Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(91)

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.