

Tilsy & Hank

By Carol Jean

Copyright 2015 SK Publishing

ISBN: 9781311100757

Smashwords Edition

## Dedication

To Darlene Tabor who was the first person to ever read one of my books. She liked it and bothered to tell me. A person, a real live intelligent, wonderful person read my book. I had a smile on my face for days. My dream to write good, exciting and enjoyable stories that people like to read was a reality. I can do it. I didn't have to quit.

Since TRIGGER, I've released the epic novel BRANCHES. Tilsy & Hank is my newest. If you enjoy these books, please join me in thanking Darlene Tabor.

## Tilsy & Hank

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of my imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Comments and questions regarding this book or the author are welcome and appreciated. I will respond in a timely manner to each message or inquiry.

Thank you for reading--Carol Jean

Contact caroljeanbooks@gmail.com

Title Page

Dedication

Rights

Table of Contents

Book 1 Tilsy

Book 2 Hank

Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

Thank You for Reading

A Special Thank You

About Carol Jean

Other Books by Carol Jean

## Tilsy Book 1

Lorraine Andrea "Tilsy" Tilson (Straight)

Date of Birth: June 15, 1958

Married 1976:

Jeffery Edgar Straight

Widowed: 2014

Two sons:

Brandon Allen Straight

Andrew David Straight
Book 1 Tilsy

Standing in front of the full length mirror that hangs on her bedroom closet door, Tilsy straightens her sweater over her jeans but doesn't turn to check her backside in the mirror. At her age, she'd rather not look. If she doesn't look at it she doesn't have to worry about it.

She runs her fingers through her dark curly hair and ignores the gray hairs she knows are there. A quick check of her smile that she's always thought was pretty and she's out the door.

The best part of leaving her little house is that she doesn't have to ask anyone or leave a note or explain where she's going or when she'll be back. She's taking Oliver with her and everything will be just as she left it when they get back.

It's a comforting thought. Tilsy raises her face to the sun, closes her eyes and takes a deep, cleansing breath of sweet, crisp late winter air as she patiently waits for Oliver to finish wetting the bush.

"All done? Let's go." Her voice is a happy voice and it makes Oliver happy. His cute toy Schnauzer butt bounces with excitement as he leads the way to her car.

"We're going to the home store, so please promise to behave. Okay?"

Oliver happily promises as he watches her talk to him. He's in his favorite car place standing on the arm rest between the two front seats. He likes it there because he's nearly eye-to-eye with his best friend, plus he doesn't miss any of the adventure.

A pretty shade of pink semi-gloss paint, brushes, new rollers, and a gallon of bright white high-gloss paint for the trim and doors and her excitement builds.

Tilsy has always wanted a pink bedroom. Never happened, "It's going to be so beautiful. Are you excited Oliver? I am."

Oliver lies down in the shotgun seat for the return trip home. "Tired?" Tilsy laughs at him as he barely lifts his head.

They spent more than forty minutes longer in the store because everyone that passed Oliver sitting in the shopping cart just had to stop and pet him and talk about their dogs. He had a great time. So did Tilsy. She didn't have to rush or look at her cell phone for the time or messages of where in the Hell was she? She was allowed to enjoy the experience as much as Oliver.

"We forgot the light bulbs. Shoot." Oliver lifts his head and puts it back down. "Wimp. So that means you aren't going to go back?"

It doesn't matter. Tomorrow will be another wonderful day. They can go back tomorrow if they want to. She can light the lavender scented candle she hasn't used. It'll be a special treat on the dinner table tonight.
Book 1 Tilsy

"Oliver! No!"

Tilsy jumps from the ladder as her roller covered in pretty pink paint drops to the floor. Her only thought is to rescue Oliver from the mostly full gallon of pink paint he's drenched in.

"Oh my God!"

Head to toe his silver Schnauzer coat is now pink. His eyes, his ears, his mouth are covered and Oliver is making struggling noises. Fear that he'll breathe in or swallow the paint is her first reaction. She wants to panic but that won't help Oliver.

Trying to hold him in the bathtub and the handheld shower head at the same time, she frantically hoses his face to clear away the paint and follows with a towel to clear it of paint and water so he can breathe. She's sure a pink bubble just floated out of his nose.

With most of the paint off his face, Tilsy wraps the remainder of his little body in a towel and heads for the kitchen. Help. She needs help. Who?

"You're open?"

A laugh and a man's deep voice, "I answered the phone." He sounds so calm it's maddening.

"Oliver is covered in paint . . . pink. He's making funny sounds. I don't think he can breathe or it's going to get in his lungs!"

"Where are you?"

"Home."

Another laugh.

"Uh." Tilsy can't remember her address. "Breeze Street something." Oliver is now squirming to get down. "6910 Breeze Street. Where are you?"

"Here," he laughs.

"This isn't funny? The number on my cell phone says you're the emergency vet service?"

"Latex?" His tone changes from amused to serious.

"Latex what!"

"Paint."

"Yes. Semi-gloss."

He laughs. "I'm on my way. Five minutes."

The line goes dead. "Oliver you are in so much trouble." She groans with a quick glance of her destroyed bedroom but doesn't slow her pace to the bathroom.

Oliver is seriously fighting her now, but she's managed to get most of the paint off. At least the water is starting to run clear more than pink. Oliver on the other hand is still a shade of pretty bedroom pink.

"Dawn detergent is okay for dogs, Oliver. Maybe it'll get the paint out of your hair."

Wrapped in another towel, Oliver isn't sure he wants a soapy bath in dish detergent and is struggling when she hears the doorbell.

Without a thought as to who is ringing the bell, Tilsy flings the door open and wide. Oliver senses an escape route and leaps from her hold.

"Hey there, little man. Not so fast."

Quicker than Tilsy could follow the action, a man at the door is holding Oliver out and away from his clothes. Oliver isn't fighting. He's given up and accepted his fate.

"Kitchen or bathroom?"

"Huh?"

"Where do you want him?"

"Bathroom's already trashed." She says and waves her hand in futility.

Sandy hair, laughing eyes, laughing at her, he's a tall man, with broad shoulders and looks very fit. Oliver looks so small and forlorn in his large hands. "Which way?"

Tilsy takes off and she can feel the man following her. Pink is everywhere, floors, walls, tub, curtain, toilet, sink and her best towels that she doesn't even use. She keeps them out because they're pretty and much nicer than the others. She likes looking at the pretty, thick white towels with the rose edge.

"Oh they're ruined." She groans.

"No, it'll wear out," the man laughs, puts Oliver in the tub and turns on the water.

"Not Oliver, my good towels."

Ignoring her bereavement for her expensive and plush bath towels, "Got any Dawn?" The man asks without an ounce of sympathy in his voice. She figures he doesn't have any really nice towels at his house, so he probably doesn't understand how devastated she is.

She passes the spilled paint all over her bedroom carpet and tries not to step in it. Her fear for Oliver overrides that disaster. "Oh, my God. If he lives, I'm going to kill him."

Snuggled in a warm, dry but not so nice towel, the man–a veterinarian who says his name is Hank–examines Oliver. Tilsy watches wringing her hands. She doesn't want to talk and interrupt his examination. He's focused and appears to be thorough.

"He'll be all right. I can't say the same about your bedroom and bathroom." He laughs.

"You're sure?"

He laughs again. "I'm sure Oliver will be okay and I'm sure he'll be pink for a while. And I'm sure your bedroom and bathroom will need some serious cleaning."

"I always wanted a pink bedroom." She hears the moan in her voice. "Stick a fork in me. I'm done." She says.

Suddenly Hank the vet looks up. His bright blue eyes look concerned. "It'll be all right." Soft, comforting and it feels like he's treating her, as well as Oliver. "Got any wine or other spirits?"

"White. In the refrigerator. Why?"

"Thought we'd have a glass, while I make a call and get you some help?"

Oliver licks Hank's hand, closes his eyes and goes to sleep.

_Us who? Oliver doesn't drink wine_. Whatever, Tilsy doesn't even know how to begin cleaning up the mess. She's trying to come up with a plan but can't quite figure out where to start. Bathroom? Carpet? Which first? What should she use? Use the good towels, they're already ruined. She groans because she really loved those towels.

"On second thought, you might want to change before you sit or touch anything." Hank's voice is quiet like he doesn't want to disturb Oliver's nap because as a vet he understands how exhausted Oliver is from his trip to mayhem.

She looks down. Her oldest jeans and floppy shirt she put on for painting are covered with wet paint. Her favorite Keds are worse off than her towels. She'll never get the paint off of her hands and from under her finger nails. "Oh God."

"Take a shower. I left the Dawn in the bathroom."

Tilsy hears him snicker, but ignores it. What's to lose at this point?

At least she was able to clean the tub as she showered. Dawn wasn't really bad as personal bath soap. It smells good and sure does soap up well. Pink foam is up to her ankles.

Comfortable sweats and old slippers, she heads back to the kitchen/living room/dining room.

Hank is on the sofa holding Oliver and two other men are sitting at the table.

What? She went to shower not even concerned that a stranger . . . strangers are her home?

Apparently, Hank the Vet noticed that she was startled. "That's Howard and that handsome young man is my son, Patrick." He indicates the younger man, who looks a lot like Hank. Maybe nineteen, he looks like a college kid. Her boys used to look like that–all fresh and full of energy and fun--before they got all grownup and full of self-importance.

Holding two large rolls of white plastic they nod at her in a smirking fun way that clearly says they want to break out in hilarity but have been taught better manners.

"They've come to help clean up the paint before it dries." Hank says with a grin. "You sit and hold Oliver."

Better than any plan she's come up with, she sits and Hank places the cuddly warm sleeping Oliver in her arms.

"I'll get you a glass of wine."

Tilsy drank the whole glass and then closed her eyes to enjoy the rush that will hopefully ease the waves of fear and tension away. She snuggles Oliver closer, and lays her head back against the wing chair.

"Carpet's toast," Patrick's voice is loud and startles her from a moment of calm.

Her eyes fly open to see him and Howard carry out a large roll of almost white carpet.

"It's good though. There are beautiful oak floors underneath."

They didn't even ask her what to do. Her mouth falls open in protest. "No. You're wrong. I just had the new carpet put in two weeks ago."

"Doesn't matter. It just got painted an hour ago and it can't be saved. It's a goner. If we leave it, it will ruin the wood."

He, Howard and my bedroom carpet disappear out the front door.

Tilsy feels tears rush to her eyes. She's always wanted thick carpet in her pink bedroom. Getting out of bed during the night or in the morning with the friendly, warm, cushy carpet under her bare feet was also part of her dream. Tilsy feels anger and doesn't even try to hide it.

"I don't know you. I don't know them. Do they know what they're doing?" She glares at Hank the vet.

"My son is starting up a design and remodeling company. He has a degree in architecture and he's worked construction and remodeling since he was a kid. I'd bet my bedroom carpet on him."

She has no control. This was not what her new life was supposed to be. "Well damn. I'll just sit here then while he tears my house apart!"

