absolute, his world momentarily contained to
whatever cartoon adventure was unfolding in front of him.
Mark stood from the table,
gathering both his plate and Kimmy’s, the quiet scrape of dishes against wood
blending into the easy rhythm of the evening. At the sink, he turned on the
water, letting it run warm over his hands as he began to rinse.
Behind him, Kimmy leaned back
slightly in her chair, watching him for a second before speaking.
“Baby…do the Panthers play
tonight…is it on TV?”
Mark turned halfway, lifting his
arm just enough to point toward the red Florida Panthers crest stretched across
his polo shirt. A grin spread across his face.
“That’s why I’m wearing my
Panthers shirt.”
Kimmy smiled, that knowing kind of
smile that always seemed to come from somewhere just beneath the surface. “I
should have known,” she said lightly. “You don’t pick things out randomly.”
At the table, Brad’s head snapped
up, his attention instantly redirected.
“Dad…hockey game tonight? Can I
watch too?”
Mark glanced toward Kimmy,
catching her eyes for just a moment before she gave the smallest nod. He turned
back, setting the plate down in the sink, then dried his hands and stepped
closer.
“Sure, buddy. I’ll make you a
deal, okay?”
Brad was already moving, sliding
off his chair and padding quickly across the kitchen floor. “What, Dad…what’s
my deal?”
Kimmy covered her mouth, a quiet
laugh escaping as Mark dropped down to one knee, bringing himself eye level
with his son. He paused, pressing a finger theatrically to his lips, drawing
the moment out just enough to make it feel important.
“OK…” he said slowly, lowering his
voice. “You can watch the first period. That’ll last until about eight o’clock.
Then—no problems for Mom when she says it’s bath and PJ time. Is that good?”
Brad turned instantly toward
Kimmy, his eyes wide with hopeful urgency. “Can I, Mom? I’ll be good, promise.
And you can give me a check mark on my sheet. Right, Dad?”
Kimmy’s smile softened, her head
tilting slightly as she took him in. “That sounds like a good deal, honey.”
Brad spun back toward Mark,
already pushing the boundary just a little. “Can I watch more after bath, Dad?
Please?”
Mark let his expression fall into
a thoughtful frown, drawing it out just enough before Kimmy stepped in, her
voice gentle but steady.
“Well…let’s see if you’re too
tired. We’ve got school tomorrow, but if you are still up for it, you can watch
some of it, okay?”
That was all Brad needed.
He took off at full speed, arms
pumping as he disappeared down the hall. “YAY…GO Cats!”
Kimmy rose from her chair and
moved behind Mark, wrapping her arms around his waist, her cheek brushing
lightly against his back as she pressed a soft kiss to his neck.
“Looks like you’ve created a super
Panthers fan, honey.”
Mark leaned back into her, letting
himself settle into the moment. “That would be very cool,” he said quietly. “If
he stays interested…and it becomes a family thing. Going to games together.”
Kimmy tightened her arms just
slightly, as if she could already see it.
Later, the house had settled into
its evening rhythm.
Mark sat on the sofa, his Panthers
jersey pulled on now, the pregame program flickering across the television.
Kimmy stretched out beside him, her legs draped across his lap, her head
resting against a pillow as she shifted just slightly.
“Oooooo…right there…right around
my knee, baby,” she sighed softly.
Mark adjusted his hands, pressing
his thumb gently into the spot she’d indicated, working slow, steady circles as
he glanced toward the hallway.
“Brad…buddy, the game will be on
in a minute. You watching?”
From the back of the house came a
series of sounds—closet doors opening, hangers clinking, something being moved
with a kind of focused urgency.
Kimmy lifted her head slightly,
her brow furrowing. “What is he doing back there?” she asked quietly.
Before Mark could answer, the
sound of running footsteps echoed down the hall. A second later, Brad burst
into the room, Kimmy’s Panthers jersey hanging off him like a blanket, sleeves
swallowing his hands until only the tips of his fingers poked through.
He launched himself onto the couch
beside Mark, bouncing once before settling, his face lit with pride.
“We wear jerseys to watch, right
Dad?”
Mark turned toward Kimmy, his grin
widening as she slowly shook her head, smiling to herself.
“Two peas in a pod,” she murmured
under her breath.
Mark wrapped his arm around Brad’s
shoulders, pulling him in close. “That’s right, bud. It’s Game Day—we’ve got to
have our gear on.” He glanced down at the oversized jersey. “You think Mom’s
jersey is a little big?”
Brad looked down at himself, then
tugged at the sleeves, pushing them up until his hands popped free.
“No… it’s good,” he said
confidently. “I have to wear a jersey, right Dad?”
Mark nodded, squeezing him once.
“Absolutely.”
And just like that, the three of
them settled in—Kimmy’s legs still across his lap, Brad tucked into his side,
the game beginning as another quiet piece of their life slid into place.
The next morning carried a
different kind of energy.
Mark pulled into Wawa, scanning
the lot before he’d even fully stopped the car. His eyes landed quickly on
Allan’s truck in its usual spot, and he smiled, already reaching for his phone
as he stepped out.
Allan was walking toward the
entrance, coffee in hand, when he spotted Mark approaching.
“Hey Dude,” Allan called out,
lifting his cup. “Big win by the Panthers last night. You watch?”
“Allan…yes, big win,” Mark said
quickly, barely slowing. “The boy watched it with us, but—you have to see
this.”
There was an energy about him now,
something just beneath the surface.
He pulled out his phone, tapping
as he spoke. “So when we were in the mountains, I showed Kimmy a video I made
about our Viking trips, right?”
Allan nodded. “Okay…go on.”
Mark opened the email, turning the
phone toward him. “So Kimmy said I had to send it to Viking. She said they
might like it…maybe even have me—and I said we—as hosts for
something.” He shook his head slightly. “I sent it. Didn’t think I’d ever hear
back. But look—this just came in when I was getting into the car.”
Allan took the phone, his eyes
scanning quickly before his expression shifted into a wide grin.
“Dude…this is so cool,” he said,
looking back up. “They sound legitimately interested. Are you going to do it?”
Mark reached for two coffee cups,
fumbling one just slightly before catching it again. “I need to check with
Kimmy,” he said, still half processing it himself. “But it sounds cool, right?
I don’t even know what they have in mind, but just…getting this back…”
He trailed off, smiling.
Allan nodded. “You’ve got to at
least hear them out. Let me know what you guys decide.” He started to step
away, then turned back. “Still on for Turkey Day next week, right?”
Mark nodded, capping the cups.
“Yeah…we’re good.”
Kimmy pulled into the driveway
later that morning, cutting the engine and stepping out just as she noticed
Mark sitting on the front porch.
“Hey baby,” she called out, a
smile already forming. “…is somebody excited that it’s Thursday or what?”
Mark grinned, shaking his head.
“Well, duh,” he said. Then, his tone shifting just slightly, “but
honey…honey…you have to see this.”
Kimmy climbed the steps, curiosity
building. “Okay…what is so exciting?”
Mark reached for her hand, guiding
her inside with a quiet urgency that felt both playful and real.
“Is something going on down by the
creek?” she teased as he led her through the house. “What is it, hon?”
