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Jix CWP#5 Elements in PURPLE

~Chapter 11~

A Late Walk

(originally posted November 5, 2007)

Monday, June 1st

“I hope we made your birthday pleasant, Mart,” Mrs. Drake said, giving him a warm hug as the party began to break up.  “I’m sorry everybody couldn’t make it,” she bemoaned.

Mart glanced around the packed living room with a grin.  Only Sally’s brother Simon and her cousin Sindi had been missing from the gathering.  Every other Drake had made it and Mart was touched by their enthusiasm over getting together to celebrate a non-Drake’s birthday.

He leaned over to give Sally’s mother a kiss on the cheek.  “That’s quite all right, Mrs. Drake.  It just means more food for me.”  He grinned and held up the four Rubber Maid containers of various sizes that had been packed for him to take home.

“I’ve told you Mart, call me Sheila.  Or Mom, if you want.”

“Mom!” Sally warned.  She gave Mart an apologetic smile.

“What?  Everybody calls me Mom.  I’m not implying anything about – “

“Mother!”

“Well, I’m not.  In fact, the new neighbors down the street are calling me Mom already.  Well, the children are, that is.  Nicest folks.  Moved here from somewhere in North Carolina.  They have the cutest little hillbilly accents...”

As Sally’s mother started off on one of her tangents, Mart snuck a peek over at Sally, who was at the front door bidding her oldest brother good-bye for the evening, her niece and goddaughter Serena cradled in her arms for a final hug.

At last, Mart was getting a ride back to Winthrop from the beautiful lady herself.  It had been a long four months since they had first started dating and he was looking forward to this evening’s drive.  Most of the visits that Mart had made to the Drake house for the family dinners had been in his own car, and he had made the trip back to the school alone.  That was, of course, preferable to the drives with Sally’s brothers.  One by one, they had chauffeured him home and Mart was still amazed he had survived.

First had been Seth, on the night Mart had first met the Drake family...

Seth and Patty’s young sons, Sawyer and Spencer, crawled sleepily into the middle seat of the minivan, leaving Mart the back seat, which he climbed into with starry eyes, the memory of Sally’s kiss still tingling on his lips.  Patty made sure her boys were buckled in and took the front seat and Seth pointed the van out of town.  Everybody was silent.  Mart remembered Sally’s warning and thought to himself, This is going to be a piece of cake.  They must love me.  Who wouldn’t love me?  I’m adorable.

The heater was going full blast in the cold January night and Mart was just nodding off when he heard Seth’s voice from the driver’s seat.  “Mart!”  There was something in the tone of that one word that sent a tremor through Mart’s body.  It was the same tone of voice his father had used when Mart had almost burned the garage down when he was nine.  He tried to pretend he was asleep, but Seth didn’t seem to notice – or he did notice and knew Mart was faking it.

Seth turned off the noisy heater and raised his voice, “I said, how did you and Sally meet, anyway?”  Mart opened his eyes to see Seth looking at him suspiciously from the rearview mirror.

Had Sally told him already?  Did she tell him everything?  Was this a test of Mart’s honesty?  Or should he leave out the more embarrassing parts of their first meeting?  Seth probably wouldn’t react well to the fact that Mart had groped his sister the first time he met her.  Mart didn’t know what to say.  He was suddenly having disturbing visions of Death by Seth.  Had Sally’s previous boyfriends been scared away?  Or had they merely…Mart gulped…disappeared?

“Well?” Seth growled.

Just as Mart was about to answer – or wet his pants – Patty saved the day.  “For heaven’s sake, Seth, keep your voice down.  The boys are almost asleep.”  She leaned towards the console.    “And it’s too cold to turn the heat off.”  She turned it back on and Mart let his pent-up breath out slowly.

Patty turned a little in her seat and smiled understandingly back at Mart.  Had she gone through the same thing?  Had Seth’s brothers treated her like this?  A woman?  Had they no scruples whatsoever?  Mart gulped again.  He was a goner.

He had made it home alive however, and with dry pants, thanks to Patty and two impressionable young children.  But two weeks later, it was Shawn and his fiancée Staci who offered to drive Mart home; and it wasn’t until the following Monday that Sally happened to mention that Shawn lived almost twenty miles in the opposite direction.

Shawn was all brawn.  He didn’t ask Mart any questions about his relationship with his sister.  Instead, he told Mart about himself.  His athletic honors in high school and college, his state title on the wrestling team, the fact that he still worked out every morning before heading to his job at a construction site where he lifted concrete forms and unloaded lumber before cooling off at the end of the day with some weight lifting or boxing.  He flexed his arms several times for Mart to see; his biceps were bigger than Mart’s head.  Then he asked Mart how much he weighed and informed him he could probably bench press him…“If I had too,” he finished menacingly.

There were no children here to shield from violent images, and Staci didn’t give Mart the sympathetic looks Patty had given him.  She just giggled and preened over her fiancé’s muscular build, batting her eyelashes at him adoringly, which only egged him on.  Thanks, Staci, Mart thought, Guido will probably kill me just to get you all hot and bothered.

The next Friday, February 19th, Mart had hesitantly asked Sally if they could skip the family dinner for some time by themselves.

“What did Shawn say to you last week?” Sally demanded with a glare.

“Nothing!”

Sally glared harder at him.

“Well...he didn’t threaten to do me any bodily harm...not technically.  It wasn’t the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre or anything.”  He darted a quick look around the nearly deserted hallway before giving her a chaste peck on the cheek.  “Honestly, I love your family, even your brothers.  They’re just watching out for you.”

“Watching out for me?  If they had their way, they’d probably lock me in a tower and arrange for me to marry some shriveled old man with no sex drive.  Please don’t tell me this is normal behavior.  You never treated Trixie’s boyfriends like this, did you?”

“Well, she’s only had two boyfriends, and they’re like my best friends.  Not to mention the fact that I think both of them could kick my ass.  But don’t worry, I’m not surrendering or retreating, just regrouping.  Now that I’ve experienced a Drake family dinner, I can’t go back.  Every Friday is like Thanksgiving Day down there.”

“Does your valor have anything at all to do with me?” Sally asked impatiently.

“Of course it does,” Mart grinned, “You habitually make me disregard all contemplation of rations.”  Another scan of the hallway showed they were now alone and he pushed her gently against a locker to kiss her more fervently.  “And I assure you that my sex drive is in fine working order.”

Mart smiled in remembrance.  When your girlfriend smells like a bakery, it’s easy to set aside food for a moment in order to make out with her.

But the following week, he had been back in the trenches again when Sally’s oldest brother Sam and his family drove him home.

Before Mart could react fast enough, Scotty and Sarah scrambled happily into the far back seat of the minivan.  Sam’s wife Marie was already sitting in the middle next to baby Serena’s car seat, and Sam was holding open the front passenger door for Mart with a grin...a grin like a hungry lion standing in front of a three-legged antelope.  Mart tried to smile back, but failed miserably.  He got into the front seat and plastered himself against the door, hand on the latch in case he needed to make a flying leap out of the moving vehicle.

There were no threats, implied or otherwise, this time.  Sam worked for the Indian Lake Police Department and despite the fact that there was almost no crime in Mayberry, he had clearly cultivated some serious interrogation skills somewhere.  He fired off question after question about Mart’s family, his education, Sleepyside, his experiences in Africa, if he ever smoked or did drugs, how often he drank alcohol, the Bob-Whites, sports, his prospects for the future, how he invested his money, what he liked to read, his health, his views on religion, politics, children, the New York Yankees, the weather, soy burgers, genocide, rap music, computers, whether turkey or ham is more appropriate for Christmas dinner...until Mart’s head was spinning.  He was sure the random nature of the questions had some purpose, but he couldn’t figure out what it was, and even his hesitant answer of “ham” made him fret that he had offended the Drakes so badly that he’d never be invited over for a Christmas dinner.

The drive to the school should only have taken fifteen minutes, but Sam drove even slower than Brian and Jim, if that were possible, and took what he called a “short cut” that ended up taking them twice as long to get back.  At last however, they pulled in front of the school and Mart jumped out, hastily tossing his thanks over his shoulder as he made his escape.  He had survived the Samish Inquisition.

Mart had driven himself to the Drake family dinner the next couple of weeks, managing to woo Sally out to more intimate dinners on a couple of occasions as well.  Then in early April, on Good Friday, Mart had driven home with Sally’s youngest brother, Simon, whom he hadn’t seen since that first visit to the Drake house.

Simon was just a year older than Sally and the two of them were particularly close.  Mart could appreciate that and he told Simon about his younger almost-twin sister, hoping they could form a bond of understanding.

Mart thought of him as Simple Simon.  Not that he was dim-witted...not by any stretch of the imagination.  The guy was a Columbia graduate and a highly regarded young surgeon in New York City.  But he didn’t toy with Mart, and he didn’t insinuate anything, and he didn’t ruthlessly interrogate him.  He made it real simple, “Mart, if you ever hurt my sister, I will kill you.”

Mart began to sweat.  Mart wasn’t sure what possessed him to ride back to the school alone with Simon anyway.  He hoped the sacred holiday would spare him; he thought Sally’s brothers liked him at least enough that they wouldn’t actually consider crucifying him.

“Okay,” he croaked.

He wished he had tried out for the football team in high school, or the wrestling team, or the girls’ softball team.  He had a good physique and he went running every day, but sitting next to Simon, or any of Sally’s brothers, made him feel like the nerdy kid in school, who always ended up shoved into a locker after being given an atomic wedgie.

“Seriously Mart, I will surgically remove your intestines, shove them down your throat and pull them out the other end before tying them in a big pretty bow around your privates and dumping you in the Hudson River.”

Suddenly, an atomic wedgie sounded almost pleasurable.

Pushing back the impulse to impertinently quote the doctor’s axiom of ‘First, do no harm’, Mart gritted his teeth and decided to take on Simple Simon and the whole Drake clan with one punch.  If he was killed, so be it.  He was willing to fight for Sally, even if that fight lasted mere seconds.

“Listen, it is not my intention to ever hurt your sister.  Not because you and the rest of the Brothers Grimm are gleefully plotting my demise and not because I am enamored of the all-you-can-eat Drake buffet every Friday night, but because I love her.”

Simon started, and frankly, so did Mart.

He loved Sally.

He knew he loved her from the moment he had first gazed into her astonishing blue eyes.  He knew he loved her the first time he had smelled that delectable vanilla sugar concoction on her wrist.  He knew he loved her when she had given him the vocab smackdown outside her classroom.  He knew he loved her when she had brought him home to meet her family on their very first date.  He knew he loved her from the instant she had pressed her soft lips to his.

But this was the first time he had actually said it out loud.  Gleeps!  He hadn’t even said it out loud to Sally.  That realization made him blush.  Sally should have heard it first.

He looked carefully in Simon’s direction.  He was smiling.  That was a good sign...right?

Simon pulled up in front of the school and stopped the car.  Mart sat still, too embarrassed to move.

“You’re a good guy, Belden.  Tell Sally you love her.  I’ll make sure the rest of the...” his lips twitched slightly, “...Brothers Grimm treat you right from now on.”

And that had been the end of the battle.  Longer than the Alamo, shorter than the Revolution.  And Mart was still alive to come marching home to the woman who loved him.

Sam, Seth, Shawn, and Simon had all treated Mart like a brother from that day on.  More importantly, they didn’t require Sally to act in kind.

Mart said good-bye to Mr. Drake and looked around the living room again for Sally.  She was just coming in the front door.

“Did you forget about me?” he teased.

“No,” she laughed.  “Are you ready to go?”

He smiled a somewhat leering yes, pinching her bottom as soon as the door closed behind them and they were out of sight of the rest of the family.  However, when they came around the corner of the house to where Sally’s SUV was parked, Mart’s face dropped, “What are Lee and Grant doing in the car?”

