Both physically and psychologically drained after their terrifying encounter with the Spinosaurus coupled with the lateness of their return to the dormitory, Alan and Ellie overslept the next morning, remaining in their beds until well after ten o�clock. When they finally awakened, it was to the soothing patter of rain on the roof, and they were content to linger there, enjoying the peaceful sounds.
When Ellie finally swung her legs over the edge of the bed to sit up, she noticed that the muscles in her abdomen was extremely sore, a lingering after-effect of the exertion of the day before. Lifting the hem of her blouse, she massaged the soreness with her fingers, but was satisfied that the discomfort was merely muscle strain as her body was still healing from the injuries she had sustained.
She was briefly surprised to discover that she was still wearing the clothes she had worn the day before, and remembered that she had not bothered to undress before collapsing on her bed. They were badly soiled and sweat-stained, as was she, so she got up and opened the drawers to the small bureau to gather up some clean clothes. Her eyes lingered on the contents, somewhat startled to discover the drawer had been almost completely emptied, leaving only a single pair of jeans, and a couple of pairs of shorts, which she had avoided wearing into the jungle, where her legs would surely be scratched by the forest�s undergrowth. In her blouse drawer, she still had two tee shirts and one sleeveless button-down blouse, and her underwear drawer was nearly bare as well.
Performing a quick mental calculation, she realized that she had been on the island for nine days, and not once had they bothered with the laundry. Surely, Alan must be getting low on clean clothing as well.
Selecting a pair of denim shorts and a gray tee shirt, she closed the drawers again and opened the curtain. Leaning close to Alan�s curtain door, she called softly, �Alan, are you awake?� Her voice was loud enough to be heard, but not so loud that she would awaken him if he was still asleep.
�Yeah, I�m awake,� he responded, promptly. �It�s just so comfortable lying here listening to the rain that I�m reluctant to get up.�
�Stay in bed as long as you want,� she urged. �I�m going to take a bath or a shower or whatever you call it when you douse yourself with a pan of cold water. Then I�ll go down and start breakfast.� She glanced at her watch. �Maybe we�d better make that lunch. By the time I get down there, it�ll be nearly eleven.�
�Okay.�
�Do you want me to put on a pot of coffee?�
�No. A glass of iced tea will be fine for lunch. Let me know when you�re out of the bathroom, so I can get cleaned up, too.�
�Okay.�
Taking her clean clothes down the hall, she stopped at the linen closet and reached inside. There were only three clean towels left and a couple of wash cloths.
Gee, it�s been so long since I�ve done laundry, I hope I remember how it�s done! she thought to herself, mildly amused. At home, the maid had always done the family�s laundry, and while she was living with her parents, Ilene had insisted on taking care of Ellie�s laundry along with her own, insisting that her daughter continue to convalesce. She had been only too willing to comply with her mother�s wishes, for at that time, she had no desire to do anything except sit in a medication induced stupor and stare at the picture of her family on the mantle.
As she pushed open the bathroom door, she flipped the sign to the Occupied side, then went inside. When her shower was finished, she tossed the wet towel and wash cloth into the hamper near the shower stall, then remembered to flip the sign back to Vacant as she made her way back to her cubical.
�All finished,� she announced, speaking to the gray fabric wall and the man on the other side of it.
He yawned, sleepily. �Okay. I�m getting up.� She heard the rustle of his clothing and the sheets as he shifted positions and sat up. She heard him yawn again, and could easily picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, rumpling his hair with his fingers as he tried to wake up. It was an image that brought a smile to her face.
She had been using a large kitchen sized plastic trash container as her dirty clothes hamper, and she added the soiled clothes from yesterday to the already overflowing container, then shifted her gaze to the bedding. It had not been changed since her arrival on the island. Mark would have had a fit had the sheets on his bed not been changed during that length of time, but the fact was, she and Alan had been so busy that it had not even occurred to her, any more than the need to do the laundry.
That�s no excuse, honey, Mark�s voice scolded in her mind. We�re civilized people; we need to act like it.
I�ll change them today, her thoughts responded to the gentle but effective reprimand.
The maid should be doing that, the ghostly voice of her husband admonished. That�s her job; not yours. Menial labor is beneath you, dear. Even though I�m no longer with you physically, you still have a responsibility to my memory. You should not even be on that island living in such primitive conditions! You have a reputation to maintain. And look at the way you�re dressed! Mother would be furious if she could see you now!
