“Flann’s show.”

Carrie laughed. “Isn’t it usually with the two of you?”

“More or less.”

“I didn’t see much of you yesterday at the barbecue. Or Mari.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Something happened?”

Glenn watched a fat gray cat, one of half a dozen who lived in the big barn in the adjacent field, stalk a bird that teased it by repeatedly flying just out of reach before landing again. “No.”

“Oh.” Carrie stretched both legs down to the lower step, leaned back on her arms, and tilted her face up to the sun. She was beautiful, her red hair catching the light and gleaming with hidden strands of gold. “Because I thought there might be something going on.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Why isn’t there?”

“What?”

Carrie snorted. “Come on, Glenn. She’s been watching you and liking what she saw. And yesterday you were definitely looking back.”

“You should leave this one alone, Carrie.”

“You’re both family, you know.”

“All the more reason not to go there.”

Glenn stood and Carrie looked up at her. “Someday, Glenn, you’re going to need to let someone in.”

“Not everyone believes in happy endings, Carrie.” Glenn jogged down the path toward her Jeep.

“Life is what you make it,” Carrie called after her.

Glenn drove away, wishing she believed that.

Chapter Twenty-two

Mari worked nights all week, and the only time she saw Glenn was at shift changeover on the mornings Glenn worked. Then their exchanges were all business and took place in the conference room with half a dozen other people. Hardly the place to discuss the kiss that was almost more, not that she really wanted to revisit a scene that still left her confused and unsettled. Every night she expected to see Glenn show up for her usual spot drop-ins, but she never did. Toward the end of the week, she overheard two of the nurses mention it was odd Glenn hadn’t been around, and they laughingly conjectured maybe she’d finally gotten a girlfriend.

Mari tried not to think about that conversation, and especially tried not to imagine Glenn with another woman, kissing another woman with that most amazingly soft, incredibly knowing mouth. She didn’t have very good luck. She kept trying to pinpoint the exact moment when everything had gotten out of hand between them—and just how much she had been responsible for the disaster. Of course, the first kiss was probably the mistake, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it. She’d been kissed before, but never like that. Never so thoroughly, so tenderly, so forcefully, so…right. Glenn’s kiss had been so much more than a kiss, and Mari had been touched by so much more than just the sensual glide of her teasing caresses. Somehow Glenn had managed to make her feel exciting and excited, desirable and so eager for more of…everything. Glenn’s presence, as much as her touch, had ignited some slumbering part of her and awakened a fervor in her body and her heart to experience life at the peak of passion. Beyond the safety net of caution. And of course, she couldn’t, could she. Not now, not yet. Not when she’d barely begun to let herself hope the nightmare was over.

Mari sighed, shelved the last chart from a surprisingly quiet Friday night shift, and watched the clock tick ever closer to seven a.m. Antonelli came into the break room and dropped into a chair beside her.

“Did you finish your backlog of discharge dictations?” Mari asked.

He shook his head. “I got tied up playing Pokémon.”

She laughed. “Do you rule?”

He grinned, looking boyishly handsome and not the least bit apologetic about ditching his paperwork. “But of course.”

“Just remember, if you don’t do your charts, I’ll have to—and if it comes to that, you could find yourself working a lot of nights and weekends. I make the schedule, remember.” Mari’s threat was an empty one, since she knew he’d get the charts done by the deadline, but it didn’t hurt to make him at least think she was immune to his charm. Unlike every other woman in his universe, apparently.

“As long as it isn’t this weekend. My kid sister is home on leave for two weeks, so I’ll be spending most of the weekend at my parents’. Big family get-together.”

Mari’s heart hurt for an instant. Weekends had always meant family time for her too, until first her illness and then her estrangement from those closest to her put an end to the easy sharing. “She’s in the Army?”

“Marines,” he said proudly. “The little squirt managed to work her way into a Huey command and flies support for Special Ops in…well, over there.”

“We’ll get you out of here ASAP, then.”

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat and looked away briefly. “So. How about you? Doing something fun with the rest of your weekend?”

“Nothing special.” Mari envisioned the weekend spreading slowly before her and tried again not to think of Glenn, who she knew was off call as well. She’d checked the schedule more than once, just to see her name in print. Lord, really silly, but she couldn’t make herself stop. “Still unpacking, decorating. You know.”

