"Leonard!" came the knock on the window. "Leonard, get up. I need your help."

Leonard slowly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. If he hadn't recognized the voice, he might have panicked at the unexpected interruption to his sleep, but he knew the voice like a brother's, and since it sounded insistent but not urgent, he took his time responding to the plea. Enough time for Tony to knock two more times, each knock accompanied by a newly urgent "Leonard!"

"This better be important," Leonard yawned.

"It is," Tony insisted. "It's Marissa."

After a moment, Leonard woke fully and processed what his friend had said. "Are you going to stand out there, or do you want to come in?" he finally offered.

"Right," Tony nodded. "I'll come in. Have you talked to your father?"

"About?"

"About Marissa. I already said that."

"Why would my father talk to me about Marissa?"

Tony sighed in exasperation.

"I overheard Barbara and Mario tonight, and they were talking about Marissa. Apparently, she has gone missing, though no one thinks she's in any great danger – not with Moran off to Chicago and McReynolds held for questioning. Still, they're concerned enough about her that they are planning some kind of search for her. From what they said, she has decided to go home to South Carolina. She somehow blames herself for all the craziness that has been going on here the last few weeks. Instead of blaming my turncoat brother or his scheming girlfriend."

"Or," Leonard interrupted, "the crooked politicians and gangsters who obviously pulled the trigger."

"Or them," Tony grinned at his obvious oversight. "Anyway, I don't want her to leave."

For the first time, Leonard stared at Tony with a look of understanding. "I didn't know she had quite that effect on you."

Tony shrugged. "Look, I've analyzed this from a hundred angles, and I'm not crazy. I'm not claiming that I'm in love with her or anything, but haven't you ever met anyone, and you spend a little time with her, and you just feel like you have to know her? Like maybe you have already known her somewhere in your thoughts where everyone else has always been just 'not her'? Then, you talk to her, and you know?"

If Leonard could have looked any more surprised, he didn't know how. "When did you become a romantic?" he wondered.

"It's not that," Tony corrected. "I just...I didn't know until I met her that a part of me had been asleep for years. You know, I just never found anything that exciting about what my family loves. When I met Marissa, I saw that my family only knows how to use one side of their brains – the mind side. Marissa possesses the other side – the heart side. I've heard my father and brother talk about my mother, and she had it, too. The largest, most beautiful heart that could ever grace a woman. I just didn't realize I wanted that until I held in my grasp. I've been missing her all this time because people like her are so rare. I can't just let her walk away. Not without finding out if I'm right."

"The largest, most beautiful heart, or the largest most beautiful eyes," Leonard teased, longing to break up some of his friend's intensity.

Tony responded with a smirk and a laugh. "She has those, too," he agreed, "but they wouldn't mean anything to me if I couldn't see the heart behind them."

"So, you had to come wake me up to wax romantic about your soul-mate? You know I'm supposed to run the club for my father in the morning."

"No, no. I would never do that," Tony shook his head. "I need your help finding her, and I think I have an idea."

"It's four o'clock in the morning."

"Which means that she'll be asleep in bed and not running off back home to South Carolina. Now is the time to find her. The doctor told her to stay in town for a week to give her head time to heal, but it's now been five days. If she feels fine, she'll want to get out of town before we find her, and what's to keep her from heading home early? I told you: I don't want to miss her."

Though Leonard shook his head, he walked over to his closet and stepped in to pull on a pair of slacks. "Okay, so, where do we start? St. Louis is a big town."

"Well, I've been thinking about that. Marissa has no sense of personal safety, so we can't discount an area just because we think it should be off limits to a lady. I also know that, despite her abandon, Marissa is not very adventurous on her own, so she wouldn't venture too far from what she's known. She doesn't have any friends to stay with, and she would never stay with a stranger, so I'm thinking a hotel."

"So, a hotel, somewhere in the vicinity of the university or the club, or maybe on the way to the train station."

"Exactly," Tony grinned, missing the sarcasm. "The fact that you think the same thing makes me more convinced that I'm right. So, we need a list of the hotels in – what, a mile vicinity of the area we delineated?"

"We can always start with a mile, then if that doesn't work, we can move out."

"I think we can discount any place that looks too dirty. From my experience with Marissa, she has an aversion to all things that might soil her clothes." Tony grimaced a mischievous smile, and Leonard laughed.

"And yet, two out of the three times she has spent any time with you, she has ended up in need of a change of clothes."

"Just helping her lower her expectations," Tony raised his eyebrows.

Leonard's face twisted in a wry smile. "Was that so she would be willing to date you?"

When Tony could find nothing at hand to throw at Leonard, he just laughed, "Yeah, maybe so," he allowed.

"Well, let's go get her, then," Leonard declared. "We wouldn't want this one to get away." Leonard scribbled down a message for Doris, folded it, and slipped it under her dressing room door. Will be back before opening. Off to look for Marissa. She's missing. Prep the club for me? Or put one of the ladies on it. Thanks! Will call Clarice if I find Marissa.

Leonard insisted that they leave through the door rather than through the window, so Tony followed him into the murky predawn. Two hours later, the wakening sun had lightened the sky considerably, though it hadn't yet blinked its eye open on the world. Though he had started with high aspirations and hope, Tony had grown discouraged.

"Please," Leonard chastised. "The sun isn't even up. At least three of the places we stopped wouldn't open their door, and considering the part of town they're in, I don't blame them. What kind of self-respecting person goes knocking on doors at 4 a.m.?"