Sally’s German Shepherds each had a head poking out a side window.  They barked excitedly as they saw Mart and Sally approaching the car.  It was time for a ride!

“Oh, Mart, I haven’t taken them out in forever.  You mentioned going for a walk when I took you back home and I just knew they’d love it.  It’s all right, isn’t it?” she entreated.

Mart sighed wearily.  “If I’m giving into you already, what will the rest of our lives be like?”

She kissed him on the cheek, “Perfect bliss, I promise.”

“Yeah, for you,” Mart grumbled good-naturedly.

They climbed into the car, where Mart pushed Lee into the backseat with his brother.  He put the food containers into the small cooler on the floor, safe from prying noses and drooling tongues – the dogs’ anyway – and fastened his seatbelt, before once again pushing Lee behind him.

“You know, when I suggested that you and I go for a walk –”

There was an immediate blast of excited barking from the backseat and Mart had to cover his ears.  Could it be possible they were actually sitting directly behind him, barking purposely in his ear alone?

“Boys!  Enough!” Sally shouted as she pulled the car out of the driveway.  “Sorry, Mart.  You know that word drives them nuts.”

“As I was saying, when I suggested that you and I go for a…” he glanced back at the dogs, who now seemed preoccupied with getting as much saliva as possible on the back windows, “…W-A-L-K.”

And again, the booming voices of the shepherds could be heard echoing through the car.  “They can spell?” Mart shouted over them in amazement.

Sally laughed, trying to maintain a firm tone in her voice as she shushed the dogs again.  “Just that word, but yes, they can spell.”

“As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…twice,” Mart went on, “when I suggested that you and I perambulate, (spell that, slobber mutts!) I meant you and I, not you and I and the hounds of hell.”

“Mart, they’re not that bad,” Sally scolded, “And remember, I’ve met Reddy.  Even at his mature age, I can tell he’s just as undisciplined as my boys.”

“Yeah, but there are two of them, and dogs named for Civil War generals really ought to be a little more regimented, don’t you think?  Besides,” Mart added, taking a swipe at his damp shoulder, “Reddy never drools like these two do.”

“Come on, Mart.  Two sweethearts walking hand-in-hand through the woods at sunset, as two faithful dogs bound around them joyfully?  Doesn’t that sound romantic?”

“Yeah, until I want to K-I-S-S you and they start barking in my ear because they’d rather continue their walk.” 

Too late.  He had spelled the wrong word.  Lee and Grant began their boisterous canine chorus in his ear again.  One of them slobbered on the top of his head while he was at it, and Mart dropped his face in his hands and let out a melodramatic wail of agony.

When they arrived at the school, they saw two boys playing catch in the yard out front.  The dogs leaped out of the truck, nearly knocking Mart over in their exuberance, and the boys came over to greet them, shouting happily as the Lee and Grant tried to jump up and lick their faces, all the while barking excitedly and creating a rather chaotic scene.

Watching the boys with the dogs, Mart got an idea.  He smiled and asked, “Billy, would you and Cade like to take Lee and Grant on a walk?”  The dogs, of course, started barking wildly at his final word.

“Would we!” Billy exclaimed.  “Can we?”

“Well, you’ll have to ask Miss Drake.  They’re her dogs.  But I think it would be okay.”  Mart smirked at Sally, who pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him, all while being unable to keep the grin off her face.

“Well, don’t go far and stay off the rocky trails,” Sally told them.   As the boys and the dogs raced off, she shouted after them, “And don’t worry if they run off, they won’t lose track of you.  Just whistle and they’ll come back to you.  And be back before it gets dark!  And if I’m not back yet, put them in the car.  But leave a window cracked for them…”

“Sally!  Let them go.  Boys and dogs in the woods on a summer evening; it’s a winning combination.  Much better than sweethearts and dogs on a romantic stroll.”

He took her hand and started in the opposite direction.  Sally continued to watch over her shoulder as the boys got to the edge of the woods and turned back to wave.  “Thanks, Miss Drake!  Good-bye!  See ya, Mr. Belden!”

Mart turned around and watched as the boys and the dogs disappeared up the woodland trail.  “Mr. Belden,” he mumbled as he turned back.  “Jeepers, that makes me feel old.”

Sally laughed dryly.  “Poor Mart.  Over the hill at 22.”

“Yeah, just think, in another few years I’ll be a quarter of a century old.  Can you imagine anyone being that old?” Mart innocently mused.

Sally, who had turned 25 in April, scowled cheerfully at her fair-haired boyfriend as he quickly made his getaway.  “Oooh!  I’ll get you for that, Mart!” She chased him down the drive to where they veered off onto a footpath into the woods.

Mart allowed himself to be caught by the agile blonde woman as they disappeared among the trees.  She locked her graceful arms around his chest and squeezed him from behind.  She was athletic enough that this was no easy hold to break, although Mart admittedly didn’t try very hard.  He rather enjoyed having Sally’s limbs wrapped around him. 

“Uncle!  I give!  What is my punishment, sweet one?”

Sally thought about it while she nuzzled the back of Mart’s neck.  With a wicked grin she stated, “No dessert tonight.”

Mart looked truly wounded.  “Really?  That’s gotta be considered cruel and unusual.  You know Moms sent up that cake just for my birthday today.  Birthday cakes demand to be eaten.  I think it’s a law or something.”

“I seem to recall you having several pieces of birthday cake last weekend when we celebrated with your family in Sleepyside,” Sally reminded him.

“Yes, but that was Moms’ chocolate cake with chocolate raspberry frosting.  This is Moms’ cinnamon swirl cake with cream cheese frosting.”  Mart’s eyes glazed over slightly in anticipation of the delectable dessert waiting for them back at Mart’s apartment.

Sally’s hands moved down Mart’s chest and patted his flat stomach.  “I’ve never met anyone who could put away food like you do and still be so skinny.  How do you do it, Mart?”

“Why do you think I go running with you every weekend?”

“So you can stare at my butt as you wheeze along behind me?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Mart grinned.

Sally moved in front of him with a dubious expression.  “Mart, your face looks exactly the same when you’re thinking about my butt as it does when you’re thinking about your mother’s cake.  I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered.”

“Flattered, definitely,” Mart enthused as he moved closer and kissed her lightly on the lips, “I have a great fondness for them both.”

Sally blushed, “Mart, you impious reprobate.”

Mart grinned widely, “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”  He kissed her again and took her hand as they continued down the wooded path that led to the lake.  This oversized pond was one of several smaller offshoots of the lake that gave the town its name.  There was a dock at one end and a floating raft in the middle.  A couple of canoes were tied to the dock and one could use them to paddle through a narrow channel that led to one of the larger lakes and on from there to Indian Lake.

Sally and Mart strolled over to the dock and took off their socks and shoes, dangling their feet over the edge into the cool, green water.  A soft breeze made the delicate boughs of the weeping willows along the shore dance.  The sun was beginning its descent on the opposite side of the lake and they had front row seats for the show.

Sally laid her head on Mart’s shoulder.  He put his arm around her waist and drew her closer to him.  As he did so, he felt a bulge in her pocket.  Patting it, he asked curiously, “What’s this?”

“It’s your birthday present.  Do you want me to give it to you now?”

“No.  I mean, if you want to.  Whenever.”  Mart shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Okay, then I’ll wait until later.”

“Sally!” Mart groaned in anguish.

Sally laughed.  “Apparently, your sister isn’t the only Belden with a burning curiosity.”  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box.

When she opened it, Mart saw two sterling silver rings inside.  He reached for them.  They had an intricately woven design on them and engraved on the inside of each band were some words in French.  Mart’s knowledge of the language didn’t extend much beyond hors d’ouevres and soufflé, so he looked to Sally with questioning blue eyes.

She put her hand under his as he cupped the rings in his palm.  “My mother gave these to me on my 21st birthday.  They’re Celtic promise rings.  They were given to her by her grandmother, Josephine Rousseau.”

Sally cuddled closer to Mart.  “It’s quite a fairy tale.  Do you want to hear it?”

“Does it start with ‘Once upon a time’?”

Sally smiled softly at him.  “Once upon a time...

“A young woman named Josephine lived in a little village a few miles outside of Paris with her parents.  One day, near the end of World War I, a British regiment came through the village and encamped there for about a week.  One of the soldiers was an Irishman named Emmett Brennan.  As soon as Emmett saw my great-grandmother he was instantly smitten, as was she; but his unit was being shipped out to Belgium at the end of that week.  Emmett and Josephine wanted to get married, but her parents refused to allow it.  Josephine was only 16 years old.  Fighting was very heavy in Belgium and the British Empire was losing a lot of troops.  Josephine’s parents didn’t want their only child to be a bride and a widow in one fell swoop.

“Emmett wore these very rings on a chain around his neck.  He told Josephine that they had belonged to his parents, who had both died when he was a boy.  After he met my great-grandmother, he had them engraved on the inside with the French phrase, ‘Vous et nul autre’ which means ‘You and no other’.  He gave both rings to Josephine for safekeeping and promised he would be back for her after the war ended.

“News was hard to come by in the little village where the Rousseaus lived, so once a week Josephine walked the six or seven miles to Paris to try and find news of the war and lists of casualties.  And every week, she walked back home, not knowing if Emmett was dead or alive, or if he was ever coming back.  But she believed in her heart that he would come back for her.  She wore his ring on a chain around her neck and never removed hers from her finger.  She waited for months, but never received any letters from him, and never saw his name on any casualty list that made it to Paris.”

Mart was spellbound.  It wasn’t often that he was at a loss for words, but he didn’t speak as Sally continued her story.

“The war ended, and still Josephine waited.  A young man from her village, whom she had known all her life, wanted to marry her.  Her parents urged her to accept his proposal and admit that Emmett had likely perished in the war, but Josephine still believed that he would come back for her.  As the days and weeks passed and Emmett did not return, Josephine started to lose hope.  Every day she would look at the ring on her finger, and touch the ring that lay against her heart and pray for a sign that Emmett was still alive.

“On Christmas Eve, more than a month after the war had ended, Josephine went to the local chapel for Christmas mass.  She stayed there long after the small congregation had returned to their homes.  She prayed for Emmett.  She prayed for wisdom to make the right decision.  She prayed for a sign from heaven to guide her.  Though it seemed her prayers were answered only with silence, Josephine sensed a presence with her.  She turned, and standing at the door was a ragged, weary soldier.  It was Emmett Brennan.  He was a little worse for wear, after the battles he had fought and the miles he had traveled, but he had come back for Josephine, just as he promised.  She took his ring from around her neck, placed it on his finger, and they were married on Christmas Day.”

Sally was quiet for a long while, until Mart prompted, “And they lived happily ever after?”

Sally let out a little sigh and her eyes misted over with tears as she nodded, “They were married for 62 years before my great-grandfather died.  My great-grandmother lived for another three years, but I don’t think her heart ever truly healed.  I’ve heard that story a million times since I was a little girl.  It’s still the best love story I’ve ever heard.”

Mart reached up to wipe away a tear from her cheek.  Sally grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. Taking a deep breath, she continued on in a rush, “Mart, I know we haven’t known each other long, but I knew the day I first met you that you were the one for me.”

Mart looked at her skeptically.  “Really?”

Sally giggled, “Not the first moment we met, mind you.”  Her eyes and smile softened as she added, "But it didn't take long."

“Lucky for me, I’m charming.”

“Lucky for you, that stain came out,” Sally sniffed.

“Of course, the luckiest stroke of all was that you fell in love with me.”