He didn’t answer right away, just
brought her to the sofa and sat beside her, turning toward her fully.
“Okay…okay…” he said, taking a
breath. “Before I show you, you have to promise you’ll have an open mind, okay?
And we won’t do anything unless you say okay. Promise?”
Kimmy smiled, her eyes softening
as she studied him. “Honey…I haven’t seen you this wound up in a while,” she
said gently. “But sure. If you want, I promise.”
Mark handed her the phone.
“Read this…”
Kimmy adjusted slightly, her eyes
moving across the screen.
To: Mark & Kimmy Love
From: David Desguin, Viking TV
Executive Producer
Re: Viking Top Ten Highlights Video
Hello Mark and Kimmy!
We were delighted to receive your
video you sent and that’s really something all the trips you’ve enjoyed sailing
with us. It’s clear you are loyal Viking
Explorers. I was also happy to hear you
are a regular viewer of our Viking TV channel.
We work very hard here at Viking to try and promote our adventures.
Having watched Viking TV you know
most of our programs have a host or hostess.
After watching your video, we’d like to set up a video conference to
meet with you two and explore the idea of perhaps you hosting a program. If you are interested, please respond to me
with a cc to my assistant Keirra.
Regards,
David
When she finished, she didn’t
speak right away. She just looked back at him.
“Baby…” she said softly. “They
want you to host a program. I knew they would.”
Mark shook his head immediately.
“No…I don’t think you’re reading it right. They think we would make good
hosts.” He leaned forward slightly. “Would you be up for doing the meeting? I
can tell them we’re too busy…or not interested.”
Kimmy glanced back at the screen,
then back at him, her expression brightening.
“Hmmmm…maybe they do,” she said, a
smile growing. “But of course we should do it. And if it is only you,
you HAVE to take it.” She reached for his hand. “How exciting is this? I am so
proud of you, baby.”
Mark leaned in, kissing her
warmly. “Thanks for being open to the idea,” he said quietly. Then, with a
familiar shift, a hint of playfulness returning, “and for being such a good
wife…I think you should be duly rewarded on this Thursday morning.”
Kimmy felt the warmth rise in her
cheeks, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she slipped her hand fully into his.
“Come with me,” he added softly.
“I’ll try to think of something.”
She followed him willingly, their
steps unhurried as they disappeared down the hall together.
That evening unfolded easily.
Mark wiped Brad’s face as he slid
out of his chair, the boy already halfway focused on what came next.
“I’ll tell Sandy you did a great
job with dinner,” Mark said, smiling down at him. “And tonight you can have not
one—but two scoops of ice cream, okay?”
Brad’s eyes lit up instantly.
“MOM! MOM! Dad said I can have ice cream with Sandy! Ice cream, Mom!”
Mark shook his head, rinsing the
plate and placing it in the dishwasher before heading toward the living room
just as headlights turned into the driveway.
“Honey, Sandy’s here,” he called
out.
He opened the door, greeting her
warmly. “Hi Sandy. How are your classes going?”
“Hi Mr. Mark,” she said, smiling.
“Great. Carrying three A’s and a high B this term. How are you guys?”
“Good,” Mark replied, taking her
jacket. “Brad ate all his dinner, and I promised him two scoops of ice cream.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Two?
Must be a big night.”
Mark just smiled as he turned down
the hall.
In the bedroom, Kimmy stood in
front of the mirror, adjusting the soft line of her powder blue sweater. The
navy skirt fell just right, and the low neckline framed her necklaces
perfectly. The ruby earrings Mark had given her as an anniversary gift caught
the light as she tilted her head slightly.
She saw Mark in the mirror and
smiled.
“This okay, honey?”
Mark stepped in behind her, his
hands resting lightly at her waist as he leaned in to kiss her neck.
“You are so pretty, honey,” he
murmured. “You can wear anything…and it looks amazing.”
He stepped toward the closet, then
paused, glancing back with a quiet grin. “Or nothing…you look good that way
too.”
Kimmy blushed, glancing toward the
door. “You stop, mister—you want your little boy to hear you talking like
that?”
Mark just shrugged, reaching for
his jacket.
At the restaurant, the evening
settled into something soft and easy.
The waitress smiled as she cleared
the table. “Would you like a box for that last taco, miss? I see you had no
problem with the burrito, sir.”
Kimmy laughed lightly, shaking her
head. “I don’t think so—thank you, though. I think we’d like another glass of
wine, right honey?”
Mark nodded. “Yes…please.”
Kimmy slid closer in the booth,
looping her arm through his, her shoulder resting lightly against him.
“So…what about this Viking thing?”
she asked, her voice thoughtful now. “What do you think we’ll talk about if
they follow through with a video conference?”
Mark considered it as the waitress
poured their wine, the soft clink of glass marking the pause.
“Well…if I had to guess,” Mark
said slowly, watching the deep red swirl as the waitress poured Kimmy’s wine,
“I’d say it’s a ‘who are these people’ kind of meeting. They’ll want to get a
feel for us…see if what they saw in the video is actually who we are.”
The waitress moved around the
table, setting his glass down before stepping away, leaving behind that quiet
moment that always seemed to follow the clink of poured wine.
Mark lifted his glass slightly but
didn’t drink yet, his eyes settling on Kimmy.
“Anybody can make a video and
rehearse it,” he continued. “Edit it, clean it up, make it look like something
it’s not. But we didn’t do that. That was just…us. If they liked that enough to
reach out, then when they meet us…” He gave a small shrug. “…we’ve got a shot
at whatever they’re thinking.”
Kimmy’s eyes brightened, that
spark of excitement rising easily now. She turned slightly toward him, her knee
brushing his under the table.
“Wouldn’t that be so very cool,”
she said, her voice soft but full, “if they wanted us to do something on one of
the trips? You would be such a perfect host.” She reached over, squeezing his
arm gently, pride sitting comfortably in the gesture.
Mark finally took a sip of his
wine, letting the moment settle before he set the glass down. When he looked
back at her, his expression had shifted—still warm, still open, but grounded in
something steady.
“I want you to understand me
clearly, baby,” he said quietly.
Kimmy’s smile softened, her
attention fully on him now.
“I’m all in on talking to them,”
he continued. “I think it’s exciting. I think it could be fun.” He paused,
choosing his words carefully. “But it’s about us. We’ve got a life
here…plans, a little guy, friends…” His eyes flickered with a small smile. “A
very good life that’s already full.”
Kimmy nodded slowly, her fingers
still resting lightly against his arm. “Yes,” she said. “We do.”
“And we’re going to ask Allan and
Sally about the Christmas Markets next week at Thanksgiving, right?” he added,
the thought coming naturally, as if it belonged in the same conversation.
Kimmy’s smile returned, easy and
bright. “Yes, I’m excited about that. I’d like to go even if they don’t, but
that would be fun together.” She paused, thinking ahead. “And I’ll email Lisa
and Larry Friday.”
Then she looked back at him, her
tone shifting just slightly—more thoughtful, but still light.
“But I think you should consider
whatever they offer…seriously.”
Mark didn’t hesitate.
