They arrived back in Harbor Town that evening at about six. Mari insisted upon accompanying Marc to the hospital.
“I mean… I won’t go into your mother’s room or anything—that would upset her—but I’d like to be there for you. If you’d like it, anyway.”
Marc had given her a half smile and grabbed her hand. “’Course I want you there.”
Once they’d located the unit where Brigit was staying, Mari told Marc she was going to find them something to drink while he went and saw his mother. Her throat was dry after the long drive. She left him to confer with the nurse and wandered through the corridors of the hospital in search of a vending machine.
When she returned to the unit carrying two orange juices, she found Marc talking to Colleen in the waiting area. They were the only two occupants in the room, their backs turned to her. Mari went still when she heard the distress in Colleen’s tone as she spoke in a quiet, shaking voice to her brother.
“It’s my fault,” Colleen said.
“What? How could it be your fault? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“All right, maybe it wasn’t entirely my doing, but what I said to her certainly didn’t help matters,” Colleen said in a hard voice. She swept her long hair over one shoulder in an anxious gesture and leaned back in the chair. “It was after I spoke to her that she got all quiet. Then her complexion went sort of gray and she clutched at herself like this.” Colleen demonstrated by grabbing at the area between her left chest and shoulder. “She said she was having a cramp. It scared the hell out of me.”
Marc put an arm around his sister for reassurance.
“Yeah, it must have been scary. But it wasn’t because of anything you did or said. The doctor said this has been building for a while. Mom hasn’t been attending to her treatment.”
“What I said didn’t help any.”
“I doubt that. What were you talking about?” Marc asked, seeming disbelieving and curious all at once.
Feeling guilty for eavesdropping upon the conversation, Mari had stepped forward to identify herself when Colleen spoke in a low, flat tone.
“I told her about my new job. I told her about Mari starting up The Family Center. At first, I thought her silence just signaled her disapproval, but then I noticed her complexion, how odd she looked—”
Marc suddenly looked over his shoulder, his blue eyes pinning her. Had she made a sound? Mari thought perhaps she had.
A sound of distress.
“Mari,” Colleen said breathlessly as she stood.
“Mari?” Marc asked, his voice louder than Colleen’s had been.
Mari blinked. How long had she been standing there while her heart hammered in her ears? Marc was coming toward her, his brows drawn together. She stupidly offered him a bottle of juice.
“It’s not very cold,” she said. “I think the vending machine was broken.”
He looked at her like she’d been speaking in Swahili. He put his hand on her upper arm. She started. She hated the way his jaw hardened at her instinctive recoil from his touch, but there was nothing Mari could do.
That old feeling of helplessness had risen in her again.
“I think I should go,” she said quietly to Marc.
“Because of what you just heard?” Marc demanded, blue eyes flashing.
“Mari, please don’t,” Colleen said hastily. “I was feeling sorry for myself. I’m sure what I said to Mom had nothing to do with—”
“You don’t believe that,” Mari interrupted levelly. She turned back to Marc and handed him the other bottle of juice. He seemed so stunned by unfolding events that he accepted it automatically.
“I’ll take you home,” he said.
“No. I can walk.” She didn’t know what had come over her, but she felt strangely calm despite her rapid heartbeat. She met Marc’s stare, trying her best to seem reassuring even though she felt powerless at that moment. “Everything will be okay, Marc. I’ll get my things from you later. You should see your mother right now.”
Marc looked like he was about to protest when Colleen spoke, sounding a little weary.
“I’ll take Mari home. It’ll take me five minutes. You should go on in, Marc. Mom’s waiting for you.”
Mari didn’t glance back when Colleen touched her elbow. They walked away.
When she arrived home, Ryan came down the hallway, bare-chested and holding a butter knife. He wore a pair of cargo shorts and a surprised expression.
“I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”
“We came back a little early,” Mari said. She parked her rolling suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and placed her fingertips on her eyelids. When she opened them, she was staring at a steely bicep.
“Cool tattoo,” she said dully, examining the artist’s rendering of the logo of the Air Force wings morphing into an eagle taking flight. “When did you get that?”
“Two…three years— Who cares?” he asked, interrupting himself impatiently. “Are you okay, Mari?”
“Yeah. I’m just really, really tired. I need to go to bed.” She started up the stairs, but turned back. Ryan was staring at her with something close to alarm. “I’m okay, Ryan. Marc’s mom just had a heart attack. It took us by surprise, that’s all.”
His mouth dropped open.
“Like I said, I’m just tired. Can you do me a favor?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“I don’t want any visitors. No one.”
Ryan nodded, looking somber.