“Boy, that sounds lame. You want to come home with me? Always got plenty of food.”

Mari’s throat closed. The kindness of strangers—but Antonelli wasn’t a stranger any longer. Their shared struggles and triumphs had forged a real bond between them. “I’d love to, but maybe not on a special weekend like this one. Rain check?”

“Sure. My mom will try to talk you into marrying me, though.”

Mari laughed. “I wouldn’t want to give her false hope.”

He grinned and shot her another sure-to-melt-most-girls’-hearts look just as Abby appeared in the doorway.

Abby asked, “You two have anything to sign out?”

“I’ve got a thirty-three-year-old in cubicle two,” Mari said. “We’re waiting on micro to report on the urinalysis. Probably just a straightforward UTI.”

“Got it.”

Antonelli straightened, coming to attention unconsciously in his chair. “The guy in six is admitted and waiting for a surgical bed and observation. Probable diverticulitis. They’re trying to quiet it down with antibiotics and fluids.”

“Did he get his first dose of IV meds yet?” Abby asked.

“Yep—triples, all charted.”

“Good. Who’s on call for surgery?”

“Beecher.”

“Did she say she’d be in to see him?” Abby asked.

“Said she’d be by on rounds later this morning.”

“Good enough, then. See you both Monday. Get out of here.”

Antonelli scraped back his chair, got to his feet, and shot past Abby out the door.

“How’s it going?” Abby asked as Mari rose.

“Fine,” Mari said. “How are Blake and Margie doing with their volunteering?”

If Abby noticed her quick change in subject, she let it pass. “They’d stay here around the clock if I let them. They both remind me of Glenn.” She frowned. “Come to think of it, where is she? I haven’t seen much of her all week, and she hasn’t called Flann once in the middle of the night. Did you ban her from lurking here at night?”

Mari forced a smile. “Not guilty! Maybe she’s finally decided to trust the rest of us to take care of things all by ourselves.”

“If she has, it’ll be the first time ever.” Abby laughed. “But I do think it says a lot she’s giving up a little control when you’re on call. She obviously respects your judgment.”

“I hope so,” Mari said, knowing that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’d amply demonstrated just how bad her judgment was in Glenn’s bedroom. Still, she trusted Glenn not to let their personal crossed signals impact their professional relationship. Glenn was too clearheaded and much too honest for that. “She sets some pretty high standards for everyone.”

“None more than for herself,” Abby said, “but you meet them just fine. Oh, by the way, Presley reminded me to let you know you’re invited to the wedding. She just assumed you knew that, and then realized you ought to get a formal invitation. Consider this formal.”

“Oh, but I hardly know anyone!”

“Hey, you’re part of the planning committee now. You have to be there.”

“Then yes,” Mari said softly, “I’d love to come.”

“Great! Carrie will fill you in on the specifics.” Abby waved and turned to go. “Have fun this weekend.”

Mari didn’t answer. She didn’t have the energy to pretend any longer.

*

Mari changed into jeans, a lime-green ribbed tank top, and sneakers in the locker room and tried not to look for Glenn as she walked through the ER on her way out. She couldn’t really help herself, even though Glenn wasn’t on call and, of course, was not around. Hope was hardest to kill when you didn’t actually want to feel any.

Traffic was heavier than usual on a weekend morning, and as she approached the unofficial commons, a grassy three-square-block area in the center of town where people frequently sunbathed or sat about on blankets picnicking or simply relaxing, a huge red hot-air balloon with brilliant blue and yellow stripes lofted into the sky. A roar went up from somewhere just ahead and drew her in that direction. The quiet commons had been transformed. A carnival-like atmosphere encompassed the place—adults congregated with cups of coffee while dogs and children ran about. Food tents offering hot breakfasts, fresh baked goods, and luscious-looking fruit ringed half the square, and half a dozen balloons in various stages of inflation were tethered in the center. A big sign announced the two-day balloon festival. She didn’t know how she’d missed news of the event, but working nights had given her a good excuse to avoid everyone all week.

Now the tantalizing smell of bacon frying drew her to a tent, and she purchased an egg and bacon sandwich on a fresh-baked biscuit. She actually felt hungry for the first time in a week.