I don�t care!
Frustrated Ellie pushed aside those annoying thoughts. She knew his lecture was merely in her mind, but it almost seemed as though her conscience was allowing him to control her from the grave. Why did she continue to be plagued with negative thoughts about her husband? Why couldn�t she just think about the happy times?
Irritably, she picked up the comb from her dresser and went to work on her wet hair, painfully yanking away the snarls and tangles. Next, she stripped the old sheets from the bed, and added them to the pile of clothing in her hamper, then went down the hall for clean linens. She met Alan at the closet, who was reaching in for a clean towel. Seeing him standing there in yesterday�s clothing looking as dirty and grungy as she had before her bath softened her mood, somewhat.
�I�m putting clean linens on my bed. I�ll put some on yours, too,� she announced.
�Okay. Thanks. I hadn�t even thought about it.�
�Neither had I.�
While he took his shower, she returned to the bedroom and put the clean linens on her bed, then went into Alan�s cubical and stripped his bed as well, and replaced them with fresh sheets and a clean pillowcase.
Except for the hurried moment during which she had retrieved the extra backpack from under his dresser, this was the first time she had actually spent more than a few seconds inside Alan�s private space, and she paused to look around.
Basically, the furnishings were a replica of hers, except for the bookcase, which occupied the space against the wall where the window was in her cubical. Instead of works of fiction that one would normally expect to find in a bookcase, this one contained dozens of volumes of spiral notebooks chronicling his work on the island. The cover of each journal was numbered and labeled to keep them in order.
A smile formed on her lips. Most people would have used a computer or, at the very least, a typewriter to keep his notes, but for some reason, Alan Grand did not get along well with electronics, and even more amusing, electronics did not get along with him!
Below the notebooks, on another shelf, were various file folders, obviously removed from the main facility and brought here for easy access. Small black canisters of 35 mm film were also stored there, each one labeled according to date and content. They would be developed when they returned to the States.
Not wishing to be caught snooping, she turned away from the bookcase and gathered up the dirty sheets, adding them to the ever-growing pile of laundry in his dirty clothes basket. Leaving them to worry about later, she descended the stairs, and went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, wondering what to fix for lunch.
There was still an unopened package of lunchmeat and some cheese. She removed them and the half-used loaf of bread that was kept in the fridge to keep it from molding in the island�s moist heat. Two more loaves were kept in the freezer to keep them fresh. She opened a can of soup and while it heated on the stove, she made bologna and cheese sandwiches. A pitcher of tea was in the refrigerator, so she prepared two glasses with ice.
Alan came into the kitchen while she was pouring the soup in bowls.
�There wasn�t time to thaw out any meat, so we�re just having soup and sandwiches for lunch,� she told him. �By the way, I�m afraid I�m going to have to do laundry today,� she added. �I�m almost completely out of clean clothes.�
�So am I,� he agreed. �Okay. We�ll tackle it this afternoon.�
�Is the washer difficult to operate, since it isn�t hooked up to the water?�
�No. I always use the rain water from the barrels, but I boil it first on the stove. It�ll have to cool a bit before you can handle it, but while it�s still hot you can use it for the whites. You�ll need to let it cool for the colors, or they�ll fade . . . .� He saw that Ellie was smiling in amusement, and realized what he was saying. Feeling somewhat embarrassed, he gave a sheepish grin. �I guess you already knew that, though.�
�Are you trying to give me advice on how to sort clothes?� she inquired, still smiling.
�Uh, no . . . I just . . .�
Her impish smile broadened, and she wanted desperately to kiss him at that moment, but she restrained herself, unaware that her smile was having the same affect on Alan.
This time, it was she who turned away. Picking up the bowls of soup, she carried them into the dining room and placed them on the table. While she was doing that, Alan fetched the bucket and made several trips into the rain to fill it with water from the barrel outside the back door, then poured it into the huge kettle to heat on the stove while they ate.
Ellie returned to the kitchen for the sandwiches, and Alan picked up their glasses of iced tea. Together, they sat down in the dining room to eat their meal.
�What are we going to do in the way of research while we wait for the animals to return?� Ellie asked.