Taking another deep breath, Sally rushed on, “I know it’s supposed to be the man’s place to ask a woman to marry him and to give her a diamond ring.  I know you’re traditional that way and that you don’t want to even think about marriage until you’re working full-time teaching.  But I want to give you my great-grandfather’s ring and ask you to ask me to marry you someday.  Because I will say yes.  I promise you I will say yes.  Because I love you Martin Bel-.”

Mart silenced her spiel with a kiss.  Pulling away ever so slightly, he whispered with his lips close to hers, “How can I acquiesce to this anomalous proposition if you don’t stop articulating, Mademoiselle Drake?”

Sally laughed and they kissed again.  Taking her left hand in his, Mart took Josephine Rousseau Brennan’s promise ring and placed it on Sally’s ring finger.  “I promise you that someday I will replace this ring with a diamond one.”

He took Emmett Brennan’s promise ring and placed it on his own left ring finger.  “And I promise you that this ring will not leave my finger until the day you replace it with a wedding band.”

He took her hands in his and looked deeply into her dark blue eyes.  “And I promise you one more thing.  I promise you that I will love you, Sally Drake, until the day I die.  You and no other.”

 

Tuesday, June 30th

Brian was so tired he very nearly missed his stop.  Even the sharp squeal of the subway brakes didn’t jar him from his doze.  But when passengers exiting and entering the car jostled him from his comfortably cocked position against the pole, he started awake, quickly realized where he was, and just managed to jump off the train before the doors closed.

He trudged up the steps to the street and began the journey back to his apartment building six blocks away.  His stomach growled.  He sure could go for some fried eggs right about now.  He checked his watch, 1:40 a.m.  He was hungry for breakfast, ready for a good night’s sleep, and definitely needed a shower.  This rotation was completely screwing up his internal clock.

Brian knew these rotations were designed to give the students a well-rounded education and help them decide on their future specialty.  But Brian didn’t need any more of this crap to be positive that ER work was not in his future, at least not in a New York City hospital.  The drug overdoses, gunshot wounds, knifings, beatings, and rapes he had seen in just the past two weeks were enough to last him a lifetime.  He didn’t think very highly of the Park Avenue doctors who spent their afternoons diagnosing more putting greens than patients, but there had to be something in between that would satisfy his lifelong dream to become a healer.

He passed a trio of prostitutes lingering near an alley.  Two of them looked too young to even be out of high school.  One of them bashfully called out, “Hi, Doctor Brian.”  He didn’t stop, but gave a small wave as his face turned red.  As he stopped at the corner and waited for the light to change, he could hear the girls conversing behind him.

“Doctor Brian, huh?” mocked the bottled blond.

“Lay off, Brandy.  He took care of me last week when L.J. roughed me up.”

“That creep is bad news, Inee.  One of these days, he’s gonna do worse than send you to the ER.  You oughta get off the streets and get yourself a regular man, like Doctor Brian.”

“Doctor Brian is married.”

“So?” sneered the skinny dark-skinned girl who seemed to be in charge of her younger companions.  “All them rich doctors got a mistress on the side.”

“Doctor Brian isn’t like that, Jazmine,” India insisted.  Her slight lisp made her sound even younger than Brian knew she was.  “He’s a nice guy.”

“Boring you mean,” Jazmine snickered.

Brian flushed again.  How on earth had he gotten this reputation?  Even streetwalkers thought he was dull.  Of course, he was standing here on a deserted corner in the middle of the night waiting for a light to change before he would cross the street.  He sighed.  Brian Belden, model citizen.

The light changed at last and he crossed over.  His building was a few doors farther down.  He let himself in the security door and walked slowly up to the third-floor apartment where he and Honey lived.  He quietly let himself in, dropped his backpack and stood immobile for several seconds, trying to decide which of his needs was the most pressing.  He finally decided he would not be able to eat or sleep as long he smelled so rank and headed for the bathroom.

He cracked open the bedroom door as he passed by.  The light from the hallway spilled over Honey’s sleeping form, her dark blonde hair fanned around her face, an opened paperback laid across her stomach.  He tiptoed over to the bed, taking off his watch and emptying his pockets at the bedside table.  He leaned down to lightly kiss her, taking the book – Lisa Kleypas’ Sugar Daddy and laying it on the table.  He wanted to wake her up and kiss her some more, then he got a whiff of himself.  Honey would definitely not find that sexy.

The air conditioning had been out in the entire wing of the hospital and his sweat-stained clothes felt like they were glued to his body.  Despite hospital scrubs and the plastic one-time use gowns they used in trauma, he still had a fair amount of blood on his shirt, as well as the remains of an obscene amount of vomit from a teenager with food poisoning who had puked all over him.

In the bathroom, he turned on the shower and waited for the hot water to arrive.  He stripped down to nothing and defiantly kicked the soiled clothes to the wall instead of putting them in the hamper.  See?  He could be a rebel.  Now they’d sit there in a foul-smelling heap until morning.  Honey would pick them up and wrinkle her pretty little nose at them.  Then she’d probably fuss with Brian for leaving them on the floor, and fuss with him for ruining the shirt she had bought him for Valentine’s Day.  Brian sighed, picked up the clothes and dropped them in the hamper.  Being boring was better than upsetting his wife with the realities of vile bodily fluids on his hospital clothes.  He’d try to do a load of laundry before she woke up.

He stepped into the shower and just stood there, letting the scalding water wash away the filth of the day.  Finally he summoned the energy to wash his hair, then reached for Honey’s bath sponge.  He’d catch hell from his younger brothers if they ever found out he used her peach-colored sponge and lavender-scented body wash, but he didn’t care.  He happened to like the quality of the lather and the exfoliating effect the mesh had on his skin, especially after days like today.  And the longer he could smell Honey’s scent on him through the day, the better.

Once he felt human again, he turned off the shower and stepped out, picking up a soft fluffy towel from the rack to dry off.  Unwilling to put even his relatively uncontaminated boxers back on, he trekked naked down the hall towards the small kitchen, where he remembered seeing a laundry basket on the table.  He heard noises as he approached and turned the corner to see his wife cooking at the stove.  She was wearing an old dress shirt of his that he had outgrown years ago – he hadn’t asked where or how she got it – and Brian could see something red and lacy peeking out from underneath.

Honey turned to him and smiled, spatula in hand.  “Why, Brian!  Is this how you dress for all your meals?”

He looked down, then grinned up at her impishly, “The clothes I came home in were unacceptable dining attire.”  He pulled a clean pair of boxers out of the basket on the kitchen table and put them on.

“Well,” Honey giggled, “it’s nice to know you’re happy to see me anyway.” She snuggled against her husband as he came up behind her and nibbled on her ear, putting his arms around her.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I’m actually happy to see the eggs.  How did you know that’s what I was craving?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Lucky guess?”  Brian grimaced.  “Am I really that predictable?”

“No.  We just know each other that well,” Honey replied, turning to kiss his cheek.

Brian slipped his hands inside the shirt against her warm skin, fingering the silk that lay loosely against her stomach.  “Is this new?”

“Yes.  I thought it would be nice to have something new to celebrate in.”

“What are we celebrating?” he asked as he brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck.

“Our anniversary, silly.”

“Anniversary?  How long was I in the shower?  Is it New Year’s already?”

“No, we’ve been married for six months today,” Honey pouted.  She knew men could barely remember actual anniversaries and birthdays, much less the minor ones that women found so important, but this was their first significant milestone.  She had purchased this saucy little negligee just for the occasion.  When the sound of the shower awakened her, she dragged herself out of bed, dabbed on some of the perfume he had given her for Valentine’s Day, and came to the kitchen to fix him some breakfast.  Dinner.  Whatever meal he was eating at 2:30 a.m.

She pierced the yolks and scooped the eggs out of the pan and onto the waiting plate, handing Brian the fork.  The yolks were runny, just the way he liked them.  He sat down at the kitchen table and ravenously shoveled the eggs down his throat while she rinsed out the pan and left it in the sink.

Brian quickly finished and looked up.  Honey was leaning back against the counter watching him.  He got his first good look at the lingerie Honey was wearing as his old shirt hung loosely on her slim frame, one side sliding off her shoulder, revealing a strap so thin Brian was amazed it had the ability to hold any part of the negligee up.

“Still hungry?” Honey whispered.

Brian nodded his head slowly.

“Want me to make you some more eggs?”

Brian shook his head slowly from side to side.  He wasn’t hungry for food.  He rose from the kitchen table and took his plate and fork over to the counter.  Dropping it carelessly in the sink behind Honey with a noisy clatter, he took her into his arms and whispered gruffly, “I’m not rinsing that plate off.  I hope the yolk sticks to it.  I hope I ruin the plate and have to buy you a whole new place setting.”

Honey started laughing softly.  “What are you talking about, Brian?  You must be really tired.”

Hands tangled in her golden mane, Brian gently pulled her head back, hungrily letting his lips explore her throat.  “I’m not tired at all.  I think we should celebrate...whatever…now.”  His lips trailed down her throat, lingering above her full breasts.  He pushed the shirt down off her shoulders and let it slide to the kitchen floor.  Honey moaned softly and he rolled his eyes back, inhaling the perfume that drove him mad.  As he put his hands on her buttocks and lifted her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her back to the bedroom, feeling less and less tired with every kiss and nip and lick she applied to his neck.

He tossed her lightly onto the bed and she reached up to draw him down to her.  Running a hand inside her thigh, he whispered, “By the way, I didn’t forget.”  He reached over to the bedside table and picked up the small box he had deposited there before his shower.  Smiling at his wife, he handed it to her.

Looking up at him with wondrous adoration, she opened the box.  Inside was a tiny pair of ruby earrings.  “Brian, they’re beautiful!”  She immediately pulled them out and put them on.  “But how can we afford this?”

“Never mind how I can afford it.  You only get to celebrate your six-month anniversary once.”

“But I didn’t get you anything,” Honey whispered.

“I thought that incredibly sexy little number you’re wearing was my present,” he murmured, fingering the delicate straps.  “And your new earrings match it perfectly.  How’s that for predictable?”

Honey grasped Brian by his chin and said sternly.  “You are not predictable.  You know me.  We know each other.  And that’s a good thing.  Trust me.”

He sighed.  “I’d just like to shed this Boring Brian thing once and for all.”

“Fine,” Honey said in exasperation.  She shook herself free from his arms and disappeared into their walk-in closet.

Brian blinked.  He heard her opening and closing dresser drawers.  What was she doing?  Momentarily, she reappeared, dressed in a blouse and skirt, and holding up a polo shirt and jeans for Brian.

“Get dressed,” she commanded, tossing him his clothes, “We’re going on a field trip.”

“At three in the morning?” Brian asked skeptically.

“Yes,” she said as she narrowed her eyes at him, “Only boring people would wait until a more suitable hour.”

Brian pulled on his clothes and followed her meekly out the door.

(The conclusion of this section – Chapter 11A – is Red Star and must be accessed by password.  If this is not your cup of tea, please continue on to the next section, knowing that Brian and Honey are quite happy and more than satisfied at the moment and the only major plot line advance made was [highlight to read spoiler] the annihilation of Boring Brian in a night of wild sex at the offices of Wheeler International)

Tuesday, July 7th

Tad rang the bell at the Lynch mansion and almost instantly the door was opened.  “Hello, Harrison.  Is Diana ready?”

“Yes, Mr. Webster.  The family is all ready to go.  Please come in.”  The stiff-necked butler ushered Tad into the large foyer with its polished marble floor.

Tad stood, uneasily straightening his tie while he waited.  Momentarily, Mr. and Mrs. Lynch appeared.  Mrs. Lynch extended a slender, alabaster hand his way.  “Theodore.  How are you this evening?”  Her handshake was light and delicate.

“Fine, thank you, Mrs. Lynch.”  Tad turned to Mr. Lynch, whose handshake was far heartier.  “Mr. Lynch.”

