Holiday

The moment Jingle Bells began playing on the car radio, Ronda Miller grimaced and reached to change the station. After three hours of nerve wracking driving on slick, snow encrusted highways, she didn't need reminded that Christmas was only four weeks away. She hated the holiday season.

Taking her eyes off the road for only a second, she rolled the dial through the channels, looking for a weather report, only to discover most of the stations were playing the usual assortment of seasonal music. Switching the dial off, she returned her gaze to the road--just in time to see the red pickup truck sliding crossways in her path.

Acting by instinct, she slammed her foot down hard on the brake pedal, momentarily forgetting the slick surroundings. The rear of the car fishtailed slightly before its tires found a dry stretch of pavement and lurched to a stop. Startled by the sudden mishap, Ronda sat frozen, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. "What the--"

The driver's door on the pickup opened and a male body in jeans and sweatshirt emerged--looking like some hunk from a wish book. Ronda stared with wide eyes as he made his way over to the side of her car. He was tall and trim, with wide shoulders that filled out the bright green sweatshirt to unusual proportions. His lower body was encased in worn denim that bore the remnants of oil stains and grease smears.

Fright briefly gave way to anger when Ronda glimpsed the broad smile he flashed at her. In the next instant, she grabbed the window crank and furiously rolled the glass out of the way so she could unleash her frustration on him.

"I hope I didn't scare you too badly," he said.

"You sure as hell scared me!" Ronda yelped. She realized then her heart was thudding against her ribcage and her neck was sweating beneath the collar of her sweater. "Why were you so careless?"

He chuckled slightly, shaking his head. "I'm having a problem with my gas pedal sticking," he explained, his gaze sliding over the tight-lipped stare she aimed at him and her tousled chestnut colored hair. "You must be Ronda," he said, smiling again. "I'm Nick Austin, your aunt's neighbor." He thrust his right hand through the open window in greeting.

"Will you move your truck, please?" Ronda quipped, ignoring the hand only inches from her face. She'd already had enough of this stranger's cheery mood and his lack of sincerity for having nearly scared her to death. At this point, she only wanted it to end so she could drive the rest of the way to her Aunt Claire's house up the road.

"Sure," he said, pulling his hand back. "Just as soon as you accept my apology."

Ronda aimed a speculative look at him. There was nothing like running head first into a brick wall and then realizing you were to blame for the encounter. "If that is what it takes to get you to move your truck out of the road," she said between tight lips.

"That's what it takes," Nick returned, his smiling mouth fully teasing her.

It was then his sweatshirt blinked at her.

A series of colored flashes assaulted her green eyes and all but totally erased her anger. A decorated Christmas tree loomed at her from the front of Nick's shirt.

"You like it," he admonished with a chuckle. "Everybody does. I designed it myself. It plays music, too," he added, reaching one hand to activate the sound. "Listen."

Nothing broke one's sense of warm snugliness more than hearing, "Your snowmen were on the news. They froze someone in a solid cocoon of ice."

"It's a bad habit of yours to watch the news before you are awake, Xander. Give me a minute and I will prove you are insane."

Abby yanked the covers over her ears and tried to roll over. He stopped her by making the covers disappear. "Bastard."

"You have met my parents and they are married. Now get up. We need to get to the bottom of this and we have to examine that poor frozen man."

If Xander was going to insist she get up, he could at least dress her. She grumped into the shower and had a quick scrub. She was towelling her hair dry as she walked back to her room and still muttering to herself. Her clothes were laid out, so she jerked on the underwear, which let her know that the gnomes had done it.

The warlock had his panties in a twist.

Her gnomes had oatmeal on the table today. When Xander stayed over, they alternated good breakfasts with healthy ones, just to throw him off.

Abby scowled and munched her gray paste with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. They tried to make it tastier by adding chocolate chips and blueberries, but it was no plate of bacon.

"Come on, Abby. We have to look at the man who was frozen." Xander was on his feet and he had her jacket in hand.

"Fine, but my hair is going to freeze."

He waved his hand and it was bone dry.

"Nice trick. Let's move." She grabbed her jacket and stomped into her boots at the front door.

His car was waiting, warm and ready. They made quick time to the street in Sargent where the frozen man was making quite the stir.

The fire department was there, trying to cut him loose, but Abby could see with her inner eye that he was bound, not by ice but by magic. It was nothing like she had ever seen before. The snowmen were gently crusted, but this was a thick mass of magic that was as clear and hard as the ice that held him.

Tears clogged her voice. "We have to get him out."

"We can't. He is safe enough for now. Nothing can be done to save him, but nothing can be done to harm him." Xander turned the car back to Oak Point Way.

"If we destroy the snowmen, will that eradicate the ice?"

"It should. They are the binding magic after all."

"Why him? Why did they attack him?"

"He was defending his Christmas lights. There were, also, several other thefts of lights and generators. Whatever they are up to, it isn't good."

They were on the short span between their street and the main town when a snowman darted across the road in front of them. It disappeared into the woods, but it left Abby shaken.

"I thought they were slower in sunlight."

"They should be. It must be your magic that is speeding them up." He turned carefully on the slippery road and soon was in front of her house. "I am going to contact the specialists and see if they will come to help. If not, I will try to get what information I can from them. I will see you in three hours, alright?"

"Alright. I will give the gnomes a pep talk and try to keep them inside. Same for the gargoyles. I don't want them out there with those psycho snowmen in the yard."

"I doubt very much that they are still in your yard, but it is a good precaution." He leaned over and they kissed. "See you in a few hours and don't do anything reckless. I will be back as soon as I can."

"Back? From where?"

"The consultation with the experts. I have to transport myself to them. They won't talk over the mirrors."

"Okay. I won't do anything stupid and you will get back as quickly as you can? See you soon."

Abby hopped out of the car and held the door until her feet stabilized on the ice. Sliding her feet in a skating motion, she made her way to her door. As Xander entered his house, she had a feeling of foreboding. The gnomes were usually pretty good about keeping the walkways clear.

The house was silent. She took a deep breath and called for her creatures. "Everybody, front and centre."

Flustered, she jerked out of his grip and looked away. "Yes. I mean. You are very attractive." Rubbing her hands up and down her arms gave her something to do.

"But you are not besotted with me." He leaned back on the bench.

She was up and out of the reach of his long arms in a moment. "Um. No. I don't get besotted with anyone. It feels safer that way."

"Ah, but how can you live, or love, if you don't take risks?"

"I can live quietly."

His scowl could have peeled paint. "But that is simply existing, not living at all. Your short human life needs to be lived to the fullest."

Hearing it put like that was a little shocking. "You couldn't have sugar coated it?"

He was surprised. "What?"

"My short lifespan."

"There are ways of increasing it, but you would have to embrace your inner talent and let the magic run through you on a regular basis."

She rolled her eyes at that. "How am I to manage that?"

His blue eyes turned black as he leaned toward her. "Kiss me."

Kiss him. Yes, that seem the right thing to do. His hair was so silky, his mouth perfect, his skin cool as she cupped his jaw. Raffin tasted like Spring, all energy and light. Sophie sighed happily as their mouths met, touched and sparked power off each other. She made a soft sound of loss as he pulled back and her eyes opened wide to see his satisfied grin.