She looks up into the bluest eyes she's ever seen. Patrick looks like he's been slapped, hard. She is being mean. He came on a moment's notice to help her. "I'm sorry. It's just . . . "

"I understand Ma'am. I've called a friend and he's delivering your new carpet in an hour. It will give me enough time to finish painting before the carpet is laid. Painting first is always a good idea. Howard and I can do it half the time it would take you to do it alone. Don't worry about it."

That's not the point! She's always wanted to paint her bedroom pink. Oliver senses her distress. He wakes up enough to lift his head, look at her and crock his head.

"Don't look at me like that. You know whose fault this is! Don't you?"

He wisely lies back down resting his little chin on her hand.

"You and Oliver get along really well." Hank's voice is interestingly playful. "A lot of people get a dog, but not every person has an affinity for a good relationship with animals. It's always nice to see two of God's creatures get along so well."

"I've always wanted a dog. Oliver and I have been together six months. He was a year old two months ago."

"He's your first dog?"

"Yes."

"That's a shame. But what you just said about you and Oliver being together. Most people just say they got a dog six months ago."

She shrugs. It's just how she feels about Oliver. They kind of found each other and chose to live together, like friends or partners.

"You and Oliver got along really good, too. I've never seen him give in so quickly."

Hank throws his head back and laughs. "I am a vet."

It's a full hearted laugh that makes her smile for the first time since this disaster happened. He runs his hand through his thick hair. He's really very handsome. Perfect white teeth, a strong jaw and beautiful bright blue eyes like Patrick's, she barely noticed him until now.

"I'm sorry. Am I keeping you from work?"

"I was just getting off duty, when your call came in. I volunteer at the emergency animal clinic as much as possible. I'm okay here."

He smiles at her and she feels a blush. She didn't know she remembered how. She used to blush a lot when she was a girl, but that was a long time ago.

"Let's start over. I'm Hank Witcher, veterinarian and owner of Valley Animal Clinic. You are?"

He smiles and Tilsy notices a dimple in his left cheek. It's charming and adds to his nice and friendly persona. She blushes.

"Lorraine Tilson, but everyone calls me Tilsy. When I was eight or so, an incorrigible and hateful neighbor boy used to tease me all the time and call me Tilsy. It stuck. Thank you for coming to help us and for calling your son to put my home in order. I'm sorry, I sounded so ungrateful. It just wasn't how I saw today happening."

"So the pink bedroom is a big deal for you?"

"Sounds childish, I know."

"Not at all. I like pink too." His voice is smooth and rich like honey.

Right on cue she blushes.

Patrick and Howard have been running back and forth carrying this and bringing in that. She and Hank have been talking about nothing and haven't been paying any attention. It's been a pleasant conversation though her heart hasn't really been into it.

"Room's painted. Justin is here. After he lays the carpet, I'll finish the trim. I like your paint selection. It's very classy shade of pink and fits the room well. Come and see."

Patrick smiles like his Dad, except he's got a dimple in both cheeks.

It's beautiful. The paint color is perfect was perfectly applied with a sprayer, not a roller like she was using. Not a drop of paint or drip or run.

"Oh my, this is exactly how I saw it in my head. Thank you so much." She means it with her whole heart. It's perfect.

Thumps and bumps at the front door.

"Carpet," Patrick says and squeezes by her and Hank.

"Come on Tilsy let's get out of the way. Oliver could probably use a walk."

The sun is just beginning to set with a soft winter blush. Oliver is thrilled to get outside and down and has figured out that he'll live to see tomorrow. He's peeing on every bush he passes, just in case.

Talking with Hank feels like talking with a long lost friend. He's been alone for twenty years and raised three boys on his own. Patrick is his youngest and the only son still at home. Hank loves animals and while most vets specialize in small or large animals, Hank takes care of both, including exotics. He never wanted to do anything else.

"I love it all, but I'm troubled when humans decide to get an exotic–a monkey, jaguar, lion or boa and the like. It's just not right. One of my customers keeps a rhino. At least they care and do a lot to make him happy and safe, but still it's not good for the animal."

She didn't notice, but Hank did. "You shivered. The sun is down and you don't even have a jacket. Let's get back."

Hank takes her hand like it's the most natural and right thing to do. Tilsy is startled. No one has held her hand since her grandmother when Tilsy was maybe five. It feels good. She reminds herself that her only priority is to do things that feel good. Hank's hand feels good. Tilsy relaxes and lets Hank hold her hand.

When her little house comes into view, Hank suddenly stops and turns to her, "I've spent this whole time talking about myself. That's a shame. I wanted to know about you, Tilsy. I find you very interesting."

She shrugs. What's to know? She was a wife, mother and had a boring job at an insurance company.

"You know everything about me that's important. My best friend is Oliver and I like pink bedrooms." Tilsy laughs and Hank's laughter merges with hers. It feels good.

An hour later her bedroom is finished. She'd planned two days for the project but it's done and the bathroom is spotless.

"Can't do anything about the pretty towels and shower curtain, you'll have to get new ones," Patrick says and gives her a looks that says he let her down somehow.

"You're amazing, Patrick. Thank you. I really didn't have a clue about what to do with that mess. You've saved me."

"Hey, I'm the one who called him?" Hank says.

"That goes for you too. Thank you. All of you."

She pays for the carpet and hands over a generous hourly rate for Patrick and Howard. It feels good to pay and she's grateful for their quick response and exceptional work.

"I'm thinking of a kitchen remodel. Is it too small a job for you?" Tilsy glances at her tiny kitchen that has about four feet of prep space.

"No ma'am. I'll call you for an appointment and we can go over some ideas." He leaves and she, Oliver and Hank are alone with just a hint of paint smell in her pretty little house. She's opening a couple windows and Oliver is knocking his dinner bowl around the kitchen.

"I guess Oliver is trying to tell you something. I'll leave you two to dinner." He says quietly.

He hands her his business card. "Bring Oliver in tomorrow or call me if you see him in distress before then. I'm sure he'll be fine, but we should check him out."

Hank looks like he doesn't want to go. She wouldn't mind if he stayed but maybe this is for the best.

"Saying thank you doesn't feel like enough for all you've done for a stranger. Thank you. Oliver and I will see you tomorrow?"

He pats Oliver, smiles at her and he's gone.

"Now that's a real man, Oliver. I hope you were paying attention to Hank. If you see a pretty toy Schnauzer girl you want to impress, you should remember how a real man treats a woman."
Book 1 Tilsy

Hank's office is pleasant and surprising. The girls in light blue scrubs with a puppy pattern top welcome her and Oliver by name.

"You look good in pink, Oliver." The girl with Gretchen embroidered on her scrub top reaches for him and he gladly goes to her. "Did you have a bad day yesterday? You poor little thing, it'll be all right," she kisses his nose and he licks her. Two other girls join the Oliver love fest.

"Dr. Witcher was called out on a horse down. He should be back in a few minutes. You can sit in the waiting room, or there is a puppy play area through there. It's fun."

Tilsy opts for the waiting room. Full front windows with lots of light, nicely upholstered furniture, fireplace and very nice Persian rugs, it's very homey. Not the clinical environment she expected.

As soon as she sits down, Oliver squeezes out of her arms and jumps in the matching chair next to hers. A couple circles and he plops down.

"That's so cute!" A blonde, dressed in blue scrubs with a kitten pattern top calls out from the reception dlesk. "Oliver you are a real gentleman."

A pink little gentleman for sure and he's likely to be pink for a while. The groomer is our next stop, but Jane wasn't sure she would be able to do much about it. She talked about shaving him to the skin, but clearly didn't like the idea.

Tilsy feels relaxed here. It's a new feeling to be relaxed. The first time she felt it was two weeks after Jeff died. They had two sons, a four-bedroom ranch and a tense relationship for thirty nine years. As the boys got older, they always took Jeff's side on everything. Other than throwing things at her, he wasn't physically abusive and he provided a good middle-class lifestyle for the family. Jeff wasn't a friendly person, not to her or the neighbors or even their extended family.

He'd groan and inevitably start a fight so he'd have an excuse not to attend family birthdays, Christmas dinner, and the boys' school events. It was especially difficult with the grandkids. She wanted to embrace the grandmother role, but it was always a fight with Jeff. They are so precious, but Jeff never saw them as anything other than an intrusion and inconvenience.

She was always alone and always on edge.

"Ms. Tilson."

It took a few moments to recognize her name and realize she was being called. She looks up startled. Another pretty girl is standing in front of her.

"Sorry, it's so comfortable in here, I forgot where I was." Tilsy smiles and laughs softly.

The girl smiles back, "Dr. Witcher just called in and said he wasn't going to make it in for a couple more hours. He can see you late this afternoon or Dr. Chandler is available for Oliver now."

"Oliver has a grooming appointment. Now would be best."

Surprisingly, Tilsy feels let down. Was she actually looking forward to seeing him again? She hasn't had that feeling in a long time.

"Come on Oliver, let's go meet Dr. Chandler." Did he just look sad, or am I projecting? Projecting, Oliver loves everyone.

A very friendly and attractive woman about Tilsy's age said to call her Daisy and took charge of Oliver. He loved her instantly, especially since she ignored the stainless steel, cold exam table and sat down on the floor. Oliver quickly went into her lap.

Dressed in jeans and a pretty yellow blouse, Daisy laughed and played with Oliver while she gave him a thorough examination. She took x-rays from a handheld device that Oliver thought was a cool new toy. He didn't even cry out when she took blood. It was so quick, Tilsy almost missed it. Oliver obviously did.

After studying an iPad Daisy announced that Oliver was fine, "His blood levels are normal and his x-ray is clear, just as Hank said they would be. He's the best and he's always right. You were quick to wash Oliver. That was the right thing to do. Daisy smiles at Tilsy, "The paint wasn't on him long enough to do harm."

Tilsy couldn't help but feel good about how she'd handled the incident and promised to call if any of the symptoms Daisy detailed appeared.

Tilsy has been in the towel department for nearly an hour. Finally it's down to three sets and she can't decide. Suddenly it occurs to her that she doesn't have to decide. She'll buy all of them. She deserves to use pretty towels. What was she saving the good towels for anyway? With a quick sweep she picks up six big thick towels, six wash clothes and six hand towels and marches to the register. It feels great and they're all pink.

A light lunch at a darling little café she noticed a week or so after moving here. Friendly, delicious, perfect and she finishes just as a text from Jane tells her Oliver is ready to be picked up.

Oliver is pinkish–not pink—but he's clean and shiny and doesn't smell like paint or Dawn dish detergent.

"It's a beautiful day, Oliver. I think we should go to the park. What do you think?"

No hurry, no fuss, she and Oliver hang around the park making small talk with other dog people and not getting as much ribbing about Oliver's pink hair as she expected. No one seems to think it's a big deal. Obviously Oliver doesn't care. He's spending his time, corralling a Yorkie with a pink ribbon on top of her head.