"The desperate kind," Tony murmured.

"Exactly. And desperate men are often not good men. So, let's finish our circuit – we've got about five more hotels – then we'll go back to the ones we couldn't get in."

Tony sighed with resignation. If he had his preference, he would find another tack to pursue, but he let Leonard's cooler head rule. Within thirty minutes, they could finish what they had begun and at least Tony would know. If he let his impetuousness stop the search, he would regret it later.

After they finished the last five hotels, they headed back north toward Leonard's neighborhood. Before they had headed south, Leonard had put out word with his friends, many of whom worked in food preparation for the hotels, to keep an eye out for Marissa. Since the friends had arrived at the hotels early, they would have access to occupancy records if they acted carefully. Tony held his breath with each building they approached, but after hearing "no" from all Leonard's friends, Tony grew impatient again.

"What do we do now?" he paced as they stood in front of the last hotel on the list. Tony didn't usually run out of ideas, but his frustration seemed to have a stranglehold on his thoughts.

"Well, there's no use in making a bigger sweep around town. It could take us a month to go through all the hotels in the city. Seems to me that, now that everyone else in the city is waking up, we head back to my pop's place and see if Doris has heard anything."

The idea sounded horrible to Tony; it left him helpless and at the mercy of others. Still, he could think of nothing else, so he pulled open the creaky door that led out of the hotel lobby where they stood in conference and determined to maintain as much rationality as he could. Impatience would do nothing to find Marissa. That growing impatience, though, swelled through every pore of his being and propelled his every move forward. Restraining it felt like restraining the rush of the tide.

**************

Mr. Crenshaw hung up the phone, and Barbara furrowed her brow at his look of consternation. "Well," he huffed. "It's as we expected. Marissa did not go home. Therefore, it would make sense that she find some isolated location to recuperate."

"I thought we knew that," Barbara begged, confused. "Why the serious face?"

"Apparently, Mr. Erinson is quite concerned about his daughter; rightfully so, I might add. After speaking with Mr. Ellenwood yesterday – Erinson called when his daughter's things arrived without his daughter – Marissa's father jumped on the train and traveled overnight until he reached St. Louis. Mr. Ellenwood gave him a list of Marissa's acquaintances. I imagine he has contacted Professor Garner already, and we were on the list as well."

"It would make sense for him to come. Maybe he could help us find her."

"And maybe he'll find some comfort in knowing the doctor's orders about her recovery. With any luck, she plans on heading home tomorrow and all will have turned out well," Mr. Crenshaw shook his head. The entire situation made him too uncomfortable; he liked to feel resourceful, but he had no further resources to exhaust for the poor girl. "Miss Erinson thought that she had caused so much trouble. Turns out, she has caused us more trouble in trying not to cause trouble."

Barbara laughed sardonically. "That's Marissa. The unexpected hero and the unsuspecting rube all at the same time."

When the knock came at the front door, both Barbara and her father lurched to answer it. Ross had not reported for work as of yet, so they had to answer themselves. Such an early hour usually precluded visitors.

Mr. Erinson did not resemble his daughter too much, though a forward and eager posture gave them both a natural air of enthusiasm. Even with the worry on his face, Mr. Erinson did not appear fearful, but instead, determined. To Crenshaw's surprise, Paul Garner and his two elder sons followed close behind Marissa's father. They looked almost shell-shocked in the wake of Mr. Erinson's intensity.

Only Barbara didn't seem cowed by Mr. Erinson, so when he bellowed out his inquiry into the events of the past few days, Barbara calmly began to explain.

"Did anyone consider calling her father?" Mr. Erinson accused.

"With all due respect, Mr. Erinson, we had a lot going on in town, and we didn't recognize the threat to Marissa until she had rushed after it. We all - except for Professor Garner's youngest son, Tony - thought the targets lay elsewhere."

Mr. Erinson leaned forward with a curious air, and Mario's objections to Barbara's question faded.

"Who is this 'Tony'?" Mr. Erinson probed. "And why did he suspect danger for Marissa? Maybe I should talk to him. He seems to have some sense."

Mario finally remembered his objection. "Tony is unable to hold an interview just as of yet."

"Unable?" begged Mr. Erinson.

"Well," Mario stammered, suddenly aware that his next statement would only increase Mr. Erinson’s intensity. "Tony was shot a few days ago."

To Mario's surprise, Mr. Erinson stood speechless for a moment. Unfortunately, Mario didn't attribute his silence to a lack of things to say. The man seemed merely to prepare himself for a flood of reproofs.

"I hope you're not going to tell me that Marissa could have gotten shot." The quiet in Mr. Erinson's tone brought shivers to Mario's skin.

"This is a very complex situation, Mr. Erinson," came the unexpected voice of Marshall Crenshaw, and Mario glanced up into Barbara's face with an expression of relief. "I recognize how dire things sound, and they were, but we believe that the danger that faced Marissa has largely passed. The only danger she faces now is that faced by any young lady unaccompanied in our day and time."

Mr. Erinson's self-control bought some respect from the men in the room. He did not press, but retained the calm tone he had recently adopted. "So, since that is enough for any young lady to deal with, maybe I should ask you what I can do now to alleviate that circumstance." He gazed around at the faces in the room. "If I discern the character of the people in this room, which I usually do quite well, you are an honest group of men. Excuse me, ma'am," he nodded at Barbara. "And ladies. As such, I will imagine no ill intent, especially since your son," he gazed at the professor, "seems to have protected my daughter."