He shook his head, just once, firm
but calm. “That’s a firm no, missy. No to just Mark.” His eyes held hers,
steady and sure. “They want a host for a program—something we can do from home?
Okay. They want to send us somewhere?” A small smile tugged at the corner of
his mouth. “That would be pretty amazing.”
He leaned in just a fraction
closer.
“But only if it’s us, baby.
That’s the way it has to be.”
For a moment, Kimmy didn’t say
anything. Her eyes searched his, not because she doubted him, but because she
felt the weight of what he’d just said.
Then her expression softened
completely.
“It has always been us, baby,” she
said quietly. “It makes me feel so happy that you want to do this together.”
She tilted her head slightly, a hint of playfulness returning. “I’d be happy if
you went alone…but it would be a lot more fun together.”
Mark’s hand moved gently under her
chin, lifting it just enough so their eyes met fully. He leaned in and kissed
her—soft, unhurried, the kind of kiss that didn’t need to prove anything.
“It always has been,” he murmured
against her lips, “and it always will be…us.”
Kimmy exhaled softly, her fingers
slipping into his hand beneath the table, holding there without thinking.
Outside, the night moved quietly
along, the world continuing as it always did.
Inside the booth, nothing had
changed.
And somehow…everything had. 💛
Take A Chance On Me
“Why am I so cold?” Mark thought,
hovering somewhere between sleep and waking.
He cracked one eye open and was
immediately met with a beam of bright sunlight cutting through the bedroom
blinds, sharp and golden, forcing him to squint. For a second, nothing made
sense except the warmth beside him—Kimmy, curled in close, her hand resting
comfortably on his chest, her breathing slow and steady.
That part felt right.
The cold did not.
His eyes drifted down, and there
it was—the answer. The entire blanket had been pulled decisively,
strategically, and without apology…onto her side of the bed.
Mark couldn’t help but smile.
Before doing anything about it,
though, he lingered for a moment, watching the way the sunlight caught the
highlights in her hair, turning strands of it almost honey-colored. There was
something about that—quiet, unguarded, hers—that always got him. His smile
softened.
Then the chill caught up with him
again.
He reached down carefully, gently
trying to reclaim a small corner of the covers.
A soft groan.
He froze.
Waited.
Listened as her breathing settled
back into its slow rhythm.
Tried again—slower this time, more
careful.
“Stop it.”
The words came softly but firmly,
somewhere between sleep and certainty.
Mark let out a quiet chuckle under
his breath. Okay…you want to play it that way?
He slipped his arm out from around
her shoulders and let his hand drift down along her back, his fingers beginning
a light, rhythmic drumming—soft at first, almost playful.
Nothing.
He picked up the tempo slightly.
Still nothing.
A little more.
Finally, one eye cracked open.
“What ARE you doing?” came
the groggy protest.
Mark’s grin widened immediately.
“Oh hey—you’re awake!” he said, far too cheerfully for that hour. “It’s a big
day today, right? Tuesday…gotta love Tuesdays. Viking video call after lunch.
Panthers game tonight on TV. It’s all exciting, right baby?”
She stared at him—one eye open,
completely unimpressed.
“WHY are you drumming on my back
this early?” she asked, her voice carrying just enough edge to make him
reconsider his life choices.
Mark stopped instantly and lifted
his hands, gesturing down at himself. “Look at this,” he said. “See anything
missing?”
Kimmy lifted her head just
slightly, her gaze moving lazily down his torso.
“Hmmm…still got your sweats on,”
she said, a slow grin forming. “Not so sure I’m happy about that.” Her eyebrow
lifted just a bit. “But no…nothing missing. What is your deal today?”
Without answering, Mark reached
over and tugged the covers down off her shoulders.
“HEY… it’s cold, stop it!”
“Uh…yeah,” he said, nodding. “It is
cold. And do you see where the blanket is today, baby?”
Kimmy glanced down, then back at
him, and a soft giggle escaped.
“Oh…did I do that?” she
said innocently. “I don’t think so. You must have been hot last night and
kicked them all off.”
Mark opened his mouth—ready, fully
prepared to respond—but as her other eye opened and both of those bright,
mischievous eyes locked onto his with a raised eyebrow…
He thought better of it.
Closed his mouth.
“I thought so,” she said, smiling
as she settled back down, her head finding its place on his chest again.
Mark’s hand returned to her back,
this time slower, softer—less teasing, more familiar. He began to trace gentle
circles, and after a moment, he felt her relax fully into him.
“Yes…” she murmured, her voice
quieter now. “I am excited it’s Tuesday.” A small pause. “And yes, I
remember the video chat is today.” Her fingers shifted lightly against his
chest. “It’s going to be a good day.”
Later that morning, the porch held
that crisp, in-between kind of quiet that only early November seemed to bring.
Mark stood at the railing with his
Wawa coffee, both hands wrapped loosely around the cup, his gaze drifting out
over the railing toward the creek below. The water moved steadily, unbothered,
the soft sound of it settling somewhere in the background of his thoughts.
He was halfway into one of those
thoughts—something about the call, about what it could be or what it might not
be—when the door behind him opened.
He didn’t turn.
He didn’t need to.
A second later, Kimmy’s arms
slipped around him from behind, her hands finding their way into the front
pocket of his hoodie, her cheek resting lightly against his shoulder.
“It’s a little chilly today,” she
said softly.
Mark shifted his hand, sliding it
into the pocket to meet hers, lacing his fingers through hers without looking.
“Are you excited to talk to the
Viking TV people today?” she asked. “What do you think they’ll ask?”
He watched the water for another
second before answering.
“Hmmm…my guess?” he said slowly.
“It’ll be about us. Our background maybe.” He gave a small shrug. “Mostly I’d
think they want to get a feel for our personality…how it might play on camera.”
He paused, letting out a quiet
breath.
“Or maybe they’re just curious
about who sends in a homemade video,” he added with a faint smile. “It very
well could lead to nothing. I’m trying not to get my hopes up.”
Kimmy gently turned him so he was
facing her now, her hands still holding his.
“Well,” she said, her eyes steady
and warm, “regardless of how that goes…you’re a star in my book, baby.”
Mark smiled, something in that
landing just right.
“Come on,” she added, her tone
shifting back to something lighter. “It’s Tuesday time.” She gave his
hands a small tug. “Then I’ll fix you a nice brunch before we get set up for
the video call.”
He stood with her, leaning in to
kiss her forehead.
“I hope the call is just about
us,” he said quietly. “That’s the best story.”
Her eyes brightened immediately.
“Even if we just get to tell our
story,” he continued, “that’s good enough for me. I enjoy reliving how we
became…and how we’re still us.”
“Always, honey,” she said softly.
“Now come on…let’s enjoy our morning.”
Their hands found each other
naturally as they walked back toward the house, the sun catching the surface of
the creek just long enough to shimmer before slipping back behind a passing
cloud. A soft breeze carried a handful of leaves down from the branches above,
scattering them gently across the porch as the door closed behind them.
By early afternoon, the kitchen
had taken on a different kind of energy.
