Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)

Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7) Page 43

Leanne glanced up. "I didn't know." That didn't change the past, but it did reveal the desperate situation Denise had faced when she left her husband.

"I couldn't have escaped him without Mark." She sobbed and Leanne realized how much Denise, too, was suffering. It wasn't fair that she and Mark had paid for his sister's bad decisions, but there was no going back.

Denise reached across the table as if to take Leanne's hand, but then drew back. "I'll pay back every penny, I swear I will. I'll do anything I can to make this right."

Money alone wasn't going to repay this debt. Denise knew that. But there was no point in mentioning it.

"I will," Denise repeated.

"I know," Leanne whispered, because that seemed important to Denise.

"I'm so sorry, so sorry," Denise said, sobbing freely now, her thin shoulders heaving. "Please, please, say you can forgive me."

Leanne stretched one hand across the table and grabbed Denise's arm. "I forgive you...."

Denise looked up then, her face streaked with tears. "It just never seems to end. Mark took that assignment in Afghanistan because of me...and now...now--" She couldn't finish.

Getting up from her chair, Leanne walked around the table and slid her arm around Denise's shoulders. She made comforting sounds, gently rocking the young woman as Denise wept bitter tears.

It took a long time for Denise to stop crying. Leanne's heart went out to everyone in Mark's family for the pain Denise's marriage had brought upon them all. The one piece of good news was the fact that Darrin was in prison.

"If we lost Mark..."

"Stop it!" Leanne cried. She couldn't lose Mark. He had to be alive. She had to believe that somehow he'd make it through this ordeal. The company and the military were doing everything possible to rescue him.

"We have to believe Mark will survive this," she said. Trusting, hoping, praying--for now, that was all they could do.

"I know...I know." Denise seemed to find a tiny bit of courage deep inside herself. She wiped the tears from her face and straightened. "You're right. If for no other reason than to keep up Mom and Dad's spirits, we have to believe. But I do think he's alive, I really do."

They hugged each other and, soon after that, Leanne retired to her sofa bed, sleeping fitfully. The next morning, she made the decision to return to Seattle and her job. The farewells were hard, and they clung to one another for long minutes.

"I'll always consider you the sister I never had," Denise whispered as they hugged. After loading her vehicle, Leanne headed back to Seattle with tears clouding her eyes.

News of Mark's rescue reached her two days later. Muriel Lancaster phoned, sobbing with joy and relief. Mark had been rescued by Special Forces, who said it was a miracle that both men were alive. Because she was so overcome with emotion, Muriel couldn't answer Leanne's questions.

That night Leanne slept a solid eleven hours, not waking even once. She didn't expect to hear from Mark personally. She had every reason to assume his attitude toward her hadn't changed. None of that mattered, however, because Mark was alive.

Nearly two weeks passed. Muriel gave Leanne regular updates on Mark's condition. He'd been severely beaten and was in bad shape when rescued. After being stabilized by the medics, Mark was flown back to the States. McPherson flew his parents to the Washington, D.C., hospital where Mark was receiving treatment. A short while later, he was released. Muriel kept her informed, but Leanne recognized that her mother-in-law did so without Mark's knowledge or consent.

Tuesday afternoon, nearly three weeks after Mark's rescue, Leanne stopped in the cafeteria to grab soup and a sandwich for lunch. She often ate on the hospital patio. It was early August now, a beautiful day with cloudless blue skies and a gentle breeze wafting in off Puget Sound.

She found her favorite spot on a concrete ledge under a dogwood tree. Sometimes friends joined her and, while she never rejected their company, she was just as happy to eat alone.

No sooner had she settled down and opened her soup container than she noticed a man in a wheelchair with his back toward her. She lowered her spoon as a tingling sensation went through her.

The man reminded her of Mark.

The width of his shoulders, his hair with the small cowlick she'd loved to run her fingers through... But the last thing Leanne had heard, only two days ago, was that Mark was at a rehab facility on the east coast, recovering from his injuries.

Was it possible? Could this be Mark? If her ex-husband was at the hospital, presumably it was because he planned to approach her. Perhaps he hadn't seen her enter the patio area. Perhaps he was waiting for her.

Leanne was afraid her mind was playing tricks on her. Mark was always in her thoughts, so it stood to reason that she'd look for hints of him in every man she saw.

Still...

When she couldn't stand it any longer, she got up, discarded the remains of her lunch, then walked over to the table with the big sun-bleached umbrella.

It was Mark.

His face revealed evidence of his capture. His jaw had been broken--his mouth was wired partially shut--and one side of his face was swollen and bruised. His left arm was in a cast. Just seeing him with these injuries unloosed all the grief in her heart. She couldn't bear the thought of the man she loved in such pain.

He glanced up and smiled crookedly. "Would you care to join me?" he asked, gesturing to the opposite side of the table. His voice was slightly muffled, and he seemed to have some difficulty speaking.