The blonde with the kitten top at Hank's reception desk handed her a bag of dog treats tied with a blue ribbon when they left. She and Oliver share them with the other dogs. It feels so good to share and be friendly and relaxed. It's almost time for dinner, when they pull into the driveway of her little house.

Tilsy loves her little house. Cute front porch with white railing and enough room for two chairs, round glass table and a potted plant, lots of windows inside with two bedrooms, one and a half baths and the rest of the house is open light and airy. She feels so good here.

She still hasn't bought light bulbs, so the lit candle creates a relaxing, warm atmosphere for their dinner again tonight.

Walking through her home, smiling at the pretty towels in the bathroom, Tilsy snuggles in her bed and feels the warm glow of pink.
Book 1 Tilsy

"Where in the hell have you been? I've been calling you for days and I don't have time for this crap. You are the most inconsiderate person I've ever met. I can't believe you are my mother! I want to know what you've done with Dad's house and what you are doing with the money and where in the Hell are you? I want to know now!" The voice of her older son screams out of the answering machine.

Tilsy hits delete and then deletes all nine messages. She glances around her pretty house before noticing Oliver sitting in the middle of the living room, staring at her.

"You're right Oliver. I don't know why I didn't change that old phone number. Let's do it now. Actually with the cell phone, we don't need a ground line at all, do we?"

Responding to her happy voice, Oliver's up on all fours and bouncing in circles.

Brandon lives in California with his wife and Tilsy's three grandchildren that she never gets to see. They moved nearly two years ago and not long before Jeff died. She thought about moving from her home in Virginia to be near them, but she came to her senses before she gave in. Brandon was furious.

"I was counting on you. I wanted you to move in and take care of the children, while Georgia gets her fat ass to work," he said and added that he could take care of her money.

Jeff took care of her money and she never spent a dollar that he didn't want to know why and then told her how stupid it was to spend it.

What she did was sell the house and move from Roanoke to Abingdon. She drove through the quaint and historic town once and never forgot it. She's been happy here. It feels good here.

Over a quick lunch of Gouda and buttery Ritz crackers, Tilsy uses her old cell phone to call her daughter-in-law.

"Brandon's going nuts, Tilsy, what's wrong with you. Don't you care about anyone but yourself?"

"Hi, Georgia, how are my grandkids. I sure miss them. You said you were going to post photos on Facebook, but there's nothing but the old ones. Timmy's birthday is at the end of the month, do you know what he would like to have?"

"You're making my life a living hell Tilsy."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. You were excited about the home-based customer service job. Did that work out for you?"

Silence. Tilsy waits.

"Brandon didn't want me to do it. Said it wasn't enough money. Timmy is into Lego's. My camera is on the fritz."

Hearing so much unhappiness in her lovely daughter-in-law's voice, "You're a good person Georgia. You are a good mother. Don't you ever forget that and don't forget that you are also a talented and promising artist. Brandon loved that part of you once. I love the three paintings you gave me and I enjoy them every day."

Silence.

"Make your stand Georgia or you'll turn out like me. Say no. Say it often enough and Brandon will come around. He was a charming, thoughtful boy. He'll remember how to be that person again if you make him. I know he loves you, and if you still love him don't let him bury himself in Jeff's way of handling his woman and his family. I couldn't fight all three of them at once, I wasn't strong enough. You are. The more he pushes the unhappier he'll become and then everything gets worse. I believe Jeff died at sixty-two, because he was so miserable and angry all the time that his body couldn't handle it."

"Are you all right Tilsy?"

"Never better, sweetheart, maybe someday things will turn around. Don't let my grandbabies forget me okay?"

Silence.

"I think the world of you Georgia. You don't have to tell Brandon I called. It's up to you. I won't mention that I ever talk to you. Kiss my grandbabies and think of me. Call me if you need me."

Tilsy got a good price on their house in Roanoke. Jeff's life insurance wasn't as much as she thought it should be, but it paid for the funeral and his medical expenses, the credit card and left her debt free. She sold the horrible black SUV Jeff bought for her and bought a 1998 Cadillac Deville for $4,000. It had only seventy-one thousand miles on it. Delbert, she calls him and he drives like a slipper and purrs like a kitten.

Tilsy's always loved antique cars. If she had lots of money, she'd love to have a 1950 Buick like her Dad. Now that was a great car.

As for the rest, she's become very good at managing money. A lot better than Jeff, who was always struggling with the budget and blaming her.

She paid cash for her pretty little house and is spending most of her free time, learning and studying investments online. Her portfolio is stable and growing fast. She accepted a wife's portion of Jeff's Social Security and she uses that and what was left from the house as her working capital. She never went back to that horrible, dead-in job.

In another three years she'll qualify for Social Security and Medicare. It's unbelievable that she's worked her whole life and when she qualifies for Social Security, she'll get a check every month for about $750. No one could possibly survive on that considering Medicare and supplemental insurance will take half.

"Oliver, want to walk down the street and get an ice cream cone?" Tilsy says in her happy voice, because she feels happy.

He's ready even though it's cloudy and cooler than it has been. A wool jacket for her and Oliver is wearing his newest sweater. Navy blue knit with a red-white-black band of argyle around the neck. He looks so cute and it covers his pink hair.

It's been a week since the pink paint incident. She hasn't heard anything from Hank, but Patrick set a meeting for tomorrow to go over her planned kitchen renovation.

Hank's presence the day of the pink paint incident was outstanding and memorable. Calm, supportive, caring and she really liked him. She loved hearing him talk, he used stories mostly that were funny and interesting and said a lot about who he was. Listening to Hank was so different from hanging her head and suffering Jeff's hour-long lectures.

When she thinks about it, she doesn't remember Jeff ever talking to her.

They met in college. He was charming and smart and all the girls thought he was the best looking of all the guys. She was flattered when he singled her out and then made it clear to everyone that she was his. Her father liked him and also made it clear that she was to cooperate and like Jeff too.

Tilsy thinks about calling Hank and asking him out for a dinner date at a restaurant she's wanted to try. She'd pay and maybe throw in a movie. It would be fun. The animal fair will be in another month. Games and contests, a fashion show for dogs, maybe he would like to go with her and Oliver.

"If he was interested in seeing us again, he would have called, right Oliver?"

Oliver isn't sure. Tilsy isn't either. Its better not stick your nose where it's not wanted.
Book 1 Tilsy

"These computer renderings are wonderful, Patrick. It's unbelievable that you can take this little bit of kitchen and make it look like this," Tilsy says leaning toward Patrick's laptop. "It's doubled in size and makes the dining room and living look bigger and more open. Thank you so much. You are very talented."

"So you like the French doors and expanding the porch? It makes it a lot more expensive." Patrick says and she hears hope in his voice that money won't kill his creative design.

"But so worth it. Just look how much better it looks. You've increased the value of my little house significantly. If I ever wanted to sell it, I could get a lot more than I paid for it."

Tilsy refreshes their coffee as Patrick explains what he's going to do and how long it will take. "You won't have to move out or anything, but you will be inconvenienced for three weeks at least."

Patrick is so easy to get along with. Unassuming, considerate, kind, he's different from her sons. But they were sweet like Patrick before Jeff decided that they'd had too much mothering and he was taking over to make them into men.

She should have fought him then. She should have taken their pre-teen hands and dragged them out of that house and built another life for them. But she didn't and she'll never forgive her cowardice. She was their mother. A mother should fight for her children.

"Patrick, let's do it. Will you? I want to do this."

He beams and his bright blue eyes shine at her. "I can start tomorrow."

"I'm going to give you a check for half today. How about I set up a construction account at the home store, you can just charge what you need from that account. Is that something that would work for you?"

"For a lot of it, yes. I'll use my own resources and negotiate good prices on what I need that the home store doesn't have. Or if I want better than they have."

"Would half now, plus the home store account work to get you started? Then you just tell me what you need when you need it?"

"That's very generous Ms. Tilson."

"Tilsy, please, and I could write you a check to cover your estimate right now if you prefer."

She can't help smiling at his look of pure excitement.

"This is my first job. I've been subbing for other contractors, but this is the first job for my own company. Doing it your way will help me keep on budget. Would you help me with that, I don't have any office staff yet."

"I'd love to. It would be like we're working together to make this happen."

Tilsy and Oliver had a great walk that evening. Tomorrow her pretty little house would be in shambles with the promise of extraordinary.

"I'm excited Oliver, are you?"

He's not so sure. "It would mean we would probably be out of the house more often. You'd like more park time, right?"

He'll think about it.

"You've already boxed everything up. I was going to help you with that Tilsy." Patrick is upset with her.

"I had the time. Anyway the kitchen is so small there wasn't much to box up. You said you were going to put the refrigerator in the spare bedroom, so I've made space for that too."

"Maybe I should hire you Tilsy, you're a great manager."

"Let's get through this and then we'll see. I'm pretty hands on, so when I'm in the way, just tell me. It won't hurt my feelings okay?"

Two weeks later it's nearly finished. All the new bones, Patrick said are in place and solid as a rock. "It's a straight run to the finish Tilsy." They celebrate with a cold beer.

She and Patrick spent hours working together and while Tilsy initially thought he was shy and unsure, he really wasn't. Confident, competent and they talk easily and work side-by-side. He loves teaching her and she loves learning all the wonderful things he knows how to do.

Patrick never knew his mother. She left when he was just shy of a year old. "Dad says she was a good woman, but wasn't comfortable with the mother part," he volunteered one day and out of the blue.

He's never met her and that's how she wanted it. Hank told his boys that their mother believed in doing things right or not doing them at all. She didn't believe she'd be a good mother and she wasn't going to be a half a mother. She left and said she would not interfere with their lives.

Tilsy isn't sure about that, but it seems to work for Patrick. He doesn't get upset talking about her or seem to have any regrets. Patrick's stories are all about his Dad. They're good stories and make her laugh more often than not.

"I thought you and Dad hit it off pretty good that day." He says as we lift the granite counter top on the peninsula/breakfast bar.

"He was very nice to me and Oliver. I thought his office was comfortable and homey. Not what you'd expect at a vet's office. Oliver was pretty much taken with Dr. Daisy," she teases but Patrick looks serious and doesn't say anything else. It felt like he was saying something she didn't understand. Better leave it alone.
Book 1 Tilsy

Tilsy loves her new kitchen and extended porch. It's finished and Patrick asked if she would let him have an opening of sorts. He wanted to invite some of his suppliers and subcontractors he used.

"I'd like to get a photographer and put photos of before and after on my website."

Tilsy didn't have any problem with it. She was proud of her upgraded home and having people see Patrick's plans come to realization made good business sense for him.

"I'm flattered. Of course, Patrick, invite whomever you want. I'll prepare some snacks and get drinks. Do you think beer and wine would be appropriate?"

"Free alcohol is always appropriate Tilsy, but I'll take care of that." He hugged her and was gone in a flash as always.

"I'm going to miss him, Oliver."

