Page 225 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

She opened her eyes. Seeking her forgiveness—being granted it—was one thing, but assuming that all of a sudden everything had swung back one hundred and eighty degrees when he had clearly come looking for her to sign divorce papers?

No, no and no.

She put one hand to her head, the other low over her still flat belly where her babies resided, battling to make sense of it. ‘So now you want to forget about the divorce? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘We’re married,’ he growled, as if she didn’t already know. ‘And you’re having my babies. What would be the sense of getting divorced now? You can’t shut me out again. I refuse to be shut out. Can’t you see it’s for the best if we stay together?’

For the best.

And that was the only reason?

This time Mari turned away, gave a final nod of respect to the headstone at the top of the tiny grave and headed back down the grassed path. Because it was the wrong answer and there was no point continuing the conversation.

‘Marianne,’ he called, chasing after her. ‘Surely you see it makes sense.’

Mari ploughed on, her hands plunged deep in her jacket pockets. Maybe his words did make a kind of sense, if you were other people in different circumstances, but they didn’t make the right kind of sense to her.

‘It’s Mari!’ she called over her shoulder. ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’ Because she wasn’t that naïve young woman she’d been back then. And the jigsaw pieces of a horrible parallel between twenty years ago and now were starting to fit together.

Twenty years ago, Dom had professed his love for her, and yet abandoned her, now saying if only he’d known she was pregnant he would have been at her side in a heartbeat.

And now he’d turned up with legal papers to divorce her and to terminate their rushed marriage. Only to relent when he’d discovered she was pregnant.

Then and now.

Maybe those disparate situations weren’t that far apart after all.

Marianne was on a mission, striding away as if she had the devil himself behind her. What the hell was wrong with her? Dom was no devil. Hadn’t he said he’d be there for her and for their babies?

He finally caught up with her close to the cemetery gates.

‘What did I say?’

‘Will you please just take me home?’

‘Seriously, Marianne. One moment you’re telling me you’re forgiving me for past sins—that we were both responsible—and in the next I’ve made some kind of heinous mistake.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And now can I go home?’

They hadn’t made it to the car when Mari took the call. The caller ID told her it came from Eric Cooper, but the voice was female. But not Helen, his wife. Sandra, the caller identified herself, Eric and Helen’s daughter.

‘Mari,’ she said, is that you?’

Mari’s heart lurched. Her feet stumbled on the path. Please God, no, she thought, anticipating—dreading—why this woman would be calling her. Surely not already. Not so soon.

‘It’s Dad—Eric,’ Sandra said. ‘I’m so sorry to call you, but Dad passed away peacefully two days ago. You were on his list of people to contact with the news.’

Mari stood stock still, listening as Sandra filled her in with the details of Eric’s upcoming funeral.

‘I’ll be there,’ she said, her throat choking. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’

‘Who was that?’ Dom asked.

‘Eric Cooper’s daughter,’ she said, bitterness infusing her words.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Eric died two days ago.’

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