It never occurred to me, back in high school, that it could be more than a fraternity stunt when Marcel Desjardins began paying attention to me. I was the clumsy, nerdy, foster-care bookworm; possibly he was just bored.
All of us hung out at the Desjardins' house and we always had a blast. Every time I was alone with Marcel, though, I recited lines to myself from that old Johnny Rivers song about "Welcome back, Baby, to the poor side of town".
Once he proposed, I began to trust his intentions.
Our wedding was over much too quickly; that moment when all the dreams come true really should last a little longer. It should also seem more real; I still had the idea that dreams coming true was something that happened to other people.
Some of the harpies at the group home couldn't wait to point out that I'd spend my life slaving away in the garden. There are worse things. Besides, in this household, everyone works in the garden until the work is done. There's plenty of time for other things.
There are so many other things to do: Books galore, of course, and also a microscope, a telescope, even a rocket ship! Paradise on earth (or elsewhere)!
The harpies also rubbed my nose in how I'd living under the in-laws' roof. Frankly, I couldn't ask for a better MIL than Eve. Not to mention, that if I were ever called upon to step up and play Lady of the Manor, I'd probably head for the hills with a book.
As for my father-in-law, he was a jolly rogue. I wish I'd known him better; unfortunately he left us almost immediately after the wedding.
It's such a shame he didn't have a chance to meet his grandson, Julien. Yes, I got pregnant immediately and yes, I was much too happy about it even to bother with an eye roll over my Schadenfriends' snark about anchor babies.