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“The one bright side I can see to your story is that you had wonderful grandparents who were willing to take you in.”
“I know. That’s a blessing I give thanks for every day.” He examined their entwined fingers, then looked back at her. “I’m sure adoption was no picnic, but it sounds like you ended up with wonderful parents too.”
At the sudden pivot in the conversation, Bri’s pulse lost its rhythm again. “I did. The best.”
“How old were you when you were adopted?”
“Six.”
“May I ask what happened to your parents?”
She gripped her soda can with her free hand. Of course he’d be curious about that. Anyone would be.
But the thought of answering that question set off a blender in her stomach.
“Hey.” He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand.“We can save this for another day if you prefer. I already dumped a boatload of heavy stuff on you. It may not be a bad idea to let all that settle out before we—” He stopped. Pulled out his phone. Frowned at the screen. “Normally I wouldn’t check this in the middle of a conversation like we’re having, but I’m trying to be available for Nan. This is her.”
“Answer it, by all means.” She started to rise, but he tightened his grip.
“Don’t leave.” He put the cell to his ear. “Hi, Nan. What’s up? ... Never too busy to talk to you ... Uh, no.” He glanced down at their entwined hands. “Nothing that can’t wait a minute ... Sure, I can pick that up ... Got it. I’ll get two for you ... You’re not. See you soon.”
As he ended the call and slid the cell back into his pocket, the gist of the one-sided conversation wasn’t hard to grasp. Marc’s grandmother needed something, and their impromptu pizza dinner was coming to an end.
In other words, she’d been granted a reprieve.
So why wasn’t she as thrilled about the delay as she should be?
“Do you mind if we continue this conversation another day? The backup tube of skin cream Nan thought she had is nowhere to be found, and the radiation burns are bothering her. She’s ready to go to bed, but she won’t be able to sleep until she gets some relief.” He rose.
“No problem.” Bri freed her hand and stood too, still sorting through her odd reaction to the delay. Heck, a few minutes ago she hadn’t even been certain she was willing to tell Marc her story. What was with this vague sense of letdown?
“You want to pick this up tomorrow?” Marc pulled his jacket from the back of the chair. “I’ll be free once Nan goes down for a nap after church.”
“Um ... I’m booked in the afternoon.”
“Meeting your siblings for a family meal again?” He shruggedinto the jacket and settled it on his shoulders, brushing off a wayward speck of soot.
“No. That’s a once-a-month date. I volunteer through church with a group that does chores for people who could use a helping hand. Most are older. My assignment tomorrow is fall yard cleanup for an elderly man who isn’t quite up to that job anymore.”
Creases appeared on his brow. “Areyouup to it, after everything that happened today?”
From anyone else, that question would activate her bristly defense mechanisms.
Strange that it didn’t with Marc.
“I can manage yard work.” Though it would leave her aching by evening.
“Would another pair of hands speed up the job?”
She did a double take. “You’re volunteering to give up your Sunday afternoon to do yard work?”
“I wish I could claim my offer was motivated by altruism, but in the interest of candor, my reasons are more selfish. I’d like to spend a few hours with you tomorrow and continue our interrupted conversation.”
That wasn’t a bad trade-off. If Marc helped, she’d be less sore tomorrow night. Besides, putting off her story wasn’t going to make the telling any easier.
“Sold.”
“I could swing by and pick you up around one.”
