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Deidre snorted and gave him a playful slap on the arm. “Who’d have guessed there was an ornery big brother under the facade of a Cook County prosecutor and U.S. senator-to-be?”
She was feeling a little more heartened by the time they left Riley with her nanny and got in a cab. Christmas Eve was definitely in the air, she realized as the cabdriver pulled off the inner drive and into the bustling downtown area. Michigan Avenue was packed with last-minute shoppers and tourists. Christmas lights shone on every tree lining the street. The tiny, white lights, not the old-fashioned color ones, Deidre realized.
She tried to ignore the pang of melancholy that went through her when she thought of Nick’s and her Christmas tree standing dark and silent in the Cedar Cottage living room.
All during the concert she had to suppress an urge to ask her brother what the right thing to do was in regard to Nick, her mother...her entire future. She didn’t really expect Marc to give her a cut-and-dried answer, but she couldn’t help but wish for the impossible.
Mari was going to pick up her brother Ryan at the airport following the concert, so Marc and Deidre returned to the townhouse to get things ready for their arrival. Riley was taking a nap, so they relieved the nanny and followed a couple mealtime preparation instructions Mari had given them. Afterward, they concentrated on whipping the house into a festive condition.
“Why don’t you just spill it, Dee,” Marc said dryly as he built a fire in the living room and Deidre lit all the Christmas lights.
“Spill what?” Deidre asked, turning toward him. She grabbed her cup of hot apple cider off the mantel and sat down in a chair before the fireplace.
“You were practically vibrating during the concert you were thinking so hard. Why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind?” Marc said. He gave the flickering logs and kindling one last poke and tossed the fire iron aside before he took a seat next to her.
She bit her bottom lip uncertainly.
“I’ve never been undecided in my life,” she sighed. “The right choice always seemed so clear to me. I knew without a doubt I wanted to practice nursing, even more specifically, emergency and trauma medicine. I knew I wanted to serve in the military in combat, where my skills would be most needed. I knew I was right in keeping my distance from Mom....” She trailed off hesitantly, but Marc didn’t interrupt her thought process. “Or at least, I thought I was right. I suppose I just wish the right choices were as clear to me now as they have been in the past.”
“I got the impression from something Mom said the other day that you and she had b
een spending some time together. How was that for you?” Marc asked.
“Uncomfortable at first. But it was getting better. Much better,” she said softly, watching as the fire spread through the kindling. She sighed. “Sometimes I wish I could just go back to the Middle East or Europe...forget this whole bizarre situation with Lincoln making me an heiress...forget...”
“Nick Malone?”
Deidre glanced at her brother. He looked carelessly handsome sitting there in his shirtsleeves and dress pants. It struck her that he was starting to look very much like Derry Kavanaugh had in his prime—confident and easy with himself, the type of man people instinctively trusted and respected. Her heart seemed to squeeze in her chest at the poignant realization of the inevitable passage of time.
“You think I was a fool to ever trust Nick, don’t you?”
Marc didn’t respond immediately. She could sense him choosing his words in the silence.
“You’re wondering if you can trust him,” Marc said. “I can’t be the one to tell you that, Deidre. Only you can know that. I have faith in you, if that helps any.”
She met his stare and smiled. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said with a small grin.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment.
“Do you think that Mom and Dad trusted each other after their affairs...I mean, really trusted?” Deidre asked him.
Marc inhaled slowly. “Mom has told me that she took a vow to forget the past and move ahead with Dad. I believe it was true on both of their parts. I never caught the slightest hint when I was a kid that they weren’t completely devoted to each other,” Marc said. “Did you?”
Deidre shook her head, staring at the growing flames. “That’s what made discovering the truth about Lincoln that much more devastating.”
Marc grunted in agreement.
“Poor Dad. I can’t imagine how it must have hit him,” she whispered.
Marc’s head came around.
“You and Dad always had a special bond,” Marc said. “The tragedy was, Dad never lived to come to terms with the truth and recognize you would always be his daughter. Always.”
“Do you think he would have eventually understood that?” Deidre asked in a hushed tone.
“I have no doubt,” Marc said firmly. “Did I ever tell you that Dad and I had a stupid argument before he died? We fought about where I should go to law school. For a few years afterward, I was haunted by the idea that a petty fight was our last interaction. Did he die with anger in his heart toward me? Over time, I’ve realized the insignificant spats of a minute or a day can’t begin to diminish the ocean of love a parent has for a child. Having Riley assured me of that.” He met Deidre’s gaze. “You were Derry Kavanaugh’s daughter. That was what was truly in his heart when he died. That, and all his love for you.”