Mari sighed and trudged up the stairs. She was too fatigued to think…to feel. She felt as if weariness had soaked into her very bones.
This was the ending to their magical weekend. Somehow, it didn’t surprise her.
Her bedroom faced west, so it was bright with sunshine. She began to draw the curtains. When she reached the window next to the elm tree, she made sure it was locked before she shut out the remainder of the golden evening light. She thought of how she’d planned to spend that evening in Marc’s arms after telling him about her pregnancy.
But the past had a way of sneaking up on you when you least expected it.
The next day Mari stayed to herself. She kept her cell phone turned off. Ryan treated her as if she was recovering from an illness. He seemed like he wanted to question her, but was too sensitive of her mood to interrogate her, for which Mari was thankful. She needed to think.
She was playing her cello at around one o’clock when she paused, hearing tense, male voices downstairs. She held her breath and tried to make out the words.
It was Marc and Ryan. It sounded like they both stood at the front door. Their voices were muffled, but their volume increased with almost every word.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” Ryan suddenly shouted, plenty clear enough for her to hear.
“Who the hell are you? Her jailer?” Marc responded, just as aggressively.
“I’m doing what she asked me to do, Kavanaugh. She said she didn’t want to see you.”
Mari hastily set down her bow and started to rise— she wouldn’t be surprised, given the animosity between Marc and Ryan, if a fight broke out—but then the screen door banged loudly and silence ensued.
She set aside her cello and raced over to the window. She opened the sash and searched the leafy branches, dreading seeing Marc’s face…and longing for it. The robins remained the only occupants of the elm tree.
A moment later, she sat on the edge of her bed. She realized distantly her cheeks were wet with tears. The memory of studying Marc’s face while he slept yesterday afternoon came back to her in graphic detail.
Such a beautiful man.
What parts of Marc would be in their baby? Would their child have his eyes? His sense of humor? His fierce courage?
Thinking about discovering those wonderful characteristics in their child without Marc there to share those moments caused grief and sadness to slice through her like a knife.
She wrapped her arms around her belly as if she was staunching a wound. Tears gushed down her cheeks. She lay on her side on the bed and suffered in solitude.
She awoke the next morning regretting the way she’d been avoiding Marc. He deserved better than to be turned away at her front door like an annoying salesman. She resolved to call him later. She wanted to ask him about Brigit. Marc must be worried sick about his mother. It certainly sounded as if her heart attack hadn’t been a major one, but why hadn’t she been following her doctor’s orders?
She had an appointment at the obstetrician’s office that afternoon, and she needed to complete a few more things for The Family Center. Eric, Natalie and she had planned for an opening at the end of August. She regretted nothing more than how Brigit Kavanaugh had responded to the news of the project, but Mari would move forward, nevertheless. Hesitation now twined with her determination to open The Family Center, but the idea of stopping now when their intentions were so good seemed very wrong, indeed.
Her appointment at the obstetrician’s went quickly, much to Mari’s surprise. The obstetrician, Anita Carol, was a friendly, African-American woman, a few years older than Mari. Mari told her about the bouts of dizziness and nausea, and Dr. Carol recommended frequent, small meals to keep her blood sugar steady and prevent nausea.
She did a quick exam and told Mari make an appointment for an ultrasound. Mari wasn’t planning on being in Harbor Town that much longer but she didn’t bring that up to the doctor.
“The baby’s father can come to the ultrasound, as well,” Dr. Carol said brightly on the way out the door. “We should be able to determine the sex by that time, if you two are interested in knowing.”
Mari remained seated on the chair in the exam room after the doctor left. She rubbed her belly through her jeans, feeling hollow inside…empty…lonely at Anita Carol’s parting words.
She irritably wiped at her eyes when they stung. How could she possibly cry more when she’d shed bucketfuls of tears yesterday?
She came to a standstill outside of Dr. Carol’s office when she saw Brigit Kavanaugh. Brigit also halted abruptly in the hallway.
“Brigit. Are you…are you well?” Mari asked once her lungs unstuck and she could breathe again. She anxiously searched Brigit’s face. She would never have guessed Brigit had been in the hospital the day before yesterday for a heart attack. Dressed in jeans and a fashionably belted turquoise tunic, she looked quite healthy.
For a few tense seconds, Mari wondered if their chance meeting was going to a repeat of the one on Main Street. She exhaled in relief when Brigit spoke, albeit stiffly.
“I’m fine. They released me yesterday morning. The doctor says there was no significant damage to my heart. I’m just here to fill some prescriptions at the hospital pharmacy.”
“Thank God,” Mari whispered.