Alan shrugged. �Well, lately I�ve been pretty lax about documenting the events on the video tapes. We can keep busy with that task for several days. Hopefully, it won�t take too long for the Spinosaurus to get hungry and move off to other areas.�
Ellie gazed at him for several moments. Here she had cheerfully avoided thinking about the terrors that had occurred the day before, and Alan had brought it up as if it was a casual conversation piece. �You just had to bring up the subject of that monster, didn�t you?�
He smiled. �Sorry.�
�I don�t know when I�ve ever been that frightened,� she confessed.
�That was pretty close,� he agreed.
�After it leaves the area, how long do you think it will take for the other animals to come back?�
He shrugged. �That�s impossible to say. The animals tend to eat their way around the island, moving from one area to the next. They never stay in exactly one spot, because they would quickly consume all the vegetation. They�ll come wandering back, one day. Hopefully sooner than later.�
She turned her gaze toward the window, where the rain continued to fall. �I wonder where the Spino is, now?�
�I don�t know.� He smiled, wistfully. �Maybe we�ll get lucky, and it�ll get struck by lightning.�
Ellie laughed, softly. �Yes, that would solve one of our biggest problems, wouldn�t it?� She sighed, wistfully. �I don�t think we could get that lucky.�
He looked up from his meal, his eyes meeting hers. �Ellie, we can�t live in constant fear.�
She shrugged. �I know, but I don�t think I�ll ever be able to go outside now without looking around for it.�
�But that�s good,� he told her. �That kind of alertness is necessary to survive out here. You�re learning to read the signs, to tell when danger is near. This encounter with the Spinosaurus is just one more lesson. A hard one, to be sure, but we�re not likely to be complacent after this.� He paused to smile at her. �I admit I�ll be looking over my shoulder a little more often now, too.�
When the meal was finished, they washed the dishes using some of the boiled water, and left them to dry while they gathered up their laundry and separated it into whites and colors. Alan had found several laundry baskets during his first few weeks on the island, and he had cleaned them up and had been using them ever since. Dumping their clothing in the plastic baskets, they carried them into the laundry room.
Alan directed her to the two washing machines that he had put back in working order, and lifted the lids. Both machines were loaded with laundry and detergent, then turned on. Since they were not hooked up to a water source, the hot water was transferred to the hoppers with the bucket. After a short time, they started agitating.
�From here on, it functions just like the one back home,� Alan said with a smile.
Like the one back home, Ellie thought, absently. She had no idea how the one back home worked, for she had never used it. �What are you going to do today?� she asked, abruptly changing the subject.
�Well, I had intended to get in the garden today, but the rain doesn�t look like it�s going to quit any time soon. Guess I�ll go into the office and work on my journal. I need to record the things that happened to us yesterday, while they�re fresh in my mind.�
�Ah, yes. Yesterday. If you don�t mind, I think I�ll leave that task to you. I�d rather not be reminded of it.�
�Okay,� he smiled. �I�ll see you in a bit. Let me know if you need any more water.�
Alan walked away, leaving the woman alone in the laundry room.
While the laundry was chugging along in the washing machines, Ellie wandered to the barred door and gazed out at the wet, green landscape. From there, she could see the garden, which appeared to be waiting patiently for the rain to end and the sun to return. Beyond the garden was the edge of the jungle. In the distance, obscured by the weather, she could barely make out the misty slope of the nearest mountain. The air smelled fresh and clean, and although humid because of the rain, the temperatures had cooled.
The patter of the rain on the ground and trickling down the drainpipes were soothing, and soon she found herself yawning again.
Bored, Ellie wandered into the kitchen, her hands shoved into the hip pockets of her denim shorts, looking for something to do. There was always cleaning to be done, but she was not in the mood for that. There were plenty of books in one of the front rooms, but she had left her glasses upstairs and did not want to fetch them. She was in the mood to bake, a task she had not enjoyed in a long time.
Moving to the large preparation table, she slid open the door to the storage area beneath it, and knelt down to rummage around among the pots and pans, curious to see if she could locate a loaf pan that she could use to make some squash bread. The vegetable drawer was full of squash, much more than they would ever be able to eat, and she knew she would have to be creative in order to utilize the wonderfully versatile vegetable. To her surprise, she found not only three loaf pans, but two pie pans and three cookie sheets. Eagerly, she withdrew her prizes and stood up to admire them. Not only could she make the loaves of bread, she could make cookies and pies, if she could find enough ingredients. If she couldn�t, she�d put them on the grocery list when Alan called Miguel for the next supply shipment.