"That will work."

"Wait, what was that?" She was on her feet and backing away from him. Her body had been beyond her control for those few seconds, or minutes, whatever it was. She had wanted nothing more than to kiss him until the sunset dipped through the sky. "Is that the effect of a Love Talker?"

"It is." Raffin crossed his arms over his chest and crossed his ankles. The perfect epitome of lazy male. "As your mentor, I am giving you an assignment. I want you to make me kiss you."

"Are you nuts?"

"Our talent is sensual in nature, it is easiest to manifest in that manner. Come on. Just another kiss. It means nothing and you probably won't be able to get the command to stick."

He didn't think she could do it. That much was obvious. Her jaw set and she took a long look at her so called mentor. Reaching into her mind to find the source of her talent, she tried to pull it forward. Glaring at him she gave him the same command he had given her, "Kiss me."

"No." His grin was expansive and he shook his head until his gold locks spilled over his shoulders and exposed his pointy ears. "You are not connecting with your magic."

"How am I supposed to connect with it, I don't know what it is!" Frustrated, she closed her eyes and hugged her midriff in agitation.

"Think about what you are trying to accomplish. You are trying to entice me into kissing you. That cannot be done with the words alone. You need to feel it."

Chanting to herself that she couldn't believe she was doing it, she moved toward the bench and straddled her mentor, much to his surprise. She leaned forward, inhaled the light scent of his hair and the stronger scent of wild male underneath and then closed her eyes while she touched her talent. Opening her eyes, she saw him in a whole new way, his body was humming with energy and with a little effort, it could be hers. "Kiss me," came out of her throat in a whisper of sound, but it had a definite result.

She ran through the darkness, her breath coming in short rasps, her heart hammering painfully against her ribcage. The lake was behind her and she could hear the water slapping against the dock pilings. She didn't dare stop to look back, although every fiber in her being wanted to do so. She had to get away from him, had to hide somewhere.

Her dress was in tatters, her hair a tangled mess around her face. It was becoming harder and harder to run, her legs didn't want to work, they felt weak and shaky. She could still feel the slap of his hand against her swollen cheek.

Get away…never look back…run…run.

"No! Leave me alone!" Erica Parkhurst shouted. She sat up in bed and frantically looked around her, still half asleep and unable to fully recognize her surroundings.

Next to her, Joe Lakota stirred and mumbled, "Hmm…what's that?" Then he sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, casting a soft, amber glow over the cozy bedroom. From the floor, Mingo whined and yawned, stretching as he stood. His coat was multicolored and thick. The eyes were amber, set in a face that looked like it wore a mask of gray. Part wolf, part dog, he'd been raised by Joe from a pup.

Slowly, Erica took in the sturdy furniture and the thick comforter that was now in disarray around her. She was safe, with the man she loved, in the cabin he'd built with his own two hands.

Mingo laid his head on her leg and searched her face with big soulful eyes. She absently rubbed the canine's head. "I'm sorry, Joe. I had a nightmare. But it was so real."

He scooted closer to her and put a muscular arm around her shoulder, pulling her against his bare chest.

Erica had met Joe when she first happened upon Spirit Lake in July. She'd been running from a broken marriage, looking for a place of refuge and solitude. One night's stay at the local bed and breakfast had turned into something much more, when she found herself embroiled in not only a murder investigation, but a ghost hunt as well. Months later, the inn's owner, Evelyn Black, had asked her to return and run the business while she recuperated from surgery. Erica had done so, bringing along Paula Bascilla, her best friend. Actually, Erica would have come without Paula if it had meant seeing Joe again.

"Want to talk about it?" Joe asked, kissing the side of her head.

She looked at him and smiled. His dark eyes studied her with concern. His Iroquois heritage gave his skin a coppery glow, especially in this lighting. She felt her heart flutter a little as he stroked her cheek with a fingertip.

She shook her head and felt some of her thick, coppery hair tumble over her face. He made no move to push it back. She knew why, he liked the way she looked when she was "bed tumbled" as he called it.

"It was just a dream." She smiled again.

"Maybe I need to hang another dream catcher," Joe whispered, nodding backwards toward the feathered charm dangling above the headboard.

"To catch and destroy my bad dreams?" Erica asked.

Mingo snorted as though in disdain and resumed his previous position on the floor.

"I don't think Mingo appreciates my interrupting his sleep," Erica chuckled.

"Why don't you tell me what's really going on, Erica?" Joe asked, his expression somber.

Erica stroked his chest lightly. "Well, let's see…Christmas is only three weeks away and tomorrow our guests arrive for the inn's very first--"

He interrupted, "I'm not talking about that. You know what I mean." He put a little distance between them and propped himself up on one elbow. He looked at her, waiting for an answer.

Erica sighed. "I've been having this recurring dream. I'm back in time I think, because my clothing is old fashioned. I'm being chased up the hill from the lake. I'm desperate and frightened. It gets all muddled after that." She thought for a moment. "Forget it. It's no big deal. It's probably just the stress of the upcoming events. That and all the research we've been doing on the inn's past."

"You don't think what happened in October has something to do with it?" He eyed her closely, worry creasing his brow.

She had to admit, he had a point. "We had some damage control to do after the murder of a guest, that's for sure. And that is why this Christmas event is so important. I just don't want anything to go wrong."

Joe looked at the window and pointed. "It's snowing again. Should be the perfect atmosphere for your guests tomorrow."

Erica got up, put on one of Joe's flannel shirts, which hit her slender frame mid- thigh, and went to the window. She sat down on the window seat that, just months ago, had held one of Joe's best kept secrets. The snow was falling in large, lacy flakes, covering the two inches that had settled over the landscape yesterday.

"Looks like the stage is set," Joe said, joining her. He'd brought the comforter which he now wrapped around them both.

They sat there for the next hour, snuggled together, watching the snow fall.

Cupid's heavy breathing jarred his lungs. He'd been on the run for the last hour. Every time his pursuers caught up, a feint here, a dodge there, enabled his escape.

The smell of the wharf assailed his senses as the evening's drizzling rain muted the normal odors of the natural and unnatural. A foghorn from a distant ship on the bay beckoned to the land bound. Shadows leapt forward, vicious creatures seeking to impede his progress. He tamed them, utilized the surreal gloom to his advantage.

A painful throb to his side caused him to bend over where he placed his hands on soaked knees. He fingered the torn right leg of cloth, pulled it back to reveal a battered kneecap. Shit, this is--was my favorite suit. The cold night air inflamed the injury, caused the open wound to sting. A grimace twitched his lips as he recalled its cause. He slipped on a forgotten dead fish in an alley on his last run from the group.

Far off voices and the echo of heavy footsteps forced Cupid to recede into a cavity created by two shipping containers improperly stacked side by side. The narrowness of his cave forced his breathing to slow.

"How did he disappear so fast? We were right behind him," a nasal whine of a voice emanating from a man pierced the night.

"I don't know," a frustrated cultured British accent from another man responded.

A woman's voice, clear and high-pitched, offered a harsh answer.  "Could it be that you're both idiots?"

Cupid knew Mistress Fate had arrived. The Brit mumbled something but Cupid couldn't understand him.

