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224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1980
Tom Sullivan was standing against the open screen door. His brown suit was curiously old-fashioned. It was years since Jane had seen a man's suit cut that way. He held a bunch of yellow wildflowers in his hand. For a moment Jane wondered where she had last seen flowers like that. Then she remembered: it had been beside her grandparent's tombstone in the cemetary.
She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her.
Tom held out the flowers. "I picked these at my place," he told her.
("She stared at it, then shook her head in bewilderment and shoved it back into place. The only possible cause for the moving of the bed was the electricity in the air, she reasoned. Hadn't she read that in a book someplace?")
("'Out here in the country, Tom, I seem to be really learning for the first time what it's like to take care of myself. And I must say that it feels good. In fact, it feels great.' She smiled at him through the light of the candles. 'So long as I don't get killed in the process!' She broke out into low laughter.
Tom stared into her face for a long moment. 'You are very beautiful when you laugh, Jane,' he told her gravely.")