Beth Kery – If You Come Back To Me (страница 3)

A huge sailboat float, surrounded by the smiling, waving men and women of the Arab-American Business Council, followed the marching band. Harbor Town was one of many quaint Michigan towns that lined the lakeshore, drawing vacationers from Detroit and Chicago and everywhere in between. A small population of Arab-Americans had settled in many lakeside communities over the past several decades. Harbor Town was often held up as a banner example of how a minority group could not only blend with a community, but enrich and improve it. Her parents had belonged to a Lebanese faction of eastern orthodox Christianity—the Maronites. Despite the minority status of their religion among Arab-Americans, Kassim and Shada Itani had taken comfort in having others around who shared so many common cultural elements.

“Oh, look! It’s Alex Kouri,” Mari exclaimed as a distinguished man in his sixties marched past. His eyes widened incredulously as his gaze landed on her, and he waved and mouthed her name.

Mr. Kouri had been one of her father’s closest friends. Both of them had been Detroit-based businessmen who had brought their families to Harbor Town for summer vacations. Mr. Kouri and her father would frequently drive back and forth together from Harbor Town to Dearborn, Michigan, on Friday and Sunday evenings, leaving their families to idle away the hot, summer weekdays while they worked at their corporate jobs.

Mari noticed how gray Mr. Kouri’s hair had become. That’s how her father would have looked, had he lived.

She saw a woman standing at the curb, her rapt attention on Mari and Eric, not on the parade. Still as nosey as ever, Mari thought with a flash of irritation, recognizing Esther Fontel, the old neighbor from Sycamore Avenue. The woman had once ratted her out to her parents when she observed Mari sneaking out her bedroom window and down the trusty old elm tree to join Marc on his motorcycle one hot summer night. Mari still recalled how angry her father had been, the hurt and the disappointment on her mother’s face.

Until she’d turned fifteen, Mari hadn’t fully understood the impact that her parents’ ethnicity and religious views would have on her. Her brother had dated and enjoyed any number of summertime, teenage dalliances in Harbor Town. When Mari became a young woman, however, she’d learned firsthand that Ryan and she would not be treated the same when it came to dating. Especially when it came to Marc Kavanaugh.

Marc and Ryan had been close friends since they were both ten years old. Her parents had actually both been very fond of Marc, and he was a regular visitor in the Itani vacation home.

But the summer Mari had turned fifteen, everything had changed—and Marc Kavanaugh had quickly moved to the top of her parents’ list of undesirable dating partners for Mari.

Mrs. Fontel looked pointedly across the street, and Mari followed her gaze. She stared, shock vibrating her consciousness. Two tall, good-looking men with healthy, golden tans and dark blond hair stood in the crowd. Her gaze stuck on the one with the short, wavy hair. He had a little girl perched on his shoulders.

He looked just as good in shorts and a T-shirt that skimmed his lean, muscular torso as he had in the gray suit he’d worn in Chicago, Mari thought dazedly.

Her glance flickered to the right of Liam and Marc, and Brigit Kavanaugh’s furious glare struck her like a slap to the face from an ice cold hand. Marc’s stare was fiercer, though. It seemed to bore right through her across the span of Main Street.

It felt like someone had reached inside her and twisted her intestines. He’d said he only returned to Harbor Town a few times a year, she thought wildly. What were the chances he’d be here for the same handful of days she was?

She shivered despite the heat. It was Independence Day. Tomorrow would be the anniversary of the crash. Perhaps the Kavanaughs had gathered to visit Derry Kavanaugh’s grave. Why hadn’t she considered that possibility?

She jerked her gaze back to the parade, making no sense of the flashing, moving, colorful scene before her eyes, still highly aware of him watching her. He’d always been able to melt her with those blue eyes. She could only imagine the effect they had on the people he’d cross-examined in the courtroom.

Mari had certainly felt the power of his stare during that night in Chicago.

He must be furious at her for not showing up at their agreed-upon lunch, for not returning his calls…especially after what had occurred between them in that hotel room.

“Well, if it isn’t Mari Itani,” Liam Kavanaugh drawled under his breath.