“Teddy!  Glad to see you!”

Tad winced.  Theodore he could deal with, but not Teddy.  He usually corrected people who called him that, but for some reason, he always let Mr. Lynch get away with it.  He wasn’t sure if it was because the man was such a big teddy bear himself, or if he subconsciously feared the teddy bear would turn into a grizzly if he challenged him in any way.  Tad was already bedding his eldest daughter; he’d better not press his luck.

Bedding?  Tad thought.  Why did being in the Lynch household always make him feel like he had walked into a historical romance novel?  A flash of movement at the top of the sweeping staircase caught his eye and he looked up at his lovely lady Diana.  She was wearing a wispy halter-top dress of cornflower blue.  Her long black hair cascaded around her smooth bare shoulders.  A small diamond pendant hung at her throat.  Lilac polished toenails peeked out from the tips of a pair of elegant sandals.  Tad’s face lit up as she came down the stairway to meet him.

“Diana, I thought you were going to wear that purple sundress I bought you,” her mother groused.

“I decided to do something different tonight, Mummy.  It’s a special night.  I didn’t want to be predictable.  Besides, Kristy and Kayla are wearing their lavender sundresses.  We don’t need to all dress alike.”

Tad cleared his throat and gallantly offered, “I think Diana looks beautiful in whatever she wears.”  As he brushed his lips against her cheek, he whispered for her ear only, “Or doesn’t wear,” causing her to turn pink with pleasure.

Diana’s younger brothers and sisters clattered down the stairs, greeting Tad enthusiastically.  Ever since Thanksgiving weekend, when he had spent considerable time entertaining them, they had considered him their ultimate hero and practically worshiped the ground he walked on.  Diana felt the same way, for entirely different reasons.  She shouted over the ruckus, “Tad and I will go in his car, okay?”

“Take the boys too.  Then we can take the Lincoln instead of the minivan. I hate driving the minivan to the country club,” Mrs. Lynch shuddered.

Diana rolled her eyes at Tad, and the boys cheered as they raced out the door and piled into Tad’s ultra-cool, silver Lexus.  “Nick and Mike are meeting us there,” Di called back over her shoulder.

Mrs. Lynch frowned.  It was clear she did not approve of Nick Roberts and his “friend” joining their party for dinner.  “It’s a shame the Bob-Whites couldn’t come,” she remarked as she and Mr. Lynch and the girls moved towards the Lincoln. 

“Mummy, I told you, the middle of the week celebration was too hard to arrange.  That’s why Tad and I are going into the city this weekend.  We’ll celebrate my birthday and Jim’s together.”

She quickly got into Tad’s car and shut the door before her mother could continue.  She gave Tad a strained look.  She was starting to regret the decision to spend the summer at home.  He squeezed her hand to let her know he understood, told Larry and Terry to buckle their seatbelts, and started the car off towards the Sleepyside Country Club for Diana’s birthday dinner.

It was an unusually cool evening for July and the veranda doors around the country club’s spacious dining room were opened to allow the breeze to waft through.  A large round table for ten was situated near one of the doors and Nick and Mike were already waiting for them when they arrived.  They rose to greet Tad and the Lynches.  Nick kissed Diana and wished her a happy birthday and introduced Mike to the rest of the Lynch family.  Diana took a seat between Nick and Tad.  Mr. Lynch held out the chair next to Mike for his wife, but with a tense expression on her face, Mrs. Lynch decided that sitting between the twins was a better idea.  If Nick or Mike noticed the slight, they were polite enough to ignore it, but Diana seethed inside.  Mr. Lynch sat down and struck up a conversation with the handsome man seated next to him.

“Are you an art major too, Mike?”

“No, sir,” Mike laughed.  “I can’t draw a straight line, even with a ruler.  I manage a restaurant near the university.  Upscale Italian.”

Mr. Lynch patted his ample stomach.  “I’ve had more than my share of good Italian.  We’ll have to try it the next time we visit Diana, won’t we Liz?” he asked his wife.

She nodded with a stiff smile and turned back to her menu.

Tad noticed Diana’s internal struggle between anger and hurt welling in her eyes, so he quickly took it upon himself to change the subject.  “This new band here is really great.  We’ll definitely have to get some dancing in tonight after we eat.  I understand your parents can really cut a rug, Di.”  Cut a rug?  There he was again, drifting back to the past.

Diana smiled at him gratefully.  “Believe it or not, Mummy and Daddy were ballroom champions in college.”

Mr. Lynch chuckled, patting his belly once again.  “That was before I had so much to waltz around the dance floor.  Still, I’ll bet we could show these young ones a thing or two, couldn’t we dear?”

Mrs. Lynch smiled a little more warmly this time, though she still said nothing.

Dinner passed quietly for the adults as they let the younger children chatter on about summer camp, their new pool, and the upcoming vacation the Lynches were planning to the Rosewood Hall plantation in Virginia.  Diana tried to enjoy herself, but picked at the lavish meal without eating much.  Mrs. Lynch made more than one comment about how sorry she was that Diana’s friends couldn’t join them for her birthday, clearly implying that she would prefer Diana to associate with more “suitable” friends than the ones seated with them that evening.

Tad was afraid Diana might actually break her dessert fork in two she was gripping it so tightly.  He reached under the table and squeezed her knee.  “Easy kitten,” he whispered.  She relaxed her hold on the silverware and smiled bravely.  He kissed her and took the opportunity while she was distracted to try and snitch a bite of her lemon pie.  Diana slapped his fork away with a giggle.  He came away empty-handed, but at least he had made her laugh.

After dinner, Nick asked Diana for the first dance.  With a bright smile on her face, and just a smidgen of a glare at her mother, she allowed Nick to whirl her out to the dance floor.

“I’m sorry my mother is being such a…” Diana apologized with a roll of her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, Diana.  It’s your birthday.  Have a good time.”

“But she’s being positively rude to you and Mike.”

“It could be a lot worse, and you know it.  I’m not letting it bother me, and I know Mike isn’t either.  He thinks your dad is great.”

Di smiled, “My dad is great.”  She sighed, “Mummy is too…most of the time.  But she certainly has made it clear that she doesn’t approve our Bohemian living arrangement.  I almost think she’d be happier if I were living with Tad instead of you.  She doesn’t seem to comprehend there would be way more illicit sex that way.”  She winked at Nick and he chuckled as he pulled her closer so they could dance cheek to cheek.

“Has this been going on all summer between you two?” he asked gently.

“Yes.  Mother isn’t happy about my chosen career path.  When my focus in art was painting, that was acceptable.  It’s very high society, I guess.  Or she thought I’d become an interior designer or something chic.  But since I discovered my niche in photography, and have expressed my desire to go into photojournalism, suddenly I’ve become irresponsible and gritty.”

“Jetting around the country meeting world leaders doesn’t appeal to her?”

Diana snorted, “Not unless I’m wearing the latest Vera Wang and sipping expensive champagne.  No, she’s convinced I’m going to be associating with the needy and criminals and leper colonies and...” her voice trailed off, not wanting to share her mother’s thoughts on who she felt were the dregs of society; but Nick understood.

“Well, I just don’t want you to let it ruin your evening.  It’s no big deal.”

“It is to me!  I won’t stand for my friends being treated like that.  I can’t stand prejudice.  And I won’t tolerate it from anyone, not even my family.”  Her violet eyes flashed to resolutely back up her words with their fire.

Nick looked at her admiringly, “Diana, I am so lucky to have you for a friend.  You’d fight to the death for someone you love.”

The sparks in her eyes died down as Diana smiled happily, “You really think so?  Nobody’s ever said something like that to me before.”

“What are you talking about?” Nick asked in surprise.

“Oh, you know.  Trixie is adventurous and strong and always gets her man.  Honey is tactful and kind-hearted and ever so brave.”  She sighed deeply, “Diana is the prettiest girl in school.”

“Diana, you are a beautiful woman.  What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, except that it describes what I look like, not who I am.  Sometimes I think that’s all people see.”

“It’s not all I see, and I know it’s not all you are.  You are intelligent and talented.  You are beautiful inside and out, Diana.  And your loyalty and friendship have carried me through some rough times.  I don’t know what I would have done without you in my life, Di.”

Diana smiled appreciatively, “Thank you, Nicholas.  I love you so much.”

As the song began to fade out, Nick felt a tap on his shoulder.  “Mind if I cut in, Roberts?”

“Not at all.  I’m getting tired of her hitting on me.”  He winked at Diana and kissed her cheek before turning her over to Tad.

“Shall I dip you?” Tad asked, tomfoolery twinkling in his brown eyes as he took Diana into his arms.

“Maybe later,” Di hinted provocatively.  Tad held her securely for three straight dances and when they were both out of breath, he took her by the hand and led her out to the wide veranda that encircled the country club.

Diana hooked her arm in his and leaned her head against his shoulder as they strolled along the terrace, enjoying the cool summer breeze.

After a while, she ventured almost timidly, “Tad?  Do you think I’m the prettiest girl in school?”

Tad smiled.  “Well, I can’t say as I’m acquainted with every female at the University of Chicago.  But I think I’d be hard pressed to find a lovelier lady than you, Diana.”

He glanced down at her with a concerned look on his face when she sighed unhappily at his pronouncement.  “What is this all about, Di?”

Diana pulled away and walked down the broad, shallow steps of the terrace onto the cobblestone path that wove its way through the country club’s vast and lush flower gardens.  The moonlight was shining down on her, enveloping her in its gentle glow, and Tad thought she was nothing less than Artemis herself, goddess of the moon.  Tad could have stood there contentedly watching her for hours, but her question and her reaction to his response troubled him, so he followed her down into the garden.

He had almost caught up to her when she whirled around and blurted out, “Do you think I’m easy?”

“W-what?  Easy?” he questioned.  “What are you talking about?”

Diana bit her lip and continued, “I’ve had more lovers than Trixie and Honey put together.  Counting you, I’ve slept with four men since I’ve been in college, three of them – including you – on the first date.”

Tad tried to smile, “We didn’t really have a first date, Di.  We’ve been going out for burgers and movies forever as friends.  And Thanksgiving weekend was hardly a date, with your family around.”

She looked like she was about to cry, “That’s exactly my point.  I didn’t even let you court me before I jumped into bed with you.  Do you think I’m easy?”

Tad didn’t want to upset her any further, so he didn’t allow himself to smile as widely as he wanted to.  Oh, Diana, he thought, his heart racing as he looked on her, how could you not know how I feel about you?

He moved slowly towards her and fell to his knees in front of her, sliding his arms around her waist and laying his head against her stomach.  “Nothing about loving you has ever been easy, Diana.  I’ve loved you ever since that Valentine’s dance at your house eight years ago.”

“What?” Diana gasped in surprise.

“Every boy there wanted to dance with you, Di.  And every one of them knew Mart was sweet on you.  He looked daggers at every other boy who even thought about asking you for a dance.”  He stopped and looked up at her with his lopsided grin and continued.  “Lucky for me, Trixie wasn’t so graceful in her new heels and while Mart was nursing his wounded toes, I gallantly offered to keep my eye on you for him.  I guess that was pretty underhanded of me, but when I was dancing with you in my arms I didn’t give a damn.

“All through high school I couldn’t stop thinking about you.  I’d listen to the guys in the locker room making smarmy comments about your body and I knew there was so much more to you than just your pretty face.  I watched Mart beat the hell out of those guys when he overheard their boorish comments.  Hell, I helped him when he needed it.  And all the while, I wondered what would happen to my heart if you and Mart ended up…married.”

