"O+F." He tore
the bag from the log and removed the paper. It was folded. Inside, a
note read: "Missed you yesterday. Leaving Wednesday. Be back in the
spring, I guess. I hope you'll be here."
Oliver folded the note carefully and looked south. "I'll be here," he
said. It was an acknowledgement and a promise. He felt a deep conflict
in his loyalties, but it was bearable. The promise came from a
different place than his attachment to Jennifer and the baby.
He stayed a few minutes savoring the coffee and the cold damp air.
Gulls circled and dove at the other end of the beach. The geese were
long gone. When he left, he took with him all traces of Francesca's
note.
Jennifer arrived home during the early game. "Hi, Sweetheart," she
said. "The roads were fine. Mother is withholding judgment until she
sees you, but Daddy is on board. Don't worry, she'll love you."
"The Patriots don't look too good," Oliver said. "I'll wow her with my
knowledge of RPG II."
"I said we'd come down at Christmas."
"O.K.," Oliver said. "Jesus!"
"What's the matter?"
"He dropped it," Oliver said. "You're back nice and early."
"We had a big breakfast around nine.
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