Leanne tried to respond, but couldn't. After two or three futile attempts, she finally managed to ask, "What are you doing here?"

She hadn't meant to sound unwelcoming, but thankfully he didn't take offence.

"I came to see you."

That was the only logical explanation and yet she couldn't understand it. A hundred questions circled her mind and she could hardly sort out which one to ask first.

All of a sudden, it became more important to tell him one simple truth than to ask any of her questions. "I love you," she whispered brokenly. "I never stopped loving you. We both made mistakes--"

"We did," he said and, reaching across the table with his free hand, he took hers. Like teenagers they held hands, fingers gripping tightly.

For a long moment neither spoke.

"You went to stay with my parents," he eventually said.

A huge lump had formed in her throat and all she could do was nod.

"Dad said you kept their spirits up until Denise got there."

"I tried," she said hoarsely.

"While I was held captive, all I could think about was you," Mark told her. His thumb grazed the top of her hand. "It didn't matter how often they beat me, I kept telling myself I had to stay alive because I needed to get home to you."

"You're home now." She placed her other hand over their clasped ones.

"There's never been anyone but you, Leanne. There never will be anyone but you."

"Why did you ever say otherwise?" He'd withdrawn those words, but the lie still upset her.

"I was afraid you might come back, and I wouldn't have the strength to send you away a second time."

"Oh, Mark."

"I knew it was wrong. The hurt in your eyes tormented me for days. That's why I sent you that letter. I was always faithful to you, Leanne. Then and now."

She leaned forward and touched her forehead to his.

"The doctors said I shouldn't come, but I couldn't stay away any longer."

She laid her hand lightly on his swollen jaw. "Oh, Mark." Chills shot through her at the thought of his suffering.

His hand covered hers, and he brushed the tears from her cheeks. "You are so beautiful."

Somehow she managed to laugh. "Sure I am. My eyes are red and watering and my nose is probably running."

"Beautiful," he insisted.

All of a sudden Leanne sensed someone behind her. She twisted around and saw Denise.

"Do you two lovebirds want me to disappear for a while or is it safe to join you?"

Leanne stood and hugged her sister-in-law.

"She drove me over from Spokane," Mark explained. "I flew in yesterday," he added.

"He would've found a way to get to you, with or without me. I figured it was the least I could do." She looked from one to the other. "I owe you both so much. I wanted to help fix things for you." A slow smile came into play. "Although I have to say you don't seem to need much help."

"Where are the girls?" Leanne asked.

"With Mom and Dad in Spokane."

Leanne sat down, her hand once again holding Mark's. She needed to be close to him, needed to touch him, in order to believe he was really here. With her.

"Did you ask her?" Denise directed the question to Mark. Then, not waiting for a response, she said, "As you might've noticed, it's a bit difficult for him to speak."

"Denise," Mark warned in a low growl.

His sister ignored him. "He wants to ask you to marry him, but first he wants to know if you're interested in that doctor you mentioned. I told him you weren't, but he wants to hear it from you."

"Denise!" This time his growl was louder.

"Oh, hush. If I left this to you, you'd mess it up for sure." Denise winked at Leanne. "You love my brother, don't you?"

"Yes," Leanne said, laughing softly.

"Told you so," Mark's sister said to him in a know-it-all tone. She turned to Leanne. "And you'd remarry him in a heartbeat."

"I would."

"That's what I thought." She exhaled loudly. "Well, then, my work here is done. Oh, just one more thing."

"What?" Mark said impatiently.

"My girls could do with a cousin. Don't keep them waiting too long."

Mark gave a strangled laugh. "We'll get on that."

"Yes, we will," Leanne promised.

Her soon-to-be husband raised her palm to his lips and dropped a kiss there.

Leanne had her husband back, and her world had been set right. This time she wasn't taking anything for granted. This time, when they spoke their vows, it would be forever.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The first week after Macy left town, I went to her house every day. On the weekend, I was there two or three times. When it became apparent that she truly meant what she'd said and would be gone for an extended period, I cut back on my visits.

The second week I came by twice. A man on the neighborhood watch committee questioned me one evening. After that, I figured I'd better make myself scarce.

The third week, I was over only once and then, after a month, I didn't go back. Yes, Macy had meant what she'd said. I tucked the ring in the back of a drawer and tried to forget about it. I should have returned it; sooner or later I would.

My only consolation came from Harvey. I spoke to him every day that first week, although it did little good. The two of us were like wolves howling at the moon, miserable and lost without Macy. I have to admit that by the end of July I was pretty pathetic.

"Has she ever done anything like this before?" I asked her cantankerous next-door neighbor that first week. I recalled that day in mid-June, when she'd taken off and not come home until evening.

"Oh, she'd leave for a few hours when she got upset. She has that place she goes when she needs to think, but she's never been gone this long. My guess is she went somewhere else," Harvey said.