When Professor Garner returned the physical salutation, everyone in the room relaxed. Mr. Erinson seemed much less threatening than they had all sensed and, instead, much more concerned.

"We know that her doctor instructed her to stay in town for a week," Barbara ventured, "so she shouldn't be leaving until tomorrow."

"Won't you please sit down, Mr. Erinson," Marshall interrupted. Barbara had forgotten that her statement would automatically elicit the question of why Marissa had seen a doctor. "Ross, please get Mr. Erinson a cup of tea. I'm afraid, Mr. Erinson, that we have some rather dramatic news. Though I think you'll find the resolution less concerning than it would have seemed from the other side."

Almost in tag team fashion, the occupants of the room took turns explaining to Mr. Erinson exactly what had happened to Marissa. From her heart-warming story, to the list in the paper, to the displeasure of Angus Moran, they set up the situation. Then, they swung through the days leading up to the rally, the revelation that the gangster had targeted Marissa and Jerome Weathers, and Tony's dramatic intervention to save Marissa.

"We all owe a debt of gratitude to Tony Garner, of course," allowed Mr. Crenshaw. "We did not suspect quite the significance of the situation, and he did from the beginning. You have to understand, Mr. Erinson, that politics in St. Louis have recently grown tricky. Police cooperation doesn't always lean toward the right side, so we did not run straight to them when we sensed danger. Until we had proof, we could not confront the gangster or the politician. Mario here provided some rather clever evidence, and Barbara pressed the issue so that the culprits had to scurry to avoid imprisonment. Marissa, though, proved the catalyst that set it all in motion and kept it alive. And Tony seemed to sense her vulnerability from the beginning."

"So, Tony was shot in protecting my daughter."

"He was," Crenshaw admitted.

"Apparently," Erinson turned to Professor Garner, "I owe your son quite a debt of gratitude. Now, though, no one knows where Marissa is, but you don't think she's in danger because this Moran has fled the city, the shooter has turned himself in, and the politician is in questioning."

"That is our hope, at least," agreed Professor Garner. "And I believe we have reason for that hope."

Mr. Erinson sucked in a deep breath, and with the air, a calmness seemed to infuse him. "Well," he offered practically, "where do we go from here?"

"We could either wait by the train tomorrow," Barbara offered, "or we could ask around town. Maybe Jerome knows something."

"And since I would like to meet this Jerome Weathers," Mr. Erinson nodded, "I think that sounds like a very wise idea."

Before anyone else could comment, Mr. Erinson had stood to his feet, his steaming cup of tea untouched, and had headed toward the office door. Though neither of the older men responded immediately, both Barbara and Mario followed directly behind him. They, at least, appreciated Mr. Erinson's decisiveness. Barbara couldn't help but wonder that if Mr. Erinson had come earlier, maybe much of the last few weeks of turmoil could have passed with less misery for all.

A moment after Barbara and Mario had followed Mr. Erinson out the door, Barbara heard the ruckus of the man out back of the house as he pulled the car from the garage and prepared it to carry her father and the professor in pursuit of the other three. Mr. Erinson, unwilling to wait for others' preparations, had instructed his taxi to sit outside and idle until needed.

With Mr. Erinson in the lead, Mario and Barbara charged into the dawn, more assured of success than they had felt in weeks. Even if the exact personality didn't match, the odd enthusiasm and determination of Marissa made more sense in light of her father, and Barbara and Mario found themselves even more swept up by him than they had by her. For inspiration, they found Marissa the greater force, but for motivation, her father had her beat.

************

"There's only one more place we need to check, Tony," Leonard asserted. After two hours of searching, up before the sun, Leonard had lost his eagerness to help his friend. Still, Tony's despondency gave Leonard one last jolt of energy. "We need to go back to the train station now that the day workers are there, and I need to put the word out to keep watch for her. With enough warning, we should be able to make it to the train before she leaves town for good. This is a lot of trouble to go to for someone who doesn't even know you're doing it."

"And I recognize that it's a little crazy, but after all she and I have been through, I just can't let everything end with such a pathetic whimper. I have to at least let her know before she leaves."

Leonard tilted his head skeptically at his friend. "Let her know what?"

"Just," Tony pursed his lips. "Just that I want her to stay even if she thinks no one else does. That I don't blame her for anything even if she thinks everyone else does. I'm the one who got shot for her; if anyone can absolve her it's me." Tony grinned, and Leonard laughed. The very things that he found most annoying about his best friend at six o'clock in the morning, he also loved his friend for the majority of the time. Pushy determination and an indomitable spirit appealed under many circumstances.

As the pair walked down the front steps, Tony turned to stare up at the white stone facade of the building. He had known that Marissa wouldn't indulge herself in such a whimsical exercise as blowing her hard earnings on an expensive hotel, but when he passed by and heard the weave of the music, he had a sudden memory of her face before he kissed her at Marcel's. Surely, she wouldn't, as he had, associate the music with the memory.

He pressed the thought from his mind as he followed Leonard into the street. Drowning himself in a memory wouldn't find her.

**************

The cold, stone edifice now lay behind her, and she christened it a sepulcher to her misadventures in St. Louis. As she had rushed through the lobby, the band in the club had filled the air with the grind and blare of their dance music, but Marissa could only hear the funeral dirge of her hopes and dreams.