Kimmy’s bracelet caught the light
beneath the kitchen fixtures as they sat side by side at the table, their hands
loosely intertwined in front of the laptop. The room felt just a little more
still than usual, as if even the house understood something was about to
happen. On the screen, a small red button pulsed gently—Join now. Mark
glanced at Kimmy, and when she gave him a soft, steady nod, he clicked.
The screen flickered, then came
alive.
A man with salt-and-pepper hair
leaned slightly into frame, dressed in a dark polo with the Viking emblem, his
presence calm and professional. Beside him stood a younger woman with short
blonde hair and soft highlights, her white shirt bearing the same logo, her
expression warm and welcoming. He introduced himself as David Desguin,
executive producer of Viking TV, gesturing easily toward the woman beside him
as Kierra, his office manager. Before Mark could respond, Kierra added how glad
they were to meet them, her voice bright and engaging.
Mark and Kimmy answered together,
their voices overlapping slightly as they smiled back at the screen.
David adjusted the camera as he
began to walk, giving them a glimpse of the London office—the clean lines, the
quiet movement of people behind him, the sense that something creative was
always in motion there. He spoke casually as he moved, explaining that this was
where they edited and planned the programming for Viking TV, then added that he
understood they were quite the fans.
Kimmy jumped in, “We are. Mark watches them all the time. He loves Viking TV, right baby?”
Mark nodded. “I enjoy all of them but I like to watch the
ones about trips we’ve booked for the future.
They are very cool introductions that always make us want to take the trip.”
David smiled, “That’s great to
hear. That’s our main goal…to introduce
an itinerary in hopes that guests will want to join us on board. I have to tell you, we were very intrigued by
your video. It’s clear that you two are
quite enthusiastic about your adventures with us.”
As the conversation settled, Mark
found himself relaxing into it, the moment feeling less like an interview and
more like something familiar—two people talking about something they genuinely
loved. He mentioned the video he had seen where Karine Hagan outlined the top
ten reasons to take a Viking cruise, explaining that it had inspired him to
think about their own version of that idea. For them, he said, the number one
reason would always be the staff. Kimmy nodded beside him, adding that they had
met so many wonderful people over the years, some of whom they still kept in
touch with.
David eventually came to a stop,
setting the camera down so that both he and Kierra were now fully in view.
There was a brief pause—just enough to shift the energy—before he said they
were interested in talking to them about doing a video. Would they be interested?
Kimmy’s hand tightened
instinctively around Mark’s.
Mark smiled, feeling that contact,
grounding himself in it. “We would,” he said, placing just enough emphasis on
the word to make it clear.
David nodded, seeming satisfied
with that, then excused himself, explaining he had a few things to attend to
and would let Kierra continue the conversation.
With that, the tone shifted
slightly—not in a dramatic way, but in the natural way it does when a
conversation becomes more focused.
Kierra held up a Viking brochure
and said, “I know you’re aware, but just to start….we offer not only river
cruises, and expeditions, but we also have the big ocean ships. Did you know about these?”
Mark looked at Kimmy and
nodded. Kimmy replied, “We have done
several rivers and we took the Viking Polaris to Antarctica. But we’ve never done a Viking Ocean.”
Mark finished, “But we have looked
at some and have one in mind for next year or the following.”
Kierra nodded. “Wonderful.
Let me ask you a few background questions. Mark, you certainly shine in front of the
camera, have you done film work or public speaking?”
Kimmy squeezed Mark’s hand again
and whispered softly, “See?”
Mark smiled and shook his
head. “Not public speaking, but I was a
classroom teacher during my working career.
I taught Economics and World History – I guess that’s where my love for
travel came about.”
Kierra smiled brightly, “You can’t
be retired. You look way too young for
that.”
“Mark and I met when I was early
in my career as a teacher. He retired
and we stayed in touch until we reconnected and then he moved here and we got
married.”
Kierra’s pen paused. Kimmy’s breath caught and she said very
quietly, “Say yes baby.”
Mark replied, “We have several
friends who help with Brad. Kimmy and I
have traveled since he was born and we plan to travel more thanks to their
willingness to take care of him while we are out of town.”
Kierra nodded, making a few notes
before looking back up, her attention settling more directly on Mark now.
Beside him, Kimmy gave his hand a small squeeze and whispered, “See?” just
under her breath.
Kierra looked into the
camera. Her gaze shifted from one side
to the other as if looking carefully at Mark and Kimmy. Then she smiled and said, “Can you give me a
minute?”
Mark said sure as Kimmy
nodded. Kierra got up from the desk and
all that was on display was the view out of a large picture window overlooking
the skyline of London. Kimmy leaned in
and said quietly. “I think they want you
to do a program honey.”
Kimmy leaned in immediately, her
voice low and excited. “I think they want you to do a program, honey.”
Mark turned to her, his expression
soft, but steady. “You know the deal,” he said quietly. “I’m all in if it’s for
us. Not just me.”
Her face pulled into a small,
playful pout, but there was understanding in her eyes.
He leaned closer. “Won’t work,
baby,” he added gently. “It’s always and only about us.”
A moment later, Kierra
returned—this time with David stepping back into frame beside her.
“Hi again,” David said. “So Kierra tells me you’re interested in
working with us. What I’d like to offer
you today is this….how about after the holidays you visit us here in London at
our offices. We can go over some
different projects that might fit what you’d be interested in and then work on
details. How about that?”
Mark smiled and looked at Kimmy
who nodded.
“We’d be interested in that, I can
reach out to our travel agent….”
Kierra leaned in, “Oh no
Mark….I’ll book your flights and get you, the two of you a hotel for the
stay. This would be all on our dime.”
David nodded, “Of course – we’d
pay for the whole trip. Even if nothing
worked out. What do you say? Or would you like some time to….”
“We’d love to,” Kimmy said, the
excitement spilling out before she could even check it.
Both David and Kierra laughed
lightly at that.
Mark smiled. “Clearly my wife is
excited,” he said. “And yes…so am I. Send us some dates and we’ll make it
work.”
Kierra’s smile lingered just a
second longer. “I’ll look forward to meeting you,” she said.
The call ended, and the screen
went black.
For a long moment, neither of them
moved.
Then Kimmy turned, wrapping her
arms around him in one quick, tight embrace. “WOW…can you believe it?” she
said, her voice full and bright. “I knew they’d love you. Not as much as I do,
of course,” she added with a soft giggle.
Mark kissed her forehead, holding
her there for a second. “This is because of you,” he said quietly. “You made me
send that video.”
Kimmy pulled back just enough to
point a finger at him. “Oh no, mister. I’m your agent now—and I’m getting you
signed to a Viking TV deal.”
Mark laughed, catching her finger
gently in his hand.
“We are getting a deal,” he
said.
Then, glancing toward the living
room, a familiar thought settling back into place:
“Let’s call Sally.”
You Got A Friend In Me
The final notes of La La Land
faded into the quiet hum of the living room as the credits began to roll across
the screen. Kimmy lay curled beneath Mark’s arm, her legs tucked under her, the
soft glow of the television flickering across her face. She tilted her head up
toward him, a small frown forming as she searched his eyes.
“I love the music and I love the
movie…” she said, her voice lingering somewhere between admiration and protest.
