Full Circle (48 page)

“What are you saying?” She didn’t dare hope
that she’d pulled her dad from the dark side to the Mark side.

Her dad leaned forward and rested his elbows
on his knees. “Karma, have I ever told you about how your mom and I
almost didn’t get married?”

She thought about it a second, surprised to
realize he hadn’t. “No.” She thought Mom and Dad had been solid
from the get-go.

He grinned, his forehead crinkling as if he’d
even forgotten this story until now. “Well, it’s true.” He leaned
back. “As you know, I met your mom while we were both in college.
She was a freshman. I was a senior.” His expression smoothed out as
if he were reliving fond memories. Then mirth twisted his mouth
into a lopsided smile. “Her dad didn’t like me, either. He said I
was too old for her.”

“Grandpa didn’t like you?” This came as a
shock. Her grandpa got along great with her dad now.

“Surprising, isn’t it, given how close we’ve
become? But yes, in the beginning, your grandpa and I didn’t get
along. He forbade your mom from seeing me. Said I was too old for
her. And when she transferred to Butler from Notre Dame so she
could come with me to Indianapolis after I graduated, her dad was
furious.” He grew quiet for a few seconds. “The pressure almost got
to your mom. During her first semester at Butler, I thought I might
lose her, especially when I was working long hours trying to make a
name for myself.”

“What did you do?”

“I wooed her. I refused to lose her. She was
my angel.” He smiled and gave her a meaningful glance. “A man can’t
lose his angel, Karma. He’ll never recover from that.”

He held her gaze for a long time then reached
for her hand. She slipped hers into his.

“Karma, I’ve not been Mark’s biggest fan.
I’ll admit that. But now that you’ve shared a bit of his story, I’m
sorry I haven’t given him more of a chance. I didn’t realize what
he’s been through.” He sighed, shaking his head. “And I can see how
much you love him and how he looks at you when you’re together.
Like at dinner that night at the restaurant. It was the way I used
to look at your mom.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re Mark’s angel,
honey. He won’t let you go. I guarantee it.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

He made a pained face then smiled again. “He
deserves a chance.”

This was more than she could have hoped for.
Her dad finally getting on board with her relationship and, in
effect, giving his blessing. She hopped off the couch and hugged
him. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re my baby, Karma, and I just want
what’s best for you. Sometimes I forget that you know what that is
better than I do.”

Karma breathed a sigh of relief. She’d won
her dad over. Now she just needed Mark to take care of his end.
Hopefully, he was doing that this very minute.

Chapter 34

Forgiveness is the most powerful thing you can do
for yourself on the spiritual path. If you can't learn to forgive,
you can forget about getting to higher levels of awareness.

-Wayne Dyer

Mark pulled up to Carol’s brownstone.

He was the epitome of self-control. The
physical embodiment of disciplined restraint. At one time, he’d
thought those characteristics were a good thing. Traits that served
him well in anything he chose to pursue.

He’d been wrong. Because the only thing he
wanted to pursue right now was Karma, and self-control and
disciplined restraint were anything but beneficial. They were a
curse. Tragic, destructive tools that destroyed the intimacy and
magic they shared. All because he couldn’t let go, couldn’t release
the past.

At one time, he thought he could force
Carol’s memory to remain buried in his mind. But guarding those
memories took energy. A lot of it, especially over the last few
months as his fears resurfaced. The expense of mental power
detracted from the affection he should have been showing his
fiancée . . . his future wife.

He gazed past the brick sidewalk and concrete
flower beds, still dormant from the previous winter, which was
finally abating in the Windy City, to the red brick building. The
bricks were more a peachy-pink than red, with a variety of
intricate detailing around the windows. A series of pale concrete
steps led to the inset, light-brown double doors, framed by a
concrete arch that mimicked columns on either side. Three red clay
flower pots sat on the top steps, near the handrails. Freshly
potted begonias soaked up the late afternoon sun.