“You were here for an appointment?” Brigit asked, glancing behind Mari.
“Yes,” Mari mumbled. Too late, she turned and noticed where Brigit stared. The nameplate on the door read Anita Carol, M.D., Obstetrician. Brigit’s glance flickered down over Mari’s abdomen. For an awkward moment, neither of them spoke.
“I heard from Colleen about the project you’re starting for the survivors of substance abuse.”
Mari tried to swallow but her mouth felt too dry. “I…yes. Can we sit down, Brigit?”
Brigit drew herself up tall. “I assure you I’m fine. I feel very healthy. I’m not going to have another heart attack,” Brigit said crisply.
Mari smiled. “Actually, I was asking if we could sit down for me.”
The straight line of Brigit’s frown quivered. “Of course,” she said quickly. “Just over here.” She led Mari to a bench in the quiet hospital hallway. “Take a deep breath,” Brigit said briskly once they sat. “You’ve gone pale as a ghost.”
Mari followed her advice, trying desperately to calm her rioting thoughts. After several seconds of silence, Brigit spoke.
“I don’t suppose you could have started this Family Center in San Francisco?”
Mari blinked at the sound of Brigit’s wry tone.
“I didn’t plan for it in Harbor Town to upset you. I meant for The Family Center to be a positive thing…a healing thing, not a source of upset.”
Brigit looked incredulous. Mari sighed heavily, feeling defeated.
“I’m sorry. I can see you feel otherwise,” she said quietly. “I can only pray you’ll eventually believe me when I say I never meant to cause you any serious harm or pain.”
Brigit didn’t respond. Perhaps she felt it was unnecessary, given the circumstances.
“I understand you were with Marc in Chicago over the weekend.”
Mari levelly met Brigit’s stare. “Yes.”
“He’s determined to have you, no matter what I say. He’s always been that way, as you probably recall.” The older woman sighed and looked at the opposite wall. She seemed lost in her thoughts. “Once he set his mind to something, Marc always got his way. Even when Derry died, even after all the money for his law school tuition was taken away, Marc just plowed ahead. He went to the University of Michigan instead of Yale where he’d been accepted and planned to go. The tuition was much less expensive, although far from cheap. He worked two jobs and had to take out loans, but he got his degree with honors. Did he tell you that?”
“No,” Mari whispered through leaden lips.
“He wouldn’t have said anything, I suppose. Not to you.” She turned and looked at Mari. “You were the one thing he wanted and couldn’t have. It doesn’t surprise me, the way he’s pursuing you. It’s in his character, I suppose.”
“You don’t admire his determination in this instance,” Mari said.
“Determination? I’d call it stubbornness and pride, wouldn’t you?” Brigit shifted her purse onto her shoulder and stood. She hesitated. “Take care, Mari. You don’t seem entirely yourself.”
Mari remained seated as Brigit walked away.
Her heart felt like a stone in her chest when she heard the knock at the front door later that evening. She paused in the action of cutting some bananas for a fruit salad. His stance wary, Ryan’s eyes flashed as he glanced at her.
“It’s okay. If it’s Marc, I want to talk to him,” Mari told her brother with a reassuring smile. She felt her brother’s stare on her as she walked out of the kitchen.
She opened the screen door. “Hi,” she said tremulously. Marc stood there on the porch looking beautiful to her, his dark blond hair wind-ruffled, his jaw darkened with whiskers, his blue eyes gleaming in his shadowed face.
“Hi.”
A ripple of sensation coursed down her neck and spine at the sound of his low, hoarse voice.
He waved toward his car in the sunlit driveway. “Will you come for a ride?”
Mari nodded. She stepped out onto the porch, feeling like a prisoner walking to the gallows.
Neither of them spoke after they’d gotten into the car. Marc drove to The Family Center. He glanced over to her and gave a small smile when she gasped in pleasure. A painted blue, brown and ivory sign had been placed next to the entrance.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Marc said as he parked the car and nodded toward the freshly painted sign. “Liam had to get back to work, but when he heard about the Center, he wanted to do something. He commissioned Joe Brown to make it before he left Harbor Town. Joe left him a message saying he installed it Saturday.”
Mari was too amazed to speak. They got out of the car and went to examine the sign. Joe had included a small landscape in the corner of the sign, a dune and a sunset. Mari recognized the vista off Silver Dune. Beneath the name of the organization and contact information, a two-word quote had been added.
“Choose hope,” she whispered. After several seconds, she glanced up at Marc. He watched her, his eyes like two steady beacons beckoning her to shore. Her throat ached when she swallowed. “I need to make sure I get Liam’s number from you. This was so wonderful of him.”