"You're lucky you're good in the sack, Mr. Remington," she snapped in cruel reply. "Otherwise, your markers in Vegas would be due and owing right now."

The cheeky Mr. Remington was silent.  A few minutes after Fate's last comment, only the sound of soft rain against metal and another blast of a foghorn gave Cupid the impression he was alone.

To play it safe, he waited a few moments more before stepping out of his refuge. He peered around him.  His pursuers were gone. Cupid found his bearings and hobbled toward the point where the night's chase began, exhausted, hurt and hungry. "Care to share?" he inquired to a feral cat that eyeballed him with territorial certainty, protecting its rat buffet.

The animal hissed and grabbed its dinner, slinking backward toward the cover of garbage cans.

"How rude," Cupid stated. A shrill whistle broke the night and caused him to stop. It was the kind of attention grabbing sound construction workers used to heckle pretty girls as they walked by their work zones.

Cupid froze. He rolled his eyes and sighed. This night is never going to end. Turning to gaze at the source, despite the weariness pouring through him, his admired the perfect body of his black leather clad captor in appreciation.  She is something.

The thud of footsteps behind him initiated a glance over his shoulder. Two of Fate's Universal Solicitors were fast approaching. He recognized the handsome Mr. Remington's blond blue-eyed beauty and the creepy bugger of a man, Mr. Leach. Cupid shuddered as his gaze landed on the cowlick bald patch with its gray tufts of hair sprouting from the sides of Leach's egg shaped head.  The wiry mess somehow found a way to take root in his ears. Cupid's lip curled in disgust. By Zeus, Leach, will you do something about that?

Cupid turned once more to meet Fate's cobra stare with a grin and nodded politely to the woman approaching him. "Ursula, a pleasure as always." Her smile was dazzling. Eros imagined all the sharks of the Pacific Ocean bowed their heads in appreciation of its toothy cruelty.

"Eros Bubala, hasn't your mother ever told you it's dangerous to play outside after dark?"

"I'm a big boy, I can handle it."

Ursula strutted toward him. The sway of her hips was hypnotic. If they were not on opposite sides, he could show her a few things about hips--his and hers. She had no problem invading his personal space. Standing very close, her spiked hair poking his cheekbone, she sighed. As tall as he, only because of four-inch stacked black leather stiletto boots, she leaned toward his right ear and whispered seductively.

"Do you really think so?"

Cupid's eyes and mouth popped open in startled surprise as the pain of a dagger's blade stabbing through his diaphragm shocked his brain into paralysis. A numbing sensation followed. He looked down at a spreading stain that looked black in the dim glow of streetlights muted by the mist of moisture in the air. He laughed. "You won't succeed," he muttered as the threat of unconsciousness pulled him down to the wet ground. He fought to stay awake as two sets of masculine hands lifted him. One of the hands rifled through his rear pocket and pulled out his wallet. Damn lawyers, always stealing your money.

"Dump him." Fate ordered.

The freezing cold saltwater lay claim to him, the current making a human buoy of his powerless body before a rip tide tucked him under the pier and water filled his lungs. A final thought cavorted through his mind before he blacked out. My tailor's going to kill me.

Within a few minutes, a small hillock rose before her and she climbed it. Cedar wood burned from several fireplaces adding a fragrant scent to the air and smudging the sky with its smoke. The large cabin her family had owned for well over two decades beckoned her with welcoming light from all of its visible windows. She could make out the building through the nude trees of the winter forest without a problem. The home announced its warmth and protection and was a beacon of love to her. She smiled and quickened her pace.

The fluffy dry powder of the recent snowstorm was easy to trudge through, but layered the forest floor two feet deep in some places. Simone lifted her toned legs high, stepping gingerly so as not to stumble on any tree roots or dips in the ground. She paused for a moment to catch her breath, then startled at the sight of a set of large booted footprints in the more shallow areas of snowfall. She looked around her, wondering to whom they belonged.

This was private property. Her family owned sixty acres surrounding the cabin all the way to the lake. On a night like this, the Millers would not be out. They would be inside, cooking a ton of rich food, singing Christmas carols and enjoying hot toddies by the large hearth in the grand family room centered in the middle of the cabin. Curious, she followed the markings to a large oak off to her right. She noted they led to and past a Ford pickup truck emblazoned with the seven pointed star and golden shield of the Orleans County Sheriff's Department.Simone grew worried, wondering if there was anything wrong at the cabin. She gathered Teddy's carrier to her and hurried away from the truck, fear mounting. As she passed under the massive wide-branched oak, a profound crack ricocheted around her, snapping her attention upward. "Wh-whoa!" a voice bellowed as a man, dressed in the uniform of a deputy sheriff, crashed through the tree. A violent whuff of air blasted from his lungs when he landed flat on his back in a deep pile of snow right in front of Simone's feet. A poof of the fresh powder caught her in the face.

Surprised, she gasped and stumbled backward. She dropped poor Teddy and the expensive Dior handbag to the ground. Teddy hissed and shrieked in irritation, but she righted herself before falling, shouting, "Oh my word!"

Clearing the snow from her eyes, she looked down on the long, lanky form of a handsome, stunned deputy sheriff who lay, unmoving, at her feet.

"Maman, what are you doing here?" She embraced her striking mother, pulling back to kiss her cheeks. Studying the woman's lustrous white hair, light blue eyes, aquiline features, she found a look of worry about her. Other than that, Bettina Blanchard was the picture of health for a woman of one hundred and ten years who did not look a day over sixty. "Is Papa all right? Bertrand?"

Bettina returned the embrace of her only daughter, continued to prepare their breakfast. She replied in a warm soprano, Provencal accent tinting her words. "Oui, darling, your father and brother are well."

The two women, out of long ago established habit, set the breakfast table together, catching up on family events as they placed croissants, butter, homemade jam and coffee on the table followed by cups, saucers and spoons. Cassandra opened the backdoor and the kitchen window to allow the amazing autumn wind to flow around them. Her mother sat in one of the pillowed wrought iron chairs nestled around a small vintage circular pine table and glanced about the room.

"You have exquisite taste, darling. Your home is perfect and the roses, magnifique."

"My mother taught me well." She smiled and waited patiently for the woman to discuss the real reason for her visit. Cassandra deduced her mother was upset. When she was in such a state, she did not like to talk about distasteful things while eating as she believed it upset the digestion.

When the croissants were gone and the women were on their second cup of coffee, Bettina turned to her daughter and hesitated.

"Maman, please tell me what is bothering you."

She sighed. "I am here about your engagement."

Cassandra's face lit into bright cheer as she extended her marriage hand to her mother. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Bettina took her daughter's hand and raised stylish glasses carried on a gold chain to her eyes. She studied the ring, agreed on its beauty. She mumbled again in French and put her daughter's hand down, patting it. "You cannot marry him."

"I'm sorry, Maman, what do you mean?" Floored by her mother's statement, Cassandra did not move. She did not understand and a knife of pain stabbed her heart. Her mother was going to help her plan, she had been sure of it. They would travel the world to find the most unique items for her trousseau, wedding, and honeymoon. It never occurred to her that her mother would not approve of her marriage. Bettina loved Ethan as if he were her own.

