“And yet you came,” Mari challenged softly. She refused to start up their old disagreement now. What was the point? “You said you wanted to help.”
“I do want to help. You. If it’s important to you, then it’s important to me.”
“Thank you, Ryan.”
“But I think it’s a huge mistake to involve the Kavanaughs.”
Mari sighed tiredly and her brother stirred.
“Forget about that damn Family Center and the Kavanaughs for the moment. Let’s talk about you,” Ryan said.
She glanced up warily. “Me? What about me?”
“Eric told me on the drive from Chicago that you haven’t been feeling well. He said I should ask you about it.”
“He…he didn’t say anything else?”
“No. He didn’t. But the moment I arrive in Harbor Town, the first thing I see is you running away from the Kavanaughs and nearly fainting in their front yard. What the hell is going on, Mari? Are you sick?”
“I’m fine. Really. I just… One second, Brigit Kavanaugh was pulling into the driveway and the next—”
Ryan leaned forward intently. “Has Mrs. Kavanaugh been giving you a hard time since you returned? She always did have a strong personality—”
“Ryan, let me finish,” Mari interrupted sharply. Her brother clamped his mouth shut, but he still seemed agitated. Mari closed her eyes. This was the last thing she wanted. Ryan was her only living family. She hated the idea of arguing with him when she hadn’t seen him for over a year. She was so thankful he was home and safe.
“What I was trying to say,” Mari resumed in a quieter voice, “is that I didn’t plan on being, or want to be, at the Kavanaugh house when Brigit returned. I’d gotten up too abruptly from a sitting position, and then I looked down the street and saw you. The combination of all the things—the whole situation in general—made me a little dizzy, that’s all.”
“What about what Eric said?”
“Eric is worrying too much, Ryan,” Mari said wearily. “This has been a whirlwind trip. I’ve had a lot to do.”
“It’s been too much for you. I’ll take over the sale of the house. I can do anything you need done at the center, as well. Grass mowed, pictures hung, desks moved—I’m your guy.”
Mari reached across the table and grabbed her brother’s hand. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. “You don’t know how much that means to me, Ryan.”
“Like I said. If it’s important to you, I want to be here to help.” Ryan’s brow crinkled as he stared at her. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you go to bed?”
“It’s your first night back,” Mari protested.
“I’m not going anywhere. At least not for a while. Not until the Air Force has decided I’ve had enough rest and relaxation and decides to ship me off again.”
Dread settled in her belly like lead. “You’ve just completed your third tour. Surely they won’t send you for a fourth?”
His dark eyes narrowed on her face. He seemed to regret his words. “Probably not, it just depends. One thing is for certain. I’m back for a long stretch, if not for good.” He squeezed her hand. “Go on to bed. Come tomorrow, you can start ordering me around to do your grunt work.”
Mari rolled her eyes and stood. Maybe Ryan was right. She really did need some privacy to sort out her thoughts. She loved Ryan like crazy. How—and when— was she going to tell him that she was pregnant with Marc Kavanaugh’s baby?
How and when was she going to tell Marc, for that matter?
She slowly went up the stairs to her bedroom feeling like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She washed and brushed her teeth mechanically and remembered to take one of the prenatal vitamins Dr. Hardy had given her. When she got to her bedroom, she changed into a short, gold satin gown. The image of the Kavanaughs’ tense faces as they stood in the front yard earlier suddenly rose in her mind’s eye and caused a swooping sensation in her belly.
Maybe the wisest thing would be to say nothing to Marc at all. Was it really fair to subject a child to all the historical baggage and hurt that existed between their families?
The thought made her feel like two squeezing hands had wrapped around her throat.
She glanced at her bed. She envisioned their impassioned lovemaking last night. How fair was it to not tell Marc about his own child? She couldn’t do that to him. She loved him too much.
Mari sat down heavily on the mattress and stared blankly into her open closet. It’d been the first time she’d admitted it to herself. Of course, she’d known she’d loved Marc once, but she’d been a girl…an infatuated, wide-eyed teenager. To acknowledge that the powerful force that throbbed in her breast at that moment was nothing less than the deep, passionate love of a grown woman shocked her to the core.