Diana was speechless…stunned.  How could I have not known?  How could I have been so blind?  She had loved Mart and she knew Mart had loved her.  But it had always been so chaste and so innocent.  Not just when they were young; but as they got older and their classmates were doing so much more, Mart and Diana had held hands and always come home before curfew and kissed each other tenderly when the night was over.  Diana had always assumed when the time was right, they would take the next step.  But that next step never came.  Mart had gone to Africa, and when he came back on her graduation day, they both knew it was over.  Diana had cried, because she loved Mart.  But she had also cried because she had never loved anyone else and she realized she didn’t truly know what love was.

So she had tried to find love when she went away to school in Chicago.  Dozens of young men had vied for her hand, but for the most part they had wanted only one thing from Diana.  The first time she gave in, it was because she thought that’s what love was all about.  The second man had seemed truly interested in her and had patiently wooed her…until he got her into bed, and soon after he broke it off.  She had slept with Wayne on the first date too, but at least he had stuck around for a few more months.  Then, all of a sudden, Wayne was tired of listening to Diana talk about photography, or answering her questions about his classes, his family, his thoughts about what was going on in the world around them.  When their relationship was no longer solely about sex, he had lost interest and had broken it off with Diana.  Other boyfriends, whether they lasted weeks or months, had given up when they couldn’t get her into their beds.  As if that was her only alluring quality.

And all that time, in all those years, Tad had been there.  He had never once pushed himself on her or acted with any impropriety towards her.  He loved to talk to her and he loved to listen to her.  He cared about her passion for art, he spent time with her family, he told her about his plans for the future.  They squabbled about politics and baseball and pizza toppings, and they respected each other’s opinions, even when they didn’t agree.

“But…Mart and I broke up more than two years before you and I…”

“I know,” Tad groaned.  “And don’t think I didn’t catch hell from Dan every time I’d go moping to him about it.  I sometimes wonder if he went to Albany to be near Trixie or to get away from me.  He still had to put with the late night phone calls, but at least he didn’t have to see me dragging my sorry ass around White Plains, mooning over you every day and every night that summer after prom.

“I wanted to say something to you, but the summer was over before I could get my courage up, and you went away to Chicago…with Nick!”

Diana smiled down at him as he raised his head up to meet her glistening eyes.  Tad hadn’t known back then that Nick and Diana’s relationship was completely platonic.

“I was so intimidated by you, Diana.  You are so much more than just a pretty face.  You’re smart and sexy and feisty and cultured and funny and…you’re everything, Diana.  How could I ever hope to have a woman like you love a guy like me?”

Diana took Tad’s arms and raised him to his feet.  Her throat felt constricted and she knew she couldn’t express herself in words, so she put her arms around his neck and kissed him, long and deep.  As her hands slid down his chest, she felt something in his inside breast pocket.  “What’s this?”

Sheepishly, Tad mumbled, “That’s your birthday present.  I mean, the one I didn’t want to give to you in front of your family and Nick and Mike.”

She reached in and pulled out a very small white box with a purple satin ribbon tied around it.  The bow was as lopsided as Tad’s silly grin.  “Did you wrap it yourself?” she teased.

He nodded shyly, looking for all the world like a little boy offering a dandelion bouquet to the girl next door.

“Why didn’t you have it gift wrapped where you bought it?” Diana asked coyly.

“They don’t offer gift wrapping at Ace Hardware,” Tad replied.

Diana tilted her head and smiled curiously.  “Can I open it?”

Tad hesitated.  He wasn’t sure the gift was appropriate considering their just finished conversation.  “You know I love you, right?  You know I don’t think you’re easy and you know I don’t love you just because you’re beautiful, right? 

Diana nodded solemnly. 

“Diana, you can shave your head and gouge out your stunning eyes and get snake tattoos all over your arms and I will still love you.”  As Diana blushed, he added, “I may not think you’re beautiful anymore, but I’ll still love you.”

She laughed out loud, and Tad’s heart leapt in his chest. 

“I’m opening it!” she exclaimed and pulled the ribbon loose, letting it float to the ground.  She lifted the lid of the box and there, nestled on a square of soft cotton batting, were two keys.  The key ring that held them had a smaller, silver key ornament on it.

“I got that job with Gage Whitney Pace in Chicago.  The reason I couldn’t go out with you last weekend was because I was out there, apartment hunting.”  He picked the keys up out of the box and placed them in Diana’s hand.  “This is the key to get in the security door and this is the key to my apartment.”  He swallowed hard and choked out nervously, “Our apartment…if you want it to be.”

Diana looked up into his eyes and they were shining like the stars above their heads.  “What’s this one?” she asked playfully, holding the smallest key up between her fingers.

Tad didn’t miss a beat, “Why, that’s the key to my heart, my lovely lady Diana.  I want you, and you alone, to hold it forever.”

He lowered his lips to hers.  A breeze floated across the garden and they could hear the strains of a gentle waltz drift over from the ballroom.  And as they kissed under the moonlight, Tad prayed the music that was playing in his heart would never stop.

 

Friday, July 24th

“It’s 8:30 on this Flashback Friday and coming up next we have Duran Duran, The Cars, and the Material Girl herself, Madonna.  But right now, it’s The Police, with their number one hit from 1983…”

“Every breath you take…And every move you make…”

With the aim of a Patriot missile, a book came hurtling across the room and knocked the radio off its table and onto the floor, yanking the power cord out of the wall and silencing Sting with a noisy crash.

Every single Friday, Jim griped to himself.  Who the hell keeps requesting that song?

It’s not that Jim had any great aversion to The Police, but that particular song was starting to grate on his nerves.

“I love Dan.  I know that now.  I love him more with every breath that I take.”

Jim knew Trixie hadn’t said those words to be hurtful.  She may not have his sister’s tactfulness, but somehow, having her honesty and straightforwardness was always worth the pain her words sometimes inflicted.  Jim preferred the honesty, even when it was brutal, rather than to ever think that Trixie was trying to spare him by keeping her true feelings inside her.

“I love him more with every breath that I take.”

It was over.  It had been over for three years now.  Despite Jim’s hopes, despite his weakest moments of dishonor, Trixie and Dan were still in love and would be forever.  But hearing Trixie’s words hadn’t brought Jim the closure he suspected she was trying to give him.  Those words haunted him week in and week out.  It was as if these past years he had somehow held out a sliver of hope that they might get back together and now, knowing how Trixie truly felt, the door had not only been closed but had been bolted shut. 

“Every breath that I take.”

Trixie’s earnest, heartfelt words drove the knife ever deeper.  But it wasn’t Trixie twisting that blade, it was Jim himself.  He had to find a way to move on.

He got up from his desk to stretch his legs, wandering over to the shelves crammed with books.  He mindlessly straightened a few tottering stacks, picking up a book now and then to flip through it, trying to distract himself.  When he reached the end of the shelf, he picked up one of the two framed photographs that sat there.  It was one of the few photos he had been able to hold onto after his mother had died and he had fled from his abusive stepfather’s home.

His mother, Katje Frayne, looked so young and happy in the picture.  She was sitting on a large flat rock near a rolling river.  Her modest skirt was raised just high enough to daringly bare her ankles.  Her arms were wrapped around her knees and her blonde head had a cheeky tilt to it, as she smiled dotingly at the camera.  Or rather, the man holding the camera, Jim thought wistfully.

The other photo was of Jim’s two fathers, his birth father, Winthrop Frayne, and Matthew Wheeler, the man who had adopted him when he was fifteen.  Win and Matt had been friends growing up, until Matt’s family had moved away when the boys were in high school.  They had tried to keep in touch, but finally lost their tenuous connection when they headed off to colleges across the country from each other.

Matt had given Jim this picture the day his adoption had been finalized.  The two redheaded boys in the photo looked carefree, their whole lives ahead of them.  They had on ball caps and their arms were draped around each other’s shoulders.  They were both grinning widely and looked enough alike to be brothers and not merely friends.  They were about thirteen, Matt had said, and had just attended their very first major league baseball game at Yankee Stadium, courtesy of Win’s wealthy Uncle James, for whom Jim was later named.

Jim always marveled at the miracle that had brought him back to Sleepyside looking for family the very same summer that Matt Wheeler had moved his family to the Manor House.  God truly did work in mysterious ways. 

In order to try and give his adopted son some closure, Matt Wheeler had spent considerable time and effort to track down Win’s burial plot.  The Fraynes had been nearly broke when Win died, cut off from their only living relatives, and his mother had shamefully had to turn his body over to the county for burial in a “Potter’s Field”.  Once it had been located, sadly bare amongst the other graves which were covered with cheap plastic flowers and limp miniature flags, Matt Wheeler had the body exhumed and brought to Sleepyside, where Win had been laid to rest in the Frayne family plot not far from his father and uncle.

Jim had erected a stone there for his mother also, although nothing lay underneath.  Jonesy had had her body cremated and Jim never knew what became of her ashes.  Her simple marker was inscribed “Katje Frayne, Beloved Wife of Winthrop Frayne”, with the years of her birth and death underneath.  He had left the exact dates off, for reasons he couldn’t explain.

Sometimes, God’s ways were just too mysterious to understand.  Jim’s mother had died exactly three years to the day after his father died.  Ten years ago today. 

With a sigh, he replaced the photo on the shelf.  This day was always hard for him.  He usually found some excuse to be off by himself, away from those he loved.  Though nobody was around to escape from tonight, he found himself unable to resist that urge to run away that had taken over his mind every year on this day for the last decade.  Ignoring the heat and humidity of the evening, he went outside and started wandering aimlessly, his memories trailing doggedly behind him.

He wasn’t sure why he never told anybody about the dual anniversary, but now it seemed almost silly, too late to start sharing this pain now.  He never shared the hurt with his adopted parents or sister.  He had never even shared it with Trixie.  He had only shared this doubly painful anniversary with one person, and that had been purely by accident, years ago, the first summer he had been all alone in the world.  And every year since on this very day, almost without fail, Jim would receive a card or a letter or a–

His phone rang.  With a sad, but somewhat comforted smile on his face, Jim pulled the phone out of his pocket, not even looking at the display as he answered.  He knew who it was.  “Your timing is impeccable as always.  How do you do that?”

“Experience.  So, how are you today, Jimmy?”

“All right.”

There was a snort on the other end of the line, “Yeah, you sure sound like you’re all right.  You sound like you’d like to be in a drunken stupor.”

“Now what kind of example would that be for the boys at Winthrop?” Jim replied with mock indignity.  “What are you doing calling me on a Friday night anyway?  Shouldn’t you be out somewhere with your roommates working on your own drunken stupor?”

“Yeah, your example didn’t do a lot for me, did it?  It’s not like there won’t be another party tomorrow.  I had an important call to make.”

Jim laughed.  “How is it that you’re near the top of your class after only one year when every time I talk to you you’re on your way to some frat party or another?”

“Just natural genius, my friend.  You’d know that if you had any.”

“Har-har.  You’re a riot.  Any chance you’ll get home this summer?  I’ve talked to you more this year than I have in ages, but I haven’t actually seen you in forever.”

“Well, I’m pretty much stuck here in Ann Arbor until school starts up again.  I got this cushy job with a local lawyer, helping him out with his caseload.  I’m not trying any cases or anything… yet,” came the cheeky tone, “just paperwork, research, and stuff, but it’s good experience.  It’ll look great on my resume when I start applying to law schools.”

Jim shook his head in wonder, “What makes you such a go-getter, anyway?”

“I may not have listened to you on the drinking thing, but you inspired me in other ways.”  There was a chuckle on the other end of the line.  “Do you remember?”

“How could I forget?”  Jim angled off the driveway onto the grassy lawn and sprawled on the ground under a maple tree, his memory flying eight years back to a small patch of woods in upstate New York.

He was reading the only book he had been able to bring with him.  He had found it on one of Uncle Jim’s stacks and started reading it one afternoon while he waited for Honey and Trixie to bring him lunch.  When he left Sleepyside, he found a corner of his knapsack to shove it into.