"You cannot marry Mr. McBride."

Cassandra shook her head in devastation, not believing what she heard. "I don't understand. You love him as much as I do."

"Of course I do and if there is any way around this, I will gladly give my consent."

Even more confused than ever, Cassandra checked the tears threatening to spill and shook her head, dumbfounded at the comment. "Then what is the problem?"

She took her daughter's face in her elegant hands and stated, "You cannot marry Mr. McBride because you have apparently forgotten you are bound to another."

He laid the Bible back in its place and glanced out the window. The young lady from the coffee shop hurried across the street, laden down by a backpack nearly as large as her petite frame. A student then, no doubt spending all her time studying and working, little time to look around at others. Rich red-brown hair tumbled from beneath her cap and onto her shoulders, a pretty frame for her fair face and dark exotic eyes. A lovely example of God's creation.

Then again…

Hers had been the only smile in the shop, or the only one not accompanied by a long slow perusal of the mortal form he wore. Not that Nathan wasn't occasionally flattered by such. But the woman's smile reminded him that once in awhile people could admire while still being simply nice.

Fair of heart, fair of form…so very fair of form. She turned at the bus stop so he could see her face and his fingertips longed to brush the rich tones of her complexion, to see if it were as creamy silken as it appeared. Ah, to feel that cloud of russet hair curling around him as they lay together, sublime indeed.

Whoa, Nathan. It's not the days when the sons of God took the daughters of men to wife. Knock it off before you need a cold shower.

He made himself pull away from the almost disrespectful thoughts and just enjoyed her smile at another passenger before the bus pulled up and blocked his view of her. Off to class, then. He'd see her tomorrow.

He hoped her day progressed pleasantly and she found the time to notice the soft fall of snow as something more than a hindrance to traffic. Perhaps then she'd feel a small measure of the comfort she brought him.

The chocolate flowed over his tongue, rich sweet delight with just a hint of bitterness. Just the way life should taste.

Luke never finished his sentence, because he passed out.

"This your boy?" the doctor asked, packing up his bag.

"No…" What definition should he give his relationship with Alexis? "He's my girlfriend's son."

The wail of a siren punctuated his statement. "Finally!" Wade ground out. He'd assisted the EMTs and firefighters at nearly a hundred emergencies, and without exception, he'd been as patient and reassuring as he knew how to be. But Wade had never been on this end of an accident before. Now that he understood how painfully frightening it was to wait for help to arrive, he'd be even more understanding in the future.

Two uniformed EMTs leaped from the vehicle, life saving gear in tow. "Hey," said the one with Martin on his nameplate, "you look familiar."

Wade nodded. "You were my instructor in the Basic Life Support class I took a couple years back."

Nodding, Martin gave Luke a quick onceover, then strapped the blood pressure cuff around the boy's arm. "He's stable," Martin told his partner. "But let's get him out of here. Head injuries can be tricky business." Together, the EMTs eased Luke onto a gurney and into the waiting ambulance.

"Where do you think you're goin'?" Martin asked as Wade climbed in behind them.

Reaching into a box near the door, Wade snapped on a pair of rubber gloves. Then, from the I.V. bar above his head, he removed one of the three-inch lengths of surgical tape placed there by the guys on the previous shift. "I know the boy," he said, holding the tape out to Martin. "We haven't been able to get in touch with his mother yet."

Martin nodded as he inserted an I.V. into Luke's arm. "Yeah," he said, hanging the glucose from the bar above, "guess it'll be better if there's a familiar face nearby when he comes to." Grabbing the tape stuck to Wade's thumb, he used it to secure clear plastic tubing to the boy's wrist. Martin signaled his driver with one hand, then depressed the transmit button of his two-way radio with the other.

Wade listened as Martin rattled off the vital statistics…blood pressure, pulse, basic inventory of Luke's condition…to a doctor at the other end. Wade hadn't worked on this particular ambulance before, and because he knew each crew set things up inside to meet their own self-specified requirements, he took a quick look around. Not that knowing where things were would do him any good. As a volunteer, he'd been trained to assist, and nothing more. He wished he'd gone whole hog, studied to become a full-fledged EMT instead of taking the Basics Course. But he hadn't, and frustrating as that was right now, Wade had no intention of complaining. Because these guys didn't have to let him ride along, and he knew it.

 "So what's your take on this?" Martin wanted to know as the vehicle sped toward Howard County General.

"Witnesses said an elderly lady drove through the intersection…didn't see Luke." Shrugging helplessly, he added, "It appears he didn't see her, either."

Martin nodded. "You want to call his mother, have her meet us at the emergency room?"

Call Alexis? It was the first time Wade had given a thought to his truck, still sitting in the line of traffic, driver's door open, keys in the ignition. "I have a car phone," he grumbled, "on the front seat of my pickup." Scowling, he shook his head. "Fat lot of good it's doing me there."

Martin handed Wade a cell phone.

"Thanks."

"Hey, we take care of our own." He paused. "I don't recall your name."

"Wade Williams."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Martin barked more information about Luke's condition into the radio.

Phone in hand and forefinger poised to begin dialing, Wade froze, gaze glued to the keypad. What would he say when she answered? He punched the on button, and when it beeped, Wade met Martin's blue eyes. "What do I tell her about his condition?"

"Ain't much to tell…yet. He's got a head injury, but we won't know how serious it is 'til we get him into x-ray."

Wade dialed Alexis's number. Four rings later, he hung up.

"Nobody home?"

"Nobody home." He'd been around the Broderick house enough to guess what had probably happened. Impatience had likely driven Luke to distraction, and distraction had driven him to the garage to fetch his bike. He could almost hear the boy saying "It's only a few blocks to Wade's house, Mom. I'm not a baby. I'll be fine."

He patted Luke's hand. "You will be fine, son, if I have anything to say about it." Lord, he added silently, don't let anything happen to him. Alexis had told him she'd lost her uncle during the Viet Nam war, that her dad had died shortly afterward. Derek's accident took him from her before their seventh anniversary. She'd had to sell her house to get on top of the bills he'd left unpaid. There ought to be a law, just one tragedy per lifetime.

 Because how many disappointments and losses could one woman bear--even a strong woman, like Alexis--before the weight of them broke her?

Emma poured the eggnog, "Jenny, I truly hope Dr. Burnett stays here. I will say, besides him being a doctor, he is really good looking. It is hard to believe he hasn't settled down."

Jenny shrugged, silently grateful Jon hadn't settled down. "He's been so busy with his studies, I'm sure he hasn't had time to do anything, much less get married." He hasn't mentioned having a girl somewhere. She smiled to herself. Then again, he wouldn't have kissed me like that if he had a girl in another town.

"He sure seems to take a liking to you, Jenny. Maybe you can talk to him."

"Mom, he has to make up his own mind. I can't talk him into or out of anything, especially staying here in July." God I truly do hope that he does stay here. The odds were against it. He is a surgeon. Even with Stan paying off Jon's tuition and setting him up in his practice, Jon wouldn't make money by staying in this one-horse town. Still…will he accept Stan's proposal. Maybe he will go for it. Maybe he will stay. She was being selfish and knew it, mainly because she was hopelessly in love with Dr. Jon Burnett.