Marc followed Liam’s gaze, too surprised by his brother’s statement to comment at first. He immediately found Mari in the crowd. She wore her long hair up and a casual, yellow dress that tied beneath her full breasts in a bow. The garment set off Mari’s flawless, glowing skin to perfection. Not to mention what that innocent-seeming ribbon did to highlight the fullness of her curves.

“Mari Itani?” Marc’s sister Colleen asked incredulously from behind him. “Where?”

“Stop pointing, Liam,” Brigit Kavanaugh scolded when Liam tried to show his sister where Mari stood.

“Did you know she was back, Mom?” Marc asked sharply.

“I knew it. She’s just here to get the house in order before it goes on the market. Can’t believe she and Ryan have waited this long to sell it, but obviously they haven’t been hurting for money,” Brigit replied bitterly.

“Mommy, can we follow the parade down the street? I want to see Brendan again. He looked so funny,” Marc’s niece, Jenny, begged from her perch on his shoulders. Marc’s nephew, Brendan, had marched in the parade as part of the Harbor Town Swim and Dive Club.

Colleen laughed and reached up for her six-year-old daughter. Marc bent his knees to make the transfer easier.

“Aren’t you coming, Uncle Marc?” Jenny asked, tugging on his hand once her feet were firmly on the ground.

“I’ll stay here and keep Grandma company. Tell us if Brendan trips or anything,” Marc replied.

Jenny grinned broadly at the prospect and yanked her mother down the sidewalk.

Liam chuckled. “How come sisters always want to see their brothers humiliated?”

“Probably because brothers make it their mission to ignore their sisters,” Marc muttered, his gaze again fixed on the vision in yellow across the street.

“It looks like Mari grew up real nice,” Liam murmured as he rubbed his goatee speculatively. Liam wore sunglasses, but Marc sensed the appreciative gleam in his brother’s eyes as he studied Mari. When he saw Marc’s glare, Liam just raised his eyebrows in a playful expression that said loud and clear, so sue me for noticing the obvious.

He felt like he was still recovering from a sucker punch to the gut.

At first, he’d had the wild thought that her presence in Harbor Town was somehow related to what had happened in that hotel room in Chicago. When he saw how Mari made a point of avoiding his gaze, though, he wondered.

“Is Ryan with her?” Marc asked slowly, not liking the idea of Mari’s insolent brother residing down the street from his mom, even if it was just for a few nights. Ryan Itani’s behavior during the lawsuit hearings stood out as one of the worst in a collection of bad memories from that time of his life.

“No. Ryan’s still in the Air Force, doing a tour of duty in Afghanistan. I just heard Mari was here to sell the house, and I saw the car in the driveway, so I guess it’s true. It’s none of my business. I’m just relieved they’re finally selling. That house has been a blight on Sycamore Avenue for fifteen years now. Mari and Ryan wouldn’t even rent it out to vacationers.”

“You’d have just complained if they’d rented it out to vacationers, Ma. Besides, Joe Brown keeps the place in good shape.”

Liam paused when Brigit shot him an annoyed glance. Marc smirked at his brother. You walked right into that trap, sucker. Liam should have known better than to say something reasonable when it came to the topic of the Itanis. Hadn’t they learned years ago that when it came to matters of grief and loss, logic went the way of friendship, compassion…love?

Straight to hell, in other words.

“Who’s the guy with Mari?” Liam asked once their view was no longer obscured.

Marc froze. He’d been so focused on Mari he hadn’t noticed the tall, good-looking man standing next to her.

Brigit sniffed at Liam’s question.

“That’s Eric Reyes. He’s a doctor now. I’m sure Mari and him have plenty to talk about. Gloat over, more likely. I think I’ll go and catch up with Colleen. There’s nothing left to see here,” Brigit said before she departed in a huff. So that was Eric Reyes. The seething, skinny kid he recalled from the court battle for his father’s estate had grown into a formidable-looking man. Had his mother said doctor? Reyes must have used the money he’d received in the lawsuit to send himself to medical school.

Fury burned in his chest. Not about the lawsuit. He was a state’s attorney, after all, a victim’s advocate first and foremost. Marc had long ago come to terms with the fact that in catastrophes like the one his father had caused, the victims’ damages weren’t likely to be covered merely by insurance. A good portion of his father’s personal assets had been ordered liquidated and disbursed to the Itani and Reyes families.