She had no doubt in her mind the man kissing her meant this kiss to be breath taking, but for Rebecca it was like kissing a stone wall.
"I'm going to miss you." He whispered in her ear.
Rebecca sighed. God she didn't want to leave, but Michael had nothing to do with her desire to stay home.
She stepped out of his embrace, "I know, but it's kind of hard to say no to the President."
She winced as he chuckled. It sounded for all the world like a bad case of the hiccups instead of laughter.
"Oh I don't know. If anyone could turn down the President of the United States, my moneys on you."
She pushed her key into the large metal lock. The antebellum home was a dream come true and not only a haven for the patients she housed but also a solace for her own broken heart. Every stone, every piece of lumber, every stick of furniture in the place meant more to her than she could explain.
That wasn't exactly true. She could explain it. It had been their dream and although she'd been the one to see it through to fruition she couldn't help but feel her ex-fiancé's presence in every nook and cranny of the old home.
Rebecca took a deep breath and turned to face her companion, "Thank you for a lovely evening Michael."
He paused, a hurt look on his face as she hurried inside the doorway. He knew she had only a few minutes to reach the security box and punch in the code to keep the alarm from sounding.
"Call me when you get back from Virginia."
Rebecca nodded and hurriedly closed the door.
Back from Virginia. A place she swore she would never go. How many times had she turned down speaking engagements; consultations on the care of patients; and conventions she knew she should attend?
Too many.
She punched in the security code and leaned heavily against the wall.
"I take it your evening didn't go well?"
Rebecca tossed her coat and bag on the small settee near the door and walked toward her friend.
Mark Cantrell was a tall man, six-four and athletically thin. He ran five miles daily. Rain, sleet, or even the tornados that were so common in this part of Georgia could not stop his run. Rebecca knew it was his time to deal with his own ghosts, and she knew all too well how many skeletons he had in his closet.
Mark Cantrell had a life few people could imagine. As the only surviving victim of Lucas Skinner, aka the Slasher, Mark's wounds ran deep.
She smiled, "Michael wants more than I can give him." She patted Mark's arm as she made her way into her office.
Magnolia Ridge had been a large cotton plantation prior to the Civil War. But as with all wars, nothing is the same afterward and when Colonel Beau Breeland died in a Yankee prison, Mrs. Breeland went mad. Legend had it, she still walked the halls of Magnolia Ridge searching for her husband.
Rebecca had fallen in love with the home located on 100 acres of some of the rockiest country in Colton, Georgia. The last vestige of the Appalachian Trail ended in her backyard.
"When do you leave?"
Rebecca picked up a file and shoved it into the open briefcase Mark had left on her desk. She had no doubt that her agenda had been checked and rechecked; her hotel room confirmed and a car would be waiting for her at the airport as well as be at her disposal her entire stay in Quantico, Virginia.
"Tomorrow morning, 7:00 a.m. Don't worry Dr. Adair will be here to cover for me and you have my cell for emergencies."
Mark stood like a large shadow in the doorway. "Does he know?"
Rebecca froze, her hand with yet another file stilled in mid-air.
"I'll take that as a no." Mark turned to leave; paused and walked up to the mahogany desk. "You know, you should take some of your own advice."
Rebecca didn't move.
"End it. Say good-bye to the pain and good-by to David Rossi. You'll both feel better if you do." He turned and quietly closed the door behind him as he left her.
Rebecca bit into her bottom lip. End it. Yeah, that was what she needed to do, but how did you end it with the only man you ever loved? How did you say good-bye to the one man you could never forget?
How could she stop her heart from loving David Rossi?