Feeling mixed emotions about the situation, Jenny smiled to herself again, feeling better as she placed the glasses on a tray. She was happy because she remembered the kiss she and Jon shared before they came downstairs. It was the most erotic kiss she had ever had to the point that she had to relieve herself of the sexual tension before she headed downstairs. However, the feelings of lust and love dissipated to despair because she knew in a day or so, as soon as the roads were cleared, he would be leaving--perhaps forever, if Jon rejected Stan's proposal.

Though she had only met him yesterday, if Jon did leave, it would shatter Jenny's heart as if he had died. She looked out the kitchen window. It was still snowing pretty good. Jenny hadn't seen such a huge snowstorm in recent history.

Jenny continued to stare out the window. She didn't really believe in fate, but couldn't help thinking that maybe fate did step in and bring Dr. Burnett and she together. Most importantly, fate giving July County the doctor they had longed for these past two years. This made her think of the snow. In some respects, she was glad that it was still snowing in that it would give Jon time to mull over the proposal that Stan offered him. Snowbound in this town, perhaps fate again was stepping in for him.

Finally, Jenny grasped the tray and she, along with her mother who also had a tray, made their way to the dining room. As soon as she entered the living room, for some reason, even with the room full of people, she immediately noticed that Jon was missing. She frowned and then asked her father, "Where's Dr. Burnett?"

Stellar tossed and turned in her bed, afraid to close her eyes. When she finally fell asleep, she was quickly interrupted by a familiar hologram floating above her bed. "Oh Lord, what are you doing here?"

"I'm the Christmas present dude."

"Okay first, you're not a dude, you're Lila's Mom. Second, why are you dressed like a chicken with a Santa hat on your head? Third, shouldn't you be in the kitchen cooking a chicken and not imitating one?"

"That's exactly what I said. However, this guy came to our house and said I have to go be a Christmas present chicken and I had no choice. So I put my dinner in the slow cooker, threw these feathers on over my apron and came right over."

"So, you're supposed to do, what may I ask?" Stellar asked hesitantly.

"Supposedly, I'm the guide here."

"Guiding me where?"

"To good stuff or something. From what I gathered, I'm supposed to show you what's happening right now and then you have to see someone else for the future. I don't know. It all sounds so familiar, yet so weird. I have no idea why he dragged me into this in the middle of preparing Vore's dinner. Plus Lila's father probably still hasn't taken the laundry out of the dryer, and by the time I get home, it will all be wrinkled. And I'll tell you, I'm not ironing it, he will have to put every piece in the ironing machine until they're perfect. That man--"

"Stop, I know all about the wrinkled laundry. Can we just get on with this please so I can go back to sleep. This whole thing is freaking me out here. What scares me most is you actually look pretty okay as a chicken."

"Fine, Ms. Impatient. Don't shoot the messenger here because this wasn't my idea. Remember that. I have better things to do with my time than schlep you through the universe on some intergalactic life lesson thing. By the way, do these feathers make me look fat? "

Stellar rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Now I see where Lila gets her craziness and, Ms. Chicken Lady, this century please."

"Fine, cool your hydrogen burners there, missy. We're going. Sheesh. Like I have nothing better to do--"

 "What's that?"

"What where," Lila's Mom responded.

"That there. Testy, what's he doing?"

"Just a minute I can't see over these damn feathers. Wait, he's shopping I think," she answered.

"Ask him what he's buying," Stellar said.

"No, he can't see or hear us. That's the deal remember? Don't you watch old holoflicks?"

"Oh shoot."

"What's the matter?"

"I hate blue grabnab fur. It clashes with my coloring and makes me look as pale as the moons of Sirious."

"He's just looking at it," Lila's Mom defended. "Maybe you can send some sort of psychic message or something."

"Yuk yuk yucky."

"That's the message?"

"Well you said to send a message," Stellar said.

"Yes, but be more creative. No wonder you and Lila are still single. What color do you like?"

"Pink."

"Okay, watch and learn. Pink fur, pink fur, ordering pink fur here."

"Uh huh? And that's any different than saying yuk?"

"You need to be more positive."

"I am positive. Positive that blue fur is yucky."

"This isn't going the way I planned," Lila's mom mused.

"So what's your plan? I just want to get this over with."

"You're supposed to look at some cosmic overview of your life and realize how you're not enjoying all the good things, yudda, yudda, yudda and stop acting like such a pain in the ass buzz kill and--"

"And what?"

"I don't remember any more. I'm not twenty, I forget shit."

 "But this crazy trip through the universe thing you needed to remember?"

"I'd leave now if I could, but we have one more stop."

"Then will you go back to cooking chickens instead of impersonating one please," Stellar pleaded.

"Deal."

Early the next morning, Kris woke to see a thick blanket of snow outside the window. He rose from his bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. As he surveyed the yard, he thought about his encounter with the stranger the night before. He laughed it off and reminded himself that he's been working too many long hours. Kris walked over to his closet and stood undecided. Had I imagined things last night? He wasn't sure. Thinking it was all a bad dream, he swung the door open and gasped. The red suit still hung in the closet, but this time instead of only one outfit, his entire wardrobe was red. He screamed and fell backward onto the bed. He lay immobile for the longest time. Kris didn't have the strength to regain his feet. He silently reminded himself to get a grip and took a long, deep breath. He shakily stood and approached the closet.

Warily eyeing the numerous red garments, he reached out and touched the fabric. He saw a note attached to the sleeve of one coat. Carefully, he unhooked the paper and read the sloppy handwriting.

Put on the suit, already. They are all the same size. Do I need to cover your entire apartment with these clothes? Get the hint.

Your pal, Mikey.

Kris rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Who is this clown and how did he break into my apartment? Realizing there were no logical answers to these questions, he shook his head in disgust. This is totally insane. I need to go to work. I don't have time for child's games. He grabbed the same shirt and pants he wore the day before, then entered the bathroom to shower and dress. By the time he shaved the stubble from his chin and departed the steamy shower, he covered his mouth in shock. The entire bedroom was a heap of red suits. Everywhere he stepped, a plush red garment lay under foot. He walked around the red heap and entered the kitchen. To his surprise, the mounds of red suits touched the ceiling. I'm losing my mind. This isn't possible.

She eagerly grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the sweet shop. "Can I buy a lollipop?"

He opened the door and the overhead bell sounded. "Of course, honey." He purchased a few goodies for his staff and bought Sally a handful of her favorite flavored lollipops. Kent opened up his wallet and handed the owner a wad of bills. Clutching the brown paper bag of purchases, they went to the nearest Italian diner. Sitting in a corner booth, he listened to his daughter chatter happily about the upcoming holidays. "Eat your spaghetti," he urged.

Sally twirled a long strand around her fork and slurped it up.

"Honey, what would you like for Christmas this year?"

Her eyes enlarged. She wiped her chin with a napkin and shrugged her shoulders. "There is only one thing I want for Christmas."

"What's that?"

Sally reached for a dinner roll and bit into it. She chewed thoughtfully. "I can't tell you."

Kent leaned forward with interest. "Why can't you tell me?"

"If I tell you, my wish might not come true."