“…but seriously, they DON’T end up together? That’s just wrong.”
Mark smiled, his hand moving
instinctively to brush her bangs gently from her eyes, his thumb lingering just
a second longer than necessary. “Honey,” he said softly, “we’re the exception.
Not only were we lucky enough to find each other, but every time life gave us a
choice…” He paused, his eyes steady on hers. “…we chose us.”
Kimmy let out a slow sigh, her
fingers tracing lightly along his chest as the memory surfaced. “Remember that
first New Year’s,” she said, “when you thought I’d be better off without you?”
She shook her head, a small smile pushing through. “That was your ‘La La’
moment…just wrong.” Her eyes sparkled now. “Good thing I was the smart one and
set you straight.”
Mark chuckled quietly, the memory
settling warmly around him. “Lucky you did,” he said. “But you know what I
remember from that morning?”
“What, baby?”
He leaned back slightly, smiling
to himself. “I think it was the first time you ever scolded me. You came out on
the porch and said, ‘What are you doing out here without a jacket?’” He shook
his head, amused. “That was my first lesson…only make suggestions to you.”
Kimmy laughed, that easy, bright
laugh that always seemed to lift the room with it. “That’s right,” she said,
settling more comfortably against him. “You’ve come a long way, honey.”
Mark’s expression shifted
then—just enough to catch her attention.
“We have a big problem,” he said,
his tone suddenly serious.
Kimmy pushed herself up slightly,
her brows knitting together. “What? We’re going to Allan and Sally’s tomorrow.
I got all the prep done, Brad’s excited about Jillian…what’s the problem?”
Mark let his chin drop, his voice
taking on a dramatic weight. “I don’t know how we’re going to work it out…”
Kimmy’s eyes narrowed, suspicion
creeping in. “What ARE you talking about, mister?”
Mark looked at her, holding the
moment just long enough. “No school tomorrow, right? Thanksgiving at Allan and
Sally’s…right?”
“OK…yes,” she said slowly. “Still
not seeing the problem.”
Mark exhaled heavily, as if
burdened by something insurmountable. “Well…” he said, glancing down.
“…tomorrow is Thursday.”
He lifted his eyes.
“What ARE we going to do about
THAT?”
Kimmy burst into laughter, the
tension dissolving instantly. “Oh honey,” she said, shaking her head, “I don’t
care if we have to sneak into Sally’s bathroom—that’s a given.” She leaned
closer, her voice dropping just slightly. “We don’t take holidays off from our
Tuesdays and Thursdays. You just make sure you’re ready when called upon, you
got it?”
Mark leaned in and kissed her
lightly. “That’s my girl,” he said. “Always has a plan.”
He stretched slightly and glanced
toward the hallway. “I’ll check the doors. You’re tired, aren’t you?”
Kimmy yawned softly, her head
settling back against him. “I am,” she murmured. “Big day tomorrow.”
Mark stirred the next morning and
immediately noticed what was missing.
No hand on his chest.
He opened his eyes to find Kimmy
sitting up beside him, already awake, her attention fixed on her phone as her
thumbs moved quickly across the screen. He blinked once, then again, still
catching up.
“What…who…what’s going on?” he
mumbled.
Kimmy held up a finger without
looking at him.
He sat up slowly, watching her
with curiosity. When she finally finished, she turned toward him with a
satisfied smile.
“Who’s a clever girl, hmm?”
Mark grinned. “Well duh…you are.”
She reached over and patted his
head lightly, but when he started to speak again, she gently placed a finger
against his lips.
“Patience, my love…”
She glanced down at her phone just
as it chimed. Her face lit up.
“See?” she said, turning the
screen toward him.
Mark’s smile spread slowly, then
all at once. “Well just how smart are you?”
Kimmy beamed. “I’m the smartest
girl you’ll ever know.”
She was already out of bed, her
short pajama shorts catching the morning light as she headed toward the door.
“You better get the coffee going,” she called back. “I’m packing up Brad’s
stuff. We need to make good use of our morning time—you know what I’m talking
about.”
Her giggle echoed down the
hallway, lingering just long enough to make Mark shake his head with a quiet
laugh before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
The house at Allan and Sally’s
carried that unmistakable Thanksgiving warmth—layers of conversation, laughter,
the clink of serving dishes, and the steady, comforting aroma of a meal that
had been building all morning.
At a small plastic table set just
off to the side, Brad and Jillian sat proudly in their own space, their plates
nearly empty.
“Mom…MOM…” Brad called, lifting
his plate. “More ‘tatoes pease? Can I have some ‘tatoes?”
Jillian turned immediately,
holding up hers. “Mommy…MOMMY! My potatoes are gone. More for me?”
Kimmy and Sally exchanged a look,
both rolling their eyes in perfect unison before Kimmy raised a hand. “I got
it.”
She carried the serving dish over,
scooping a generous portion onto Brad’s plate before turning to Jillian.
“MOM…more for me. ‘Pease? I’m
still hungry.”
Jillian giggled, pointing at Brad.
“You’re funny, Brad.”
Brad stared at her for a beat,
then burst into laughter. Jillian followed, the two of them dissolving into
giggles that filled the room with something simple and bright.
Across the table, Allan caught
Mark’s eye and gave a small nod toward the door.
“Porch, Dude?”
Mark nodded.
The air outside held that crisp
edge of late November, the kind that made the warmth inside feel earned. They
settled into the rocking chairs, the soft sound of the creek just beyond the
porch filling the quiet between them.
Mark leaned forward slightly,
nodding toward the water. “You guys must love having the creek right there.”
Allan smiled. “We do,” he said.
“Though we have to keep a close eye on Jilly out here. Thought about a
fence…couldn’t bring myself to block that view.”
He shifted slightly, turning back
toward Mark. “So…tell me about the Viking thing. Sally said you guys were
excited, but I didn’t get the details.”
Mark let out a small breath,
thinking. “Honestly? I think it went pretty well. They want to fly us to
London…long weekend. Said they have some projects they want to talk through.”
Allan raised an eyebrow. “What do
you think that means? Overseas stuff? Remote?”
Before Mark could answer, the door
opened behind them.
“I’m pretty sure they want Mark to
host a program,” Kimmy said, stepping out onto the porch, her voice carrying
just enough certainty to land.
She moved easily behind Mark,
resting a hand on his shoulder. “That girl—Kierra—she really seemed to think
you’ve got the personality for it, baby.”
Sally followed with a glass of
wine, handing it toward Mark before settling beside Kimmy.
Mark shook his head slightly,
accepting the glass. “I don’t know about all that,” he said. “But I do know one
thing—I’m not doing anything unless it’s a partnership. Kimmy and me. That’s
the line.”
Sally looked over at Allan, her
expression softening. “That’s so you guys,” she said. “Always about doing
things together.”
Kimmy smiled, giving Mark’s
shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ve tried to tell him,” she said, teasing lightly.
“But he won’t hear of it.”
Mark reached up, covering her hand
with his. “When you asked me to that terrace that night,” he said, glancing
back at her, “you didn’t say, ‘Hey, want me to stand there and watch you?’” He
smiled. “It was us then…and it’s us now. If they can’t work with that…” He
shrugged. “…maybe I’ll host something on PBS. Then they’ll be sorry.”