The home was a substantial upgrade from the
brownstone she’d lived in while they were dating. She and Antonio
were obviously doing well for themselves.

Taking a deep breath, he forced down his
anxiety. He had to do this. It was time. Hell, it was way past
time. He and Carol should have had this conversation years ago.

He’d allowed Carol to contaminate his and
Karma’s home, their bedroom—
their bed
—long enough.

No more hiding.

No more dragging his feet.

No more letting the past dictate his
future.

There was only one way to make that happen.
And it stood behind those brown doors at the top of the steps.

Patting his pocket to check that the rings
and necklace were still there, he opened his door and made his way
up the sidewalk. He hadn’t willingly put himself in Carol’s path
since the day of their wedding. Every time he bumped into her, he
lost control of his emotions and his upchuck reflex, so this
meeting could go very badly if he wasn’t able to hold himself
together.

Before he started up the steps, he scanned up
and down the quiet Chicago street and rubbed his palms together
then wiped them down the front of his jacket.

No more fear. He couldn’t live in fear,
anymore.

Taking a deep breath, he strode up the
concrete stairs and pressed the doorbell.

Within seconds, he heard footsteps. Through
the thick glass panes, he saw Carol approach, and his heart did a
quick nosedive before he could stop it. He quickly picked it up and
slammed it back into his chest.

Calm the fuck down. She’s just another human. No one
special. Not anymore.

He heard her unlock three separate locks, and
then she pulled the door open.

Her wary eyes couldn’t meet his at first, and
then she smiled nervously and met his gaze before looking over his
shoulder to the street below. “Hi. You found the house okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

An awkward silence stretched between them.
Then she stepped aside and gestured for him to come in.

The mouthwatering scent of garlic and herbs
greeted him, and a moment later Antonio appeared at the far end of
the hall, wiping his hands on a towel as if he’d been cooking. A
round white table and dark grey chairs sat behind him. That must be
the kitchen.

Looked like Antonio was the chef in the
family. Interesting. Seemed they had something in common. A love of
cooking.

Antonio approached, tossing the towel over
his shoulder, and held out his right hand.

Mark took it, and for the first time in eight
years, he and Antonio shook hands.

“Mark,” Antonio said in greeting.

“Antonio.”

They studied each other for a moment.

“Smells good.” Mark nodded toward the
kitchen.

“Thanks.”

“What are you making in there?” He nodded
toward the kitchen. With his penchant for cooking, which he hadn’t
had near enough time to indulge with the busy schedule he’d been
keeping, he couldn’t resist engaging in a little culinary
chitchat.

“Homemade tortellini.”

Impressive.

“Nice.” Mark nodded but didn’t say anything
further. As much as the topic interested him, he hadn’t come here
to talk about food.

Antonio seemed to pick up the vibe and
cleared his throat as he glanced toward Carol. “You gonna be
okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll be fine. Mark and I just
need to talk.”

Antonio took a slow backward step toward the
kitchen. “Okay, well, I’ll be in the kitchen finishing dinner if
you need me.” Casting Mark a wary glance, he inched away then
turned and disappeared.

Carol gestured into a narrow sitting room
where two tall, skinny windows overlooked the street. Mark took a
seat on the edge of a white couch with one black throw pillow and
another that was light-grey. He propped his elbows on his knees and
sat forward, too tense to relax.

She sat across from him in a matching easy
chair.

“Are these real hardwood floors?” He glanced
past the throw rug under his feet to the shiny, dark wood.

“Yes. We had them refinished before we moved
in two years ago.”

“You’ve done really well for yourself.” He
scanned the cream-colored walls, the intricate crown molding, and
detailed plaster work on the ceiling. Fancy.

“I hear you’ve done well for yourself, too.”
She smiled.

“You have?”

She tilted her head to one side as if she
couldn’t believe he’d asked. “I work with your parents, Mark. I
hear about you all the time.”

How hadn’t he considered that before? Of
course she would know more about his life than he knew about hers.
She was his parents’ prize pupil, as well as their top
choreographer.