A short walk later, she had reached the station, bought her ticket, and climbed the stair that placed her on the road home. With nothing to stow but a small bag, Marissa found herself seated on the train with over thirty minutes to spare. She had completely resigned herself to her utter failure; she had tried her hand at independence and now would have to "crawl back home with her tail between her legs."

Of course, her brother would prove most obnoxious, utilizing every opportunity to mock and belittle her. One thing she knew about Jackson, he would have no mercy. In a way, though, his taunts would only fortify her sense of self-preservation. She had never really "risen to the occasion" when another person taunted her – she cared too much what people thought. With Jackson, though, the relentlessness of his irritation gave her a thicker skin with him than with most other people.

Though her mother would offer nothing but support, Marissa would find her mother's assurances much more upsetting than her brother's taunts. Mrs. Erinson might as well breathe as offer encouragement, so intertwined were the two occurrences. Still, Marissa could tell the difference between Mrs. Erinson's genuine assurances and her platitudes. What genuine assurances could the woman possibly offer under the circumstances. None, Marissa feared.

Worst of all, though, Marissa did not want to face her father.

Jonathan Erinson believed in many things, but one of his highest values lay in getting results. When Marissa had left home, she had held great aspirations, aspirations that Mr. Erinson had encouraged. Why couldn't a young woman prove her worth and gain her way into a university? Why couldn't she work hard enough and make enough money and be resourceful enough to pay for an education? Because, she realized, I'm not strong. I'm not made of the stuff that can press through regardless of circumstances. And sometimes, I'm just stupid. Stupid enough to trust people, she knew. Stupid enough to think that writing a moving story would move people. Stupid enough to take a risk without counting the cost to herself and others. Stupid enough to think that she could buy results with thoughts.

Well, her father, though he would support her in the end, would have a few nice words of unsolicited advice when she arrived home. For the first time since she had decided on her course, Marissa felt completely overwhelmed. She didn't want to go home; maybe she could find another alternative. Maybe she could stay in St. Louis and come up with another way to survive, without her friends. Without a job? Without a place to stay? No, she reasoned with herself. Maybe she could move to a different city; somewhere where she could start fresh. And what? she asked herself. How does a young lady make her way alone in this day and age?

Nothing acceptable came to mind, though she could think of a couple of respectable options. Still, since she had no training, she couldn't just pick up and become a teacher or a nurse. Marissa stared out the window at the other passengers where they rushed hectically around the platform. She tacitly wondered if any of the people moving around her had suffered quite so much as she in the last few weeks. As soon as she thought the words, though, she knew better.

Selma had suffered worse. Clarice had suffered worse. Leonard had suffered worse. Mario and the Professor and Tony had suffered worse. Beyond her father's disappointment, she would lead a life of relative ease, regardless of her personal failures. She had a family who loved her, she suffered under little prejudice – though being a woman carried with it a limited set of expectations from the world at large - and most of all, Marissa would always have somewhere to run when she found herself alone. If anything ever happened, though Marissa would have to endure a little drama, her father would always save the day and her mother would always welcome her home with open arms.

As she considered the reality of her circumstances, a tear came to her eye. How could Marissa complain? Tony Garner had known a supportive father and a couple of close friends, but he had never known the welcome arms of his mother. The sheer number of advantages that Marissa had – the reasons for gratitude – filled her with a moment of shame that surpassed her guilt over the events of the past few weeks.

What she had plagued her the most, she realized, seemed more like self-pity all of the sudden. As if to mock her, a lone busker filled the train station with the sound of a soulful trumpet, a sad farewell to her wishful thinking. Well, she would leave because it was the safest thing to do, but she would not slink off without considering those she left behind.

She stood to her feet, determined that she should at least call Mr. Ellenwood and let him in on her situation. Once he knew, he could disseminate the information to the community, for those who cared. It would seem less thoughtless leaving without saying goodbye. Of course, she knew that nothing excused the previous week's selfish wallowing, but her father always said, "Two wrongs don't make a right." Now that she realized her error, she needed to fix it. In fifteen minutes, the train would pull out of the station. Before then, Marissa would make some form of amends.

She descended the steps of the train, much to the consternation of the attendant, and headed toward the nearby office. The receptionist shrugged her acquiescence when Marissa asked to use the phone, and Marissa leaned against the counter to take the weight off her shoulders so she could raise them for a breath. The butterflies in her stomach had battered her lungs until they felt too bruised to fill with air. Though she knew the hour, she also knew that the ever-energetic Mrs. Ellenwood would have awakened early to begin the morning meal. Within two rings, Marissa heard the nasal intonation of the bookstore owner's wife.

***************

From where he stood on the platform, Tony couldn't see beyond the closest row of passengers who had seated themselves by the near windows. Leonard had already begun his investigation, quizzing the various attendants whom he knew. With each shake of Leonard's head as he made his way down the length of the train, Tony's hopes dropped further. Tony headed toward the train, even mounting a few steps before a zealous attendant stopped his progress.

What had he planned on doing? he wondered with disgust. Walking inside the entire length of the train and calling Marissa's name? She had obviously not sought him out during her week's convalescence. How would she react to seeing him five minutes before she pulled out of the station to head home? He decided he didn't care; as long as she went home knowing the truth, then he could let her go.

When he turned back toward the station, fully exasperated, his heavy heart leaped out of its mire of disappointment. Marissa stood, her arms resting atop the counter in the office, and her face spoke all the guilt and sadness that Tony had imagined. Stupid girl, he chastised, though without conviction. Before he could stop himself, he had pushed past several exiting passengers, almost knocked into a musician who had kicked up a tune on his trumpet, and come to stand within inches of Marissa. With the crush of people around her, she didn't seem to notice. Only when the receptionist stepped in front of her and pointed to the clock on the wall did Marissa look up.

