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Marking Time

Marie Force
Chapters (44)
  1. Part I: Marking Time
  2. Chapter 1
  3. Chapter 2
  4. Chapter 3
  5. Chapter 4
  6. Chapter 5
  7. Chapter 6
  8. Chapter 7
  9. Chapter 8
  10. Chapter 9
  11. Part II: Forward March
  12. Chapter 10
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Part III: Column
  24. Chapter 21
  25. Chapter 22
  26. Chapter 23
  27. Chapter 24
  28. Chapter 25
  29. Chapter 26
  30. Chapter 27
  31. Part IV: About Face
  32. Chapter 28
  33. Chapter 29
  34. Chapter 30
  35. Chapter 31
  36. Chapter 32
  37. Chapter 33
  38. Chapter 34
  39. Chapter 35
  40. Chapter 36
  41. Part V: Parade Rest
  42. Chapter 37
  43. Chapter 38
  44. Epilogue

Marking Time

By: Marie Force

Marie Force

Copyright 2011 by Marie Force

Smashwords Edition

Cover by Kristina Brinton

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All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

For all the readers who asked for Clare’s story—thank you!

Part I: Marking Time

Marching in place.

Chapter 1

Clare checked her watch again. One thirty. It must be done by now. My husband—or I should say ex-husband—is remarried.

“Ex-husband,” she said with a shudder. Unimaginable. Divorced… Such an ugly word.

She wheeled her chair across her room in the rehabilitation center and gazed out at the steamy August day. Somewhere along the Ten Mile Ocean Drive in historic Newport, Jack had exchanged vows with Andi. He has a new family now. Clare had known this day was coming and had set the whole thing in motion by letting him go, but that didn’t make it any easier to imagine her Jack married to someone else. “Not my Jack anymore,” she said to herself.

The door opened. “Mrs. Harrington?”

Clare didn’t correct the nurse. She wasn’t “Mrs.” any longer. “Yes?”

“They’re ready for you in PT.”

Taking another long look at the City by the Sea, Clare wondered what Jack was doing right at that moment. Was he kissing his bride? Making a toast? Dancing with one of their daughters? She shook her head, angry to have allowed herself even a brief trip down that road. What did it matter now?

“Let’s go.” She wheeled herself to the door to let the nurse push her through the long hallways to physical therapy.

After dinner, Clare worked her way into lightweight pajamas. She was proud of her ability to do things for herself, even small things like changing her clothes. Each little victory added up. Rolling the wheelchair across the room she’d called home for the last four months, she eased herself from her chair to the sofa on her own—another recent accomplishment. Her recovery was coming along slowly but surely.