Romantic love story

Chapter Seventeen: Mr. Darcy's Replacement

A full tummy felt good. Madison kept thinking that as Terry drove to his apartment to meet the glass people. Food didn't always feel good, for she didn't always allow herself to enjoy it, for to enjoy it would be to need it. This time, however, she didn't mind the full feeling that said she'd eaten a lot. The half hoagie Terry had given her was still too much, but she'd managed to polish off a good three quarters before giving her leftovers to Terry.

He'd eaten it, too, along with the rest of his lunch.

Wasn't he wonderful?

All this zeal for Terry made her sleepy, and she closed her eyes for a nap. In her mind's eye, she saw a well groomed estate in England, Terry striding into one of those rooms with chairs and a small table. She saw herself in a long off-white dress, delicately sewing while Mr. Bingley spoke to Jane about their upcoming marriage. There were no proposals from this Mr. Darcy, just a content willingness to be there and share the moment with her.

She felt warm and safe, and blissfully happy.

The movie had churned up all this emotion, most probably, but she didn't care. Eyes closed, sitting in a parlor with Terry, she felt almost normal. It was like the sweetest dream ever, mixed with the feeling of a cool breeze on a quiet evening, the awe of the first light of sunrise, the peace of a sunset on the bay-- all the most wonderful feelings rolled into one perfect moment.

She slid into a warm nap, and when her eyes blinked open, something felt different.

The jeep wasn't moving. She lurched forward in the seat. Where was Terry? He wasn't behind the wheel, he wasn't in the back of the jeep, he wasn't anywhere.

Panic squeezed her heart. He'd left her.

Her hands fought with the seat belt, but the thing wouldn't let her go. She had to find Terry, she had to get out.

Please, God, help me.

Something caught her attention through the windshield. A brick building, a yellow scrawl of "Thanks a lot," the beautiful sight of a familiar door-- Terry's door. She was at his apartment, and relief washed over her with the realization.

Terry hadn't left her.

Wet stung her eyes, and she rubbed it away with the palms of her hands. She'd been acting silly, like a child suddenly lost with no parent in sight. She wasn't alone, Terry was nearby.

The door with the shiny gold three-- Terry's apartment number-- opened, and Terry came out with a crowbar. He glanced at the jeep, saw her watching, and came to her door.

She rolled down the window.

His grin vanished when she tried to quickly smudge away the tears.

He reached through the window, unlocked her door, then tugged it open.

"Are you all right? What happened?" He didn't have the chance to ask anything else, for she rushed into his arms and hid her face in his shoulder. "Hey, what's this?" His arms felt loose, as though not really wanting to hold her. "What happened?" he asked.

"I woke up and you weren't there, and I thought-- I thought..." She couldn't get the words out and she felt a sigh move through Terry's chest.

"You thought I'd abandoned you." His hug tightened. "Someone's done that to you before, haven't they? Oh, Maddie, what am I going to do with you?"

She couldn't answer, for the tears kept coming.

His hand stroked her hair, his movements careful, cautious. "I didn't mean to frighten you. You'd fallen asleep, and I didn't have the heart to wake you up."