Courage
He played gently with each strand of her hair; thick at the most part. She was infinitely precious to him, and, in those rare moments, she knew it.
Exhausted; they had traveled too far today. But something in her spirit commanded that they go and transverse a million more flea markets. She was fun that way; fun and tiring. Two decades held them tauntingly apart.
She smiled, lacking all guile, all serpentine qualities. Among them lay scattered broken pots, tea sets, half-mended china dolls, moth-eaten pillows.
Inside of her head, she envisioned Buh Buh; poor Buh Buh, frantically awkward, trying to figure out how to get Stacy Kiebler into his life. He'd drilled every married couple in the place, looking for that one little window into passion.
She had announced, "Keep your intentions pure and you'll attract pure intentions." Buh Buh, resultantly, went out and bought edible underwear for two.
Stacy, probably, was killing him right at this moment, tossing high-heels to the divot in his forehead. Unless courtship rites had changed in the weeks since she'd been married. She spun the gold band around her finger absently, fondly.
Scott watched Molly in silence; her tiny, elfin form curled up against his in pursuit of warmth and guidance. This was happiness; why had it taken him years to 'get' it? But he understood now. And that was the ultimate goal; reaching that plateau of honesty and purity.
She slept on, maidenly in an unwomanly position. He watched her; wolf in sheep's clothing. There had been hills to climb, but all at once they were leveled.
Goodness surrounded them. They would make it after all.