Laughter rolled easily across the
porch.
Kimmy took Sally’s hand then,
gently pulling her toward the sofa on the other side of the porch. “We want to
talk to you guys about something,” she said, over at Mark.
Allan leaned forward in his chair.
“Whatcha got girl?”
Kimmy looked at Mark, and when he
nodded, she turned back to them, her excitement already building. “When we were
in the mountains, watching Mark’s video, there was this shot with our Christmas
ornaments, and I said…” She paused, smiling. “…wouldn’t it be fun to—”
“Christmas Markets?” Sally burst
out.
Kimmy laughed. “Yes!”
“Oh we’d love to!” Sally said,
turning immediately to Allan.
Mark looked between them,
surprised. “You guys were thinking that too?”
Allan nodded, smiling. “We’ve been
getting those brochures ever since the Rhine. Just the other day we were
looking at them. We were going to ask you guys…”
“…but you beat us to it,” Mark
finished, shaking his head with a grin.
“What were you thinking?” Allan
asked.
And just like that, the evening
shifted—plans unfolding, calendars coming out, itineraries compared as the
light softened outside and the creek carried on quietly below.
Inside, two little ones had curled
up and fallen asleep, the hum of conversation continuing around them as four
friends sat together, not just celebrating the day—but beginning to shape the
ones still to come. 💛
It’s Beginning To Look A Lot
Like Christmas
The weeks following Thanksgiving
settled into that familiar, comforting rhythm of life—school mornings at
Sunrise Academy, quiet coffee on the porch, laughter drifting through the
house, and the unspoken promise that Tuesdays and Thursdays would always belong
to them. Somewhere in between, they found their date nights too, Sandy arriving
like clockwork, giving them a few hours to step back into simply being Mark and
Kimmy.
It was less than a week before
Christmas when they pulled into the crowded mall parking lot, the air carrying
that unmistakable mix of excitement and urgency that only the holiday season
seemed to bring. Brad had chattered the entire ride, his small voice bouncing
from one thought to the next, his crayon-written list clutched tightly in his
hands as if Santa himself might be waiting just inside the doors.
Kimmy leaned over to unfasten his
seatbelt. “Do you want your gloves, honey?” she asked.
Brad shook his head emphatically,
already halfway out of the car in his mind. He carefully placed the list on the
booster seat, then grabbed his Florida Panthers beanie and pulled it down over
his head with both hands, adjusting it just so.
As Mark stepped out of the car, a
sudden gust of wind swept through the open door, lifting the list and sending
it tumbling across the pavement.
“NO!” Brad cried, taking off after
it.
Kimmy caught his hand quickly. “Be
careful, honey—Daddy will get it. Mark—his list!”
But Mark was already moving. He
reached it in a few quick strides, pinning it gently beneath his shoe before it
could escape again. Brad hurried over, tugging Kimmy behind him, and carefully
picked it up, smoothing it with both hands as if restoring something fragile.
“It’s okay, right Dad?”
Mark gave it a thorough,
exaggerated inspection, turning it once, then twice, before nodding solemnly.
“Santa won’t have any problem with this. It’s good, buddy.”
Relief washed over Brad’s face,
and just like that, the moment was gone—replaced instantly by excitement. He
grabbed Kimmy’s hand and pulled. “C’mon Mom…I have to see Santa!”
Kimmy glanced back over her
shoulder, smiling wide. Mark answered with a shrug and a grin, falling into
step behind them.
They stood just outside the little
picket fence, Kimmy holding Brad’s coat and hat while he bounced lightly on his
toes. His red Panthers hoodie hung just a little too big on him, but he had
insisted—it was “Christmas colors,” after all.
The elf opened the gate and motioned them forward. Brad didn’t hesitate. He dashed straight to
Santa, holding out his list like an offering.
“Well ho ho ho, what do we have
here?” Santa boomed, his voice rich and practiced.
Mark and Kimmy stepped to the
side, letting the moment belong entirely to Brad. For a second, he simply stood
there, wide-eyed and still, as Santa studied the list.
“Did you make this yourself,”
Santa asked warmly, “or did your Mom help you?”
Brad climbed up onto Santa’s lap,
puffing up with pride. “ME! Brad do that.” He pointed eagerly. “Santa, can I
‘pease have a jersey? Number 9…Sam Bennet. Benny…he’s the best, right Dad?”
Kimmy squeezed Mark’s arm,
stifling a laugh, while Mark nodded proudly. “Yes buddy—Playoff Sam is a very
good player.”
Santa leaned back with a knowing
smile. “A Florida Panthers fan, are you? Santa loves the Panthers. That’s
Santa’s favorite team.”
Brad’s eyes widened. “MOM! Santa
likes the ‘Cats! You hear that, Dad?”
Kimmy laughed softly. “Well, it’s
not hard to like our boys after back-to-back championships.”
Santa leaned closer, lowering his
voice. “Have you been a good boy?”
Brad nodded so hard it looked like
his head might come loose. “I have a chart! My Mom gives me checkmarks. I get
checkmarks all the time…don’t I, Mom?”
Kimmy nodded, smiling.
“Ho ho ho…Santa’s elves have been
watching,” Santa said. “They tell me you even do a great job making your bed.”
Brad’s expression shifted
instantly—astonishment, then urgency. His hands started moving as he spoke,
just like his mother when she got going.
“Santa…that one time—it wasn’t my
fault! Mom and Dad messed it up. I made it, I really did. Right, Dad?”
Kimmy turned toward Mark, her
cheeks flushing, while Mark’s mouth opened slightly in surprise.
Santa lowered his glasses, peering
over them with a playful look. “Your Mom and Dad messed it up, did they?”
Brad nodded furiously. “Yep! Tell
him, Dad!”
Santa chuckled. “I believe you.
Now how about a picture?”
Brad turned toward the camera,
beaming, as Mark and Kimmy stepped in beside him, both trying—and failing—not
to laugh.
On the drive home, Brad sat
absorbed in Home Alone, headphones slightly askew over his Panthers cap,
the glow of the screen lighting his face.
Mark checked the rearview mirror,
then reached for Kimmy’s hand.
“Well,” he said quietly, “I think
we just made Santa’s naughty list.”
Kimmy turned toward him, her
cheeks still pink. “Why would he remember that of all things?” she whispered.
“And that look Santa gave us…”
Mark laughed softly. “Oh, we’re
not getting anything past the jolly old elf, honey.”
Christmas morning arrived quietly,
the house still wrapped in that soft, early light that made everything feel
just a little more magical.
Brad had stayed up late—cookies
set out, milk carefully poured, and Home Alone 2 playing long past
bedtime—but now the house was still.
Mark stirred, somewhere between
sleep and waking, when a soft voice drifted into the quiet.
“It’s beginning to look a lot like
Christmas…”
He opened one eye just enough to
see Kimmy, her finger tracing slow circles on his chest, her voice barely above
a whisper. He closed it again quickly, pretending sleep.
There was a pause.
Then her head lifted
slightly…before dropping back onto his chest with just enough emphasis.
