Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(30)

So Leanne was going to Yakima. She dressed carefully, choosing tailored pants and a silk blouse Mark had purchased for her the last Christmas they were together. She hoped it would be a reminder of happier times. He wouldn't want to see her; returning her letters and not calling or visiting since his release made it more than clear. Still, that didn't deter her.

Despite everything, she wanted him to ask her to reconsider, to give their relationship another shot. Almost two years had passed and maybe, just maybe, they could start again. But the request had to come from him, and Leanne knew there wasn't much likelihood of that.

He'd done nothing but shove her away from the moment he'd surrendered to the authorities. He'd let her know, through his attorney, that he didn't want to see her at the jail or in court. Leanne had complied, out of anger and hurt feelings. Later, she decided that he'd wanted to separate her from this scandal as much as he could. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Today she was about to confront Mark for the first time since his sentencing.

She set off, considering the sequence of events that had brought her to this point. It seemed only minutes later that she was over Snoqualmie Pass on I-90. The next two hours passed quickly as she took the exit in Ellensburg and headed toward Yakima. Before long, thirty minutes or so from where she'd left I-90, she arrived at the freeway exit. The address she'd put into her GPS led her to a small apartment complex in a neglected part of the city. The two-story structure was badly in need of renovation. The outside railing had once been brown, but was now rusted where the paint had peeled off. Mark's apartment was on the upper level.

Leanne parked the car and sat inside it for several minutes, gathering her courage. Her stomach was queasy. She had to do this, she told herself. Had to know. Had to make one last effort.

Before she lost her nerve, she slid out of the car, squared her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. As she climbed the rickety steps to the upper level, she held on to the handrail, although it was too shaky to provide much support.

Standing outside his apartment door, she rang the bell. No response.

Foolish though it seemed, she'd never considered that Mark might not be home. Then it occurred to her that the doorbell might be defective, as everything else at this complex seemed to be. She knocked hard. If Mark was inside, he had to know there was someone at his door.

"Hold on."

Hearing his voice after all this time startled her. He sounded angry, gruff, unlike the man she'd known and loved. But after a year in prison she had to assume he was no longer the man she remembered. Tightening her jaw, she stepped back and waited. She had only a few seconds to compose herself before the door was flung open.

Mark stood on the other side and it would've been difficult to say who was more surprised. Her assumption was correct, at least with regard to his appearance, which was completely altered. The neat, clean-cut accountant she'd married bore little resemblance to the man who faced her now.

His hair grew over his ears and it didn't look as if he'd shaved in two or three days. He wore a faded T-shirt and jeans. His eyes were sunken and his expression was that of a man without hope.

For an instant, the tiniest moment, she was sure his gaze softened as he recognized her.

"Leanne." Her name was more breath than sound. He recovered from his shock, and his eyes hardened. "What are you doing here?"

She disregarded the lack of welcome. "I'd like to talk, if that would be possible?" Right away she realized she shouldn't have added the last part.

"Everything that needed to be said was said a long time ago."

Leanne refused to be so easily dissuaded. "Could I come inside?"

"No. I'm not receiving company." His voice was brusque. Sarcastic.

"Oh."

Mark stared at her. "Why are you here?"

At one time he'd been gentle, but it seemed that every bit of tenderness he possessed had been ground out of him. He held himself stiffly on the other side of the threshold.

"We never talked about...any of this."

"No need. It's too late now. We're divorced. Our marriage is over and the sooner you realize that, the better."

"You should've told me." This was an old argument and one he obviously didn't want to hear. She'd begged him incessantly to explain, back when he was out on bail awaiting his hearing.

"I don't want you here," he said. He looked around, then briefly closed his eyes. "You don't belong in this place. Just leave--and don't come back."

Her throat had closed up so tightly it was impossible to speak. Although he was outwardly angry, Leanne had to believe their love wasn't entirely dead. At the very least, she had to give it every chance to resuscitate itself, even if their relationship changed in the process, as it inevitably would.

"I don't think it's too late. We can talk, work this out, the way we should have in the beginning," she said urgently. Perhaps if she was willing to share her own regrets, Mark would acknowledge the role he'd played in all this.

"You did us both a favor," he said, backing away from her. "You weren't the only one who wanted out of the marriage."

"I don't believe that." It was a lie, and she refused to accept it.

"Believe whatever you like," he said coldly. He betrayed himself, however, when his eyes couldn't seem to meet hers.