door, and not come back for five hours—at which time he'd produced a bouquet of limp daisies and a half-hearted apology. "One commitment at a time," was what he'd said.
It had been a cruel thing to say, knowing how badly Marie wanted a child. For a while, she thought she'd never want to have her own. But, as time moved on and that old biological clock started ticking, she'd begun to change her mind.
After her parents' car accident, she'd practically raised her four younger brothers and sisters. Her mother had died instantly, and her father had become permanently disabled. At age sixteen, Marie had been thrust into the role of running the household, scrounging together nutritious meals on the meager checks from her dad's disability payments.
Those had been some dreadful days. Coming of age as a woman and yearning for her mother, all the while having to hide that fact because "mother" was precisely what she had to be.
Marie stood and splashed cold water on her face, feeling better.
Now, each of her siblings was on his own. Her two sisters married, Johnny engaged, and Mark just enrolled in graduate school. She'd done a good job with them, she supposed. But then again, so had her father. He'd been a rock for the family until he'd died last spring. Always keeping his chin up, despite his paralysis. Never too tired or preoccupied to listen.
Marie knew her sometimes unruly brothers wouldn't have turned out nearly as well without their father's patient wisdom to guide them. At times, they'd driven Marie so crazy with their teenage antics, that her only refuge had been to escape to her room with a book.
Reading had seen her through the difficult times. No matter what was going on outside her bedroom door, she could curl up under the covers and imagine that someday a handsome prince would come along to take her away from all of it.
But all the handsome princes in Marie's high school class went off to college while she had to stay home and help support the family.
Her first job in a bookstore was heaven. She felt a comfort in the unending rows of books, a special camaraderie with the host of unexplored fictional characters—just waiting for her touch to reveal their secret worlds.
Marie walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, wondering what she would do with herself today. It had been at least a year since she'd had a Sunday off. She was out of books and out of money, and the local library was closed. Oh well, she thought, flipping on the coffeemaker. There was always a walk in the park. Maybe the fresh air would do her good.
David pulled back as Jupiter strained at the leash.
"Whoa there, boy! Hang on!"
But it was David who was hanging on for dear life as the black Lab fixated on the squirrel with a whine, and then another... yank!
David stumbled forward as the big dog broke free and bolted into the trees.
He rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants and looked frantically in all directions. Now what was he going to do? Caroline would kill him if he lost her stupid dog.
"Jupiter! Here, fella!" he called in his biggest, booming voice.
Nothing.
He forcefully clapped his hands together and tried again.
There was a slight rustling in the bushes behind the park fountain.
"Jupiter!"
The movement stopped.
David had an idea. He placed two fingers between his teeth, spun around and whistled—hard.
"Most people just say hello."
David jerked his head sideways.
There stood Marie McCloud in a knee-length overcoat, hands fitted tightly over both ears. Her cheeks were flushed with morning cold, her lips the prettiest shade of pink.
For a moment David forgot all about the dog.
"Marie!"
"What," she asked, giving the park a suspicious sweep of her eyes, "exactly are you doing?"
"Oh," he said, letting out a full breath that clouded the air, "looking for Jupiter."
Marie's eyebrows shot up. "Hate to tell you this, but I think you'd have better luck at night."
David looked blank. Blank, but incredibly
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