Chapter Sixteen

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear." - Mark Twain 

He looked at Shadow, stunned at how he felt.  He had not realized how little he had refused to get his hopes up about the possibility of this job.  But, now that he had an interview, he felt a true swell of happiness and excitement bursting within him.  This marked the first time that he had felt this way since Darci had stormed out of his life almost two months before.

Marc also realized something else: other than interviews for the college paper he had written for, this was the first time he was going to be interviewed for a job as a reporter.  None of the publications he had sent resumes to ten years prior had ever requested an interview, of course, now he knew why, and the two columns he had written for the local papers were not really reporting.  He had been hired based on the samples he had sent them, and had never even traveled to the newspaper offices; everything had been handled by messenger or fax.

The full dawning realization that he had an interview for a bona fide reporting job made him whoop with joy.  Shadow was becoming more and more used to his master's outbursts, but he hopped up anyway and began jumping around with Marc as he did a little happy dance.  Marc allowed himself a few moments of celebration before reminding himself that an interview did not a job make.

But it was a start.

Chapter Seventeen

“If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.” – Henry David Thoreau 

As he stood there, his eyes took in the busy newsroom.  Even at a small local paper like this one, the sound of phones constantly ringing, the hectic clacking of keyboards, and the excited buzz of conversation filled the air.  Although several reporters sat huddled over lap tops or staring at large monitors, brows knit in deep concentration, the room was filled with people on the go, coming and going, shouting back and forth to each other.  The smell of news fairly crackled in the air.  Marc suddenly felt as though he had just come home after a long journey.  The path that had veered so sharply from the original course was finally rejoining the road that Marc had initially started out on, so many years before.

While he was enjoying the sort of homecoming he was experiencing, Jennifer finished with the copy editor and approached him.

“You look like a duck in water,” she said in greeting.

He smiled.  “I feel like I’ve just come home.”

Chapter Eighteen

“In general, pride is at the bottom of all great mistakes.” – John Ruskin 

The celebrations continued through out the day.  The phone rang merrily with friends and family wishing them a merry Christmas.  Christmas dinner was fantastic and Marc was stuffed to the gills with a honey baked ham and all of the wonderful accompaniments that his mother outdid herself with every year.  Only a few times did Marc’s mind wander, wondering what Jennifer was up to and if she hated him, and wondering where Darci was celebrating the holidays this year.  But for the most part, Marc was happier than he had been in quite a while, even if it was only superficial and holiday induced.

The phone rang yet again after dinner and Marc, being closest to it, grabbed it.

“Merry Christmas!” he said into the receiver.

“Marc?  Hi, it’s Darci.  I’m in Illinois.  Can we get together and talk?”

Chapter Nineteen

"Dreams come true; without that possibility, nature would not incite us to have them."  - John Updike

“Looks like you’re already on the road to having what you’ve always wanted.  What you’ve always deserved,” she commented, looking genuinely pleased for him.

“Yeah,” Marc said, a slow smile lighting up his features.  “It’s been a around about path, and damn it felt as cold as winter sometimes, but I’m definitely back on that road I dreamed about so long ago.”

He realized then that he was truly building something with a sound foundation.  Something that would only grow stronger and take shape as time went on.

Something more than a house of cards.