The kitchen is a dream to work in. She made some of her favorite hors d'oeuvres, as well as a veggie tray with cheese and dips and fruit tray.

"Oliver, we need to go to the store. They'll be here in an hour. Patrick brought beer and wine, but I forgot the pretzels and nuts. Wanna go with me?"

Tilsy experienced a moment of confusion when she returned and pulled in her driveway. Four men were bustling around on her new front porch. She hadn't authorized additional renovation.

They didn't notice her and no one could hear her over the high-pitched sounds of power drills and Patrick barking orders from atop a ladder.

Then she saw it. Oh my God, a porch swing, she'd always wanted a porch because she'd always wanted a porch swing. Her grandmother had one. They'd swing and talk or not. They'd listen to the birds or the distant sound of a neighbor's lawnmower and do nothing but feel the breeze created by their glide through the air--comforting, loving like heaven.

A wave of appreciation formed a lump in her throat. She didn't even have to ask for a swing. Somehow Patrick knew she would like it. Oh my, someone cared enough to think about what she would like.

"We wanted to get this done before you got back," Patrick's voice boomed down to her.

Oliver had joined the organized chaos, but Tilsy was frozen where she stood. A gust of wind and her face felt cold. Tears are rolling down her face, unbidden, unwanted, and unstoppable.

"Hey," warm hands softly lay on her shoulders and a face floats down level to hers, "this was supposed to be a happy surprise."

The face is handsome crowned with sandy thick hair falling in his bright blue eyes. "Hank?"

"You don't like it? I can't imagine that. Patrick and I just knew it was something you always wanted." Hank gently uses his thumbs and wipes her tears away.

She's staring and aware of it. "Hank, what are you doing here? I thought you didn't like me."

She's pressed into a strong warm chest. "I like you, Tilsy, too much," Hank whispers in her ear and it sends shivers down her spine and prompts goosebumps to burst out on her arms.

"It's ready! Tilsy you get the first swing."

Hank quickly let's go of her and walks away. Laughter from the porch and now she's being pulled onto the porch by Patrick. She recognizes Howard and the tile contractor grinning at her and then she's sitting in a white swing with pink and white daisy's painted on the back and arms.

"Hold on!" Patrick's voice reaches her from behind and Tilsy is flying forward and the only thing she can think to say is, "Whee!"

The photographer wanted to take photos and use her carefully prepared and colorful snack trays to dress-up the space. So many people are here–twenty maybe thirty. Tilsy thought Patrick was going to invite three or four. The porch is filled and the party has flowed out into the yard and driveway. There's no way she made enough food.

Someone found the grocery bag of pretzels and peanuts she dropped and forgot when she got back from the store. They're being passed around and are nearly gone. The beer and wine could be reached without disturbing the photographer. She's sure they don't have enough drinks either.

The person sitting in the swing beside her changes frequently. She's never been the center of attention before, even at her wedding she felt like an extra. All this while, Hank has been refilling her wine glass and Tilsy's having a great time.

No matter who is with her, every time she looks up Hank is close by, smiling, catching her eye. She thinks he's enjoying seeing her have so much fun. And that's exactly what she's doing, having so much fun!

Since her apprenticeship with Patrick for this project, she can easily understand and contribute to the conversations. Most of the men here are contractors, or craftsmen or suppliers. She fits right in and fitting in has never happened to her before.

Oliver on the other hand, is used to a lot of attention but today he is one of the guys. They've been pouring beer on the driveway so he can have a drink. He's chomped his way through pretzels and peanuts. She's called him to her several times. Each time he looks up and then runs off to play with someone else.

"Hey guys he's underage," she yells at them pouring more beer on the driveway for Oliver. They laugh and watch Oliver lap it up.

Hank quietly walks over, picks up Oliver and sits on the porch steps. Oliver snuggles in his lap, lays his head on Hank's hand and watches the action with droopy eyes.

Tilsy has never known a man like Hank. She loved her father. He was always nice to her. But he treated her mother like Jeff treated her. She never felt nor witnessed any affection between them. It's been fifteen years since she and Jeff had sex. Tilsy never experienced an orgasm she's heard and read about, so what was to miss and not wanting kept her out of Jeff's way.

Still it was hard to watch Hank stroke Oliver and not wonder what his hand would feel like on her skin.

Tilsy quickly looks around, hoping no one read her thought. She's blushing. Her face, for sure is giving her away.

Finally, the photographer is done and everyone starts to move inside, just as a red battered pickup truck swings onto her grass, rocks to a stop, and a tall gray haired man with broad shoulders and lean build, jumps out holding up a case of beer. "Beer's cold!"

A couple of younger guys greet him warmly and take charge of the beer. "So where's the lady of the house I've heard so much about?"

Tilsy reactively gets out of the swing and stands up. It feels like she's been given an order to reveal herself. Instantly she's tense and is unconsciously wringing her hands.

He clears the sidewalk to the porch without using the steps. "You're as pretty as they said. Mark Conway, ma'am," he pushes his hand toward her and when she doesn't react instantly he grabs her hand in both of his, brings it to his lips and kisses it. His lips feel warm but the several days' old beard is scratchy like a wire brush. Large chocolate brown eyes cruise her body from head to toe. It feels like he's measuring her, sizing her up. For what? Tilsy's heart drops to her stomach and she feels her eyes widen nervously.

"They say your name is Tilsy, never heard that one before. Do you like your swing? I made it."

Her mouth opens but nothing comes out.

"Is that a yes?" He laughs huge and claps her on the back so hard she's pushed forward. "Let me see you sit in it."

Mark Conway, pulls her down in the swing, sits with his thigh touching hers and puts his arm tightly around her shoulders. "This is a courtin' swing. I get orders from all over the country. They're getting really popular with the new techy bunch that has so much money they'll spend it on anything." He laughs and squeezes her tighter.

"When I started my carpentry business after Viet Nam, I couldn't give these away."

Tilsy looks up and Hank is standing in front of her still holding Oliver.

Mark Conway jumps up, "Hey Doc, good to see you. It's been ages. That youngest of yours is something isn't he?" Mark Conway and Hank are shaking hands. "He's got me making stuff that I've never made before. Have you seen this little lady's kitchen cabinets? Custom designed by Patrick and custom made by me, I'm real proud of them. Let me show you."

Mark Conway reaches down, grabs Tilsy's arm, lifts her out of the swing and drags her inside.

The party has picked up speed. Someone fired up her entertainment center and switched her Oldies station to country and a pizza delivery guy showed up with a stack of boxes twenty minutes ago.

Mark Conway has taken charge of Tilsy and every time she tries to get away, he comes up with something else he wants to show her or tell her. Twice she's tried to get to the sofa where Hank is sitting and holding Oliver. She'd like to be there.

"Mark, I need to talk to you about another project," Patrick says and stands between her and Mark Conway. Tilsy slips away, as Hank catches her eye and invitingly scoots over a bit.

She smiles, sighs and gladly drops in next to him and Oliver. "Are you having a good time, Oliver?" Instantly he's on her lap and farts. "Phew Oliver what have you been eating?"

"Beer, pretzels, nuts and someone gave him pepperoni," Hank laughs and the sound feels good from her heart to her stomach.

"Thank you for taking care of Oliver. He wouldn't listen to me."

I'm comfortable sitting on the sofa next to Hank and so is Oliver. I relax and enjoy a moment of feeling good.

"I thought Patrick was going to have three or four people, but this is fun too."

"He is a little upset, he did invite about six but the others heard and showed up. It's a tight knit community he runs with. Thank you for being a good sport, this is really good for Patrick. He said he's been approached twice already for architectural design and renovation projects."

"Then it's perfect. He's very talented, just look at what he did to my sweet, but plain little house. He's transformed it into something really special."

"It is beautiful Tilsy. I love him so much, thank you. He said you helped him with the budgeting and developed some spreadsheets to track expenses for him."

Tilsy is stunned for a second. She's never heard a father say he loved his child. "Hey I'm the one who benefitted. He taught me so much it was the least I could do. It was really special working with Patrick and it feels like I helped build this part of my new home."

"Where did you live before coming here?" Hank strokes Oliver and doesn't look at her.

She can feel him unsure about asking personal questions. Tilsy didn't realize she'd been so evasive. It isn't deliberate. She isn't hiding anything or being mysterious, it's just that she doesn't want to be the person she was with Jeff.

One of the first things she did after Jeff died was change her name. She took back her maiden name. She grew up with that name. It was secure, comforting and it felt good.

Hank's cell rings, it's an emergency. "The young mare is foaling. I need to be there." He's on his feet and looks down at her and Oliver. "I'm sorry."

"Go. She needs you doesn't she?"

He gives her an odd look and he's gone. A second later Mark Conway plops down beside me. "This is really nice that you let Patrick show off like this. You, Tilsy, are a fine, fine woman."

Patrick has kept her busy talking with a couple construction company owners. It was fun listening to Patrick come up with great ideas on the fly. Tilsy's not sure but thinks he's keeping Mark Conway from monopolizing all her time.

An hour later people start leaving. They all come and shake her hand and thank her for putting up with them. "If you ever get tired of Oliver, let me know. He and I have become buds."

Yes and he's the one that got Oliver drunk on Bud. I nod and smile: Won't happen.

Mark Conway and a couple older guys are talking seriously at the dining table, when the front door bursts open.

"Mother!"

She can't believe it. It's Andrew? "Hi! It's so good to see . . . "

"What's all this? What's going on? What are are these men doing here?"

The room goes silent as Andrew stomps across the room to where she's talking with Mr. Patterson. Andrew reaches for her arm to pull her away when a dark figure steps between them.

"I don't know you man. I'm Mark Conway and we don't talk to fine women like Ms. Tilson that way. You want to curb that attitude or you and I can go outside and discuss good manners man-to-man." Mark Conway's voice got lower as he spoke to Andrew and the last was a threat delivered in a near whisper.

"Mother?"

"Andrew, these gentlemen are here for my open house. I've made renovations to my home and they are admiring the craftsmanship and design."

Andrew is so handsome, taller and leaner than Jeff and Brandon. He has a shyness that draws people to him. Tilsy always thought he was so charming and disarming and he always had girls hanging around to prove it from the time he was three.

"Let me show you the work we've done and introduce you to Patrick, who designed the renovations and did the work."

She feels Patrick slip in beside her even though Mark Conway is still standing between her and Andrew.

"Another time, Mother, can we talk outside?"

His voice is softer and his shy charming look has appeared. No one moves. "I'm sorry," Andrew looks around.

"Mother?"

That's my Andrew. That's the darling boy I raised, cradled in my arms and kissed his belly while he giggled.

"It's so good to see you Andrew. I've missed you. What do you think of my house?"

Andrew turns quickly to face her. "Brandon and I had to hire private detectives to find you mother. What kind of woman runs away like that?" He's angry, but whispers softly and keeps looking at the front door.

"I didn't run away, Andrew. I told both of you that I wanted to find a place where I could be happy. A nice place that was easy for me to take care of, and nice enough for everyone to come and visit."