Suddenly, he heard a noise nearby.  He stopped and listened cautiously.  He was pretty far off the beaten path.  He didn’t want to risk being seen by anybody and he couldn’t imagine weekend hikers wandering through such dense forests.

It sounded like crying.  It could be a mockingbird, he mused.  But then he could hear a little more clearly and it sounded like words.  Mommy.  Daddy.  He put the twig he used as a bookmark inside Shakespeare’s English Kings and tossed it on his blanket before venturing out of his makeshift camp towards the noise.

In a few minutes, he found her.  A young girl with dark hair was crying in the bushes.  She looked a little younger than Trixie and Honey.  One braid was desperately tangled in the brambles behind her.  As Jim rustled through the thick foliage towards her, she looked up, her dirty, tear-stained face showing alarm.  She tried to scoot away, but cried out as her hair strangled her back.

Jim held up his hands in a gesture of peace.  “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.  Are you okay?”

She sniffled, but didn’t reply.

“Here, let me help you.”  He took a step forward and in a panic, she reached up to her entrapped pigtail and tried to yank it free, crying out when the thorns cut into her small hands. 

“Hey, easy kid.  You’re just going to make it worse.”

She gave up and started crying hysterically.  “Worse?” she sobbed.  “How can it get much worse than this?”

Jim cocked one corner of his lip up in a wry grin.  Her little pre-teen woes seemed so dire to her.  If only she knew what he had gone through the past few years, it would probably stand her hair on end.

She continued sobbing her heart out, “I ran away from home.  But I didn’t really mean to run away. And now I can’t find my mommy and daddy.  I’m lost in the woods with a strange boy.  I just want to die.”

Jim rolled his eyes, but spoke gently, “All right, kid, enough of the drama.  I’ll get you free and you can go find your folks.”  He looked around warily as he reached for her entangled braid.  He hoped he wouldn’t run into them before he could get her loose.

“But I don’t know where they are!”

“Listen, kid.  Why did you run off in the first place?  You shouldn’t be hiking in these woods alone.”

“I wasn’t hiking.  I told you, I ran away.  And then my family drove off in the trailer and I don’t know where they went.”

“Your family just left you?  That’s not right.”  He stopped and took stock of the situation.  Maybe she wasn’t as bad off as he was, but she was just a little girl; it had to be pretty bad for her.  “You don’t have any idea where they went?”

The little girl thought hard.  “My daddy was going to try to get a job at one of the boys’ camps around here.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Jim mumbled crossly, focusing again on her snared tresses.

“What?”

Jim changed the subject.  “I can’t keep calling you ‘kid’, can I?  What’s your name?”

She hesitated a moment, then whispered, “Joanne.”

“I’m Jim.”  He dropped her pigtail in frustration.  “I don’t think this is coming out.  I’m going to have to cut you loose.”  He pulled out his pocketknife and Joanne’s eyes grew wide.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But you’re going to cut my hair off!” she shrieked.

Jim put his hands on his hips in exasperation.  “It’s either that or you’re sleeping here in the briar patch like Brer Rabbit!”

Joanne erupted into a doleful combination of laughing and crying.  She bit her lip and nodded at Jim, and with some reluctance he began hacking at her hopelessly knotted hair.  He tried his best to cut it evenly, but when she was at last free she definitely looked lopsided.  He decided not to say anything.  No need to make her feel worse than she already did.

“Now what?” she asked.  “I’m still lost.”  She started weeping again.

It made Jim uncomfortable.  He had very limited experience with girls, much less crying girls.  He didn’t know what to say.  He thought about the book he had been reading earlier and something came to him. “Wise men never sit and wail their loss, but cheerily seek how to redress their harms.”

“What?”

“It means…don’t sit around blubbering.  Find a way to make the wrong things right.  Like me, for instance.  I’m going to get a job on a cattle boat and go to Europe or South America or somewhere, explore the world!  I’m not letting my troubles get me down.”

“What troubles?”

“I lost my folks too.”  He stopped short.  He hadn’t meant to blurt that out.  Ah, what the heck?  He’d never see this kid again.

“You’re not going to try to find them?”

Jim felt like crying at the idea.  He wished it were that easy.  “I didn’t lose them like that.  They died.”

“Oh.  I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.  Today is the anniversary of their death.  They died on the same day, exactly three years apart.  How’s that for irony?”

“What’s irony?”

Jim grinned.  “Never mind.  I just mean that you’ve still got your folks and I’ll help you find them, so chin up.  Things could be a lot worse.” 

He took her back to his camp so she could splash some water on her face.  She stood in wide-eyed awe of his little home, which made Jim swell up with pride.  His improvised sink even had a discarded car mirror he had found by the roadside.  Joanne took a look in the cracked glass.  When she saw her single pigtail she started wailing again.  Then she fiercely wiped her little girl tears away and insisted that Jim cut it off too.  “I’ll look silly otherwise.”

“Sure thing, Joey,” he grinned.

“My name is Joanne.”

“Nah.  Joanne is a little girl’s name.  You’re a tough, spunky tomboy.  Joey suits you.”

She looked up at him, a cherubic smile breaking across her dirt-smudged face.  “Thanks, Jimmy.”

“Of course, it wasn’t until years later that I learned that William Shakespeare penned those insightful words, not James Frayne,” Joey Darnell said sarcastically.  “And here I thought you were some sort of great intellect or something.”

Jim laughed, “Hey! I’ve got two degrees; how many do you have?”

“I’m working on it.  Damn, I guess I’ll have to get three now, just to show you up.”

“I’ll bet you do it too,” Jim replied admiringly.  More soberly, he continued, “You probably didn’t know it at the time, but just knowing there was another kid out there having problems really helped me feel better; like I wasn’t as alone as I thought I was.”

“As if my problems even compared to yours,” Joey returned.  “Anyway, you helped me too.  You kept me safe, and you got me back with my folks.  Trixie and Honey found you and you got a new family and friends for life.  Happily ever after.”

“Yeah…happily ever after,” Jim mumbled.  He wondered if he’d ever really be happy again.

Listening to his gloomy reply, Joey sighed in frustration.  “Jimmy, listen to me.  We have to do something about your non-existent love life.  I want you to go out on a date.”

Jim winced.  “I do go out on dates, Joey.”

“Yeah, sure you do.  Do you go out on any dates that aren’t premeditated to fail?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jim bristled.

“You know damn well what it means, Frayne.  You go out with women you can’t possibly have any future with, just so that nobody is surprised – hell, they’re probably a little relieved – when you break up with them.  Do you want to know what I think?”

“Not really,” Jim grumbled.

“Too bad, I’m going to tell you anyway.”

“Figured you would.”

“I think that you actually had a nice time with that Renee girl.  I think you didn’t want to admit it.  I think it probably scared you even.  So, instead of asking her out on another date, you went running in Trixie’s direction, even though you knew how awful that would turn out.  Then you began dating this string of women that nobody in their right mind would expect you to stick with; probably to convince everybody else that you were over Trixie, even though you couldn’t even convince yourself of that.

“In fact, let’s look at the evidence, shall we?  And you know I have it, Frayne.  Since your spring debacle with Trixie and Dan, my phone bill has skyrocketed.  I can produce copies of the bills to submit as evidence if you’d like.”

“That won’t be necessary, Counselor,”  Jim sighed.  She had shifted into legal eagle mode and Jim knew there would be no stopping her now.  She really was a little go-getter.

“First off, what exactly was the matter with Renee?  She sounds like a nice girl.”

“She is.  She was moving to Rochester, so really, what was the point?”

“Does going out on a few dates have to have a point to it?  Are you not capable of just having fun, Jim?”

“I’m capable of having fun.  How about that girl I met in the grocery store?  She was fun.”

“Oh yes, Exhibit ‘A’…the vegan hippie who was going toe-to-toe with the butcher.  She sounds just like the kind of woman you would be attracted to,” Joey snapped dryly.  “Seriously, did you honestly harbor any hope of ending up with a girl whose married name would have been Rain Frayne?”

Jim rolled his eyes, glad that Joey Darnell was 600 miles away.

“And don’t roll your eyes at me either.  Her flower child free-love lifestyle was the built-in excuse you needed to break it off with her.  That relationship didn’t make it through one chorus of Kumbaya, did it?  And why did you consent to go out with her in the first place?  Could it have been her high-spirited nature and strawberry blonde curls?”

“She had auburn curls.”

“Oh, big difference.  You would think that would teach you not to pick a girl based solely on a few Trixie-esque qualities, but no.  Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I give you Exhibit ‘B’ – Sindi...with an ‘S’.

“I can’t believe you referred to her that way.  I swear I thought her last name was Withaness when you told me about her.  She came to visit dear cousin Sally at the school, and you convinced Mart and Sally to set the two of you up…based on what?  Why, I believe it was the fact that she had blonde hair and blue eyes.  Too bad blonde hair and blue eyes weren’t enough to make this one last for more than a week.”

“Sindi was ridiculously shallow,” Jim put in.  “I still can’t believe she’s related to Sally.”

“The fact that the girl was a wading pool was probably not the breaking point.  You probably ended it with her because she didn’t have freckles or something.”

Trying to match Joey’s absurdity with some of his own, Jim countered, “Objection!  I broke up with her because of her name.  You didn’t really expect me to continue to date a girl named Sindi with an ‘S’, did you?”

“Overruled.  You were willing to date Drizzle.”

“Rain.”

“Whatever.  You’re overruled, Mr. Frayne.”

“Now wait a minute!  You can’t be the prosecution and the judge too.”

“Sure I can.  It’s my dime.  Let’s see, who else?  Oh yes, how could I forget Natalie?  A detective.  A real, live, grown-up detective with the local police department.  Holy shit, Jim!  Are you kidding me with this crap?”

“First of all, she’s a lieutenant, not a detective; she drives around Indian Lake looking for non-existent criminal activity.  Secondly...” he hesitated.

“Secondly?  Oh, I can’t wait to hear what sabotaged this relationship.  She didn’t talk too much?  Or she didn’t have any dimples?”

“Can we move on, please?”

“I don’t think we need to move on.  The prosecution is willing to stipulate that the defendant was unhappy with each of these relationships, if the defense is willing to stipulate that his reasons for breaking up with them were total crap.”

“Total crap?  Would you actually say that in front of a jury?”

“Okay, my courtroom demeanor needs some work, but that is not relevant to the case at hand.  Let me also point out that that’s three girls since the whole Trixie disaster this spring.  Considering the fact that none of them lasted more than a week or two, nor did you sleep with any of them, I’d say that’s pretty pathetic.”

“So if I had had sex with any of them, you’d consider me less pathetic?” Jim snarled.

“Not the point, Jim.  The point is that you didn’t want to sleep with any of them.  You didn’t even want to date any of them.  You were just doing it so none of your friends would think you were a total loser hung up on the one who got away.

“So, now let’s move on to last week.”  Joey’s voice turned serious, “I’m not sure what happened in Atlanta, but the voicemail you left on my phone made me afraid you were about to slit your wrists.  And that leads me to believe that this girl was the whole package – blonde curls, blue eyes, freckled face, dimples, chatty, quick temper.  How am I doing, Jim?  You must have really screwed that one up to not even want to tell me about it.”

Jim shivered at how well Joey had nailed that one.  Traci, the stewardess he had almost asked out a few months back didn’t have a quick temper, lucky for Jim, but all the other characteristics fit.  Jim happened to be on another flight with her and when he found out she was staying over, he asked her to dinner.  They had ended up in her hotel room.  It was Jim’s first – and last, he vowed – one night stand.  Traci was a lovely woman and she deserved better than what had happened to her...Jim had called her Trixie at least twice while they were together.