"I see…" He glanced out the window and noticed large snowflakes fall. His eyes took in a slender form as it walked by. A woman dressed in a long overcoat stood outside the restaurant and gazed up at the neon sign. He saw her hesitate, glance down the street, then enter the building. He half-listened to his daughter prattle on happily. He strained to hear the woman speak.

She brushed the snow from her long, black hair and nervously cleared her throat. The words she spoke to the manager were barely above a whisper. "Are you hiring?"

The burly man scrutinized her appearance. He shook his head, disgusted. "You don't look like a proper waitress," he said.

"I'm a real hard worker," she replied. "Please…I have experience." She handed the man a ratty piece of paper.

The owner glanced briefly at her credentials. "Are you going to eat here? If not, get out." He pointed a finger at the doorway.

Kent excused himself from his daughter and approached the woman. "I couldn't help overhearing…" He gazed into her brown eyes and was speechless for a moment. "I'm…I was wondering if you would like to join us for lunch." He motioned to his daughter sitting in the corner booth.

"No thank you. I don't eat with strangers."

"My name is Kent Peterson, and you are?"

The woman looked down at her scruffy shoes. "I'm Christine Monroe."

He held out a hand to shake. "It's nice to meet your acquaintance. If you don't mind, I would like it if you took a seat."

She shook her head and moved toward the door. "I really should go."

Kent knew he wouldn't convince her. He left her side for a moment and rushed over to his table. Grabbing a couple of warm rolls, he handed them to her. "I want you to take these."

Christine eyed the rolls. She reached out and took the food. Meeting his gaze one last time, she thanked him and exited the restaurant.

Kent approached his table and sat down.

"Who was that, Daddy?"

"I don't know."

"She is pretty," Sally said.

"She sure is," he agreed. He glanced out the window and watched Christine walk across the street. He was enthralled by her beauty. Not taking his gaze off her slender form, he saw her bite into a warm roll. She closed her eyes to savor the taste.

Suddenly, a group of men came out of the alley. The street thugs had her blocked off. One guy punched her arm.

"What are they doing, Daddy?" Sally inquired.

Kent sat rooted to the spot, his eyes enlarged with fear. A couple of guys attempted to grab the bread from Christine. When she refused to give up her meal, a man slugged her hard in the face. She crumpled to the ground. The bread was confiscated by the thugs. The five guys took off down the back alley and disappeared from sight.

The deck was also decorated in Halloween splendor, but much quieter. "This is better," he pulled a chair out for her to sit in. "My name is Rob."

"Angie." She took a small sip from her almost empty glass. "So, tell me Fireman Rob, if my hospital was ablaze, who would you rescue first? Me…or Old Lady Smithers in room 109?"

"That depends." He finished the beer in his glass and smiled. "What does she look like?"

"Oh, you are bad, Fireman Rob."

"You have no idea, Nurse Angie." His gaze slowly dropped to her neck, breasts, and hips. She watched his eyes as they ran the length of her long, tanned legs. She truly felt as though he was undressing her with his eyes. Her face reddened when she realized an excitement was building deep within her.

They made idle conversation and he bought her another drink. She hated to admit it, but she was enjoying his attention. He was watching her intently and she couldn't resist the urge to tease the ice cubes with the tip of her tongue. He moved his chair closer to hers and she could almost feel the warmth of his body.

Her attraction to this stranger was alarming. She forced herself back to reality. "You smell like smoke. Is that fire fighter outfit authentic?"

He laughed. "Yeah. I have a friend at a fire station. He loaned it to me."

Angie spied Paige peeking at her from the doorway. She flashed the thumbs up sign and went back into the bar.

"Would you like to dance?" He looked deeply into her eyes.

"Out here?"

"Sure. Why not?"

He had a deep, sexy voice. He took her hand and pulled her up. Before she could resist, she was in his arms. He held her lightly at first. The distant music was still audible and they swayed to its' beat slowly.

"You smell wonderful." He almost purred the words into her ear and it sent shivers down her spine.

He smelled good, too. Whatever cologne he was wearing was faint, and it made her want to be closer to him. His fingertips slid down the length of her arms until they finally rested on the small of her back. When he pulled her in, she was instantly aware of his muscular, hard body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her face up towards his.

"What are we doing?" Her eyes searched his for an answer.

He brought his face down closer to hers. His lips brushed against her cheek. A soft moan escaped from her throat as she met his mouth with her own. His tongue slid in to explore it. Rob's hands gently cupped her buttocks. Angie wasn't sure if her sudden desire was caused by her loneliness or the alcohol, but it wouldn't be denied.

He nestled his face in her neck, kissing a trail up to her ear. His mouth was hot and wet. "I want you," he whispered.

She pushed her hands inside his coat and ran her fingers across his chest. Then she brought them around to his back and pulled him closer. "I want you, too." She didn't know if she said it aloud or just imagined her response.


* * * *


Rob took a hold of her hand and led her back into the bar. They darted across the room, moving in and out of clusters of dancers and drinkers.

They paused in front of the elevators as Rob took the key card out of his pocket to read the room number. When the doors opened, he jumped inside, hastily yanking Angie in with him. He tapped the button for the fifth floor. Once the doors closed behind them, he pulled her into his arms again.

Rob pushed her up against the wall and buried his face into her neck. He slid his hand up her thigh and under her nurse's uniform. Tugging her flimsy panties to the side, he hurried to feel the flesh of her buttocks against his fingertips. Angie brought her leg up behind his and pulled him closer.

After reading the letter a third time, Annie asked, a stern tone in her voice, "Where is he, Patti?"

"I don't know, hon. I found the note on the ground by the porch. I think it was taped on the doorknob and must have fallen off and I just found it this morning when I felt something underneath my shoe. I wish I knew what was going on, but I--" She mumbled, "Oh, my God."

Annie's eyes widened. "What is it, Patti? You know something, don't you? Is Cord okay?"

* * * *

Patti had no idea what to say or for that matter, how to say it. She had a very strong sensation on where Cord was, but didn't want to break it to Annie, just yet until she was absolutely sure.

The PA system announced, "ICU visiting hours are now over. You may see your loved ones again in forty-five minutes."

Thank God, Patti thought.

Annie grabbed Patti's hand. "Please! Don't leave. You know something. I just sense it."

Patti was lost for words and was thankful a nurse came in the room.

"You'll need to leave the patient, please."

Patti said quickly, "I need to check on something. I'll see you in a little bit, okay?"

As soon as she left the ICU, she heard a squeaky voice yell out, "Aunt Patti!"

She turned around and saw her nephew along with an adult.

Josh ran to her and Patti knelt down to pick him up.

"How's Mommy, Aunt Patti?"

"Mommy's doing fine, Josh." She looked at the adult standing nearby who appeared to be in his sixties. It was James, Annie's neighbor. "Why is Josh here, James? Shouldn't he be in school?"

"There was a power failure at Josh's school. He came to my house and so I thought I would bring him to see his mother. He had been asking about her. Actually, I was wondering how she was doing, too."

"Umm, unfortunately, hospital rules say he can't see her due to risk of infection. If you want to see her, you need to dress in clothes like those that I am wearing. See the nurse at the station and she'll set you up. Listen, has Josh eaten?"

