A Brush of Wings (12 page)

A smile lifted the corners of his lips. Success. Beck slid his wallet back in his pants, walked inside the airport, headed for the men’s restroom, and disappeared.

8

M
ARY CATHERINE FELT SORRY
for the people behind her. She’d never seen such a holdup—especially checking bags curbside. The poor businessman couldn’t have been more flustered. But none of it bothered Mary Catherine. God had allowed this trip to Africa. Nothing could touch her peace and excitement about all that lay ahead.

The skycap was helping her with her third bag when she heard someone run up behind her and touch her elbow.
The businessman again,
she thought. But when she turned around she gasped. “Marcus . . .”

He hugged her, breathless. His words were soft, for her alone. “I can’t believe I found you.”

Was she dreaming? Could he really be here? And why had he come when . . . “How did you . . . ?”

“We had the day off.” He seemed suddenly aware of the line behind them. “Finish with your bags.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “We need to talk.”

Butterflies filled her stomach, and she could feel her heart beating hard against her chest. He had come all the way from Arizona to Nashville for this? To be with her for an hour? She could barely collect her boarding passes and tip the skycap. Her knees trembled as Marcus took her hand and led her inside the airport.

The terminal was loud and chaotic, but they found a couple of seats in a quiet alcove adjacent to the ticketing area. Mary Catherine couldn’t believe this was happening, that he was really here. “Is everything okay?” She turned her knees toward him and searched his face.

“Yes.” He smiled, but the look in his eyes was deeper than before, more intense. He took hold of her hands. “How long before you have to get through security?”

She checked her time. “Forty-five minutes.”

“Perfect.” His expression relaxed. “Sami told me what time your flight was leaving for New York.” He laughed. “My flight was delayed out of Arizona and by the time I got here, I figured I’d missed you.”

Mary Catherine grinned. “When do you go back?”

“Three hours.”

“What?” Her face felt flushed but she didn’t mind. He’d come to see her and he was here. For now, nothing else mattered. She laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“I probably looked it.” Something about his smile made the moment feel personal. “Ran up and down the line and then it hit me. Maybe you were checking your bags outside.”

He talked about his week, spring training, and he asked about hers. “Of course”—he laughed again—“all I wanted to do was get on a plane and get those shots. I can’t move to Africa without them.”

He laughed and the conversation continued. Mary Catherine checked her phone. Ten minutes had passed, then twenty. Time was slipping through their hands and still she wasn’t completely sure why he had come. Especially after she’d been so clear last time that they needed to move on.

“It’s so good to see you, Mary Catherine.” The sincerity in his eyes was a window to his soul. “I prayed I’d find a way.”

Mary Catherine thought about the businessman. If he hadn’t cut in front of her and made such a scene trying to find his claim ticket, Marcus would’ve missed her. “I guess . . . God answered.”

“He did.” He ran his thumbs over her hands. “When you wouldn’t answer my emails, I was worried. I couldn’t let you go all the way to Uganda without making sure you were okay. And without being very clear . . . about how I feel.”

A dizziness swept over her. Every word he spoke was balm to her soul. Listening to his calming voice and savoring the way he made her feel loved. Looking into his handsome face. She wanted to cancel her flight and stay with him forever.

Wherever he went, however long she had.

Mary Catherine blinked and tried to keep her senses in order. “You said you wanted to talk.” The noisy crowds from the nearby terminal seemed to fade. Right here, right now it was just him and her.

“I do.” His expression was serious. “I had to know what was wrong . . . and I had to tell you something.”

A thread of anxiety wove itself through the moment. He hadn’t come all this way for an hour just because he was worried about her. Whatever else was on his mind, she was about to find out. “Tell me what?” She studied him. “Why did you come here? Really?”

The easy sparkle in his eyes was gone now. “Can I hug you first?”

Hugging him was all she’d wanted to do since she first saw his face. “Please.”

He helped her to her feet and like a scene from a movie they came together, no longer aware of anyone or anything around them. In his arms she felt small and safe, whole and well. As if they really might have forever to fall in love and live a life together. She breathed in the smell of his shampoo, the freshness of his skin.

With the greatest tenderness he placed his hands on either side of her face and first he kissed her cheek. “You captivate me, Mary Catherine.”

A whirling sense of wonder and joy swirled around her, enveloping the moment and making Mary Catherine more aware of him. “I’m sorry.” She breathed the words against his face.

“Don’t be.” This time he kissed her lips.

Mary Catherine knew better. She was wrong to captivate him, wrong to kiss him. But she couldn’t help herself.
Just for this hour,
she told herself.
Just this one last time
.

He was looking at her, and she felt lost in his eyes.
That’s all,
she told herself. She couldn’t do this. She forced herself to press back just an inch or so. Enough so she could catch her breath and find her common sense. “The reason . . . you’re here?”

Again he looked serious. They lowered themselves to the seats again, and once more he took her hands in his. He pursed his lips and exhaled as if he needed a minute to collect his thoughts.

“Well . . .” He leaned his forearms on his knees, his face closer than before. “I’m in a tough spot. I needed to know you were okay. And I couldn’t figure things out until I saw you again.” He hesitated. “Until I looked in your eyes and really talked to you.”