"Yes, of course I'll call when I'm home...Yes, my father has a telephone. I really am sorry, I just thought...I have to go, Mrs. Ellenwood. My train pulls out in two minutes! Yes, I will. Thank you so much – again."

When she finally handed the receiver back to the receptionist, Marissa nearly dropped the bag she held clutched in her free hand. A restrained scream escaped her lips as her eyes encountered Tony's face.

Tony could say nothing for several seconds. He could only stare into her face to try and ascertain her feeling.

Definite fear, he saw, though more panicked than actually afraid, she looked as if she had seen a ghost. Perhaps, too, he saw cunning, a calculated desire to escape. Guilt and shame he noted without surprise, as Tony had expected those all along.

Beneath it all, though, he sensed a definite pleasure, as if his presence had fulfilled a deep but unexplored wish that she had never expected to see fulfilled. More than pleasure; Tony sensed the deepest joy. The expression infused Tony's lungs with new breath.

"Do you have anything on the train?" he asked presumptuously. "I can get it for you."

He didn't intend to budge on the point. He would let her go at some point, just not on the planned train. As if to emphasize his resolve, Tony grabbed the ticket that she held tightly clutched and wrinkled with the handle of her bag.

"How much would it cost to exchange these for the next train out?" he asked the receptionist.

Despite her utter disbelief at his presence, Marissa didn't miss the audacity of Tony's question.

"One moment," the receptionist offered without hesitation. She motioned to a disheveled looking man seated on a bench against the office wall.

After a moment's discussion, the woman turned to Marissa and smiled pleasantly. "This young man is willing to trade seats with you," the receptionist offered sweetly. Marissa glanced at the man's ticket, a step down in class, but almost two hours later. If anything would move her toward acquiescence, the anticipation on the man's face did. Apparently, he had good reason to prefer the earlier train.

She pursed her lips at Tony, wavering between exasperation that he dared to take such control of her future and shock that he stood before her able to do so. Still, she said nothing. Only moments before, she had discovered that he had survived the gunshot wound, and Marissa's tongue felt shackled by her astonishment.

"Please, Marissa," Tony pleaded as if he had read her thoughts. "Just give me enough time to talk to you before you run away."

Run away? Is that what he thought? Maybe he was right; maybe he had read her fear more than she had intended. Still, Marissa could see a near desperation in Tony's eyes – as if her leaving would strike him just as deeply as the bullet had. When the pang of exhilaration hit her, emanating from his living, breathing face so close to hers, she averted her eyes to the man who needed her ticket.

"Of course you can have it," she smiled. "And have a safe trip."

The man nodded both his acceptance and his gratitude before holding out his hand to receive the ticket from Tony. In return, Tony took the man's ticket, not offering it to Marissa. With the power in his possession, Tony had no intention of handing Marissa her means of escape until he had some time to talk to her. For a moment, Tony and Marissa stared into each other's eyes without breathing. Only when the man had grabbed his small bag and headed to the train, crumpled ticket in hand, did they draw a shallow breath.

Before Marissa could recover, Tony turned to exit the room, and the receptionist had turned back to attend other business. Apparently, she found nothing unusual or moving about the young couple's exchange. Marissa, on the other hand, found the experience so foreign and unnerving that she didn't move even when Tony stepped toward the door. She didn't mean him any slight, but she stood frozen in confusion. To add to her amazement at Tony's presence, Marissa also felt confounded by the fact that anyone still wanted her around, much less Tony.

Half an hour before, Marissa had sat despondently aboard her train of self-pity, convinced that everyone wished her gone. At the moment, she thought Tony would collapse into tears if she left. Tony? Handsome, eloquent, powerful, unafraid. He had protected her for days; now, he seemed in need of her strength just to keep standing. Maybe because he’s recovering from a gunshot wound, she mocked herself sardonically.

When Marissa didn't move, Tony grabbed her by the hand. The warmth of her hand enlivened him, and he pulled her from the little office with perhaps more force than he otherwise would have dared.

"Is anyone else here?" Marissa squeaked, half hopeful, half afraid.

"Just Leonard," Tony smirked. "I dragged him out of bed at four o'clock this morning, and I've been forcing him to look through all the local hotels for the last three hours."

"For me?" Marissa wondered. She couldn't believe that Tony would desire it any more than she could believe Leonard willing to help. Just then, Tony slowed his relentless pull and nodded at a figure several car-lengths away. Marissa looked up at the unmistakable visage of Leonard Lafitte. She only managed a weak wave before Tony pulled her behind the station building and onto a bench.

If Marissa read him right, Tony intended to have an intense discussion right there in a very public place. She peered around her with a nervous shudder.

"Of course for you," he answered the dangling question. "Who else would I do it for?"

"Well, for anyone!" she asserted. All of her new-found maturity seemed to have fled her as she came to grips with the fact that she had to face a flesh-and-blood Tony – not her imagined memory.

He laughed aloud. "At four o'clock in the morning? The first day I'm cleared to leave the hospital? When my back and shoulder are killing me?"

"Please don't say those words," she whispered, and Tony stopped in confusion. When he said nothing, she explained, "I thought I had killed you!" Somehow, she didn’t yell the words, managing to restrict her emotion to a hushed whisper.