"No, not yet."

"Okay, I'm going to the cafeteria and grab something. Tell Annie, I'll be back in a little bit."

"Will do."

When the man went to the nurse's station, Pattie followed him, but got the attention of another nurse and whispered, "Can you give me the name of the patient who donated the kidney to my sister, Annie Cook?"

"I'm sorry, but we can't divulge that information unless the donor gives us permission."

Patti closed her eyes in frustration. Of course. She completely forgot. She and Josh left the ICU area and Patti, through sheer luck, thought if she perused the patients' names outside their rooms, she might be able to prove what her instincts were raging through her.

She decided to start at the floor they were already on. She took hold of Josh's hand. Walking down the corridors, she looked at each name outside of each patient's room. So far, nothing jumped out at her.

They were about to head toward the last two beds at the end of the long hallway, when Josh saw a drinking fountain and stopped abruptly to get some water with the help of Patti lifting him up.

After he quenched his thirst, Patti decided, too that she would take a sip from the fountain. When she finished her drink, she looked around for her nephew.

Disappeared. Oh, my God! She frantically looked in all directions, then saw an elevator at the end of the hall. Oh, God! I hope Josh didn't go in the elevator. Patti looked behind her to see if he would he reappear out of midair.

Josh stood at the entrance of a patient's room directly in front of her. Patti was about to motion for him to come out of the room so as not to disturb the patient.

Josh looked at Patti, then pointed toward a bed a patient was lying in.

Patti narrowed her eyes and walked to the room. When she entered the room and looked at the patient Josh pointed to, she almost went into a catatonic state.

Dolphins chased the ship, frolicking in the waves. A few whales came up close, attracted by the magical vibrations the ship was giving to the water. She shook her head and let the wind play with her hair, the blue strands lifting and mimicking the waves.

"Are you thinking of jumping in, Haily?" Her mother came up behind her, sipping at her own drink.

"Of course not, Mom. You know I wasn't allowed swimming lessons."

"There were reasons, Haily. Underwater shockwaves could have killed other swimmers nearby. You know how unpredictable your talent is."

"Yes, Mom. I know." Of course, she knew. It was the binding rule of Haily's existence. She was one step away from being locked up by the ruling councils every single day. It was difficult to live with since she was never allowed to forget it.

Her mother's voice dropped to a whisper. "Thank you for coming, Haily. April, May and June might meet the men for them on this cruise."

"I know. And it's why I am here. This is the time of the year to focus on family, isn't it?"

Morag chuckled and gave her daughter a one-armed hug. "Thank you for understanding."

"I understand, Mom. Better than anyone can guess. All for the family, that is my motto."

Her mother faded back into the social scene and when the sun began to set, Haily returned to the party as dinner began to appear on the buffet.

She sat with her parents and their friends as her sisters took up positions with men of similar ages and power levels. A few brave souls tried to engage her in conversation, but as soon as they asked her if she was seeing anyone, the chill in the air could have frozen them in place.

The party began to roar after dinner when more alcohol and a number of magical beverages came out. Morag winced at the noise when the music kicked off and leaned over, "Haily, can you watch them? Make sure that they get to bed alone?"

She turned to look at her sisters, one blonde and two brunettes. "I will watch them. But if I have to blast their butts into bed, I will."

Eduard shuddered and patted her shoulder. "If you must, you must. Have a nice night, Hail." He pressed a kiss on her forehead and patted her on the shoulder again.

He always called her Hail. It was his way of rubbing it in to her mother that he had been allowed to name their firstborn after the weather on the day she was born. He wanted to name April Sunny, but he had been vetoed and had to be satisfied that he got Hail in. She was the moment of her father's triumph and every time he said her name, she knew it.

She watched them wander off, arms around each other as they returned to their room for some…lord, she did not want to think about it. Parents having sex was creepy at any age.


The party was in full swing and like dozens of magical parties before, some of the morons started showing off with light displays and flashes of power.

Haily's sisters were slow dancing, making out with a young wizard and raiding the dessert bar respectively. They would be safe for a few minutes while she caught some fresh air.

The waves were dark and threatening, but under the dancing lights of the cruise ship, they looked miles away.

"How am I going to plan a life when I can't even be trusted among my own family?"

Her words were answered by a drunken magus inside screaming, "Watch this!"

She turned to look into the party to see what he was referring to and was struck in the chest by a rainbow-hued fireball and thrown into the silent waves.

"What's it like…to die? Is it scary or painful?"

Endel furrowed his brows, thinking. No, not at all. It's…I don't know how to say it…wondrous.

"Is there a bright light? Or some kind of tunnel?"

I didn't see one. Not yet anyway. Maybe that's why I haven't gone on.

"Did you get to see your friends and family that died before you?"

No. I've been too busy watching over you, young lady.

"Have you seen…God?"

Endel turned over so he could look into her eyes. There are some things that you can't know yet, Kate. You'll find out all the answers when it's your time.

She scowled.

Kate…all I can tell you is that you don't have to be afraid. Death is the end of the life you know now, but it's only the beginning of another journey. There's a gradual understanding that was never possible in this life. The answers to all the questions you ever wondered about.

"So, now you know what really happened to Amelia Earhart?"

He laughed. Did anyone ever tell you what a nut you are?

"Not since you left." She put her arms around his neck and snuggled against him.

I love you, Kate.

His mouth was only inches from hers and she wondered if he would kiss her. Her bottom lip quivered. "I love you, too."

Lying beside him she realized how stiff, dry and cold she had become. Was it her heart, her soul or her body? She wasn't sure.

He pulled her so close that she felt she was a part of him. She slowly grew warmer. Her muscles relaxed and she felt almost…soft. Every inch of her body was alive and tingling. A thousand memories of their lovemaking flooded her mind simultaneously. Her heart pounded. She had no idea it was possible to feel so much pleasure at one time. It made her delirious. The void that yearned for Endel every night when she lay in her bed alone was gone. So engulfed in her passion, she was unable to move or speak. Tiny sparkles of light cascaded down on her like a gentle rain. She was glowing warmly, as she felt her own spirit mesh with his.

Every sound and smell she ever delighted in filled the room. She was surrounded by the scents of lavender, honeysuckle, baby powder, and Endel's cologne. She heard the sounds of rain, waterfalls, ocean waves, and children laughing. What had to be a heavenly orchestra played all her favorite music. Each and every note reverberated her very core.

She felt as though she were standing naked under a waterfall of liquid cashmere. It swirled around her body like a soft caress. She saw the shadow of her soul illuminated by a sea of scented candles, glowing softly against a midnight sky. Spent and satiated, she finally fell asleep in his arms.

Becca Trask cleared the dishes from the table and wiped up the spills, then carried the tray to the restaurant kitchen. The muscles in her arms ached. Lifting heavy trays of food, then empty dishes, was putting a strain on her body. She sighed and carried the dishes to the sink. Betty Thorn, the kitchen helper, smiled at her.

“Are you getting used to the harried atmosphere of the diner?”

Becca grimaced, then forced a smile. Since having taken the job, she had been the only one of the crew to complain about sore muscles. “I should be more active. Then I wouldn’t have sore muscles.” She rubbed her left arm. “I don’t suppose the owner would hire a busboy to clear tables.”