"You sold Dad's house and ran off with the money!"

"Is that what you think, Andrew, or is that what Brandon thinks?"

"He said he wanted you to move in with him and Georgia and take care of the kids and run the house. He would have taken care of you."

"My darling boy, it sounds more like I would have been taking care of Brandon and his family than him taking care of me. I've worked my whole life, sweetheart. I deserve to retire to enjoy my life."

"But . . ."

"As far as selling "Dad's House" that was my house Andrew. Every cent I earned for twenty-five years went to the mortgage. Every cent I made. Your Father didn't pay one penny toward the mortgage."

"His name was on the title, Mom."

"Well that was for convenience and it was easier to get a loan with two incomes. I can show you the bank statements Andrew, if you want proof."

Andrew looks out of arguments and then," Why won't you take Brandon's calls?"

"Andrew, he yells at me and says awful things. I don't deserve to be talked to like that. I put up with it from Jeff, but no more, Andrew. I have done nothing to earn yours or Brandon's disrespect. I am the woman who gave life to you. I love you but I am not your servant and I don't need anyone to take care of me."

I put my hand on Andrew's arm. "I didn't mean to yell. Your Dad always frightened me. You and Brandon frightened me. I don't want to be scared to wake up every morning, or have to tell anyone when or why I'm going to the grocery store and how much I'm going to spend. I want to feel good about myself and my life and I couldn't have that with Jeff or Brandon or you when Jeff was alive. I want that with you and Brandon now, here in my home."

My beautiful son looks sad and lost.

"I love you so much, Andrew. I'd love to be part of your lives and have you be part of mine. But my life will be mine and if you want to be part of my life, you will respect that."

"I guess that's it then." Andrew stands tall and steps toward her. Tilsy feels threatened. She reactively steps back.

"Then what, Andrew?" Her voice is soft. She's not sure she spoke aloud.

"Go to hell, mother. You're crazy. We don't want you anymore."

She read about it happening in novels and seen movies where it's been depicted but the tunnel that closes in on her is real, terrifying and suffocating. Tilsy can't breathe. She can't see. She watches from the dark end of a tunnel that has only a speck of light a long way off, as Andrew gets in his car and peals out in anger.

Then it hits her. Now they know where she lives. Her pretty little house is no longer her sanctuary or her joy and she'll never feel good here again. They'll hound her and eventually force her to do what they want.

She's trembling and can't seem to move her feet. Furry feet are jumping on her legs. She bends, picks up Oliver and holds him close.

"Thank you Ms. Tilson. It was a great party and congratulations on your beautiful home. We'll see you around, okay?"

"Glad you came. It was so nice to meet you." She says with her best fake cheerful voice as everyone leaves. The party is over. What now?

"I've cleaned up, Tilsy. Why don't we walk Oliver? We can talk about the new projects. You're going to be my back up and keep me on budget right?" Patrick smiles but Tilsy can see he's upset.

"Later, Patrick, okay?"

He gives her a quick hug, "Thank you so much for today, Tilsy. I don't know what I'd do without you." He's gone with a quick wave.

"Kids can be real shitters. I have four and two of them I should have drowned at birth." A deep, clear baritone voice says behind her.

Tilsy starts laughing . . . really laughing. She feels the tears running down her face and she can't stop laughing. Oliver is struggling to get down and away from her. She lets him.

"Kids don't want to hear anything we say. They want to get as far away from us as they can and only acknowledge us when they need help or money. Now puppies like Oliver, they're well worth our time and effort. I've got four dogs and I'm damn glad none of them drowned."

Tilsy turns and looks at Mark Conway, "Thank you. So everyone in there heard what went on out here?"

"Pretty much, but no one thinks less of you Tilsy," his hand is on her shoulder. "The kid is obviously going through a bad spell. He'll get over it. I'll grab a beer and get you a glass of wine. Let's spend some quality sunset time in the swing. I've got a swinging song, I'll sing for you."

"Sounds great, but another time, it's been an exciting day. More than I'm used to. Oliver and I would like to calm down and relax some."

Mark Conway nods. "Our new play opens Friday at the Barter and I have the lead. I'd be real honored if you'd come. There will be an after party that is always a lot of fun. It'll be an early evening because we'll all be tired."

"You're an actor and a carpenter?"

"I'm good at both, but I have more talents to show you. Will you come?"

"I'll think about it."

"Good enough. You haven't been there before?"

She shakes her head no.

"You can't be a true citizen of Abingdon until you have. I'll leave a ticket at the box office with your name on it and it'll be the best seat in the house."

Mark Conway kisses her cheek, pets Oliver and drives his truck off her grass.
Book 1 Tilsy

The next morning Tilsy and Oliver took a long walk and put a Sunday chicken in the oven to roast. She spent the remainder of the morning studying the local real estate market and researching online for a new place to live. She's leaning toward Wilmington. The beaches, mild weather but enough of winter and summer to experience all the seasons, maybe she and Oliver will go next weekend and check it out.

Her phone rang several times after she and Oliver went to bed last night. She didn't answer. It has rung several times this morning, but she didn't look at it or answer. Tilsy isn't up to talking to anyone but Oliver and her laptop.

Numb, she feels numb and it's not a good feeling. "It'll pass won't it Oliver?"

She suddenly remembers that she doesn't remember locking the front door when she and Oliver got back from their walk. A sigh of relief, she did, but it being relieved that her door is locked doesn't feel good.

Tilsy found a house she likes in Wilmington and is ready to call the agent when the doorbell rings and makes her jump. A quick look at the front door clearly shows that it's locked and that it's someone Oliver likes. He's standing in front of the door and his tail is wagging furiously making his little butt wiggle until she giggles.

"Who is it?" she whispers to Oliver. He looks at her, then to the closed door, then to her again. Closing her laptop and quietly making her way to the peep hole, all she sees is flowers.

"Flowers are here, did you ask them over?"

Oliver sits down and stares at her.

"Yes?" Tilsy calls out through the closed and locked front door.

"Delivery for Tilsy Tilson."

Oliver's tail is going so fast it's going to propel him upward like a helicopter.

"Do you know who it is?" She whispers to Oliver.

Her sons would never think of flowers and the private detective Andrew said they hired, probably wouldn't either. She couldn't think of anyone in town that she's afraid of, so she unlocked the door and opened it about a foot wide.

Oliver ran out the door and he's jumping on nicely pressed khaki pants.

"It's too early in the season for your garden to bloom. I was hoping these would brighten your day. I've called about twenty times, but you never answer,"

Hank? Tilsy opens the door wide and throws herself in his arms. She's sobbing and doesn't want to be. She's on the sofa and she's crying on Hank's light blue buttoned down shirt and getting it all wet and wrinkled. She doesn't want to but she can't stop. She cries like she's never cried before. Years of grief were unleashed by Andrew's words and there's no way to put them back.

Tilsy opens her eyes. She's on the sofa with the blanket from her bedroom covering her. She's warm and comfy. The sky is darkening and it feels like evening.

Oh my God, did that happen? Where's Oliver? "Oliver!" A pinkish fur ball jumps on her stomach, licks her face and jumps off. A huge vase of lovely spring flowers are placed on the center of her coffee table. "Hank?"

"You're up, good. Give me a minute I need to finish this."

Hank is in the kitchen? "What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry. Your chicken was done. I've roasted potatoes, tomatoes, zucchini, peppers and onions. You keep a good pantry Ms. Tilson. I'm finishing the sauce and the bread and then we're ready to eat. "Sit," Hank orders and pushes a tall glass of ice water toward her. She downs it.

"I fed Oliver and took him for a short walk. You can set the table. If you weren't awake by the time I finished, I was going to eat my share without you. I'm starving."

Hank is whisking away in the chicken roasting pan. The sauce is a beautiful color. She's always struggled to get that color.

Tilsy sets the flowers on the center of the dining table and pulls out her good china. She hardly ever used it, but now it's her everyday dinner ware. It's pretty. It makes her feel good. "How's the mare?"

"April is doing well. She's skittish around the foal and it took me all night to get her to nurse. I haven't been home, since I left the party."

Hank turns and grins at her. "I took a nap with you." He watches the blush on her cheeks and smiles, "I slept very well and woke up rested."

Tilsy looks at the new kitchen clock. "It's after seven, I've been asleep for . . . "

"Four hours and twenty minutes. I slept for three. That usually works for me."

"That's not much sleep, don't you get tired."

Tilsy and Hank are putting the food on the table, bustling here and there like they've been doing it together for years.

"People doctor or animal doctor, emergencies happen just the same. We're all used to it." Hank holds out a chair for her.

Hank's meal is delicious. She had planned on chicken and crusty bread. This is so much better than that. "So you're a chef too?"

"You're right this is fine dining. I raised three boys by myself, cooking was mandatory. You and Patrick did a great job with this kitchen and looking through your pantry and refrigerator, and I'd say you must be a fair cook. I did get one of your hors d'oeuvres. The crab filling in the shell was excellent. I never got in to finger food. It was a waste of time with boys. A side of beef or three gallons of chili or stew was my best bet."

Tilsy laughs because the vision is funny and endearing. "I'm glad I bit the bullet and had the gas stove installed. I've never had one but always wanted gas. I have to learn to cook all over again."

"I've had a five burner with a grill top since day one. I don't know what I would have done without it. It's worth everything to be able to make enough pancakes quick enough to get three boys on the school bus." Hearty laughter from Hank fills Tilsy with more satisfaction than his delicious food.

Tilsy's never had conversation with a man before. The male perspective is exciting and interesting. They've traded recipes, talked of high school and college, keeping growing boys clothed, Christmas mornings, baseball, football, soccer, basketball, how to get out grass stains, troubles for small businesses in today's economic environment and the hours pass.

They're cleaning up together, "so why the flowers, Hank. They are very beautiful and I love flowers. I've never had flowers before. Thank you."

Hank turns to her still holding the pan he was starting to put away. "What do you mean you've never had flowers before?"

"No one has ever given me flowers. I used to buy them at the grocery store now and again. I love them so much that I grew my own. I had a decorative garden and a cutting garden. I always had fresh flowers in the house and besides a package of seeds only cost a dollar. They made me feel good. No matter what happens a pretty vase of flowers and everything is better, don't you think?"

Hank puts down the pan and stands in front of her. He stares into her eyes for a long time and it makes her shiver in a good way. A gentle finger touches her cheek. She's mesmerized, her brain turns off and her senses flare outward and inward. All she can see are his beautiful blue eyes and all she can feel is that light touch of his finger.

"You should have flowers every day." His voice is soft and sounds sad. He leans down and Tilsy knows he's going to kiss her. She also knows she's going to let him and she knows she'll kiss him back.

He blinks and pulls away. "I'm glad you like them. I felt bad that I abandoned the party."

Tilsy's heart falls to her stomach like a hard punch. She nods and tries to say something but nothing comes out.

"I'd better go and let you get some rest."