Joey instinctively knew what was going on, “Your attitude sucks, Frayne.  There’s a perfectly wonderful woman out there just for you.  She’s probably six feet tall and painfully shy...with long, straight, black hair and perfectly manicured nails, and a penchant for…needlepoint or cribbage or something.  You are an intelligent, caring, sinfully good-looking man.  Any woman would love to be with you.”

“Except you?”

Joey sniffed, “Well, I’m only 5’1” and I don’t even know how to play cribbage.  Besides, if I were dating you, who would be around to pick you up off the floor when it all went to hell?”

“So you’re saying I’d find some reason to dump you too?  Like, maybe the fact that you don’t talk too much – oh wait, you do talk too much.”

“Ha.  Ha.  And the answer is no, I would definitely be the one doing the dumping.  A little brooding goes a long way, Jimmy.  And you’ve gone a long, long way with it.  It’s time to turn a new leaf.  Seek to redress your harms.  Stop wailing your loss.”

“I knew those words would come back to bite me in the butt someday,” Jim muttered.

“Are you going to do it?  Or do I have to come out there and kick your bitten butt?”

“All right, all right.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Joey.  I’ll start scanning the personal ads tomorrow for exotic Amazon women.”

“And for crying out loud, don’t start finding reasons to dump them as soon as you meet them.  Give them a chance.  Give yourself a chance.  You deserve to be happy.”

Jim‘s only response was a weary sigh.

“And I’ll need a report on that by the end of the summer too.  Don’t put it off, or I’ll make it a written report.”

“You sure are a pain in the butt, Darnell.  You’re going to make a hell of a lawyer someday.  I just hope you’re on my side.”

He swore he could see her beaming smugly right through the phone when she replied, “Better start saving your pennies, Jimmy, because it’s going to be mighty expensive to keep me on retainer.  I have to find some way to pay these phone bills.”

 

Friday, August 21st

They took the long way to the lake, through the orchard and along the outskirts of the game preserve.  The humid evening breeze half-heartedly pushed them along.  Trixie remembered her apprehension when she first left Sleepyside to go to college.  She was so glad she still felt like this place was home to her.

It was like when she came home from work and exchanged her skirt and high heels for jeans and a sweatshirt.  No matter how grown-up and independent the real world made her feel, it was soothing and relaxing to be in her “comfort clothes”.  Crabapple Farm, Sleepyside – they were her “comfort clothes”.  She hoped that would never change, no matter what adventures life had in store for her.

As they approached the crest of the hill that overlooked the Wheeler lake, they saw the trunk of a fallen tree that had been dragged off the bridle path, waiting to be cut up and hauled away.  Trixie went over and sat down on the tree, spreading her legs and patting the trunk beneath her.

“You get the best seat in the house and I have to sit on the ground?” Dan teased.

“Do you want a neck rub or not?” Trixie asked with a soft smile.

“Well, if you put it that way...” Dan ambled over and contentedly plopped himself down on the grass, leaning back against the tree trunk and letting Trixie’s fingers knead his neck and shoulders, while he gently rubbed her bare ankles.

They quietly stared up into the night sky that was just starting to turn that unique shade of blue that can only be seen at twilight, subtly deepening to darker and darker hues as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.  Soon, the sky would be black and the stars would twinkle above their heads.

“Dan?”

“Hmm?”

“I –” she stopped, unsure how to broach the subject.  “I just love you.”

Dan put his hands on hers and drew them down to his mouth, turning them palm up and kissing each one in turn.  “I love you too, babe,” he murmured.

Getting off the log, Trixie came in front of Dan and turned to face him, tucking her legs underneath her and straddling Dan’s outstretched legs.  She took his hands in hers and held them tight.  She looked deeply into his eyes and said solemnly, “No.  I mean...I love you.”

Dan tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow at her.  “Trixie?” he asked softly.  “Are you pregnant?”

Trixie shook her head and rolled her eyes, “NO!  Serious conversations can be about something other than me being pregnant.”

Dan smiled, then leaned in and kissed her tenderly.  “I’m sorry, babe.  Go on.  What were you going to say?”

Trixie took a deep breath and spoke slowly, watching him carefully for any adverse reaction.  “You believed me and trusted me without question this spring.  But, we’ve never really talked about it.  Do you want to?  Do you need to?”

Dan furrowed his brow a moment.  Most of his life had been about avoidance and quietly glossing over difficult situations.  Why cause trouble?  Didn’t that create more problems than it was worth?  When he kept quiet, mama didn’t cry.  When he kept quiet, there were no bruises or black eyes to explain at school.  When he kept quiet, the cops had nothing to pin on him.

Counseling had made him aware that he had brought that behavior into his adult life.  While he was always honest in what he shared with Trixie, he hadn’t shared everything with her.  She never pressed him about his past, but he knew she wanted to know.  And he knew it was part of the reason why Jim had pushed her away.  He wasn’t able to share his painful past with Trixie.

Dan didn’t want to push Trixie away.  Ever.

“When you and I first got together and Jim found out, you asked me to talk to him, remember?”

Trixie nodded.

“He called me.  We talked.  Sort of.”  He shrugged helplessly.  “Neither of us are very good at that kind of thing, Trix.  When you grow up in an abusive home, it’s all about avoidance.  You don’t want to rock the boat, because if you do, you end up getting a beating.

“That’s why I never mentioned the fact that you and I were dating to Jim, and why I assumed…or hoped…that you would.”  He looked embarrassed and couldn’t meet Trixie’s eyes for several seconds.

“That really makes me sound like the worst kind of coward, doesn’t it?” Dan grimaced.

“I don’t think you’re a coward, Dan,” Trixie murmured.  “Nobody does.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “It’s not just physical beatings you get afraid of.  I convinced myself that if I said anything to Jim, I was either going to lose his friendship…or lose the only woman I’ve ever loved.  I didn’t want to deal with either of those scenarios – I couldn’t.  Maybe if I had talked to him, I mean really talked to him, that mess this spring never would have happened.  But instead, I stuck my head in the sand and waited for the storm to blow on over and hoped that somehow, everything would turn out okay.”

“Is that what you want to do now?” Trixie asked quietly, her eyes down.

“Yeah,” he said honestly, “I do.”

His fingers reached up to her chin and gently drew her face up to meet his.

“But I’m not going to.”  He had no intention of losing Trixie and no matter how painful it was, he was going to face his past – any part of his past, recent or distant.  If Trixie was going to stand by his side, then he’d have enough strength to face whatever may come at him.

“In some weird, twisted way, all that crap we went through this spring made me love you even more.  You were honest with me, Trix.  You didn’t hide anything, and you didn’t blame anything on me.”  His voice was hoarse with emotion.  “And you came for me.  You didn’t run away from the trouble and you didn’t just let me go...like I tried to do.  You came after me.  I can’t tell you what that meant to me, to know that you loved me that much.  When I saw you in the airport that night...that’s when I knew I wanted to –” he stopped and shut his eyes, willing his heart to slow down before he had a coronary.

This had all seemed so easy when he had first planned it.  He and Trixie had stopped for the night in Sleepyside on their way to the Jersey Shore, where they would spend a week on vacation prior to Dan starting work at the Albany Police Department and Trixie starting school again. 

When Dan had called his uncle the night before and shared his momentous decision with him, he had had every detail planned to perfection.  Although the wrench Bill had thrown into the mix was a pleasant surprise, Dan should have known that nothing would go according to his rigid script from that moment on.

“Where did you get this?” Dan asked in shock, looking down at the simple but elegant diamond solitaire engagement ring in his hand.

“It was among your mother’s things when I took custody of you,” Regan replied.

“I can’t believe she still had it,” Dan breathed.  He thought for sure his prick of a stepfather would have pawned it for drug money the first chance he had.

“Well, I didn’t find it myself for several days after you came to live here,” Regan admitted.  “Then one day, not long after you and I had that big blowup over Honey’s watch, I was going through Cathleen’s things just trying to find some answers, some way to connect with you.”  He hesitated in painful remembrance.  “I opened a manila envelope that had a bunch of family photos inside and out it dropped.  She must have hidden it in there for some reason.”

”Because of him,” Dan said, the final word dripping with contempt.

“To be honest, at that time, I had no intention of ever letting you get your hands on it.”  Dan’s uncle, not all that much older than Dan himself, looked abashed, “I’m sorry I thought so little of you, Danny.”

Dan shrugged it off.  “I deserved that judgment back then, Uncle Bill.  If it hadn’t have been for you, and Edwin Maypenny, I’d probably still be that punk…if I wasn’t lying dead in some alley somewhere.”

“Well, I’m glad I have it to give to you now,” Regan replied.  ”I figured it was about the best gift I could ever give you.”

“Second best anyway,” Dan said in a voice choked with gratitude.  He put his free hand on Regan’s shoulder and squeezed.

Uncle Bill didn’t like talking about difficult topics either.  Was that a man thing?  Or just an orphan thing?  Dan wondered.  They had gotten their point across and hastily changed the topic.

With his mother’s ring clutched tightly in his hand, Dan had tried to steer his plan back on course, with little luck.

His logical, well-rehearsed speech to Trixie’s father had ended up as, “I want to ask Trixie to marry me…sir…okay?”  Dan groaned silently in remembrance.  Smooth, Mangan, real smooth.

Even finding time to be alone with Trixie had been a chore.  Dan had purchased a motorcycle as a graduation gift for himself, and Bobby had pestered Dan for a ride from the moment he and Trixie had arrived at Crabapple Farm, and then had wanted to have Ashley come over and have a turn also.  Finally, Trixie’s mother had reminded Bobby that he and Ashley were due at the church for movie night.  She and Bobby had left to go pick up Ashley, Peter and Bill had settled on the porch to discuss baseball and at last, Dan and Trixie had set off on their evening walk.

In all those plans gone astray, Dan hadn’t thought to make time for the baring of his soul.  And now, suddenly, there was something he had to know before he could go on; an obstacle he had to conquer, not merely detour around.

“Trixie, I know you love me.  I know you chose me.  But…”

He hated saying it, but he knew getting it out in the open was the only way it would ever let him go in peace.  “You don’t think you’re…settling for me, do you?”

Trixie’s eyes widened in shock, then flashed in indignation.  “Daniel Mangan!”

“Trixie, please,” Dan implored.

Understanding what he was asking and what he needed, Trixie replied softly but firmly, “No, Danny.  I never once thought I was ‘settling’ for you.  How could I settle for someone as wonderful as you?  That would be like...” she struggled for a comparison, “...like Sir Edmund Hillary settling for Mount Everest.”

Dan grinned up at her, “Like Regan settling for Secretariat?”

Trixie giggled, “Like Mart settling for a porterhouse steak and lobster.”

She reached up and brushed her fingers through his hair.  “Jim was my first love.  That will never change.  But you…you’re my last love, Danny.  My heart belongs to you.  Completely.”

She felt a pang in her heart.  If they were going to be totally open and honest about this…

“Please tell me you believe that.  This won’t work if you don’t believe that I love you and only you.”

Dan looked up into her eyes and caught his breath.  He knew the expression.  He had rolled his eyes at it more than once.  It was so mawkish, so...Harlequin romance.  But, oh god!  Now he knew what they meant.  Because when he looked into those clear blue eyes, he could see...forever.

His heart pounded in his chest as he replied, “Yes, Trixie.  I believe.  You taught me how to believe...in myself, in true love, in happily ever after.”

Don’t be afraid, Dan.  This is Trixie.  You’ve given her your heart.  Trust her to take care of it.

“I didn’t have a lot of reason to believe in happily ever after when I was growing up.  My dad died when I was six.  My mother died when I was 12.  I certainly never felt like Ray ever had an ounce of love for me or my mother.  I still don’t know why the hell he married her.”