Betty shook her head. “Sam is barely making ends meet as it is, honey.” She nodded her head toward the dining room. “Business has slowed down to what it used to be before the steel mill closed.”

“I know. I’m grateful for the job, Betty.” She smiled but she didn’t feel the glee accompanying the action. Jim had lost his job when the mill closed nine months ago and just two months ago, they were forced to give up their house. Moving back home with her dad was the last thing she ever dreamed of but circumstances just became too dire otherwise.

“I suppose Harold likes having you back home, even though he knows it’s only temporary.”

Becca shrugged one shoulder. “Dad misses Mom and I guess having someone else in the house takes a bit of the loneliness away.”

A year ago, Sondra Newman suffered a fatal heart attack. It had been totally unexpected. She was only fifty years old and thought to be in excellent health. Becca fought the rush of tears to her eyes. Sometimes she just didn’t understand God’s ways. First, He took her mother, and a few months later, Jim’s job. Neither event made any sense. Grief still gripped her heart and just looking at her poor dad, made tears come to her eyes. He and her mom had been high school sweethearts and their marriage was ideal. Her dad still surprised her mom with fresh flowers occasionally and invited her out for impromptu dates.

“Time heals all,” Betty said, placing the soiled dishes in the dishwasher. “Or so they say. I, personally, find time only prolongs the hurt.”

Betty had lost her husband ten years ago and came to work at the café to make ends meet. She cooked and managed the kitchen when Sam needed time off. She was a tall woman with gray hair that she wore in a tight knot on the back of her head. Becca had known her since childhood, when she used to trick or treat on Halloween. Her house was just down the shore line from her father’s. When Jim lost his job, and she finally won the argument about returning to work, she was glad to have Betty as a coworker. Seeing a familiar face at the workplace took the edge off having to learn to be a waitress.

Becca returned to the front of the restaurant. As she pushed through the swinging door separating the rooms, she saw a couple just seating themselves. She took her pad and pen from her apron pocket and stretched a smile across her face.

The afternoon crowd at the restaurant was smaller than the morning customers. Working people crowded into the diner for Sam’s hot coffee before work. Some were regulars to have breakfast and others ordered Betty’s homemade cinnamon rolls to take with them. It was hectic for about two hours, beginning at five o’clock in the morning. She stifled a yawn and wrote the couple’s order on her pad. As she turned toward the kitchen, she glimpsed Jim coming through the front door. She paused, made eye contact with him, then resumed her trek to the kitchen.

Once Becca placed the order, she glanced at the front counter and saw Jim sitting on the end stool. She surveyed the tables with customers, making certain she could take a minute, before rounding the end of the counter and joining him. He smiled as she came toward him. Oh dear God. She hadn’t seen him smile so broadly since he lost his job. Her stomach quivered with uncertainty as she made her way over to him.

“Why are you grinning?” She stared at his face, the handsome countenance she had adored since her teenage years. He had boyish good looks, a spray of freckles across his nose and blue eyes that seemed to light up when he was happy. She reached one hand to his forehead and brushed a stray blond curl back. “You could really use a haircut, hon.”

“That’s not important now, Becca. I just found a job.”

Relief surged through Becca’s insides like a mountainous tidal wave. “Oh, honey, really?” She stepped closer to the counter, even though the urge to announce the good news to all in the restaurant inched up her throat. “What kind of a job?”

“Mack Harvey just hired me. I’m an official crewmember on the Ambassador.”

Becca drew in a quick breath. “The fishing boat? Jim, you don’t know anything about—”

“I know. That’s why I’ll be the rookie on the next trip out.” He stared at Becca, the grin on his face waning.

“That’s such dangerous work.” A shard of fright sliced across her stomach. “Why did you even think of asking Mack for a job?”

Jim reached across the counter and took Becca’s hand. “Because I’ve been to every plant and business in this town and no one is hiring. There are no jobs in this area, Becca. It’s either take what I can find or move to another town.” He drew in a long breath. “I’m not crazy about being gone for a six week stretch either, or fighting the cold and wet onboard the fishing boat, but at least we’ll have an income.” He looked away, the smile leaving his face. “Tom will be going out with the crew. He put in a good word for me, honey. I’ll learn from him.”

“Tom! Tom Fischer is about as reliable as a broken leg on a hillside.”

Jim laughed and shook his head. “He’s my cousin and I can rely on him. Everything will be fine. And besides, every crewmember gets a cut of the total value of the catch. I could come home with ten thousand dollars.”

Or you might not come home at all.

Raj took a long look at the suitcases on the bed. He swore he would stay at home, spend more time with his wife after his last trip took him away for three weeks. He felt as though he’d been ignoring his marriage for business—but this trip wasn’t for business. He made a promise to his father on his deathbed and it was a promise he couldn’t just go back on.

“You didn’t touch your breakfast,” Melody said from behind him.

He turned and smiled at her. Accepting the coffee Melody handed him, he kissed her before taking a sip and placing it on the bedside table.

“I’m sorry, hon. I wanted to eat more but for some reason my stomach wasn’t in agreement with my brain.”

“Now there’s a fight we rarely ever win.” She chuckled. “I packed you a couple extra traveler’s checks, just in case. You never know, right?”

He smiled. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know.”

“I know I promised you that I wouldn’t leave again for a while, but…”

“Babe, you don’t have to explain it to me. You made a promise to your father and I wouldn’t think very much of you if you went back on your word.”

“But you are my wife—and my allegiances are to you now. I made a promise to you, too—that I would forsake all others, keeping myself only to you. What about that pledge?”

Melody reached forward and dragged her palm down his chest to the waist of his pants. She eased to her knees, bracing her free hand to one of his suitcases and kissed him gently. “I respect and love you for thinking of me. But I know what this would do to you if you didn’t stick to your word. Now—stop being a baby and go do what you have to.”

Raj accepted the kiss and caressed her face. When she sat down again, he went back to the rest of his packing.

Silence filled the room except for the periodical sound of zippers. Once the bags were packed, he placed them on the ground, climbed into bed and pulled her against his body. Going away was hell on him every time. Raj hated leaving Melody behind. Most times, he would give in and take her with him—sometimes she told him to go without her because she said, “Sweetie, some absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Raj kissed her head as his heart ached. He basked in the silence of just being with her with no expectations. But his peace was not to last for the doorbell peeled. Reluctantly, he allowed her away from him so he could climb off the bed. He grabbed his bags and watched as his beautiful wife slid his carry on over his shoulder. Together, they descended the stairs. He opened the door to hand his bags to the limousine driver and turned to face Melody.

Sadly, Raj held onto the woman that had been his wife for the past five years. She had loved him, protected him, gotten angry at him and then made up with him by making love. She had given him a wonderful home and shoulders to lean on when he felt he couldn’t go on. A few years before, his father had been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. They told him that his father only had a few weeks, but Sajeev Sohan had shocked them all. A few months ago, the shock wore off and Sajeev died. The only thing the old man had asked from his only son was that Raj at least visit the Ganges in India. He didn’t even have to bathe in it, just stand on the banks and whisper his father’s name to the winds of a country he had wished to visit one last time before his death.