She placed the pans in the sink to wash them, and then moved to the refrigerator, hoping there were enough eggs left and enough spices to complete the project. Yes, there were enough eggs and plenty of butter. The spice rack was not well stocked, but she was pleased to find a container of cinnamon. This was not a surprise, for Alan liked toast sprinkled with cinnamon. Although he was creative enough to cook his own meals with some variety, he was not known as a culinary wizard.
She knew there was plenty of flour and white sugar in the canisters; certainly enough to make a couple of loaves of squash bread, provided she could remember the recipe her mother had used. Well, she could improvise, if necessary. Humming happily to herself, she went to work.
In the office, Alan soon became aware of the delicious aromas drifting through the building, and knew that Ellie was preparing some tantalizing delicacy for dessert. After a while, he could no longer ignore the smells. Dropping his pen onto the tablet, he stood up and made his way back to the kitchen, where he found Ellie slicing a loaf of the steaming hot bread on a platter. Two more loaves were cooling on the cooling rack.
�What is that wonderful smell?� he exclaimed as he entered the kitchen.
�Squash bread!� she told him, proudly. �We had a lot of squash that was about to go to waste, so I found enough ingredients to make something that at least resembles my mother�s recipe. We don�t have all the spices she uses, but I think it will taste all right.�
He broke off a piece of the bread and tasted it, remembering the wonderful snacks she had baked when they had lived together. �Mmm, delicious.�
�Thank you,� she smiled, pleased. �We�ll freeze the other two loaves for later. I found all kinds of cookie sheets and pie pans, too. Next time you call in an order from Miguel, I�ll be adding some things to the list. At this point, I can make a pie crust, but we don�t have anything to fill it with. I thought we�d ask for some apples, blueberries, and chocolate pudding. In the meantime, I think I can scrape up enough ingredients to make a batch of peanut butter cookies.�
�You always were the best cook, Ellie,� he praised. �I�ve really missed your cooking. Since you weren�t working, I bet you spent a lot of time cooking and baking for the kids.�
Her pleased smile faded, as if a cloud had suddenly drifted across her face, extinguishing her sunshine. �No, not really,� she answered, placing the loaf on the counter top. Turning her back on him, she gathered up the loaf pans and wiped down the non-stick surfaces with a wet sponge, then returned them to the storage space in which she had found them, placing them inside with a little more force than was necessary.
A slight frown creased Alan�s brow as he watched her clean up. Her busy hands seemed to be an attempt to cover up her sudden irritability or despondency. Carefully, he mulled over his words, wondering what he had said that had darkened her mood so completely, and recalled that this had happened once before when he had mentioned cooking for her family. �Ellie, did I say something wrong?�
�No,� she replied, shortly.
He grasped her arm and turned her around to face him again. The sadness in her eyes was vivid, and triggered a slight twinge of sorrow in his heart to see her in so much pain. �Was it my careless reference to your home and family? If it was, I�m sorry. I never meant to bring you down.�
She sighed, heavily. �It wasn�t you or what you said.� He continued to hold her by the arms, indicating that he was not going to let it go until she gave him an answer, but she refused to look him in the eye. �I used to bake cookies and cakes for Charlie and Halley, sometimes, but . . .� Might as well tell him. � . . . I had to do it when Mark wasn�t around.�
�Why? He didn�t like for the children to have snacks?�
�He didn�t like it when I worked in the kitchen. We had a maid for things like that, and she was kind enough to cover for me when I wanted to bake. Baking cookies, Alan; it�s an activity a mother is supposed to share with her children, but Mark just didn�t see it that way. It wasn�t acceptable for me to do things like that.� Before he could say anything, she felt compelled to defend her husband. Raising her hand to silence his protest, she said, �You have to understand, he was raised in a wealthy environment where it was frowned upon for people to cross the lines of their social status. It was the way he was raised, and he expected me to adhere to those rules. I just had a little trouble adjusting to that.�
Although summers were always spent on dig sites, Alan recalled that Ellie had spent much of her spare time during the winter cooking and baking. Especially at Christmas, when the house was constantly filled with mouth watering aromas as she experimented with new recipes. �That doesn�t seem fair to ask you to give up something that you always took pleasure in,� he said, critically. �Couldn�t he have considered it a recreational activity for you? Like a hobby or something?�
�It wasn�t that simple. It always caused an argument, so it was just easier to go along with him. Or, at least try to. I wasn�t very good at conforming to all his rules. It was bad enough that I wore blue jeans and sweatshirts, casual attire �more suited to a stable than the wife of a future politician�, according to his mother,� she added with sarcasm.