Moved, Tony reached up to her face. "You thought I was dead?" He wanted to wrap her in reassuring arms, but he knew better as of yet. "You stayed away for an entire week, you avoided all contact with anyone, and you thought I had died?"

"You were shot!" she whined.

"Yes, but if you had opened a paper, you would have known."

"I couldn't look. I knew no one else would want to see me, so I couldn't go ask. And I didn't want to know the details of how you," Marissa huffed another sob, peering into his eyes with longing, "had died."

Tony could restrain himself no longer. Without concern for the curious eyes wandering past, he pulled her into his shoulder, hiding her face against his chest. "That just shows what you know," he reprimanded. "For one thing," he leaned back, turning her face in both hands to look into his eyes, "I'm very much alive." He then returned her to the position of comfort in his arms. "For another, I happen to know that several people have dedicated a lot of time looking for you. Can you imagine how worried everyone felt when we heard you had checked yourself out of the hospital without telling anyone? All we had was the hope that you had listened to the doctor, that you wouldn't leave until he cleared you. And I was right in thinking that you would disregard his orders once you felt better."

"Well, I didn't want anyone to find me..."

"You didn't think anyone would look for you, yet you didn't want anyone to find you. Stupid girl!" Tony chuckled to himself.

"Well," Marissa began to protest, her sense of insult rearing its head despite her happiness at his presence, "I didn't think..."

"Don't take it the wrong way -"

"How else am I supposed to take 'stupid girl'?" she complained with a bit more petulance than she usually managed.

"Look, it's just the way I explain you to myself so I can stop myself from growing exasperated!" Tony lifted her chin in his hand. "You’re so blasted independent, but you’re so insecure. It scares me, because I think you’re going to rush bravely into a battlefield trying to save someone, then get too nervous to get out. I admire it, but it terrifies me."

Marissa didn't know whether to laugh at him or cry.

"What I mean is, when you set your mind to something, you had such little regard for yourself. You could ignore danger, practicality, reality, if it somehow stood in the way of your ideal. Do you see how I could call that stupidity?"

"Well, when you put it that way," Marissa mumbled.

"The problem was, though, that I liked your stupidity, because somewhere deep down, I wanted it to be true. I wanted you to be right; that when things were worth standing up for, sometimes too close a marriage between practicality and purpose can lead to inaction. I had seen so many adult men explain away their lassitude with the excuse that 'it wouldn't work.' Look what you did with your impractical ideals!"

"I got you shot," Marissa deadpanned.

"You got Jerome elected. You got Angus Moran running with his tail between his legs. You got the very crooked Carson McReynolds out of office and out of power."

"I didn't do any of that," Marissa corrected.

"You didn't physically do any of that, but you acted as a catalyst. You got people out of their lethargy and sent them into action. Barbara deserves a lot of credit for jumping on the bandwagon you set rolling, but she did wrong in the process. She disregarded you. Of course, fear of wrong action too often leads people to do nothing, so I'm not sure which was better. Still, if we can right the wrong done to you..."

"Wrongs done to…I think you took care of that when you jumped between me and a bullet," Marissa offered sarcastically.

"Good," Tony smiled, unabashed. "Then, you'll stay here? With me? I mean," he corrected, "you won't run away? If I have successfully paid for, in representation of all your friends, the betrayals you have endured in St. Louis, then you have no reason to leave us."

Marissa wanted to protest. She had initiated much of her own difficulty over the last few weeks, and she had caused difficulty for so many others. "I just don't think you'll feel the same once you have time to think about it," she countered.

"Marissa Erinson," Tony threaded his arm behind her back and pulled her against him. Marissa’s breath caught, but she covered the sound by chewing her lip. "There is one thing that I have worked out beyond any doubt, and if you don't realize the significance of my actions this morning, then you don't know me: I know exactly how I feel. I feel like if you leave me now, I'm going to miss out on the most important chance in my life. I feel like you have something inside you that I will never recover if I let you go. I feel like you need to understand how stupidly complete a hold you have woven over me in the last few weeks, because if you do, you will know what a cruelty you would commit by walking away from me now."

If Marissa's eyes could grow any more round or intense, Tony wouldn't know how to respond. In them, he read all the shock and pleasure he could ever have desired. He suddenly realized that his free hand had woven into her hair, and, unable to stand the tension in her gaze, he pulled her lips to his.

For several seconds, Marissa could not think or move or breathe, only taste the heat of his lips against hers. When her mind kicked in, she realized that she was holding back, tentative, in the way of childish Marissa. Releasing her senses, she let herself remember her thoughts as she entered the hotel, the recognition that she had grown up, and she kissed Tony as a woman. Her first real kiss as a woman. Until that moment, she had not understood her reach or how she wielded it. To hear herself spoken of from Tony's lips made her sound like Joan of Arc and Circe all rolled into one. To feel his lips on hers made her feel like maybe he meant to make it true. For an immeasurable time, she poured her whole heart into accepting his acknowledgement.

When she gradually grew aware of the nearby mumbling, Marissa felt the heat seep out of Tony's kiss. He pulled back slightly, kind enough not to jolt upright and away from her. Unfortunately, the action left her enough time to recognize not only the content of the mumbling, but the voice which effected it.

"...under any normal circumstances, I assure you. My daughter should know better," came the voice of Jonathan Erinson, too impossibly close to emit from a telephone.

