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But he moved again, toward the door. "Good night, Mariah," he said. His voice was hoarse and low, and she wondered if he, too, was affected by their nearness. If he recalled their kisses. |
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Before she went to sleep that night, Mariah took her candle and sneaked into Holly's room. She wasn't as concerned about the quill pen and ink, though she'd learned her lesson well from Thorn and now realized they were precious commodities. But more important was the retrieval of her notes of what had happened in the screenplay. She wanted no one else to see them. |
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She still had no idea how Pierce had maneuvered her back here into Matilda's life, why he'd written this place and time, these people, into a movie script. Whether she'd correctly guessed the grievous wrong she was to right. |
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But here she was nonetheless, with no idea of Matilda's whereabouts. |
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She tried to be quiet as she slid her hand between the straw mattress and its wooden supports but couldn't help the slight crackle that resulted. She stood still as Holly mined over but, fortunately, didn't awaken. |
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With her fingertips, Mariah found the important piece of paper and carefully slid it out, returning to her room next door. She glanced at it in the candlelight. |
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Things had happened here in the past that hadn't even been suggested by the screenplay: Holly's rescue, the appearance of the Raffertys at the inn. |
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Maybe neither event had been significant enough to warrant Pierce's throwing them into the movie scenario, though Mariah had certainly thought them worthy. She believed she'd saved Holly's life, for the young woman would have died out there in the woods, alone and without help. |
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But that wasn't part of Thorn's story, and, after all, the screenplay had been about him. |
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And then there was Mariah's meeting with Little Elk. Again, it wasn't important to Thorn. Maybe not to Mariah either, or even to Little Elk. But Mariah was proud she'd |
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