�Politician?� he asked with surprise, looking as if he had smelled an offensive odor at the mention of the word.
�I know. His parents had it in their heads that he was political material, and he was being groomed by his father to eventually run for office. They had their eyes set on the governor�s seat.�
�You might have one day been the First Lady of Virginia,� he said.
�I didn�t want to be the First Lady,� she retorted. �I just wanted to be Ellie Sattler. I mean Degler,� she added quickly. Grant. The unspoken name lingered on her tongue, but she did not say it.
Alan�s frown deepened, wondering just how happy Ellie and Mark had truly been together. It was becoming obvious that they had been mismatched.
She leaned back against the counter top and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face with an angry swipe of her hand. �That woman despised me. During family get-togethers, she always made it a point to bring up the fact that I was not suitably dressed. Even in an evening gown, I was never dressed to suit her.�
�I bet you were beautiful in an evening gown,� he said, softly.
�Not according to her. She said I looked �frumpy�! She started trying to pick out my clothes, tried to get me to style my hair like hers, and learn to speak in that whispery voice she always used. I wasn�t a �lady�, and didn�t deserve the honor of being a member of her family. And Mark!� she exclaimed with disbelief. �He just gave this tolerant smile whenever I complained about it, and said that maybe I should try to humor her; that she was just trying to help.�
Alan listened patiently, understanding that, for the first time, she was finally unloading some of the baggage she carried. �He never took your side?�
�Never. He always took her side. You know me, Alan! I�m not the kind of person who can lounge around on the sofa in a glamorous gown all day being waited on hand and foot by a maid or entertaining a bunch of stuffy old hens with tea and crumpets! I wanted to be out in the sand pile with Charlie, or making mud-pies with Halley! Is there anything wrong with that?�
�No.�
�Then why couldn�t he understand that? Why couldn�t he just let me be myself, instead of forcing me to live this charade all the time?�
�Ellie, forgive me for saying this, but he knew when he married you that you were from a middle class family. With that in mind, why were you the one always expected to conform to their traditions?� The question that remained unspoken was: Why did you marry him?
Misty tears were forming in her eyes, and she sighed, despondently. �He said he loved me, and we�d handle any problems that came up. I had reservations about it,� she confessed. �Mom was beside herself with joy when I told her that he�d asked me to marry him. She was nuts about him. The trouble was, �handling problems� only meant I was supposed to try harder to learn their ways. He would have been furious if he had come home and caught me in the kitchen. Early in our marriage, I made him a birthday cake, and you�d have thought I�d committed treason, or something. He let me know in no uncertain terms that I was not to do anything like that again.� Her lip was trembling, and she pressed her fingers against them, taking a few moments to compose herself again.
During her silence, Alan was imagining things he did not want to know, but felt compelled to ask anyway. �Ellie, was he abusive toward you?�
Her eyes stared into his for a long time, sending a ripple of alarm through Alan�s heart. Finally, she pulled her eyes away. �Not in the way you mean. He never struck me, or anything like that, but I was frequently told how inferior I was about certain things. If not by him, then by his mother. Actually, she was the worst.�
�Inferior, how?�
�My clothes, my manner of speaking, the way I wore my hair, my personal interests. There wasn�t anything about me that she liked. To her, I was low class scum.�
�She actually said that?� Alan asked, incredulously.
�Not in so many words, but I knew what she meant. Whenever Mark was around, she put on this fake smile and pretended that she was trying to be helpful, to teach me to conform to their society, but if I found myself alone with her, she did nothing to hide her contempt for me. I just didn�t measure up to her expectations, and he rarely defended me against her. When he did speak on my behalf, it was a half-hearted, �Mom, she can�t help the way she was raised�, or �She�s trying her best�. Somehow, his words sounded even more like an insult than hers did.�
Alan turned away, dragging his fingers through his hair, stunned by the unexpected insight into Ellie�s marriage, facts of which he had been unaware. When he had visited, they had seemed the perfect upper class family, when in reality he sensed her life had been anything except perfect. Obviously, her expectations had fallen far short of reality.
