Puzzles often reveal more than they first appear to. For David, they weren’t just about matching strange shapes to create an image. Instead, they mirrored the quiet riddles in his life—like why kindness seemed to surround him so freely, and why Mr. Jack and Miss Holbrook never arrived together. He noticed this pattern early during his recovery, when visits to his sickroom became part of his healing. On one such afternoon, while happily talking about Jill and Joe, he sensed a sudden change in Mr. Jack’s demeanor. The cause was clear—Miss Holbrook’s carriage had just turned into the drive. David, filled with joy, thought they would finally meet. Yet Mr. Jack, with hurried excuses and uncharacteristic nervousness, leaped out the window, claiming an urgent need to speak to Perry Larson. The swiftness of his departure left David confused and disappointed, especially when Miss Holbrook arrived moments later, full of warmth.

Her surprise at not meeting Mr. Jack inside the house turned to barely concealed frustration when David innocently described his leap through the window. She tried to mask her reaction with cheer, brushing off David’s wish that the two would meet. He did not understand why his efforts to bring them together were always met with missed moments and awkward laughter. Miss Holbrook’s gift of a jigsaw puzzle shifted the mood, yet its nature was oddly symbolic. Pieces that didn’t look like they belonged could form a beautiful whole if placed just right—something David instinctively grasped. As he immersed himself in fitting the oddly shaped parts together, he temporarily forgot the tension. But Miss Holbrook’s slight relief at this forgetfulness didn’t go unnoticed. Behind her smile lingered emotions she wasn’t quite ready to share.

David’s joy over the puzzle showed his ability to focus on small wonders, though he still carried questions he didn’t know how to ask. The puzzle offered a quiet escape, a distraction that allowed him to engage his mind while sidestepping the emotional puzzle of the grown-ups around him. Each piece he clicked into place made the picture clearer, but life, he realized, was not so easily arranged. He believed that two kind people who meant so much to him should naturally get along. Yet every time they neared, one would vanish—like shadows that never overlap. He couldn’t make sense of the tension, but he felt it and hoped it could be solved, like the pieces of his puzzle. That desire, though unspoken, added weight to his smiles and glances.

While David puzzled out the wooden picture, Miss Holbrook kept her gaze on him more than on the pieces. She admired his quiet patience and the way he could turn confusion into curiosity. Though she tried to act indifferent about Mr. Jack’s abrupt exit, her tone betrayed her. David didn’t mean to stir up emotion, but his honesty often acted like a mirror for others. In the few words he shared, truths emerged, even if they weren’t entirely understood. Miss Holbrook’s laugh was light, yet her eyes occasionally drifted to the window. What she truly felt about Mr. Jack’s escape remained hidden, but David noticed the hesitation in her voice when she mentioned him. He wanted them to know each other, not for his benefit alone, but because he believed they would be happier together.

This chapter gently explores how much of life resembles a puzzle—pieces scattered, intentions unclear, and timing imperfect. For David, kindness didn’t need explanation, and love wasn’t something to hide from. His world was simpler but no less meaningful. The contrast between his open heart and the guarded emotions of the adults around him made his presence feel like a quiet force for good. Without realizing it, he challenged them to consider the feelings they were avoiding. He believed in bringing people together the way he brought puzzle pieces together—with hope, attention, and the belief that things belong when they fit. And although the picture of Mr. Jack and Miss Holbrook was far from complete, David held on to the idea that it could still come together, one piece at a time.