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"Oh, Ian .. ."
"Marry me because I am weak and selfish and unen-
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lightened," he said in a harsh whisper. "Marry me because I need you so much."
She touched his cheek. "You need me to be your
wife?" "Yes." "When?"
He grinned. "How about next Tuesday?" She smiled back at him. "Tuesday would be perfect. Outside, the crowd went wild.
Chapter Twenty-one
Ian felt like a damned fool.
Standing on the porch, he stared out across the bright green lawn at the young girl crouched amidst the ferns at the forest's dark edge. She was all alone, sitting with a rag doll clutched to her breast.
What now, Selena? he thought. What in the world was he supposed to do-just walk up to the kid and say Hi, Lara. Selena wants me to play daddy for you?
He wished he'd never promised this. Never even pretended to promise it.
He glanced back at the closed door behind him. But it wouldn't do any good to go inside. Selena would just be there, waiting for him, a disappointed look in her dark eyes.
He took a tentative step forward. The old wood creaked beneath his feet. Crossing his arms, he forced himself to keep moving, down the steps, across the crunching gravel, to the end of the lawn.
There he paused again, just for a second, and forced his hands to his sides. "Hello, Lara."
A quiet breeze rustled through the trees and caught his words.
Lara made a sharp, squealing sound and spun to face him, moving so quickly that she toppled onto her side. The doll rolled out of her grasp and lay cocked on a
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granite stone, staring up at him through one black button eye.
"D-Dr. Carrick," she whispered, scampering backward into a wary crouch.
He gave her the gentlest smile he could. "Don't be afraid." The words came with a surprising ease. He moved toward her. When he was a few feet away, he lowered himself to the ground and sat down.
She lurched to a wobbly stand and glanced back at the house. "D-Did I do somethin' wrong?"
He felt a rush of shame at her obvious fear. "No, Lara. I just wanted to ... spend some time with you."
Her eyes widened. "You did?" A whisper of sound.
"I thought you might be lonely out here."
Her lower lip quivered a little and she bit down on it. "I ... I'm lonely lots of times."
The admission, so quiet and soft, pulled at his heart, and suddenly he was glad he was here. He tried to think of how to begin, how to reach out to a child. But he had no idea what would work, all he had was understanding, and perhaps a scrap of truth. "I used to be lonely a lot when I was your age, too."
"You did?"
"Life is hard sometimes, don't you
