He stopped me. "You don't know yourself, but I do, so I will tell you what you are, Marianne Daventry." He looked intently into my eyes, as though he would write the words on my heart if he could. "You are bright and fun and delightfully unexpected. You are brave and compassionate and selfless. And you are lovely beyond measure. I want you, all of you, just the way you are." He drew in a breath. "If you will still have me."
**********
I reread my grandmother's letter and realized with a deep sense of contentment that I had not had to change at all in order to have every hope for happiness in life. I had not had to learn to sing for company or to behave like Cecily or to stop twirling. I could be myself and be loved deeply. I was, in fact, a lot like Meg, who had always been a racehorse. I just hadn't known it.
(Edenbrooke)
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