“EVERYWHERE YOU GO…”
The volume ticked up.
Mark couldn’t hold it anymore—his
chest began to shake with laughter.
“YOU!” Kimmy exclaimed. “How long
have you been listening to me sing?”
When he opened his eyes, her face
was inches from his, her eyes bright and alive.
“Oh good morning honey…” he said,
smiling. “Isn’t it presents time?”
Kimmy sprang upright instantly,
folding her legs beneath her, her hands already moving as her thoughts raced
ahead.
“Will Brad love his gift? Do you
think he’ll be surprised? No—he asked for it—he won’t be surprised, but he’ll
be disappointed if Santa didn’t bring it. But what’s in that big box with my
name on it? It’s not disguised, is it? What did you do? Can you guess what I
got you? Of course you can’t—I’m so clever—wait…did you hear Brad? Is he up?
Shouldn’t we go? What are you waiting for? Come on baby!”
Mark opened his mouth more than
once, never quite finding a place to enter the conversation.
She was already gone. He followed a moment later, pausing at Brad’s
doorway. The little boy lay still, clutching his blanket, peaceful and unaware. Mark smiled softly, then continued down the
hall. Kimmy stood in front of the tree,
the lights dancing across the ornaments. She reached for his hand and pulled
him close.
“Look,” she said quietly.
He followed her gaze knowing what
she meant. At eye-level, as always the
Mickey and Minnie ornaments they’d exchanged their first Christmas
together. Right above them, the Mickey
and Minnie with the baby Mickey ornament, and right below it the Alaska
ornament from their honeymoon cruise. “They
look perfect, don’t they?” she whispered.
Mark moved behind Kimmy and pulled
her tight to him and kissed her neck.
“They always do baby. Merry
Christmas.” He paused.
“Who would have thought…when we
first hung those…this is where we’d be?”
“Mom! MOM! Where are you? DAD!”
Mark laughed softly. “Guess who’s
here.”
Then louder, with just the right
mix of excitement and wonder:
“OH MY GOSH—buddy, come look!”
Brad flew into the room, stopping
cold at the sight of crumbs and an empty glass.
“OHHH Dad—Santa came!”
The next twenty minutes blurred
into laughter, paper flying, and the kind of joy that never quite slows down
long enough to catch.
“Who goes first Dad?” ask Brad his
cross-legged legs bouncing in double time with excitement. Mark paused just a moment before
answering. He looked first at his son,
then turned and looked at Kimmy. She sat
cross-legged, knees bouncing up and down with excitement. Mark’s eyes went to her legs and he nodded
just a bit then tilted his head to Brad’s identical position and smiled. Kimmy’s eyes lit up and her hand went to her
mouth.
“I think we should go by age,” he
said.
Brad’s face fell.
Mark paused just long enough…then
smiled.
“Youngest first.”
Brad leaped up, “ME!” and he
dashed over and grabbed the package sitting in front of Kimmy. The package stood no chance as the bow, the
ribbon and the paper went sailing in three different directions in seconds. Brad pulled at the box but it was taped
shut. Kimmy gave Mark a frown and Mark
shrugged and whispered, “It’s how you wrap gifts.” Kimmy got a sly smile and shook her head.
“UGH!” Brad grunted with one final
tug and the lid flew off.
‘HORRAYYYYY!” Brad squealed,
“BENNY! Look Mom, #9 just like I asked
for! Dad….Sam Bennett, see?”
Brad peeled off his pajama top and
pulled the jersey over his head and extended his arms. “WHOOO HOOO, look at me Mom!” Kimmy beamed, “You look great honey.”
Mark said quietly, “Is there
anything else in the box buddy?”
Kimmy turned to him, her eyes
questioning. She whispered, “What did
you do?” Her eyes brightened and her
heart felt that familiar warmth as she thought, “how DOES he do this over and
over?” Brad’s arms fell to his sides and
he picked up the box. He pulled the
tissue paper out and an envelope fell out.
He picked it up and opened it. He
turned to Kimmy his mouth wide open.
“What is it?” Kimmy asked.
Brad looked up, wide-eyed.
“Tickets…to a Panthers game.”
Kimmy turned slowly toward Mark.
“Did you?”
Brad ran over to Mark, “Right
Dad…those are tickets right?”
Mark held them up dramatically and
studied them. “Yep…those are
tickets. They are for a game in
March. Oh hey buddy – Santa is so smart,
this game is during your spring break so we can go to the game in Florida.”
Kimmy leaned over and wrapped her
arms around Mark, “How did Santa ever think of that?”
Brad stood hands on hips, “Duh
Mom….he knows I love the Panthers. He
wants me to wear my jersey to a game, right Dad?”
Mark raised his hand and Brad
slapped him a high five and dashed into the living room and turned on “Home
Alone.” Kimmy held Mark’s hands. “What happened to our ‘no secrets’ deal?”
Mark raised his hands, palms up,
“What? That wasn’t me….That’s
Santa. Clearly in the Santa package.”
Kimmy smiled, and said, “Hmmmm”
leaned in and kissed him then reached for the box that was at least four feet
long and three feet high, topped with a giant red bow. The tag red, “For my girl, Love, M”
Kimmy’s eyes misted and she looked
at Mark who nodded at the package. Kimmy
reached for the bow then stopped.
“No….you go. I want you to go.”
Mark started to protest but
Kimmy’s eyebrows said otherwise. Mark
picked up the box, shook it and said, “Could be a book” and laughed. Kimmy chuckled and said, “You are so silly.”
Mark pulled open the box and eyed
the red jacket. On the left chest was
the white Viking cruises logo. Mark
pulled it up slowly and said, “How….how did you do this? You can only get these on the ship.”
Kimmy’s grin widened and she said,
“I emailed David and asked if he could help me.
He set it all up for me and they were glad to arrange it. Did I do good?”
Mark’s eyes filled and he said, “I
love the jacket, but baby….you are so thoughtful. That’s such a great idea.” Kimmy felt that familiar glow inside her. Mark reached over and pulled her close. “I love you so much.”
Kimmy sighed then gently pulled
back, “You’re stalling…..I want my present!”
Mark chuckled and took a breath,
“OK, my bad….go ahead, but I can’t top this one” and he held up the jacket
again. Kimmy pulled the bow off then
carefully took the tag off and read it again before placing it softly on her
pajama shorts. She ripped off the paper
to reveal a big cardboard box. She
looked at Mark curiously. He pointed to
the end of the box, “I opened it for you….”
Kimmy put the box on the floor and
reached in. She pulled out a long,
rectangular frame. She pulled the tissue
paper off and her breath caught.
“It….it’s the view off our deck at the Bed & Breakfast – that’s the
sunrise on our second day, it’s gorgeous.
That was such a special weekend….” She said and then a tear slid down
her cheek. She got up and sat on Mark’s
lap, her arms around his neck. She
whispered softly, “Of all, ALL the places you have taken me…..this may have
meant more to me than any other, because….”
Mark pulled her forehead to his,
“I know baby. I know. You need to look at this anytime you wonder,
and it will remind you…we’ll always be ok….I’ll always be there.” The tears flowed easily and from the other
room
Brad’s laughter echoed from the
other room—Kevin shouting in the bathroom, the sound of childhood and joy and
life continuing all at once.