Dan was quiet for several minutes.  He gently pushed Trixie off of his lap and stood, pacing anxiously for a minute or two, gaining strength to continue.  Trixie didn’t say anything, but just sat down quietly on the fallen tree and waited.  In all the years she had known Dan, she had never heard him say much about his past.  A comment or two in passing was usually the extent of it.  Like Jim, he was close-mouthed and preferred to focus on the present and the future rather than risk opening up the wounds of the past.

“Trixie, when I think about my past, I just – I can’t find any reason why you would want to be with me.  On my best days, I’m not proud of my past.  And that’s on my best days.  On my worst days, I’m deeply ashamed of who I was before I came to Sleepyside.  And I’ve never talked about it because I don’t want you to think differently about me than you do now.  But I also don’t want to lose your love because you think I’m keeping things from you.”  He took a deep breath and plunged on, “So I want you to know that you can ask me anything – anything – and I’ll tell you, Trixie.  I’ll tell you the God’s honest truth, I promise.”

“You know your past is irrelevant to me, don’t you?  I don’t love the boy you were then; I love the man you are now.”

Dan let out a short, hoarse laugh, “Yes, I believe that.  But I also know that if you had been a cat, you would have run through your nine lives nine times over following your curious nature.”

Wanting him to know she believed his promise to be open with her, but not wanting to press too hard, she ventured into a topic she hoped would be happy, “Will you tell me about your mom?”

Dan smiled pensively.  “I was only 12 when my mama died, and she was sick for about two years.  I worry that one of these days the only memories I’ll be able to recall about her are the bad times.  But then, all I need to do is hear Uncle Bill laugh and it all comes back to me.  They have exactly the same laugh.”

Trixie smiled softly.  Was Dan unaware that his laugh was the same as Regan’s?

“My mama had a deep, full laugh.  No tinkling, birdlike tittering from her.”

“Do you look like her?”

“No, she looked like Regan.”

“Red hair?”

“Yes,” Dan laughed, “but not like Uncle Bill’s.  Her hair was like…a firecracker.  It was bright red and curly and shot off in all directions like a roman candle.”

Trixie snorted, “I can sympathize with unruly hair.”

“And she could sing,” Dan remembered, letting his memories drift a little as he wandered back towards Trixie and sat down on the ground, leaning his head against her knee.

“Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are falling
'tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.”

“That doesn’t say nothin’ about school!”

“Anything, Danny.  It says ‘You must go and I must bide’.”

“What’s ‘bide’ mean?”

“It means I’ll be here waiting for you when you come home.”

“But Daddy wasn’t.” 

Cathleen’s green eyes teared up and she bit her lip to keep them at bay. Her son had been reluctant to leave her side this past month.  It was understandable, but now school was starting.  Being around other children would be good for him.  She couldn’t let him be afraid forever.

“I didn’t even get to tell him good-bye.”  His voice sounded small, even for his young age.

I didn’t either, she thought sadly.  Slowly and deliberately, she ran her wet hands down the front of her apron to dry them.  There are a lot of things I didn’t get to tell your daddy before he died.

Turning from the sink and kneeling down, she looked steadily into her little boy’s darkly serious eyes and squeezed his arms comfortingly.  “I will be here when you come home from school, Danny.  I promise.

“But come you back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'tis I'll be there in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.”

“I wish I had gotten that gift of song from her,” Dan said wistfully.

“I’ve heard you singing, Dan.  You have a nice voice.”

“Oh, I can carry a tune.  But my mama...well, when she got to Heaven and started singing ‘Danny Boy’, I’ll bet the angels were green with envy.”

The thought of his mother in Heaven brought Dan to sadder memories, harsher memories.  Trixie might not ask, but he felt like at least some of it had to come out tonight.  “Did I ever tell you how my mama died?”

Trixie shook her head and said softly, “Just that she was sick.”

Dan’s face darkened and Trixie could feel how difficult it was for him to control his anger when he spoke.

“She died of AIDS, Trixie.  That inhuman shithole Ray did drugs and slept around and gave her AIDS.  And I had to watch her die, month by month, week by week, and then hour by hour; and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

“I was too young to understand AIDS, or how she got sick, but I knew it was his fault.  I just knew it.  We never liked each other, but after she died, it really turned to hate and resentment.”

Remembering Jim’s relationship with his stepfather Jonesy, Trixie swallowed and asked tentatively, “Did he...did he abuse you, Dan?”

Dan nodded.  “Maybe not in the way you might think of child abuse, not in the classical sense.  Physically abused kids come to school hiding welts on their legs or bruises on their back.  They’re withdrawn and think that somehow they deserve whatever they’re getting at home.

“I didn’t blame myself.  I didn’t think I deserved it.  And I sure wasn’t withdrawn.  I beat up on him as much as he beat up on me.  I was so angry anytime I was around him and I missed my mama and I knew, somehow I knew, that he was responsible for her death.  I didn’t have any good way to release that anger, so I’d throw myself at him and just start whaling on him.  So, where other abused kids might come to school hiding their bruises, I’d come to school with a black eye or a fat lip.  And that’s how I got my bad ass reputation.  The gangs came looking for me, thinking I was some street tough, when in reality, I was just a little kid trying to beat the hell out of my stoned stepfather, because I missed my mama so much.”

It was painful, but he was surprised to discover it wasn’t difficult to open up to Trixie.  He supposed it was because he loved her so much, or because he knew she would love him, no matter what.

He turned around so that he was kneeling in front of her.  He laid his hands on her thighs and looked up into her eyes.  They were brimming over with tears.  His heart missed a beat and he felt a tiny stab of doubt.  Had he said too much?  Too much too soon?

But a smile slowly made its way across her face, even as a tear escaped from her eye to trickle down her cheek.  She put her hands on his face and looked deeply into his eyes.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  “Thank you for trusting me with your heart.”

And Dan knew.  Even though she hadn’t said it in so many words, he knew that she appreciated the trust and openness he had just given her.  He knew that Jim had never really been able to do that.  And while he didn’t blame Jim – he knew how hard it was to let someone you cared about into the dark places of your soul – he knew that’s why he had lost Trixie.  She wasn’t a fragile little china doll that needed to be protected.  She was a stronghold and all she wanted was to share everything with the man she loved.  She would be there for the worse, the poorer, the sickness, just as she would be there for the better, the richer, the health.

He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly and thoroughly.  His mother’s ring was burning a hole in his pocket.  He was ready.  He wanted to ask Trixie to marry him.  But he thought about what he had shared there on that old fallen tree and he knew he didn’t want this magical moment to happen here.  Here he had bared his soul, shared some of the pain and anger and bitterness.  Here his past lay tattered and torn across the trunk and soon somebody would come and chop it up and haul it away, to be burned in somebody’s fireplace.  Somewhere else, he would take up the future and start anew.

He stood and held his hand out to Trixie.  She got up and put her arm around his waist and the two of them walked down towards the lake that lay sparkling under the summer stars.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES

CHAPTER 11 (18,514 words) and CHAPTER 11A (3,255 words)

First of all, this chapter is for CWP #5 , with the elements (shown in purple within the body of the story) being:

• Late spring-to-summer event/holiday from May 20 through end of July: Mart’s birthday (June 1), Honey and Brian’s
  6-mos. anniversary (June 30), Diana’s birthday (July 7).

• Historical document, edifice, monument, or event of great significance/impact: World War I mentioned in Mart and Sally’s vignette.

• Father figure (Actual, figure, virtual, past, present, future, or otherwise): Jim’s thoughts about his two fathers.

• Hero: Tad is considered a “hero” by the Lynch twins.

• Leader: Sally’s dogs Lee and Grant, named for the Civil War generals.

• A battle (doesn't have to be a military battle): Mart’s “battles” with Sally’s brothers.

• Actual book with the word Father, Daddy, Dad, etc. in the title: Sugar Daddy by Lisa Kleypas, read by Honey.

• The expression "Holy poop!" (You can substitute the "S" word for poop if you like): Joey says it regarding Jim’s choice of women to date.

• Ugly/cheesy plastic flowers/mementos, such as might be on monuments or graves to mark historical occasions: Other graves near Win Frayne’s in the Potter’s Field.

• A replacement Item (from CWP#1): A new outfit - Honey's sexy new lingerie.

• A carry-over Item (from CWP #4): The St. Valentine's Day Massacre – Mart mentions it to Sally.

This chapter was supposed to be a series of small vignettes visiting each of my BWG friends to see how their summers were going, and leading into chapters 12 and 13.  But then Jim yakked and yakked and yakked (I am honestly so surprised that he’s been talking to me considering how mean I’ve been to him; either he really is this screwed up or he’s truly trusting me to make it all right someday) and his section grew longer and longer and I didn’t want the others to feel left out and so now, instead of five “vignettes”, you’ve got five slightly more substantial stories...all in one chapter, because I didn’t feel like finding four more titles and “A Late Walk” fit for each one.

Yes, Annette, the Drake neighbors are a nod to you, my hillbilly friend. <g>  Welcome to the team!  Annette now has the honorary title of "Sneak Peek Girl" for the Roads Not Taken universe.

Let me say for the record, that I think Mart is perfectly athletic, but yes, I think Jim and Dan both could kick his ass if they wanted to.  My apologies to the UMM.  However, I’m pretty sure every one of the Drake boys could kick Jim or Dan’s ass, so it all balances out. <g>

Sam Drake’s “short cut” is something my Gramps did all the time when we kids were growing up.  It’s remained a family joke even 12 years after his death.  I’m sure he did it on purpose, and it always gave us kids a kick.  This is what I was doing from Marineland to the Crowne Plaza during Trixie Camp weekend…really!  I wasn’t lost! <g>

And thank you to Jill (franollie) for your comments on an earlier Mart/Sally chapter (6B).  I’ve blatantly stolen your “vocab smackdown” phrase and hope you will consider it flattery. <g>

My late Buddy was only part shepherd (mostly terrier, with a smidge of Tasmanian devil thrown in), but I still remember (fondly, as it turns out) the drool all over the back windows of my car.  And yes, Buddy could spell “walk”.

Gage Whitney Pace is a fictional law firm, stolen from The West Wing. <g>  It’s the firm where Sam Seaborn worked before Josh Lyman came and recruited him for the Bartlet campaign.  It’s not in Chicago either.  I’m not sure if my G-W-P is a law firm or not, but even lawyers need businessmen and accountants working for them…or whatever the heck it is that Tad does for a living (he may be turning into Chandler Bing <g>).

New cast photo of Damian Lewis as Jim Frayne.  This guy is, in my opinion, pretty darn good looking.  He also is, in my opinion, very difficult to find a good photo of.  Seriously, I clicked through a large number of photos where he looked like a total dork with his mouth open in a completely "D'oh!" expression before I found this one.  Sheesh!  And I thought I took a bad photo!

Hopefully, Jim has found someone to confide in; someone tough enough to get him out of his funk for good.  Not that it isn’t fun torturing him, <g> but I don’t want to do it forever and incur the wrath of all the Jim fans in Trixieland.  I hope it was at least a mild surprise to some of my readers.  Cast page has also been updated to include Natalie Portman as Joey Darnell.

ROADS NOT TAKEN CAST PAGE

The Shakespeare quote is from Henry VI.  I found the book title at Amazon, but honestly have no idea if it contains this particular quote or not.  But it sounded like a book Jim would be carrying around with him and a quote he might be thinking about.

“Danny Boy” is a very well-known traditional Irish folk song.  I’m pretty sure the lyrics are fair game, but if I’ve used them illegally…sorry, deal with it.

Rubber Maid, Lexus, and Lincoln are trademarked names and they’re not mine, but I’m certainly not making any money off of them either.