All in all, Marshall had had a pretty good night. He only suffered from one nightmare that he could recall, which was unusual for the poor boy. Ever since the fire, Marshall's dreams had been riddled with one terrible, graphic dream after another, but not last night. In fact, he felt pretty darn good at the moment. Marshall sat upright in the bed he was renting from Monsieur Dubois, and stretched his arms above his head. He casually glanced out his window, and noticed that the sun was shining warmly. A couple of birds were perched on a thick tree branch, just outside his window. The eighteen year old smiled at the picturesque scene, that was until he realized that he had overslept. Marshall's smile faded quickly from his face, as he ran his fingers through his tangled hair, in despair.

"Great," he groaned to himself.

What better way to start things off than to have his new landlord think him a lazy man! Marshall should probably get to that leaky roof right away. The last thing he really needed was to let another day go by, without him even lifting a finger to work. In all honesty, Marshall felt a little ashamed of himself. If his father could see him now... David would probably smack him in the back of the head with a shovel they used for mucking out the horses' stalls.

"Sorry, Dad," Marshall whispered to himself, "I'll get to work right away, I promise."

Marshall swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood, stretching his body out further. He quickly scanned the room with his eyes, and spotted his shirt from yesterday, hastily thrown over the back of a wooden chair. Marshall took the shirt up in his hands, and turned it over a few times, studying the wrinkles. He swallowed hard, thinking. His mother would have had his shirt already ironed, if she were still alive. Marshall again shook the painful memories from his head, and threw on his shirt, as began to button it from the bottom up. He was less than halfway done with this simple task, when a light knock came at his door.

"Coming," Marshall called out.

Without warning, the door swung open, to reveal the figure of Ami standing just outside the doorway. Marshall immediately let out a shriek of surprise. If Monsieur Dubois was lurking nearby, the last thing Marshall wanted was for his landlord to see him in this semi-compromising situation with Ami.

"Get out," Marshall ordered, pushing the girl backwards, and as far away from his doorway as possible.

"Excusez-moi," Ami giggled, in a strange kind of fashion, that Marshall hadn't really heard before, "I thought you said, 'come in'!"

"Well, I didn't," the young man replied, "so, just go."

With that, Marshall closed the door, shutting Ami out of his room. He instantly regretted coming off so rudely. Marshall had overreacted to the situation, he came to realize. It wasn't like he was shirtless, or anything suggestive like that, and to top it off, Ami hadn't even stepped foot in his room, in fact, the teen hadn't even crossed a toe over the threshold. It was just... Ami had taken him by surprise, that was all. Marshall sighed, and finished buttoning his shirt the rest of the way.

When Marshall again emerged from his room, Ami was still waiting for him just outside his doorway.

"Bonjour, Marshall," Ami greeted with a genuine smile.

"Does that mean, 'good morning'?" he questioned, returning the girl's smile.

"Oui, it does," Ami nodded.

"Then," Marshall paused, and added with a grin, "Bonjour, Ami."

For reasons the eighteen year old couldn't understand, Ami beamed at him. Marshall wrote it off as the teenager's friendly nature, although every last trace of civility in the girl, appeared to vanish, at the mere sight of Pierre Boulanger. Oh, well, Marshall thought. He couldn't very well expect anyone to get along perfectly with ever last member of the village; it simply wasn't feasible. However, Marshall was soon pulled away from his thoughts, when the teenage girl suddenly grabbed him by the hand.

"Come so," Ami urged, "it is time for church."

"Church!" Marshall shrieked.

Ami's smile faded, as she asked, "Why, it's Sunday morning! Do you not want to go to church with my family?"

"I-I," Marshall fumbled over his words, in an attempt to come up with a good enough excuse, "I...I don't have clothes appropriate for church. Just look at me."

Ami looked him up and down with a critical eye, before laughing, "Is that all? You can borrow something from Papa! Now, you must come, for church begins soon."

The young girl again grabbed his arm, trying to force him down the hallway. Truly, it was amusing for Marshall to see such a fragile creature endeavor to move him against his will, but he remained rooted where he stood, causing Ami to turn to face him once more.

"What?" she questioned with an aggravated sigh.

"I won't be joining your family for church services today, or any other Sunday, Ami. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" the teen asked with empathy.

Marshall found himself staring into Ami's honey brown eyes. She seemed so sincere; he couldn't possibly bring himself to lie to the girl.

"I-I've sort of had a falling out with God," he answered honestly.

"I see," Ami contemplated, "have you tried praying?"

"No."

"Well, maybe you should," Ami replied, "try praying, that is."

Marshall stubbornly shook his head, "I don't want to, Ami."

"But," Ami began to protest, "the whole village will be at church today. It will give you a chance to socialize... make some friends."

"Everyone will be there?" Marshall asked, reconsidering, "Everyone, like Claire Mercier?"

"Oui," Ami answered suspiciously, "she will be there. How do you know Claire Mercier?"

If Marshall wasn't so caught up in his own thoughts, he might have noticed the hurt begin to flood into the teenager's honey brown eyes. But circumstances being as they were, he did not.

"We met at the market yesterday," the boy answered absentmindedly.

"Really?" Ami asked, her shoulders sagging slightly, "I didn't see..."

"That's because you were far to busy arguing with the baker's son," Marshall cut her off with a grin, "not that it wasn't for a worthy cause though, Ami. There's nothing worse than a man who tries to pull the wool over his customers' eyes."

Ami nodded, but Marshall did notice that the girl had suddenly adopted a far off look in her eyes, and he was rightly concerned.

"Are you feeling well?"

Ami nodded again.

"Good," Marshall was relieved, "Now, where is you're father? I need to ask him about borrowing some appropriate Sunday clothing."

"Marshall," the girl began abruptly, "you really don't have to go to church if it makes you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to push you... you'll make friends soon enough."

"No, you're right, Ami," Marshall said decidedly, "I shouldn't ostracize myself from the rest of Le Mans, and I know I'll make friends, because I already have a great friend to help me along the way."

Marshall stopped, to chastely stroke Ami's cheek with his thumb.

"Now, you're father..."

"He's downstairs... in the parlor," Ami spoke in a low whisper.

Marshall watched in amazement, as her eyes mysteriously began to water.

"Ami?" Marshall questioned, once again feeling concerned for the girl.

"Pardon, it's my allergies," Ami sniffed, before darting down the hallway.

Marshall was left standing alone, and confused.

Ultra Special Blah Blah Blah

Oh, Marshall... how can you be so very, very clueless?

Okay, so this chapter isn't meant to be super preachy religion, but France is a predominantly Catholic nation, and I figured it would have been an epically important aspect of life during this time period, so, I wrote it into the story. I had a different ending planned for this chapter, but it didn't seem like it fit the mood. So, it must wait until next time.

Now, I realize that most of you are waiting to see what happens in Ocean Heart, but I'm a little uninspired right now. Also, I started new work hours, so it's pretty hard to update, but I WILL try to update harder. In fact, I should be sleeping right now... yet, here I am. I hope you all appreciate it!

Missed the Saturday dance,

xJadeRainx