The kind of morning that didn’t
need anything more.
And wouldn’t be forgotten. 💛
It’s All About Us
On the drive to Wawa, Mark found
himself barely aware of the road in front of him, his thoughts circling back
again and again to the small box resting in his jacket pocket. He had turned it
over in his hands more times than he could count since buying it, each time
feeling that same quiet pull in his chest. There had been other anniversaries,
other gifts—each meaningful in its own way—but this one…this one felt
different. He couldn’t quite name it. Maybe it was everything Kimmy had been
through. Maybe it was the way that weekend in the mountains had settled
something deep inside both of them. Or maybe it was simply the
realization—clearer now than ever—that what they had wasn’t just special…it was
fragile, and worth protecting at all costs.
He pulled into the lot and smiled
when he saw Allan’s truck in its usual spot. There was comfort in
that—something steady, something familiar. As he stepped inside and made his
way to the coffee station, he spotted Allan already there, capping his cup.
“Dude…how you doing? Big night
tonight,” Allan said easily. “Anniversary, right? Terrace Bar I’m guessing.
What time are you dropping the little man off?”
Mark smiled, grateful for the
normalcy in the question. “Little after five. Appreciate it, brother.”
Allan waved it off, but his eyes
lingered just a second longer than usual. “What is it?” he asked, tilting his
head slightly. “Something’s on your mind.”
Mark hesitated, then leaned
against the counter, lowering his voice just a bit. “I…wanted your take on
something.”
He reached into his jacket and
pulled out the box, opening it slowly.
Allan’s reaction was immediate.
His breath caught, his expression shifting from curiosity to something quieter,
more thoughtful.
“Wow…” he said softly.
“That’s…that’s so you. It’s…yeah. Wow.”
Mark let out a small breath,
almost a laugh. “It’s exactly what I was hoping to find. I just…can’t quite
explain why this one feels different. It’s…deeper, I guess.”
Allan didn’t answer right away. He
rested a hand on Mark’s shoulder, his voice steady when he spoke. “I was there
that night,” he said quietly. “I saw what you went through. What she went
through. And I care about Kimmy—but she’s your wife. With you two…it’s always
been something more. So yeah…when someone tried to take that away from you?” He
shook his head. “That sticks with you, man.”
Mark nodded slowly, something
settling into place. “Yeah…yeah, it does.”
He capped the cups, the familiar
routine grounding him again. “Thanks, brother. I better get her coffee and the
puzzle. We’ll see you tonight.”
Kimmy stood in front of Sally’s
mirror, smoothing the fabric over her hips for what felt like the tenth time.
“Well?” she asked, turning just
slightly.
Sally’s reaction was immediate—her
hand lifting to her chest as if she needed to steady herself. “Oh honey…” she
breathed. “That is…wow.”
Kimmy laughed nervously. “Too
much?”
Sally shook her head, stepping
closer. “No. Not even close. That’s…everything. You don’t just pull that
off—you own it. Mark is not going to survive tonight.”
Kimmy’s smile softened, her eyes
dropping just a bit. “You think so?”
“I know so,” Sally said. “A
thousand times yes.”
Mark stood in the bedroom, turning
the gray jacket over his arm one more time before finally committing. No tie
tonight. He didn’t want anything tight around his neck, not with everything
already sitting heavy in his chest.
The bathroom door cracked open.
“Ready?” Kimmy’s voice came
softly.
He smiled. “Yeah…come on out. I’m
dying to see.”
The door opened slowly. And for a moment…he forgot how to speak. Kimmy
stepped out cautiously, almost unsure of herself. The dress was bold—more
daring than anything she had worn before—but somehow still unmistakably her.
Elegant. Confident. Alive.
“Well?” she asked, her voice
quieter now. “Not too much? You like it?”
Mark’s mouth opened. Nothing came
out. He shook his head slowly.
Her smile grew.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“You…” he managed finally,
swallowing hard. “…are beautiful.”
She moved into him, wrapping her
arms around his neck, rising up on her toes to kiss him.
“Happy anniversary, baby.”
“Mom! MOM! Are we going yet?”
They both laughed, the moment
breaking just enough.
“Coming, buddy,” Mark called out,
his hand still resting at the small of her back.
The drive was quieter than usual.
Kimmy noticed it almost
immediately.
Mark’s hand found hers, but his
eyes stayed forward, his thoughts somewhere deeper. When they pulled into the
lot, he didn’t move right away.
“Baby…” she said softly. “Are you
okay?”
He turned toward her, his eyes
just slightly misted, and took her hands in his.
“You know I love you, right?”
Her expression shifted instantly.
“Yes…what is it? What’s wrong?”
He shook his head gently.
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…this year. This night. It just feels…” He exhaled
slowly. “Like one of those Hallmark moments.”
She studied him, her thumb
brushing lightly across his knuckles.
“Let’s go celebrate,” he said
softly.
Dinner passed easily—light
conversation, laughter, familiar rhythms. But beneath it all, there was
something quieter moving between them, something unspoken but deeply felt.
When the plates were cleared, they
didn’t need to say anything.
They both knew.
The terrace.
The heaters cast a soft warmth,
the plastic panels shielding them from the wind while the city lights stretched
out endlessly below. Kimmy slipped her arm through Mark’s, and they stood like
that for a while, not speaking, just…being.
Finally, she turned, reaching into
her purse.
“I want to go first,” she said
softly. “It’s the thought that counts, right?”
Mark smiled. “It’s you that
counts, honey.”
She handed him the small frame. He didn’t even need a second look. His vision blurred immediately.
Their wedding invitation…framed.
And over it, in her handwriting:
It’s always about us. Love
always, Kimmy.
Her arms wrapped around him.
“Always, baby,” she whispered.
“Just us.”
Mark shook his head slightly,
emotion catching in his voice. “I know I’ve said it before…but this year…I
just…” He looked at her, his voice softer. “I’m still amazed you choose me.”
Kimmy leaned her forehead to his.
“I always have,” she whispered. “Even before I knew I would…I was waiting for
you.”
Mark reached into his jacket.
He held the box for just a moment
before giving it to her.
“Kimmy…” he began, his voice
unsteady. “I know you know I love you. .
But what’s hard to explain is that I love you SO much. It’s almost a desperation kind of thing. I will always choose us – you know that
right?”
She nodded, her hands trembling
slightly as she opened the box.
The moment the lid lifted, the
tears came.
The bracelet caught the light, the
ruby glowing softly at its center. And on either side…
Kimmy looked up at him, her eyes
full, her breath unsteady.
“Happy anniversary, baby,” he
said. “It’s always about us. Only us.”
He took her hand gently, steadying
it as he slipped the bracelet onto her wrist.
She stared at it for a moment…then
at him…then collapsed into him, her arms tight around his shoulders as the
tears fell freely. They stood there like
that, wrapped in each other, the city alive below them, the night moving on
without them. But none of it mattered. Not the lights. Not the cold.
Not the world beyond that railing.
Because from that first terrace…to
this one…
Through everything…
It had always been the same.
Us. 💛
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