Hank nearly bolts to the door.

"Stay," she cries out just as the door closes behind him.

She leans against the door and slowly slides down to the floor. Her feet don't seem to want to hold her up. Oliver sits in front of her, watching as her heart freezes over. "It's best this way, isn't it Oliver?"
Book 1 Tilsy

That was four days ago and she hasn't heard anything from Hank. She didn't expect to, so she'll be all right with that.

Patrick called to say he was too busy to meet with her this week, maybe they can get together next week. He's moved on like all children do. She'll be all right with that, too. She hasn't heard from Andrew or Brandon, she'll be all right with that, too.

She has made up her mind to leave Abingdon. It's just not going to work out for her here. She and Oliver will spend Saturday, Sunday and Monday in Wilmington, looking at properties and she's hired a real estate agent for her pretty little house in Abingdon. She watched from the new French doors, as Sherry pounded the For Sale sign in her front yard. She'll be all right with that, too, she tells Oliver.

On a different note that surprised her, Tilsy decided to accept Mark Conway's free ticket to a play at the Barter. Like she told Oliver, a person should embrace the community they live in. If she tells anyone that she once lived in Abington, she's sure they will ask her about the Barter Theatre. She must go there once to be able to answer honestly, plus she's never been to a play.

"I wish I could take you with me, Oliver, but I can't. Please be good while I'm gone." She won't stay for the after party. She'll see the play, thank Mark Conway for the ticket and head home. She and Oliver plan to leave early tomorrow morning.

Tilsy went online to see photos of the Barter Theatre. The patrons dress well, but still quite casual. She decides to wear the pink suit she bought on sale a month ago. The straight skirt falls to the middle of her knees, matching jacket that hangs long and, it's a really pretty shade of pink. It feels good. So good, she adds a light brush of pink lip gloss and a quick dab of mascara.

"How do I look, Oliver?" She's sure he smiles. "Well then I'm off and I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't let anyone in and don't sneak in the refrigerator and get into the beer."

As soon as she pulls in the parking lot the atmosphere feels exciting and Tilsy feels excited. The lights and all the people wanting to have a good time, it's a very special place.

"Ms. Tilson, we're glad you came," the lady at the ticket booth says and signals to a good looking young man to escort her to her seat. Mark Conway's photo is prominent on the cover of the program advising her that tonight's performance is part of the nostalgic series. Tonight Mark Conway will be Tevye in the Fiddler on the Roof. Tilsy saw the movie and loved it. This revelation is more exciting and she's glad she came. As Mark Conway promised, Tilsy is sitting in the middle of the third row. It's a great seat.

She has to look twice to make sure the person singing so beautifully is Mark Conway. But when he winks at her she knows for sure He's absolutely wonderful and soon she forgets he's Mark Conway and the man who gave her a ticket is a delightful Jewish father wishing he was a rich man.

At intermission, Tilsy decides to explore the theater. She's awed looking at the old framed performance posters. This is an incredible theatre with a magnificent history. Nearly every really great actor has performed here at some time or another. She's also sure that Mark Conway's interpretation of Tevye has to rank among the best. This is not a local theater production.

The lights flicker and Tilsy turns quickly to get back to her seat and runs into the back of a tall man and his dark brown suit.

"I'm sorry, please excuse me," she says and her eyes look up to meet Hank's. He's holding the hand of a lovely blonde woman about twenty years younger than Tilsy.

"Dr. Witcher, it's good to see you. Sorry about the run you down thing. Are you enjoying the play?" She smiles her best fake smile.

Hank doesn't say anything. He looks as uncomfortable as she feels. "Well I'm having a great time. I'll tell Oliver I saw you here."

Tilsy turns and walks away, back to her seat to wait for the lights to come up and the wonderful play to continue. She's all right she tells herself. However, even though her heart is frozen, her stomach threatens to throw up. There's no fool like an old fool plays in her head to the rhythm and music of "Sunrise. Sunset" sung beautifully by Mark Conway.

"What did you think?" Mark Conway is in jeans and a ratty T-shirt.

"It was wonderful. You were wonderful. Thank you so much for inviting me. I can't remember ever having a more enjoyable evening."

"Well it's just starting to get good. The party is in the back. Come on and let me introduce you to the rest of the cast." Mark Conway is excited and obviously thrilled she came.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I'm leaving very early in the morning and I must get home. Truly, thank you. You've given me a memory I'll treasure forever."

Tilsy walks away quickly before Mark Conway can convince her otherwise. She shivers against the chill of the late winter night air as she walks through the exit door. Across the parking lot Hank is helping his date into a black Mercedes. She doesn't realize she's standing still watching the tender scene, until he shuts the door and turns to walk around the back of the car to get to the driver's side. Their eyes meet. Hank stands frozen just like she is. After a moment she offers him the briefest of waves, looks away and walks to her car.

She made it home to Oliver, who was very happy she came back.
Book 1 Tilsy

Wilmington isn't for her. It's a very nice place, but feels crowded and congested even during the off season. It would be much worse when the season starts. Three times they went to the beach for a walk. So many people and so many restrictions on where Oliver could go, neither she nor Oliver enjoyed it.

"Oliver I don't want to go back to Abingdon. Do you?"

Oliver looks undecided.

"We need to find a place to live. North or South Oliver, you choose."

Oliver looks left. "South it is then."

Tilsy's cell phone rings often. She doesn't look to see who called. It doesn't matter because she doesn't matter to anyone but Oliver and he's standing right beside her. He has no reason to call her on the cell phone.

She and Oliver stop at every town that looks interesting. They drive around and if they like what they see, she gets them a nice room and takes Oliver for a long walk. If they still like it here she calls a real estate agent and discusses property. She's not found any place she wants to be and so she keeps moving on.

"I don't know which way to go Oliver. I think we're in Jacksonville but I'm not sure. What should I do, there's so much traffic?"

Tilsy spots a U.S.1 sign.

The number one seems uncomplicated, so she, Oliver and Delbert dive through the traffic and exit. Within minutes the traffic is gone and she's almost alone on the road. "This is different, wonder where it's going to take us."

Oliver doesn't know either, but if she doesn't stop soon she'll be sorry, he pants.

She pulls into a small gas station and convenience store and grabs Oliver's harness and leash.

"Be careful where you walk him, there are fire ants." A young man pumping gas calls out to her.

He must have noticed her Virginia plates and knew she was a visitor. "Fire ants?"

"They swarm and could kill your little dog in less than a minute. Stay on the pavement and you'll be safe. Fire ants are red so look out for them and stay away."

Fortunately, Oliver really had to go, because he was quick and as soon as he was finished, Tilsy picked him up and went into the store for a cold Coke and bottle of cold water for Oliver.

"Where am I?" she asks the lady at the register.

"If you keep going the way you're headed you'll get to St. Augustine."

"I've heard of it. How far?"

"About thirty minutes or more. You've had to hear about it, it's the oldest city in the United States of America, founded in 1565." The lady looks upset that Tilsy didn't know about St. Augustine. She's never been to Florida. She and Jeff went to Washington D.C. with the boys many years ago, but that was it.

Tilsy is blown away after a turn to the right reveals a huge stone fort overlooking a bay. Two lanes run through a charming little town with shops and sidewalks and palm trees. "Oh my Oliver this is beautiful!"

Tilsy puts her window down and Oliver's window down. She can smell the ocean and feel the breeze. No one seems to be in a hurry or gets honking mad at the horse and carriages weaving in and out of traffic. She follows the road and crosses a beautiful old bridge with huge white Lions on either side, making her feel safe and protected.

Even Oliver is livelier and barks out the window at a young couple pushing a stroller and holding a leash on a black Schnauzer with snow white hair flowing around his legs.

She passes an incredible lighthouse and then her world opens to reveal the Atlantic Ocean.

"Let's get out Oliver. I want to get out. I want to get out now. I want to see the ocean. I've never seen it before." She finds a spot next to a tropical looking restaurant that has a huge bar open to the ocean. People are sitting at the bar and the ocean is only a short distance away.

She and Oliver nearly run to the water's edge. Tilsy kicks off her shoes on the way and then she's ankle deep in a rushing wave. "It's cold Oliver!" She runs back from the wave but Oliver has dived in. In seconds he's drenched and going back in for more.

"You like it? Aren't you cold?"

Oliver totally ignores her as he attacks the next wave.

Finally she's able to drag Oliver away. She sits down in the sand and stares out toward the edge of the Earth. Out there where the horizon curves around the Earth and she reaches her hand out to touch it.

Oliver has curled up in her lap and is dozing, but Tilsy is wide awake. No one seems to think it's unusual for an older than middle-aged woman and a small dog to be sitting in the sand. They don't bother her and apparently she isn't bothering them. It's perfect. She feels good here.

"Wake up Oliver. It's starting to get dark. We need to find a place to sleep."

She and Oliver walk to the ocean view bar.

"Can you tell me where would be a good place to stay?"

"Hotel, condo, house, what are you looking for? How long are you going to stay?" The bartender asks casually.

"Forever," Tilsy says and sits down beside the man nursing what looks and smells like bourbon.

He pulls a business card out of his bright flowered shirt pocket, "Maybe I can help?

"You're in real estate?"

The bartender and several other people around the bar laugh.

"You could say that. A lot of places won't take your little dog, but some will. See that gray four-story house over there?"

According to the card he handed her she knows that Mr. Cribbens is pointing to a light gray house about two hundred yards from where she's sitting. She nods yes.

"It's a condo and the top unit is available. I can let you rent it for $400 a week."

"That doesn't sound like much for a condo directly on the beach. What's wrong with it?"

Everyone laughs at her. "It's off season. We're booked solid from next month until September for a lot more."

"Okay, Oliver and I will take it for a week with an option for longer. We might be looking for a place to buy and stay permanently."

"You don't want to see it first?"

"Does it have a bathroom with hot water and a bedroom?"

Mr. Cribbens nods.

"I'm good."

"Sam you live under a lucky star. You've been sitting here for an hour talking about how the economy is so bad people can't afford vacations and vacation homes, and a beautiful woman walks in and buys what your selling!"

They laugh and Tilsy laughs. She likes them. It's fun here. And no one has ever called her beautiful before.

Three bedrooms, four baths, a washer and dryer and a fantastic kitchen that faces the ocean and she's surprised with the long, wide deck with six bright royal blue canvas lounge chairs. It's all hers and Oliver's for the next seven days.

"I usually keep the better condos stocked with the basics – coffee, cream, sugar, tea bags, ketchup and such. Anything else you'll have to buy. Albertson's is not far away. Turn left at the road and follow it across the big bridge. You'll see Albertson's on your right."

Sheets and towels are included, but she and Oliver will have to buy their own beach towels.

After taking her credit card information, Mr. Cribbens brought her luggage up. It wasn't that much and she could have handled it, but he insisted. She'd only packed for a couple of days.

"Keep my card handy Ms. Tilson. Call me if you need anything. I've got some properties to show you, so we'll meet at . . . noon tomorrow."

