apple tree； a young doe was munching at the remains that Mitch
had tossed out。 As they watched； the lithe animal stood on her hind legs
to pick a fresh piece of fruit。
〃Deer do like apples； wouldn't you say？〃 His breath fanned her ear； its
warmth enhancing the moment's pleasure。
〃That was beautiful；〃 she murmured when the doe finally moved off into
the mist。 〃Thank you for waking me。〃 She turned to find him very； very
close； and she thought about that kiss。 All he did this time； though；
was to give her arm a gentle squeeze； then leave。
By the time she showered and went to the kitchen； he was dressed。 As he
gazed absently out the window； the freshness of morning gentled his
features。
〃Coffee？〃 she offered quietly。
〃Ummm。〃 He paused； slowly turning to look at her。 〃And a piece of that
apple pie。 My pliments to the baker。〃
〃Apple pie？ For breakfast？〃
〃Sure。 Call it danish； if the thought disturbs you。 But it was good。〃
She set to making coffee； somehow lost count and thought that maybe she
added an extra scoop to the basket。 She let it stand。 〃Swedish apple
pie。 My mother's recipe。 Easy and good。 Actually； now that I think about
it； my dad used to have it for breakfast； too。〃 Fearful that she'd
spoken too personally； she quieted。
He must have wondered about that quiet； because he asked； 〃Is your
father dead？〃
〃Oh