Chapter 7

Abby watched from her car, parked in the lot across the street from the Sunshine Building. Marshall had told her that Mary was only working half days until Norah got a little stronger. She checked her watch. She should be leaving any minute now. She took a sip of coffee from her mug, quickly placing the cup in the holder as she saw the tall blonde emerge from the door. Pushing open her door, Abby hurried to meet Mary as she walked to her van.

Mary's surprise was evident, turning to confusion, then plain impatience.

"Abby, everything okay?" she asked trying to move around her to gain access to her van. Abigail firmly planted herself in front of the driver's side door. Mary glanced up at the clear blue Albuquerque sky and prayed for patience. She had to be nicer to Abby, for Marshall if no other reason.

"We need to talk," Abby said shortly. "I know you've had your hands full with Norah and I'm very happy she is finally home from the hospital. But I have something I need to discuss with you. It won't take long if we can cut the crap and be honest with each other for five minutes."

Mary was watching the red-head warily. A tendril of fear was threading through her gut that Abby was going to ask her cut all contact with Marshall. She had been trying, trying so hard to do as Marshall had requested. Anything to keep some small contact going, to maintain something of their friendship. To be able to see him everyday.

"Are you in love with Marshall?" The blunt question hung in the air between them, Mary's open mouthed stare evidence of her shock. It was a nagging question the inspector had been reluctantly asking of herself lately. The hard look Abby was giving her wouldn't be easily turned away.

Mary closed her mouth and sighed. "I love him," she said quietly, "I don't know that I'm in love with him. I don't know that I know what it feels like to be in love." She eyed the door of her van longingly. "What's this about, Abby? I've done what Marshall asked, I've backed off. It was important to him, to you and I've released him, per his request. What more can I do?"

Abby's eyes turned earnest. "Mary, you do know he has loved you for years? He finally accepted you would never feel the same and moved on. Except you are still there, in the middle of our relationship." Abby paused, the sound of a firetruck's wail echoing in the distance. "He can't let you go. Mary, if you don't love him in that way, I need you to tell him, to push him away so he can move forward."

Mary looked at the tall red head, feeling a pang of sympathy. The detective was fighting for her future, for her own happiness. "Abby, you are asking me to give up just about the very most important thing in my life, and that's my friendship with Marshall. I've backed off, because Marshall's happiness is important to me. I miss him. But I've stayed away because he asked me to. I don't want to give him up completely. And if you need me to be out of the picture to have a successful relationship, than maybe something is wrong with your relationship with Marshall and not mine. Now, I have to get home to my daughter." She raised her hand with her keys and waved Abby to move aside.

Abby felt the blood drain from her face and stepped away from the van in a daze. Maybe something is wrong with your relationship with Marshall and not mine.


Mary woke with a start, her heart racing. She listened intently in the smoky darkness of her bedroom. Silence. Flopping back down on her pillows, she put a hand on her hammering heart. Since bringing Norah home from the hospital she hadn't slept well. She got up to check on her multiple times through the night. To make sure she was still breathing. To make sure she was really there in her crib and not back at the hospital.

Tonight though, it wasn't the fitful whimpers coming through the baby monitor that had woken her. It was the dream. Mary hadn't thought about that particular encounter in years. Why now? She pushed the covers aside, as her body still felt heated. The barn. Treena. Horses. Bad guys. Marshall. Dear God, Marshall kissing her like there was no tomorrow. Maybe it was the conversation with Abigail that had triggered it. Are you in love with Marshall? Abby's words floated back to her. She ached for him. She literally hurt because the friendship, the partnership was gone and she had...nothing. Nothing but this longing inside her. Was that love? Was this desire that Marshall be happy, no matter the cost to herself, was that love?

Mary restlessly turned on her side and stared at the bedside clock. The red digits read 2: 24. Closing her eyes again, she tried to return to sleep. This time her overactive brain supplied the balcony scene to her again. Pain ached in her chest as she heard those words in a loop in her head. "If you call, I will come, every time." He would come for her, he couldn't help himself. That was why she had to be the strong one. Marshall had to be happy. It was imperative. She had to do this for him, make sure he could be happy. Because she loved him. Tears slipped down the side of her face. I love him. Why was this so hard to admit?

Her eyes flew open. He had said those magical words first. I love you. What did it mean? 'I love you' followed by 'if you call, I will come?' The pain in his voice. He had definitely been distressed. Could it be that he stilled loved her? Mary wasn't blind. She knew her partner had had feelings for her in the past, had tried to express those feelings. She had deflected, deliberately misunderstood or simply run away. It terrified her to think about letting him get so close that she would give him her heart. It gave another person so much power. But Marshall had Abby now, was going to marry her. Whatever feelings he may have had at one time, surely he no longer felt them? Not when he had pledged to another woman.

And now, when it was too late, she realized there was no other person who could fill this hole in her life. Soft cries came to her ears and Mary flung the covers aside, trudging into her daughter's room, wanting to add her own whimpers to Norah's.


