Great. What about you?

He didn't reply immediately. It couldn't have been better, he eventually wrote. Thank you for listening while I poured out my woes about my marriage last night. I don't often talk about it. I wouldn't have with you, but in all fairness I felt you needed to know.

Peter, thank you, she hurriedly typed back. I can't tell you how freeing it was for me to tell you about my divorce. It's not a subject I bring up lightly. I felt like such a failure when we split up and that feeling never went away.

I know. That's how I felt when my marriage ended, too.

It seems we have even more in common than we realized, she told him.

I was thinking the same thing.

They chatted for most of an hour until Beth's stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten dinner. Peter couldn't stay online long because he was seeing a friend, so they ended their conversation.

It was just as well, because Beth had to call Heidi and let her friend know there'd been a small change in plans.

After she reached her, Beth explained that she'd be seeing Peter in Leavenworth and said she hoped Heidi didn't mind.

"Mind? Of course I don't mind," Heidi told her. "I think it's so romantic that you two will meet up there. All we need now is some snow for the day to be absolutely perfect."

Snow in Santa's Village-that would indeed be marvelous.

"I wonder if I'm expecting too much," she said, suddenly anxious.

"How can you help it?" Heidi asked. "He does seem too good to be true."

No dating service could have set her up with a more suitable candidate. They agreed on practically everything they'd discussed. In the past week, Beth had learned that they both read the same books, liked the same kinds of food-Mexican and Chinese-and adored anchovies on Caesar salad but not pizza. Granted, those might be superficial similarities, but unlike John, Peter was responsible and dedicated, both qualities she admired. She knew this from his loyalty to his friends, his seriousness about his career-as a coffee buyer at Starbucks-his affection toward his parents and many other examples she'd gleaned.

Maybe he was too good to be true, as Heidi had said. But Beth's instincts told her that Peter was a man she wanted to know better, a man worth knowing better. Not that her instincts had been what you'd call reliable in the past. So, before things went any further, she had to learn if this could become a viable relationship-and there was only one way to find out.

In other words, Beth was counting on their face-to-face meeting to tell her whether these feelings for Peter were real-or just a fantasy concocted during their online adventures.

CHAPTER Eleven

Carter could hardly wait to get to school. As soon as the bus dropped him off he headed for the playground, instead of running into the classroom with Timmy and his other friends. Behind the building, he looked carefully around.

Rusty was nowhere to be seen. His heart sank.

"What are you doing out here?" Timmy asked, chasing after him.

"Nothing," Carter murmured, his shoulders slumping. All night he could barely sleep thinking about the stray. The more he thought about it, the more he realized this wasn't just any dog. This was his dog. His Rusty. God had sent him this dog. Rusty was the answer to Carter's prayer.

"Wanna play soccer?" Timmy asked. "I can get Cameron and Isaiah and-"

"No, thanks."

Timmy looked as dejected as Carter felt. "It's cold out here. Let's go inside."

"All right." Timmy followed him off the playground and into the building.

When classes started, he had trouble paying attention to Ms. Jensen. Carter kept wondering what had happened to Rusty. He worried that Animal Control had picked him up, and then worried that they hadn't.

Deep down, Carter knew that if Rusty was at a shelter, he'd at least be out of the cold. And there'd be plenty of food for him. But Carter had brought an extra-big lunch today, just in case.

After the recess bell rang, his friends dashed out the door, eager to put on their winter clothes and get onto the playground.

"Carter." Ms. Jensen stopped him.

Carter trudged over to his teacher. "Yes, Ms. Jensen?" He thought about asking if she'd seen the stray dog recently, but then he remembered Mr. Nicholson's warning.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Ms. Jensen."

"At home, I mean."

He nodded. He wanted to tell her that his family wasn't getting Christmas presents this year and that he'd lied to his friends. He still felt bad about misleading Timmy. But he didn't want the other kids to know that the only gift under the tree would be underwear from his grandmother.

"You don't seem yourself. Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine, Ms. Jensen. Can I go outside now?"

"All right. Oh, and thank your mother for the cookies she sent me."

"I will," Carter promised.

As he hurried onto the playground, Carter noticed that his teacher was still watching him. No sooner was he outside with his friends than he saw Rusty. Carter could hardly breathe, he was so excited.

Rusty saw Carter, too, and even though one of the third-grade girls was offering him a cracker, the dog shot across the schoolyard. Carter knelt down to greet his friend. Rusty licked his face and seemed as happy to see Carter as Carter was to see him. Carter dug inside his pocket for a meatball he'd managed to smuggle out of the refrigerator early that morning. Rusty gobbled it up and looked to Carter for more.

"I'm sorry," Carter told him, and then because he was so ecstatic, he wrapped his arms around the dog. He didn't care that Rusty was filthy or that the sleeves of his winter jacket came away all muddy. His mother would be upset, but even her displeasure was worth the enjoyment Carter received from this special dog.

"We can't let Mr. Nicholson see you," Carter warned, then ran over to where his friends were playing.

Rusty followed Carter wherever he went. When Mr. Nicholson stepped into the yard, the stray quickly and quietly disappeared, just as if he understood.

Carter turned around and looked for him, but Rusty was nowhere in sight. Then he saw that the dog had gone into the trees that separated the schoolyard from the nearby houses.

"Good boy," Carter whispered. Rusty was no dummy. He knew who his friends were-and his enemies.

At lunchtime, Carter only ate his apple. The rest he saved for Rusty. Once again the mutt gobbled the food and gazed up at Carter with bright, shining eyes that revealed his gratitude.

Carter petted Rusty's head, although his hand got really dirty. What would happen to the dog over the holidays, when there was no one at the school? Who'd feed Rusty then? Who'd watch out for him? Carter already knew the answer. No one. After today, school was over for the year, and the yard would remain empty until the first week of January. Rusty could starve by then.

Holding the dog's muddy face between his hands, Carter peered into his deep brown eyes. Disregarding what his father had said, Carter whispered, "Rusty, listen, I need you to follow me home."