"Thank you so much. I was lucky to run into you like I did."

"My pleasure, but do something right away. Either answer your cell phone or turn it off. It's been ringing constantly since we've met. I don't want any complaints from your neighbors. Also make sure you pick up after Oliver." He laughs and it's nice. "Good night, Ms. Tilson and welcome to St. Augustine."

The first thing she does is not answer her cell phone but open the four sliding glass doors and walk out to the deck. The sun has set leaving a pastel glow. The water is turning black and then bright white when it crashes against the shore.

"Oh my, Oliver, don't you love it?" He lifts his leg on the deck railing. "I see you're unpacking."

A pot of coffee is brewing and she's dumped all her clothes in the washer. Ringing, ringing, ringing it's been that way all day.

"I'll call Sherry, maybe someone wants to buy the house."

"Tilsy, please say you are all right. Everyone has been calling and calling. I guess I'm the only person anyone knows to call."

"I'm fine. Oliver and I are just taking a little vacation. Who would care where we are?"

"Dr. Witcher for one, he calls me every hour on the hour. And his son Patrick—he's so handsome," she groans. "Mark Conway offered me tickets to Fiddler, if I'd tell him where you are. The last time he called he said he'd get me season tickets for two. Do you know how much that's worth?"

"Oh."

Sherry is just out of college but she reprimands Tilsy like her Dad and Jeff always did. "You really should call Dr. Witcher, he sounds really upset. Is there anything wrong with Oliver?"

"No, he's fine too."

"When are you coming back? I showed your house to a young couple yesterday and they've made an offer of full price. I told you that you listed it too low. What do you want me to do?

When Tilsy wants to be with people, there's no one around. When she doesn't they call. "I don't need to talk to any of them, Sherry. Next time they call please just tell them that Oliver and I are fine and we're on vacation."

"What about the house?"

"Take the offer. I don't ever want to come back. Can I handle things from here?"

"Where's here Tilsy?"

"Not there." Tilsy laughs at her cleverness.

"Sure it'll take some overnight deliveries. I'll need an address."

"Can I sign the papers digitally and we can handle everything online?"

"I think so. Some of the documents have to be notarized, but I guess it wouldn't matter where that happens. I'll check with someone who knows."

"I could give you power of attorney for the house if that would help. Let me give you another phone number, so I know it's you who's calling." Tilsy gives Sherry her old cell phone number. She'll replace the constantly ringing phone tomorrow.

"Tilsy what happened? Why are you running away? Did someone hurt you or threaten you? Are you in trouble?"

"I'm not running away, Sherry. I'm running toward."
Book 1 Tilsy

Tilsy can't sleep. She's tried everything and Oliver's growling at her to settle down. Why is Hank so insistent to talk with her?

She remembers things he said. "I like you too much." "I took a nap with you and slept very well." "You should have flowers every day." He took her hand when they walked, he held her when she cried over the loss of her sons and a life with Jeff that was cold and hard. He cooked her a delicious dinner and they talked and talked like equals.

He touched her face and she felt he wanted to kiss her, but it had to have been a moment of weakness on his part because then he came to his senses and ran out the door.

Tilsy has a lifetime of experience with a relationship that is wrong. She obviously has no judgment when it comes to men. Wrong, wrong wrong—her history speaks for itself.

If Hank doesn't want her, then he must be calling about something else. Maybe something is wrong with Oliver? Something she can't see? Something he doesn't feel yet?

She's out of the bed and wringing her hands. She looks at Oliver. He looks tired. But she's been tossing and turning all night and he can't get any sleep. He played in the ocean and wallowed in the sand and she gave him a bath in Joy dish detergent. Maybe he's sick.

"Oh my God," she grabs her phone to call Hank and then realizes her phone has been silent since she talked to Sherry. Sherry would have told him that she's fine and Oliver's fine and she's not coming back.

The calls stopped, so it can't be anything wrong with Oliver. Tilsy sighs with both relief and regret. Hank is a nice, responsible man. He just wanted to follow up. He's got a girlfriend or girlfriends. Maybe even a fiancé or maybe he lied and he's married. He's only a little older than she is, so it's more than possible that he is with women regularily. He and the blonde looked like they were happy together.

God, Tilsy you are so stupid. He's never even asked you for a date! You fell in love with him after seeing him for what three times! You know nothing about him that isn't superficial and you are mooning over him like a teenager. Tilsy you are so stupid—stupid, stupid, stupid.

Her face flushes with embarrassment and shame. She feels the heat even with the chill of a February ocean breeze at four o'clock in the morning.

She even begged him to stay. "Oh God." She feels the humiliation that converts into tears. They're so heavy she can't breathe. There's no fool like an old fool. You may feel sixteen but you are an old woman, with a sagging butt and boobs and neck.

What man could possibly want to see her naked let alone make love to her? The blonde with Hank was at least twenty years younger than she is. He's no fool. He's a doctor for God sakes! He knows how gross old women are. That's why you always see rich older men with a twenty-year-old on their arm and in their bed.

Oh my God, Tilsy you are such an idiot! You've fallen in love with someone who doesn't even exist. You made Hank into something he isn't. He's a fantasy born from loneliness and a loveless life.

"Oliver I want to walk on the beach and see the sunrise. Will you come with me?"

Oliver lifts his head and then puts it back down.

"Please Oliver, I'll carry you. I need to get out of here and walk and I don't want to leave you here alone."

The sunrise burst out of the horizon and threw the colors of a rainbow on her as she sat nearly invisible near a patch of sea oats.

Other people have come out to enjoy the beach at sunrise but no one notices her or Oliver.

Her eyes stare at the beautiful morning and view. Despite feeling the shame of making something out of nothing with Hank, she's hungry to share this beautiful morning with someone who likes or maybe even loves her more than anyone else. Someone she loves too and that has two legs instead of four. Someone, who when he looks at her, sees only her. She closes her eyes and wonders what that would feel like.

"It doesn't hurt to dream, Oliver, as long as you know it's just a dream."
Book 1 Tilsy

Tilsy's not taking any chances with Oliver. Mr. Cribbens gave her the name and number of his vet. Apparently Mr. Cribbens carries some weight with Dr. Wendell. Oliver got the last appointment of the day.

He's shown her nearly all of Anastasia Island that lies between the Atlantic, Matanzas Bay and St. Augustine. She likes the island and the idea of living on one but none of the houses appeal to her.

"That was nice, but it was way too big. It's just me and Oliver, Mr. Cribbens." She can hear the frustration in her voice.

"You're hungry, when was the last time you ate?"

Tilsy has to think. It was before Jacksonville.

An outdoor patio and they don't mind Oliver hanging around. Their waiter even brought him a bowl of cold water. The sun is bright and the breeze is cool.

"It isn't always this nice. I've lived here most of my life and February is my favorite month. It'll be too hot to sit on this patio during the daytime in another month. Nighttime will still be good though." Her real estate agent says with a pleasing smile.

The fish and sides were fried but good. The ice tea and the Key Lime pie were her favorite. Mr. Cribbens was right, she was hungry and Mr. Cribbens is more than she figured. He's not a real estate or rental agent. He owns a good part of the island and more than half of the vacation homes, rentals, motels and restaurants.

Tilsy doesn't have to go back to Abingdon to sell her house. He'll help her and please call him Sam.

"That one?" Tilsy looks at Sam for confirmation. It's a one-story in the middle of a block of other houses. Its three blocks away from St. Augustine's center and three blocks to Matanzas Bay. Oliver and Tilsy would have to drive to the beach, even if it is only a couple miles.

The windows are fogged up and will have to be replaced, the paint is ugh, and the yard is a mess of nothing but dollar weed. On the plus side, there would be no need to mow.

"It's a quiet neighborhood, just off the main road. Traffic will be light even during season. The house was finished in 1950 and it's still here, Sam says and laughs.

Tilsy doesn't get it.

His tanned face and beach bleached hair frame his rather handsome face. His smile and laughter is pleasing. "We get hurricanes and tropical storms here, Tilsy. This house has been standing since 1948 and it's still standing. Solid as a rock and if I remember correctly it's the highest on the island at nine feet above sea level."

What?

"A couple of years ago a tropical storm came through at high tide and dropped nearly seventeen inches of rain in twelve hours. Everything you see now was flooded. The water rose to the bottom step of your porch before it receded. The neighbors brought their TV's and other stuff to this house by boat for safe keeping. It's a hero house.

"See that Royal palm in your backyard. This island used to be full of them. A cold wave and ice storm took them all down except this one."

He cajoled and nearly dragged her out of his car. "Come on Tilsy be brave."

When the front door opened out instead of in, she nearly broke for the car but Sam pushed her inside. She bought it right then. "Oh my God, all this is inside that ugly box out front?"

A large sunroom that would hold two sets of wicker or rattan furniture. A ceiling to floor wall of etched glass and mahogany doors, opened at her slight touch to reveal a great room with a twenty foot high domed ceiling made of hand cut cedar planks. The fireplace was tiled in high polished flat stone. The great room was the center of the house and it was breathtaking.

Two bedrooms and a bath on the left, a sixteen by twenty-five foot kitchen, a built in office and full master bedroom and ensuite finished it off.

The laundry room led to a half acre of flat backyard waiting for landscaping and enclosed with a stunning and handcrafted ten foot tall privacy fence.

"It'll need work, but it's got great bones. A set designer from Hollywood built it. Everything you see is custom built. He was a master carpenter. His friends came and worked on it too, there's never been another house like this one. It needs you Tilsy." She hadn't notice how long and lush his eyelashes were, until he said that and looked down and then back up at her.

"How much?"

"I'd put it on the market as is for $150,000 but our deal is $85,000 if you agree to fix it up. I've been renting it and its being torn up and worn down. It really won't take too much. I'd say it could be perfect again for about $20,000. Everything was built to last."

"Sam you are so full of bull. More than a $100,000 and two years would make it perfect."

"Well it's ready to live in right now. Electric, water, gas were all upgraded three years ago. You'd have the best of internet and cell phone availability, heat and air conditioning all ready to go just as it is."

"The refrigerator is straight out of the late 40s, Sam." Tilsy notices with her first step into the massive kitchen.

"Yeah, how about that. An antique and it runs perfectly. Open it."

She opens the top freezer. Two inches of white snowy ice line the interior.

"See it works." Sam rubs his chin and mouth to cover his amusement.

"I don't even remember how to defrost this. Mom always did it." Tilsy wants to giggle but presses her lips together instead.

"Turn off the freezer and open the door. Put towels on the floor and come in every now and again and chop away the clumps," Sam laughs. "You know it is good being our age. We remember the old ways and embrace the new. At least most of us do. I've had a cell phone for years and years but I actually know how to answer it."

Sam hops up on the fifteen foot long kitchen counter. "What's with that Tilsy? Are you in some kind of trouble? It seems to me that you're running from something or someone."

Tilsy stands at the chipped white ceramic sink and looks out the window in front of her. It's a perfect view of sunshine, Date palms and blue skies. It feels natural to stand there.