A tough spot?
Please, God, give me the words to end things with him. I need to release him.
She blinked and shook her head. She checked her phone again. They had seven minutes before she needed to leave. “I . . . I’m not sure what you mean?”

For a long time he didn’t say anything. Finally he narrowed his eyes. “See, I understand what you’ve said.” He still had hold of her hands. “You want to be friends, you’re not interested in dating.” A sigh slid through his lips. “I’ve heard you each time, Mary Catherine.”

She nodded. Her mouth was dry. Words wouldn’t come even if she could think of something to say.

“But every day I’ve thought about this, how I feel for you, what I believe you feel for me.” He paused. Then very gently he lifted one of her hands to his lips and kissed it. When his eyes met hers again it looked like his heart was breaking. “The thing is . . . I don’t want to date you.”

Mary Catherine could feel her heart beating hard, racing just beneath her skin. “You don’t?”

“No.” He lowered her hand again, his eyes never leaving hers. “I want to marry you.”

The walls began moving toward her, closing in, suffocating her. A part of her wanted to twirl around in joy and tell him yes! Yes, she wanted to marry him, too! But the whole thing was impossible. She was the girl who had never been asked to the prom, the one who had found a way to love life despite being alone. And now she was about to realize her greatest dream by moving to Africa.

And Marcus wanted to marry her?

Nothing about her situation would allow it. Marriage was absolutely impossible, and now . . . now her words would hurt both of them.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Had the air left the building, or was it her lungs? She couldn’t take a full breath.

“Mary Catherine, talk to me.” Marcus hesitated, as if he was searching for the right words. “I’m not saying marry me now. But in a year, maybe. When you come back.” His voice was quieter, so soft that Mary Catherine could barely hear it. “Please. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Her heart was racing now, faster than before. Nothing about this was good for her, minutes before boarding. She hung her head and searched for something to say, whatever might be the least painful. But it was too late for that. “Marcus, I’m so sorry.” She lifted her head and looked at him. “I’ve told you.”

“I know.” A hint of frustration colored his tone. He seemed to will himself to stay calm. “But I thought maybe . . . if you knew how serious I was . . .”

“That doesn’t change the situation.” She glanced around the airport, desperate to make him believe her. “I’m not the marrying type, okay?” She steadied her gaze at him. “I don’t want a house in the suburbs or the picket fence. I want this.” She blinked a few times. “Adventure, travel, mission work. Uganda. Where I can make a difference.” That part was true. But she hated doing it again, leaving out the most important part, the truth about her health.

Marcus waited a minute, watching her, as if he was trying to grasp the finality of her declaration. Slowly he released her hands and leaned back in the seat. He looked like he wanted to argue with her, or debate the truth in what she said. Instead he stayed quiet.

The ache in Mary Catherine’s heart was worse than anything she’d ever felt. She wanted only to be in his arms once more. But she couldn’t let that happen. Never again. She leaned forward, searching his eyes. “Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “You have to go.”

They were always saying goodbye. A sudden strange awkwardness clouded the air around them. “I told you, Marcus.” Tears choked her voice before they reached her eyes. “If there was anyone, if I wanted that life, there would only be you.”

After having her hands in his for so long, she felt distant now. Like there was already a continent between them. He looked like he might just turn and walk away. But then the depth in his eyes returned and he embraced her a final time. But already things were different. His hug was different. More like a brother bidding his sister goodbye as she went off to college.

In his arms for the last time, Mary Catherine spoke in little more than a whisper. “Please understand, Marcus. I’m sorry.” Two tears slid down her cheeks. “I’m telling you the truth. I’m just not the marrying type.” She was right. But not for the reasons she’d given him. She was dying. It’d be cruel to both of them to allow love now.

He looked at her then and spoke the first words he’d said since she turned him down. “You know something, Mary Catherine?”

She waited.

“I don’t believe you.” He leaned in and slowly kissed her cheek.

“Marcus, I—”

“I don’t.” He caught her tear with his thumb. “Your eyes say something else.” Tears gathered in his eyes, too. He smiled and stepped back, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Be safe.” A few steps farther and he mouthed one last word. “Goodbye.”

She raised her hand. “Bye.”

And then, like she’d done too many times already, she watched Marcus turn around and walk past the ticketing counter through the double doors and outside. She had no idea where he was going. He still had a few hours before his flight back to Arizona.

Her tears came harder then, and sobs overcame her.
Marcus . . . I didn’t mean it. You were right.
Mary Catherine wanted to run after him more than she wanted her next breath. She waited to see if he’d turn around and come back, if he’d beg her to be honest and tell him why she wouldn’t love him.

But this time he didn’t come for her. The beautiful unthinkable moment was over.

Mary Catherine dried her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater, took hold of her carry-on bag, and headed for security. Every step put distance between them. This time Marcus was truly a part of her past. Running after him would do neither of them any good. She had a plan, and she needed to work it. Africa would be her swan song, her final adventure, her last prayer.

But her final act of love was a sacrifice only she would understand.

Letting go of Marcus Dillinger.