Marc nodded and grabbed her hand. They took a rough path through evergreen, oak and maple until the tree line broke and they walked out onto the dune. Lake Michigan looked periwinkle blue beneath the fiery orange, sinking sun. When they reached the end of the dune, Mari turned toward him. She nodded toward the water in the vicinity of where they’d sat in the boat and watched the sun rising several days ago.
“We’re back on the shore now,” she said quietly. “Watching the sunset again.”
His hand came up to cradle her jaw. He whisked his thumb across her cheek. “Sunrise. Sunset. They’re all good, as long as you’re here.”
Mari distantly wondered if her throat would ever stop aching. Lately it seemed to be constantly swelling with emotion. “It’s been a difficult trip…coming back to Harbor Town,” she murmured.
“Mari, about what Colleen said in the hospital…I know it upset you. But Colleen was worried—”
“I know,” Mari said rapidly. She turned toward the lake, missing Marc’s caress when her motion caused his hand to fall away. “Of course she was upset. I would have been, too, given the circumstances. It’s completely natural.”
Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Marc stiffen. “So why have you been avoiding me for the past few days?”
“I needed to think,” Mari said, her gaze on the dancing waves of the silver-blue lake.
He didn’t speak for several seconds. When she glanced over at him, she saw his mouth had drawn into a straight line. She’d never seen Marc look so grim. Somehow he’d guessed what she was about to say.
“Don’t do this, Mari.”
“One of us has to,” she said in a hushed voice. “I was right. It would never work, you and me.”
“It does work,” he said, putting his hand on her upper arm. “It always has!”
“For us,” Mari replied, just as heatedly. “It works for us, Marc. But we’re not the only two people on the planet. There are other people…other lives we have to take into account.”
“I don’t accept that. We’re not hurting anyone by being together. What happened with my mother was scary for everyone, but that had nothing to do with you starting The Family Center or us being together. It had everything to do with the fact that she’s been ignoring her physical health. I’ve had a long conversation with her about it. She’s agreed to take her medication now and follow the doctor’s treatment advice.”
“I spoke with Brigit, as well.”
He paused for two heartbeats. “You did? About what?” he asked warily.
“She seems to be of the opinion that you want me this much because I was the one thing you never could have.”
“And you believed her?” Marc asked, anger entering his tone.
“No…at least not totally.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Not totally?”
She paused for a moment, gathering herself. She waved toward the edge of the dune in the distance.
“Do you remember us standing there on the end of this dune together? It would have been fifteen summers ago. Just weeks before the crash, if I’m not mistaken.”
He didn’t respond to her quiet question, but she sensed the tension coiling in his muscles.
“I was terrified,” she said softly. “Literally. I still have a fear of heights, you know. But I jumped. Do you know why?”
She turned to look at him, but he still didn’t speak. She hated seeing the rigid, hard lines of his face cast in the crimson rays of the dying sun. His eyes were usually so alive when he looked at her, but at that moment, they looked cold with dread.
“Because, once upon a time, I would have followed Marc Kavanaugh anywhere. Anywhere,” she added fervently. She shook her head sadly. “But things changed. And I’m not a child anymore. I have others to consider.”
“I see. We’re back to this, then. I’m the selfish one, for suggesting we should be together.”
Mari closed her eyes and felt tears skitter down her cheek. The wind increased and tossed the trees behind them. The waves hitting the sand beach in the distance sounded lonely. She pushed her blowing hair off her damp face.
“I don’t think that anymore. You’re not selfish. You’re strong. Stronger than I am. You said you would accept my decision after we returned from Chicago.” She swallowed convulsively. “Please understand. I’m not strong enough to follow you this time around.”
She turned away from the lake and paused. “Ryan and I booked flights back home. We leave tomorrow. I can finish what remains to be done for The Family Center from there. I’ll go inside now and tie up a few loose ends. Ryan can pick me up here later.” She lowered her head, praying for strength to continue. “There’s…there’s something I’ll need to speak with you about, but…perhaps it’d be best if it waited until I was in San Francisco.”
She glanced up at him. This was by far the hardest thing she’d ever done. Her entire body hurt as if every cell protested at the idea of leaving him. She touched her stomach in an instinctive protective gesture. This life was the one that had decided her, in the end. She needed to protect her child from the pain and heartache of their past. Wasn’t fate screaming loud and clear that they weren’t meant to be together? How many more people would be hurt if they tried?
“Good-bye,” she said quietly.
He said nothing, but she felt his gaze on her as she walked back through the trees alone.