“You weren’t there, Mari. To say emotions were running high during the court proceedings is a huge understatement.”
“You and Ryan used to be so close,” she whispered. “Sometimes…” She stared at the narrow opening to the blue lake and made a hissing sound of frustration. “What?”
She shook her head. “I just wish the crash had never happened.”
“You’re still angry about it.”
Her gaze shot to meet his. “I didn’t say that!”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if you were. Who wouldn’t be angry about having their parents unexpectedly stolen from them one stormy summer night?”
He saw her throat convulse as she swallowed. He realized he was holding his breath when she took another step toward him in the cool water.
“My parents weren’t the only thing I lost,” she whispered.
Desire sliced through him as he looked down at her face. He held himself on a tight leash, but he didn’t want Mari to know that. Not at that moment, he didn’t.
“If you’re referring to me, I’m standing right here,” he replied.
She started, blinked and looked away. “I was referring to you. But I was referring to more than that. I was thinking of my childhood. My security. My belief that everything would always be the same…. That even when things got bad, I’d wake up the next day, and everything would be fresh and new. I lost all of that, that summer,” she said softly.
“We all did.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “I know it. I meant to tell you that the other night in the parking lot, but things got out of hand so fast. I never blamed you, Marc. Never. How could I?”
He shrugged. “Other people managed to. It’s human nature. When the perpetrator of the crime dies along with the victims, people look to the family. Blame has to be cast somewhere.”
“But that’s ridiculous!”
“I’m not saying it isn’t. But people need to do something with their anger, with their helplessness.” He shrugged. “I see it all the time in my work. Victims need to find a target for their angst. My mother has lived with that refrain for fifteen years. In the beginning, she got nasty phone calls, hate mail, pranks were pulled. People in town ostracized her. Some of them still do. It hasn’t been an easy road for her. People say she should have been harder on my dad about his drinking. Maybe one of us kids should have stopped him somehow. Maybe I should have. I was old enough. That was what my opponent for the State’s Attorney position thought…and made a point of mentioning about a dozen times during the campaign,” he added wryly under his breath.
“You’re kidding.”
He shrugged and glanced away. In all honesty, he’d repeatedly wondered if he might have done something to prevent the crash.
“You were twenty-one years old,” she whispered. “Please tell me you don’t actually believe any of those allegations.”
“No. I don’t,” he said after a moment. “My dad was responsible for his actions. Does that mean those criticisms didn’t eat at me at times? Of course not. It’s natural to wonder how you could have done things differently.”
“How could you have known what your father was going to do on that night? You had your own life. You hardly were thinking about Derry any more than I was thinking of my parents at the time.”
She’d spoken in a pressured rush. Marc recognized the moment she realized what she’d just said. Color rushed into her cheeks.
Of course neither of them had thought of their parents that night. They’d been in bed together, their love on the brink of consummation.
Marc shoved aside the emotion-packed memory with effort.
“Deidre holds my mother responsible for a lot of what happened with the crash. She thinks my mother was in denial about my father’s drinking problem. That’s why she doesn’t return to Harbor Town in the summer like the rest of us. Actually, Deidre refuses to come to Harbor Town, period.”
Marc sighed when he saw Mari’s horrified expression. He’d brought her here for a casual outing, a chance for them to reconnect over something besides their volatile past.
“Let’s not worry about it, okay? Not now,” he murmured.
He gave in to his need and placed his hands on her damp shoulders. She went still beneath his touch. He slipped a finger beneath the cloth of the swimsuit where it tied around her neck.
“I just thought the color would look good on you, that’s all.” He noticed her confused expression. “That was the reason I picked this suit. The main reason, anyway,” he said as he watched himself idly stroke her. He met her stare. “Gold—like your eyes and your skin.”
“Marc.”