“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.”