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Page 359
unsaid to spare his grief. "You haven't asked me about the duel, or about Mariah."
"No," said René solemnly.
"We figured you would tell us when you were ready," Holly said.
We again. The word hurt him, now that he knew he would never be a we with Mariah.
"I'll tell you over supper," Thorn agreed. "But first, I wish some ale. There are two barrels still on the boat. We'll go for them in a while, René."
The Frenchman nodded, then helped Thorn carry flour and beans and molasses and salt pork into the kitchen.
Thorn went into the common room to pour himself some aleand stopped.
There, behind the bar, was a vision: Mariah Walker in a
brown dress with an apron over it, appearing like a bar maid.
Here, in Thorn's inn.
He took a moment to find his voice. "Mariah." He sounded to himself like a wounded crow. "What are you doing here?" he said more strongly. The pounding of his heart was so intense he wondered that it did not vibrate the bottles behind the bar. Mariah stood before him!"
I work here," she replied.
"You left Pittsborough without a word." His tone was more gruff than he had intended, but all the pain of the past days would not allow otherwise.
She bent her head to look at the glass she polished with a rag. The waves of her honey-colored hair spilled about her face. "Yes, I did. Would you prefer I go back?"
He hesitated for only a moment. He hurried to her, practically vaulting over the bar until he held her warm and solid form in his arms. She was real!
"No, Mariah. You are exactly where I wish you to be." His fingers were in her hair, tipping her head back so he could look into her face. What did she wish?
There was a luminousness in her leaf-green eyes that told him she was near to crying. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her eyelidsand tasted salt as the tears began to spill.
"I was afraid" she said.

 
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