by Joanne Fluke
Dan had been coaching for two years when Marian joined the Nisswa staff. The hockey team was winning, and Dan was the town hero. There was no more talk of busing. Nisswa was proud of its school and even prouder of Dan. It had been exciting to date the most eligible bachelor on the faculty.
Marian hadn’t dated much in college. Her particular combination of femininity and brains had served to scare off most of the college men. And she had to admit that she wasn’t all that interested in beer parties in student apartments. Marian was convinced she was destined for something more worthwhile than becoming a simple wife and mother. She had dreams of an academic career, perhaps a place on a college faculty, the respect of her colleagues, the publication of her innovative teaching methods.
Then he’d asked her for a date, Marian Walters, newly graduated, her head filled with theories of education, her heart dedicated to bringing enlightenment to the children of America. And Marian realized what she had been missing by pouring every waking hour into her lesson plans and her research. Dan Larsen was fun!
She remembered telling Dan her dreams, how disappointed she was in not landing a job in a warmer climate, how she longed for a break from the endless snows of Minnesota winters. But jobs in better climates were at a premium, and elementary school teachers were a dime a dozen. She was lucky to get the position in Nisswa. After two years she thought she would try to move on, perhaps to California, where the days were sunny and warm, even in the winter, but there was Dan, and then there was love and marriage . . . and Laura. Painful tears squeezed out behind Marian’s swollen eyelids. Her baby was dead, and Dan was paralyzed. It was too much.
“Would you like some coffee, Mrs. Larsen?” A white-uniformed nurse came into the room on silent feet. “I’ll sit with Mr. Larsen if you want a little break.”
“Thank you, yes.” Marian rose to her feet stiffly. She had been sitting in the chair for hours now, just thinking.
“There’s coffee at the nurses’ station at the end of the hall, and there’s a sandwich machine there, too. I’m Joyce Meiers, Mrs. Larsen. I had Mr. Larsen for history when I was a senior.”
“Thank you, Joyce.” Marian forced a pleasant smile. She remembered Joyce now. Dan would be pleased to see her if he woke up, she thought as she began to walk down the hall.
* * *
In a way, he was glad she was gone. He loved her so much, and he didn’t know what to say. He had opened his eyes in the early evening to see her sitting there, head bowed slightly, eyes vacant and weary. Somehow it was wrong to interrupt her solitude. They had always been so close, but now what could he say?
I’m sorry I killed your daughter, Marian.
Oh, that’s all right. It was an accident.
It was better to say nothing at all. They would talk later, heal the breach, start over. But not now. Now he was too heartsick to try. And his grief was too new. It was best to pretend to go back to sleep until the pretense became a reality.
* * *
She felt better after the coffee and sandwich. There was a candy machine at the end of the hall, and Marian reached into her purse for change. She should take Laura a Nut Goodie. It was her favorite candy bar.
Marian stopped suddenly, a quarter balanced against the coin slot. A hard, racking sob shook her slender body. She leaned her forehead against the cool, impersonal glass case and held it there until her legs stopped trembling. She couldn’t break down now. She had to be strong for Dan. He needed her. It wasn’t fair. Life would go on and time would pass, whether she wanted it to or not.
