“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.