Marshall lay in bed, his book on the inventor Nicola Tesla abandoned on his chest, listening to the sounds of Abby's breathing and his own self-recriminations. Mary's look of hurt on that balcony came to him over and over. Sighing, he rolled over and turned off the lamp. He tried to shake the feeling of failing Mary. Unwelcome images of finding Mary in that dank basement came to his mind. Major failure there. He was lucky to have found her alive. The wild, panicked look in her eyes as he descended the stairs would haunt him forever. Her heaving trembling body as he took her in his arms was similar to how she felt in his arms when he arrived to the hospital upon Norah's admission. Total terror.

He turned on his other side and looked at Abby, her face relaxed in sleep. He smiled, gently reaching over to smooth a strand of hair off her face. He loved the spray of freckles over her nose and her auburn hair. He loved her. She made him happy. Her sweet, cheerful nature was so polar opposite of Mary. Why then, was he so conflicted? Was it just that he had loved his partner for so many years? Moving on had been easier than he had expected. Mary's expedition to Mexico with that asshat Faber had supplied the impetus he needed to finally move forward. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that she knew what he was talking about in his little speech to her right before she fled to the sunny beaches of Mexico. Pretty clear signal that she didn't return his feelings.

Was he really willing to forgo his happiness with Abby, for an iffy maybe at best with Mary? What if he had the conversation with Mary that everyone was telling him he should, and she said yes, I love you too? What would he do then? Would he throw Abby over just like that? No, the thought. I can't do that. I don't *want* to do that. What he did want was his friendship back. Everything on an even keel again. Yes, that was what he wanted he decided, as he leaned down to nuzzle a kiss on Abby's neck.


Abby waited stoically for Marshall to return home. The ticking of the living room clock was loud in her ears. She sat motionlessly on their settee, the lack of movement unusual for her. Breath in and out of her body – she tried to focus on that, to keep herself from a complete meltdown. Oscar was hiding out in the spare bedroom. Even the dog knew something bad was coming, Abby thought grimly. She remembered the day she first met him, the tall handsome marshal with the easy grin and killer blue eyes. They had been easy and comfortable with each other. She had asked around when she got back to the office. The reports that came in were universally glowing, but a few came with a cautionary note too. He was extremely close to his partner and no one seemed to know for sure, just how close. She had eventually asked him about Mary, after she had a few opportunities to observe them together. He had assured her they were just friends and partners, although they were very close. He owned up to that up front.

"She's my best friend. No one knows me as well as she does. You can expect to be checked out. She has my back and will want to know I'm not dating a serial killer."

Abby looked up at the sound of his key in the door. He walked down the hallway, exhaustion evident in his face. She studied him in the pale yellow glow of the corner lamp. He had aged over the last few months. He wasn't the same cheerful, easy-going man she had met two years ago. God, have I really done that to him? Made him that unhappy? She shook her head, noting Marshall's frown as he saw her sitting empty handed in the too quiet room.

"Sit Marshall," she said in a level voice. He cautiously set down his briefcase and sank down beside her. He just looked at her, waiting. Abby looked down at her hands, her fingers nervously twirling her engagement ring around her finger. "This isn't working," she said finally. "Please, let me talk," she beseeched him as he opened his mouth. Reaching over, Abby drew his hand into hers. She studied his hand a moment, that hand she knew so well, that hand that she loved to feel on her body.

"I know you love me. I know that Marshall. But a girl needs to know that she is the first love in her husband's life, not a distant second. I know you have tried. You have tried so hard." She reached up and laid her fingers against his lips as he started to protest, a knife turning in her belly at the pain in his eyes. "The heart wants what the heart wants. And yours wants Mary. It has for years. I know you have done as I asked. Told Mary to back off. But you are so unhappy. You need her. She has become an essential part of you. And I don't think I'm that essential to you."

"Abby, I love you!" It burst out of him in a panic. Abby regarded his wide blue eyes sadly.

"I know you do, sugarbug. But you don't love me enough." Marshall was shaking his head.

"Don't call me sugarbug." It was curt, unexpected on both sides. "And I do love you enough. My god, I've given up my best friend for you." There was silence for a moment, the sounds of a silent house alarmingly loud.

Abby shook her head slowly. "See, me calling you sugarbug has bothered you from the beginning hasn't it? But you didn't say anything because you love me. I've heard Mary call you doofus, douchebag and worse. You always just smile. It's because it's coming from her. Any term of endearment from her that you can get, even couched in an insult, you will take. And I know you've tried to give her up, but your heart hasn't. Because your heart can't. I'm not faulting you. We can't control who we love. And you've been trying to control who you love."

She shook her head. "Marshall, I've seen you with Norah. I couldn't stand for you to look at our child..." her voice hitched, " to look at our child and wish it was Mary's." Marshall's look of horror was of little comfort.

She slowly pulled off her engagement ring. Closing her fingers tightly over it, she remembered how very happy she was when Marshall gave it to her. She smirked. She actually thought at the time that he had chosen her over Mary. Prying open Marshall's clenched fingers she gently deposited the ring in his palm.

"Talk to her Marshall. Flat out ask her how she feels. I believe she does love you, but is unable or unwilling to admit it. Have a fully honest discussion for once in your life."