Marissa turned to ice in Tony's arms, and she felt him slide his hands to his side. When she turned to face her father, Marissa's cheeks burned with every ounce of the impropriety in her actions. So much for my adulthood, she mocked herself. Gone were all thoughts of guilt at Tony's injury or hurt at Mario's and Barbara's betrayal. All flushed away in the light of her compromised position.

With Mr. Erinson stood every acquaintance that Marissa had made in her time in St. Louis. Most of the crowd appeared amused and indulgent: Barbara, Mario, the professor, Leonard – even Jerome Weathers had appeared with the unusual gathering. Mr. Crenshaw appeared merely uncomfortable, as any self-respecting person would, Marissa knew. Her father, though? Marissa could not make out the intent of his expression.

She felt a momentarily rush of giggling try to surface from her lips, most likely hysterical in nature, as she took in Tony's expression. The usually indomitable Tony Garner seemed briefly cowed by the equally indomitable Jonathan Erinson. Perhaps, Marissa pondered, Tony recognized the weaker footing that his indiscretion with the older man's daughter placed the younger man in.

When they had heard Mr. Erinson's words, both Tony and Marissa had stood to their feet, and though Marissa wished more than anything to bury her face back in Tony's shirt, she couldn't justify the action. Tony, however, recovered quickly.

"Mr. Erinson," Tony extended his hand, and to Marissa's relief, her father slowly extended his own in return. "Please excuse me," Tony continued, and Marissa worried that he would enter in some embarrassing explanation. "Your daughter, I believe, was about to embark on a trip back home to see you. I don't think she was aware that you had rendered the trip unnecessary."

Marissa couldn't miss the smirk on her father's face. Apparently, he thought Tony's cheek more amusing than offensive. She let herself breathe for a moment as her father drew himself up into his usual self-confident pose. Had he found in Tony someone worth his assessment? Marissa bit her bottom lip in anxious expectation.

"Well, you seemed to have delayed her departure just long enough to make it undesirable after all."

The twitch in Tony's lip made Marissa fear that he would break into a full-fledged grin. She had no idea whether the two men were about to punch each other in the face or slap each other on the back, at least figuratively, since Tony's back had a bulging bandage on it.

"And as we were saying," Professor Garner cut through the tension with a bravery Marissa had not previously seen in him, "when I spoke with the board, they agreed wholeheartedly." Unfortunately, Marissa had no idea of what the professor spoke, but the man seemed intent on diverting attention away from his son and back to whatever topic the group had discussed before they had encountered Tony and Marissa. When Marissa glanced at Barbara, Barbara seemed entirely uncommunicative and inclined to hold her tongue, an inclination Marissa could only chalk up to the presence of Jonathan Erinson. He seemed to effect people that way as a rule.

"I would need your assurances, Professor, that my daughter would be better taken care of than she has been in the preceding few weeks."

"I have a feeling, Mr. Erinson," Jerome interrupted, "that the entire character of this town has taken a fundamental shift thanks to your daughter."

For the first time that she could remember, Mr. Erinson peered at his daughter with something approximating pride. Not that he had withheld his approval as a rule, but this look spoke an intensity that proceeded from some depth within him before untouched. Marissa felt completely taken aback by the sentiment, but when she glanced at Tony, he wore the smug smile of someone who had known all along what others were just realizing.

"At this point, I am as concerned about the intentions of her friends as I am those of her enemies. Enemies seem obsolete. It is my understanding that she has single-handedly rid the town of all undesirable elements."

No one spoke for a moment, uncertain in what spirit to take Mr. Erinson's assertion. Tony, though, couldn't withhold his enthusiasm forever, and a chuckle bubbled from his lips. "I appreciate," he offered brazenly, "that you do not include me in that list."

"Don't think I didn't consider it," Mr. Erinson parried with his typical quickness. Again, the dance between aggression and camaraderie. Marissa considered dropping her bag on the ground just to see if it would crack the tension.

"As I was saying," the professor picked up where he had left off, "I understand that you may need some time to consider, especially in light of recent events, but let me assure you – as far as her personal care – that I will treat her as if she were my own daughter."

"Not too much like your own daughter," Mr. Erinson quipped again, turning his gaze back to Tony.

"That would be counterproductive," Tony retorted.

Marissa thought she would die.

As the lash of the exchange faded, though, she processed the professor's words.

"Consider what?" she finally asked. Why would her father need to consider?

The professor glanced at Mr. Erinson, who nodded imperceptibly.

"I have been authorized to offer you, dear Marissa," he smiled as he grabbed her hand warmly. "An admission to the university."

For a moment, Marissa could not speak as she considered the meaning of the statement. "Authorized?"

"Not just authorized, Miss Erinson," Jerome interjected. "Begged and pleaded."

Professor Garner chuckled, "Yes, begged and pleaded. Apparently, your work on the paper was of such quality that both the English and the journalism departments wanted to discuss your willingness to enter their program."

"And," Mr. Crenshaw piped in, "in light of the public service you provided, several members of the community have requested to subsidize a portion or the entirety of the cost."

Before Marissa could choke on the concept, Tony had grabbed her and picked her up in a sweeping hug. As soon as he did, her embarrassment kept her excitement in check. To her relief, she heard a boisterous laugh from her father, though she soon felt his restraining hand where it gripped her elbow and tugged her gently from Tony's enthusiastic embrace. Tony relinquished her, if a bit reluctantly, and stepped back to let her father have her.

"So," Mr. Erinson smiled, "you seem to have quite a following here."