She could see the look of revulsion on his face, and this time it was she who grasped his arm to turn him around to face her. �Alan, my marriage was mostly good. I want you to understand that. It�s just that there were certain things that I hadn�t bargained on. His mother, primarily, and his inability to stand up to her. Without her influence, things would have been different. I think he would have been more tolerant, but he always had her nagging at him to make me into her idea of a perfect wife when she knew good and well that I would never fit her idea of a perfect daughter-in-law. When she wasn�t around, he was a good husband, and he tried hard to be a good father, even though he wasn�t accustomed to fathers spending time with their children. His father is CEO of a large corporation, making a salary that is nothing short of obscene, and of course work always came before family. Mark�s act of �youthful rebellion�, as his father put it, was taking a job with the State Department instead of with the company.�
�Sounds like a cardinal sin to me,� Alan said, sarcastically.
Ellie heard the sarcasm, but ignored it. �Martin, his father, could have secured a managerial position for him in corporate, but Mark was concerned about the perception of nepotism by the other workers.�
Alan nodded. �He was right. That�s exactly what it would have been.�
�I thought maybe it was a sign that he was trying to get out from under their dominance, but he just couldn�t seem to step out from under their shadow in other ways.�
�Other ways, meaning their idea of how you should behave?�
�Mark tolerated some of my �lower class� habits.� In response to his frown, she added, �Yeah, that�s what he called them. He didn�t like my jeans, but he didn�t complain too often about them, if I didn�t wear them away from the house or around his mother. He was raised by a nanny, but he didn�t push the issue when I refused to turn my kids over to one, even though it was a sore spot with his mother. She nagged at me all the time about it.� She smiled, sadly. �I almost convinced him to make a snowman with Charlie last winter. I wish I could have seen that.�
He gazed at her for a long moment, as if to determine if she was merely saying that for his benefit. She seemed sincere. �So, you were happy, then?� he asked.
She nodded. �For the most part. He was good to me, Alan. As good as he was capable of being. He gave me anything I asked for, gave me the time and space to write my book, pretended to listen whenever I talked about paleobotany or paleontology.� I just didn�t love him the way I love you, and I think he knew it! She folded her arms, and heaved a regretful sigh at her inner confession. �He even settled for that modest sized house, when he preferred to buy a mansion.�
Alan�s eyes widened. The house in which Ellie and Mark had lived was a large two-story, big and sprawling with large rooms. It had been situated in the middle of a lush two acre property in an affluent neighborhood. �You call that modest sized?� he asked.
�Well, it was as modest I could get him to go. You should have seen the house his mother wanted us to get. It was a huge Tudor mansion in her neighborhood. There was no way in hell I was going to live that close to his parents!� She paused briefly, lowering her gaze to the floor as if ashamed. �Ever since he died, I�ve only allowed myself to think about the good times we shared.� Her eyes darted to his face again, as if fearful that he would misinterpret the direction her comments were leaading. �And there were good times, Alan, but lately, ever since I came to the island . . . some of the bad things have started coming into my mind, and I feel so damn guilty about it.�
�Marriage is always made up of good and bad. You deal with it, work through it together.�
She shrugged. �I know, but with Mark�s family there wasn�t any �working through it together�. Everything had to be done their way, with no compromise. I guess I just feel like I�m being unfair to him, since he isn�t here to defend himself. He couldn�t help the way he was raised.� She gave an ironic laugh. �Listen to me! Now I sound like he did!� She paused briefly, then flashed a forced smile. �Let�s eat some of this bread while it�s still hot,� she suggested, effectively slamming the door on further discussion of that particular subject.
Turning her back to him, she opened the door to the cupboard and withdrew a couple of plates, then pulled open the silverware drawer and removed a couple of forks.
Alan watched her in silence, thinking that this was the most she had ever opened up to him about her life with Mark Degler. And nothing she had revealed fit the image he had created for himself of family life at the Degler household. The big beautiful home, with its huge manicured lawn, was a fa�ade, a pretense hiding the reality that they were, in every sense of the word, struggling to overcome their differences in upbringing and social classes.
He could only wonder what other surprises she would reveal as she gradually came to terms with the tragedy that had changed her life.
GO TO CHAPTER 18