Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! I love reading what my readers have to say!

Again, I hope that this should not be rated T for a brief mention of what passengers might feel during a bus crash...nothing graphic at all, but if anyone reading this has post-traumatic stress disorder from an accident or something of that sort I just want to warn you.

Della Street got off the bus. She was famished. Her body ached. It was a hot day in Los Angeles, and the sun beat down on her as she made her way into the station, carrying her troublesome suitcase. Her mood was even more thunderous than when she had left Treeland. At least the uncomfortable journey was over!

As soon as she set foot in the building, however, she realized that something was amiss. There were too many people about. Worried-looking officials scurried about, whispering to each other. The place seemed to be swarming with reporters.

"What on earth is going on?" Della overheard someone asking.

"Didn't you hear? The 9:30am bus from Treeland was involved in a fatal accident – it dropped off a cliff into a body of water - and all those on board perished. They just released the passengers' names about half-an-hour ago."

Della became as white as a sheet. Why, the 9:30am bus was the one that she was supposed to have originally taken! Had her day gone according to her plans, she would not have had to contend with an empty stomach and a seat with little legroom; she would have had to contend with feeling her bus drop off a cliff and feeling it crash! This had been her fate, had not God intervened and caused the lock on her suitcase to fail. She had been silently grumbling about her misfortune all day, and it turned out that it had been His design to spare her life!

"O Lord, forgive me!" she whispered, instantaneously repentant. "I promise I will never complain again!"

Her next thought was for her parents. Had they been informed that she was dead?

Hurrying to a pay phone, she dropped in a dime and dialed their number. They answered right away, calmly, and when she explained the situation, they soothed her by telling her that they had been visiting with her aunt all day and had not heard anything about the crash and thus had missed any police officers who had come to their door trying to inform them about their daughter's supposed demise. Silently thanking the Almighty yet again for this additional favor, Della told them that she loved them, hung up the phone, and picked up her suitcase with its blessed lock and started to walk towards the door. How wonderful it was, to be walking out of the station under her own power, to have a comfortable apartment to return to, to have a job to go to on the morrow!

About halfway to the door, she realized that the hall was lined with hugging, crying people. Instinctively, she knew that these must be the relatives of the less fortunate travelers from Treeland.

Her heart breaking for them, she walked by quickly, not wishing to stare at them and increase their agony. She thought that she had passed all of them when a man sitting on a bench caught her eye.

Unlike all the other mourners, he was alone. No one was comforting him. And yet, he seemed to be more distressed than all the others she had caught a glimpse of. He sat hunched, his broad shoulders shaking uncontrollably, his face buried in his hands. Deep, strangled sobs emanated from him.

Suddenly, Della recognized his haircut, his suit, his tie, his shoes. Could this heartbroken, despondent man possibly be her indomitable employer? Could it be that news of her death had worked so terrifying a change in him?

She hesitantly came forward a few steps. When she was an arm's length away, she said,

"Perry?"

Wrapped up in his grief, he did not seem to hear her. She repeated, more loudly,

"Perry?"

This time, he flinched, and lifted his tear-stained face from his hands. Gazing upon her as if she were a vision, he stared uncomprehendingly at her.

Della's own heart was in pieces at seeing him look so lost, so vulnerable.

"Perry…if it is me that you are – it is alright. I checked my ticket for the 9:30am bus but ended up taking a later one. I am alright."

Still unable to voice a single word, the attorney reached out his hand and put it on hers. When she did not melt away like a phantom of the imagination, he realized that it meant she was truly safe and sound. Standing up, he gathered her in his arms, and with renewed sobs, clung to her as if he would never let go. Della felt the suitcase slip from her hand as she wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate to comfort him.

Without even attempting to speak, Perry wildly began to kiss her forehead, her hair, her eyes, the tip of her nose, and her cheeks between his sobs. Next, he glanced down at her lips, then up at her starry eyes as if seeking permission. When she gave the slightest of nods, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss which conveyed all the love, regret, longing, and pain he had just suffered.

Despite compassion for him, Della's heart began to dance. Surely this display meant that he saw her as so much more than his secretary!

At last, Perry pulled away. Gazing into Della's eyes, with a trembling voice, without any preface, he asked,

"Will you marry me?" Gone were his plans of a perfect venue, of producing a particular diamond ring at the ideal time. All that matter was that she knew how much she meant to him, and that they stopped wasting such precious time if she felt the same.

"What?" Della gasped, starting to fear for his sanity. For years, he had not given her the smallest hint that he cared for her, and now he was proposing marriage in a bus station, in the most impromptu manner, with a suitcase lying at their feet and people milling about. "Perry, are you quite well?" she asked, gently touching his cheek with her hand.

"I cannot live without you. Please say that you will marry me!" Seeing her confusion, he collected himself and said in his customary, level voice, "I had planned on telling you all this in a more romantic location under better circumstances, but I have put it off for far too long. I love you, Della Street, and the taste I received of what my life would be like without you in it was plainly horrific. I refuse to make the same mistake twice. Thus, I ask you again with all earnestness, will you marry me?"

"Darling, of course!" Della whispered, wiping away the last of the tears which clung to his cheeks. Perry leaned down and kissed her again, and then embraced her even more strongly than before.

After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and finally released her. Looking around, he espied her suitcase on the floor. Picking it up, he said,

"Let's get you home, dearest."

I fixed it all! Della is safe and she and Perry are engaged. One more chapter to come, just to wrap everything up!