Marissa shook her head, the increase in attention confounding her immensely. As little as an hour before, Marissa had written herself off in the hearts of her friends. She had pictured herself scurrying home, a shame-faced failure. In a matter of moments, her life seemed to have transformed.

She considered the train ticket that Tony kept carefully out of her reach. At the moment, all that she could consider her own lay in the bag in her hand; the rest of her life lay somewhere in her childhood home. Still, Marissa wondered that she felt much less pull toward the comfortable past than she did toward the expectant future. All she had wished for when she originally boarded the train for St. Louis seemed to have fallen to pieces around her, but through unexpected struggles, each aspiration had suddenly come to pass.

Though she tried to rein in her enthusiasm, her expression must have given away her answer. Mario and Barbara just held hands and grinned stupidly at her. Both Mr. Crenshaw and Jerome Weathers wore knowing guises, as if they now saw exactly what they had always expected. Mr. Erinson stared at his daughter with the strangest mixture of sadness and pride; it would have broken Marissa's heart could she have felt sadness at the moment.

Only when she looked to Tony did she experience confusion. The group had begun a slow shuffle back toward the station's exit, and Mr. Erinson and Marissa followed suit as they all discussed Marissa's situation. Tony, though, appeared a tad nervous, a mien utterly foreign to his usual confidence. When he stepped forward and took Marissa's hand, she almost pulled it back, so concerned about her father did she feel.

"Mr. Erinson," Tony began quietly, and Marissa's heart nearly stopped at the look Jonathan Erinson leveled at the joined hands, "may I speak with you a moment?"

To his credit, Mr. Erinson did not resist the change in direction. As the others kept their forward motion, he stepped back toward the young couple who, much to Marissa's consternation, stood a good several feet from the larger group.

"What is it, young man?"

"I owe you an apology," Tony ventured humbly. "I owe both of you an apology."

Mr. Erinson seemed to enjoy the loss of Tony's cocky self-assurance. "For what do you wish to apologize?" Mr. Erinson begged complacently.

"I have felt thrown into a level of intimacy with Marissa that would hardly be appropriate under normal circumstances. With her life on the line, I'm afraid," Tony turned to Marissa, "I'm afraid I have taken liberties that should have followed only after a much longer acquaintance."

Marissa blushed at the implied openness in Tony's words.

"There is no excuse for my actions, other than the charismatic nature of your daughter and my own susceptibility to her particular character. That being said," he squeezed Marissa's hand as if to punctuate his next words. "If I might humbly beg your permission, with the supervision of my father, to re-initiate the relationship between your daughter and myself under more proper conditions and restraints."

Though his earlier kiss should have swung Marissa head over heels into Tony's emotional grasp, the beautiful formality of his declaration to her father had a much more touching and tangible effect. She remembered her thoughts of his masculine tendencies, the impetuousness that arose from his hotter blood, but his declarations at the moment seemed rooted in the coolest reason and intentionality. Any dam with which Marissa had stopped her heart suddenly burst through with acceptance – her resistance on such things had never really been tried and so were not particularly powerful. When she looked into Tony's face, he seemed so resolute that she could not doubt him.

She finally tore her face away from Tony and aimed it back at her father. She had no assurance what response she would effect if he looked reluctant or unwilling. On his face, though, he wore neither expression. He stared at her as intensely as she had gazed at Tony.

Mixed with the still present sadness and pride, she saw a skeptical pleasure. He slid his eyes back and forth between Marissa and Tony, and when they finally rested on Tony for good, he nodded, though he punctuated it with a glare that would have cut through stone.

"I believe, Mr. Garner, that you have, by risking your life for my daughter, earned the right to attempt making amends. Before I leave, I will sit down with both my daughter and your father – not together, Marissa; don't look so mortified – and I will discuss with them exactly what is and is not acceptable. I don't know the standards in big city St. Louis, but in South Carolina, they are fairly well-defined. Once we have laid out some plans, if your father agrees to the supervisory role, then I will perhaps agree to your request to court my daughter."

Marissa cringed at the term "court," lest Tony find it too daunting, but Tony seemed only pleased, if not elated, at the idea. As if his words settled all dispute, Mr. Erinson nodded again before turning to catch up with the small crowd of friends.

When she began to follow, Marissa felt Tony's restraining hand on her arm, and when she looked at him, he had leaned to within an inch of her face.

“Are you ready for this?” he challenged. Though he grinned, she thought she read insecurity behind his confidence.

She wrinkled her nose in amusement. “Courtship?” she mused. “Seems a bit old-fashioned.”

“But you care about your father, and I’m sure it’s what he would expect. I wouldn’t disrespect him by ignoring that intention. Does the idea scare you?”

His proximity infused her with more openness than her usual custom, and she smiled up at him with a coy expression. "You've met my father. Now that I've dealt with him, very little could scare me anymore."

Tony ignored the implied challenge in her words, instead stealing a kiss as she tried to gaze confidently into his face. As he had hoped, his risk paid off in the slightly foggy glaze that adorned her half-closed eyes. When he turned to follow her father, Tony saw nothing in his future that he could not handle.

Following confidently in his footsteps, Marissa saw the same.

She had faced solitude, betrayal, abandonment, death, and her own wayward conscience, but as she trailed behind those whom she loved best, Marissa felt the tears rise to brimming lids. She had accomplished more in her move to St. Louis than she ever could have expected, not the least of which was that she had endeared herself to her friends – and to Tony. Whatever arose in her suddenly rosy future, Marissa held little fear that she would face it alone.