After what had happened between them, his
parents hadn’t gotten involved in the fallout. There was a lot of
behind-the-scenes relationship drama in professional dancing, and
his parents had learned to work around it. His relationship with
Carol hadn’t been the first dance casualty they’d witnessed, nor
the last. Besides, given Carol’s past, his mother had always held a
soft spot for her. He hadn’t expected his mother to kick Carol to
the curb after what had happened.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He rubbed his hands together
between his knees.

Another awkward silence drew out between
them.

He dipped his head in the direction of the
kitchen. “He sounds like he’s a good cook. What kind of tortellini
is he making?”

“Spinach with five cheeses. And he’s making
bruschetta, too. It’s kind of his specialty. He cooks it at least
twice a month.”

Mark bobbed his head in a passing effort to
nod. “You always did like Italian food.”

And Italian men. First him, and then
Antonio.

“Yes.” She folded her hands over her lap. Her
legs were pressed tightly together, her shoulders pulled in.

She looked almost afraid. Guilty. Like she
was preparing herself to hear the worst and shoulder the blame for
everything that had happened between them.

Oddly enough, his heart went out to her. He
wasn’t here to castigate her.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

She relaxed a little. “Well, after that phone
call, how could I say no?” She paused. “You’re right, Mark. We need
to talk about what happened. We both need to let go, because, I’ll
be honest, there’s a part of me that’s never been able to let go of
what I did to you. I feel so guilty. I hurt you and ripped out your
heart, and then had to listen to your parents talk about how you
fell into this horrible depression, that you were drinking, and
that you were behaving so recklessly.” She paused. “I guess that
was my punishment for doing what I did. Maybe that’s why they kept
me on at the studio, so they could remind me of what I’d done to
you by letting me hear all the awful things you were going
through.” She shook her head and waved her delicate hand in front
of her face as if warding off tears. “About how you couldn’t settle
down with anyone, because you’d lost your ability to trust.” She
rolled her eyes to try and stop her tears and dabbed at the inside
corners with her fingertips. “I mean, they never said these things
directly to me, but I heard them talking enough times to fill in
what was going on. They were so worried about you, and I knew it
was all my fault.”

Mark had never known. And from her body
language and the way her words cracked with emotion, she’d been
suffering almost as badly as he had all these years, only
differently.

Guilt could be a miserable mistress.

“Carol . . .” He wanted to
reach for her hand but didn’t. “They kept you on at the studio
because they love you, not because they wanted to torture you. My
mom still thinks of you as the daughter she never had. You have to
know that.”

She sniffled. “I know.” She dabbed at the
corners of her eyes again. “But for years, I’ve listened to them
worry over you, knowing I was to blame. And I couldn’t do anything
about it. I couldn’t take back what I’d done or make it
better.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me?”

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “Do you want
to know how many times I wanted to? How many times I tried and
almost picked up the phone to call you?”

He shook his head, numb. They’d both suffered
so long, neither of them able to get out of their own way long
enough to fix their situation.

She snorted out a self-abasing huff. “But
really, Mark? Would you have listened? Look at the way you reacted
every time you saw me. You looked at me like I was diseased.”

“Carol, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never
meant to make you feel that way.”

Her delicate eyebrows scrunched together.
“And then you moved to Indiana last year to be
with . . . Karma, is it? I think that’s her name,
right?”

“Yes.” Just the mention of Karma’s name
brought a smile to his face.

“I thought it was all over. That I could
finally let go of all the guilt and shame I’d been carrying around.
But then we bumped into each other last weekend, and I knew it
wasn’t over, yet. I knew you still hated me, and I still felt all
the guilt, and—”

“I don’t hate you, Carol.” He leaned forward
and placed his hand over hers on her lap. “And you don’t have to
feel guilty, anymore.” Seeing her so torn up felt all wrong, maybe
because he’d shouldered so much of the blame and couldn’t wrap his
mind around her taking it away from him.