"Not running from, Sam, running to something . . . something more."

"Widowed?"

"Fifteen months ago and after the first year of our marriage, I hated every minute I lived in it. I hated thirty-nine years of my life and I don't want to hate one day, one hour or one minute of what's left."

"So you haven't left anyone behind?"

"No. I thought it was a great place to live. You've seen my house on the website. The house was right but the town and people weren't. I wasn't trying to, but I was causing trouble. It's not my way and it was clear to me that I had to keep looking because I hadn't found where I was supposed to be yet.

"Oliver and I started our search in Wilmington but it wasn't a fit. I left the choice up to Oliver and he chose south. We've ended up here. It feels good here, Sam. Maybe this is where I can be happy?" Tilsy shrugs.

"There's one more place I'd like to show you, but it's rough Tilsy. It's not on the market, but I'd like to show it to you anyway."

Sam drives over the Bridge of Lions she already loves and then takes a turn onto a gutted curvy driveway lined with magnolias, cedar and hanging moss. It's at the edge of downtown St. Augustine, adjacent to the fort but with a beautiful park-like land between. He slows down and a three-story Victorian sits waiting for someone or something.

She and Sam walk around the property and she's awed at the backyard. A forlorn patio and deck hang out but a sturdy boat dock accesses Matanzas Bay and the Atlantic from the backyard. The view is all water and to the left she can see the Atlantic meet the Bay.

"Shrimp boats used to come in here first with their daily catches--it was only the best for this house."

Magnificent fireplaces in every room, incredible windows, servants quarters, bedrooms, sitting rooms, big and small dining rooms.

"I think this is a little large for me and Oliver, Sam."

"May be. May be not. A bed and breakfast has been proposed. Historical society, but they already have a great place or maybe a single family residence. I don't know if it would work but I always saw it as a family residence or a fine dining restaurant/club/ improv and theatre. Who knows? I own it, of course, but I'm wondering what you would do with it."

"I have no idea, but it would be a lot of work, no matter what it becomes."

"Work is no problem for you, is it Tilsy?"

"No."

Sam leads her out of the magnificent house and opens the car door for her. "I'm thinking that as you proceed to discover what makes you happy, you might keep this place in the back of your mind. And maybe--down the road--you could discover what would make this place happy. I'm excited with the possibilities you present Tilsy."
Book 1 Tilsy

Tilsy's not sure what Sam meant and there's no time to think about it now. She and Oliver sit anxiously waiting for Oliver's new vet, Dr. Wendell.

"Don't be nervous. I'm sure he won't be Dr. Daisy or Hank, but let's be optimistic. Maybe he'll be even better."

"Oliver." A heavy man's voice calls out from a back room.

"Yes." Tilsy calls out, stands up holding Oliver and looks for the man behind the voice.

"Come on back."

She and Oliver find themselves in a large room that has an oversized stainless steel table in the center and large lights hanging above it. Tilsy's glad they're not turned on. She'd be blinded. A wall is covered in white cabinets with glass doors, filled with all kinds of bandages, bottles, and strange looking medical stuff.

"Put him down," the voice says. It sounds tired.

Tilsy really doesn't want to put him down. It doesn't look safe in here. She stands. A minute more Tilsy is riveted to her spot as a very fit gray haired man with reading glasses on his nose, a triathlon T-shirt tight across his chest and worn faded jeans charges out a dark back room. His long strides quickly close the distance between the back room and the desk chair behind a semi-cluttered desk.

"Is he crippled?" the man snaps. She wants to ask if he's the doctor, but she feels threatened. He could be the maintenance man for all she knows.

Tilsy hugs Oliver and then puts him down. Oliver stands beside her.

"Come over and let's talk little man." Deep, rich, almost musical his voice is kind and welcoming to Oliver.

Oliver walks slowly for a few steps, then wags his tail and jumps in the man's lap.

"I see you've been messing around in sea water and sand."

Oliver stands on his hind legs to lick the man who could be Dr. Wendell.

"So it was fun was it? Did she wash you in Joy detergent?"

Oliver licks.

"Sorry, little man, I'll set her straight."

"Did you get in pink paint? I don't think I've ever seen a pink Schnauzer before. She didn't do it on purpose did she?

Oliver can't get enough of this man. He's actually crawling all over him.

"Let's see how you're doing? Sit still a minute."

Oliver sits on his lap, while he listens to Oliver's little body with a stethoscope."

"You're fine. Did she get x-rays and a blood test for you?

Oliver licks him. "All normal?"

Oliver licks him. "Let me check and see if they still are. I'm not worried, I'm sure you're okay, but let's be sure. Hold real still for just a bit."

Oliver puts his paw in the man's enormous hand and keeps his eyes on the possible vet, while he pierces Oliver's skin and draws out a small amount of blood.

Tilsy breaks out in a sweat.

"Let's go check this out. Come on." The man and Oliver disappear in back and into the dark room.

Tilsy's still standing where she stopped on entering and where they left her. Her mind wanders to the homely ambiance of Hank's office and Dr. Daisy sitting on the floor. There was no smell of antiseptic or anesthesia there, but it's strong in this room. Her stomach is queasy. She feels clammy and a little dizzy. It's been a long day. She's had no sleep and only fried food to eat.

She's been in this town for twenty-four hours. It feels like she's been here for years but she's not sure she wants to stay. It feels good and she's liked the people she met, but how can she trust her instincts anymore. She's wrong more often than not and she's really not sure she can go through it again.

She invested time, energy and money into Abingdon. She tried her best but it turned to chaos and she had to leave all her hard work behind. Can she do it again? She has no choice. She's got to find a place to live.

Maybe a Winnebago instead of a house, she and Oliver could travel the country, stopping when they want and moving on when they're ready. They wouldn't have to stay in one place long enough to form attachments only to have them shattered and her life torn apart again.

The house on Flagler intrigued her but enough to buy it and spend the next couple years working on it. Once it's done, then what?

She definitely has to get her sons settled into some kind of relationship but she doesn't have a clue how to even start. She's been an outsider with them since they were boys and Jeff saw to it that they understood she was only a woman and, therefore, inferior to men. Can she find some medium ground to stand on or will she never see her sons again. Will she ever see her grandchildren? They'll grow up and she'll never know them. That's so sad her heart shutters.

"Oliver's just fine. If you buy the Flagler house you need to be aware that Florida can be dangerous for animals. Salt water can make them sick and it's really bad for their skin and coat. Fire ants can kill in minutes. Fleas can infest your home, yard, car in a week. They'll suck so much blood out of Oliver, it won't be red anymore and he'll die."

It's the last thing Tilsy heard.

She's lying under the sun. It's hot and so bright she can't open her eyes. "Oliver!" She's yelling in her head but can barely hear her own voice. And then the lights go out and she's blind. "Oliver!" At least her voice is louder.

Soft, shaggy hair and a warm wet tongue lick her face. "Oliver, are you all right?" She wraps her arms around his little body and holds on. "Are you going to die? I'm so sorry. I tried to take care of you."

She's struggling to get up so she can leave this place and go somewhere better, but strong hands are holding her down.

"You fainted. You're all right, but maybe you should go to the hospital and get checked out."

"No. I want to go home." She feels a sob break in her chest. "I don't know where that is. Let go of me, I want to go."

Tilsy pushes the hands off her shoulders and sits up holding Oliver closer. She's in that awful large room on that scary large stainless steel table and under those large horrible lights. "Let me go!"

She needs to get on her feet but she's struggling to find the floor. She shuts her eyes, sucks in a deep breath and jumps. Her feet on are the floor and her legs are holding her up. Straight ahead is the door she and Oliver came in. Get to the door, Tilsy. Get out of this bad place and run!

She focuses on the door, clutching onto Oliver. Her hand is on the knob. She turns it and it opens. Sweet air rushes her and her mind clears some. She reaches in her pocket and pulls out whatever money she's got, drops it on the floor and slams the door behind her.

She's running now. Delbert is waiting for her. She jumps in and quickly locks the doors. That man is yelling at her through the window, but she focuses on getting the key into the small slot. She turns it and Delbert comes to life. Pull the lever to drive and hit the gas. That's all she has to do.

"We got to go fast Oliver. Hold on."

When she can't see that building anymore, Tilsy slows down and pushes the button to open the windows. Ocean scent and sweet rushing air, she heads for the bridge where the lions stand guard. If she can get across, she'll be safe from that awful man and that awful place.
Book 1 Tilsy

She hears her phone ringing and ringing. Not again. She's been in the shower so long her fingers are wrinkled, but she can still smell that place and her stomach is rolling with that awful queasy feeling that's just enough to make you sick, but not enough to make you throw up and get relief.

The water is running cold. She has to get out or she'll get the shivers.

She needs to sleep. Oliver is sleeping. Tilsy throws the wet towel on the floor and crawls into bed beside him.

She's dreaming of loud noises like pounding and angry voices. Oliver is at the door. She just wants to sleep, but Oliver is upset. Someone is calling her name outside the door. Tilsy grabs a Wilmington Beach T-shirt, the only pair of shorts she brought and tip toes to the door.

"She's probably all right. Her car is here."

"You pulled that badass doctor routine on her didn't you? Did you even introduce yourself? I bet you didn't even speak to her or offer her a chair! Your people skills suck Eric."

"Sam, you may be mayor but you have no right to tell me how to run my business."

"When you scare people so bad they faint in your office, I have every right. I should have your license pulled. I would too, if you weren't so damn good."

"Hey, I didn't know what was going on. You call me and tell me to take care of her little dog. Then Hank's network alert comes in saying he's looking for a woman named Tilson and a toy Schnauzer named Oliver and he is to be notified immediately if she shows up. I thought she'd stolen the dog or something. Or maybe he was sick and needed to be treated. The dog is healthy. He's well behaved and cute as a button. What's going on, Sam"?

"She's a nice lady that's having some trouble and it's not of her making. Have you called this Hank?"

"He's the primary vet in Abington, Virginia. He and I graduated the same year. Good man. Terrible about his wife though. I don't think he ever got over it. But I called him as soon as Ms. Tilson ran from my office and pealed out of the driveway like a mad woman."

"What does he want with her?"

"He didn't say but he's on his way here. I told him the dog was fine, but she fainted in my office. He asked where she was and I said I didn't know. He wasn't very happy."

"No shit."

"Her car is here, so she's here. She's probably sleeping. She looked really tired."

Tilsy listens while the two men walk down the stairs. She quickly packs and then watches until she sees two cars pull away.

"West, Oliver, I think we should go west this time. You tell me when you want to stop, okay?
Nook 1 Tilsy

Tilsy made it passed Tallahassee until Delbert was out of gas like she was. She was thinking of Hank driving to St. Augustine more than she was paying attention to where she was going.

"It's not good, Oliver, I'm too tired."

She spotted a billboard for Wayward Motel and Restaurant five miles ahead and decided to give it a try. "If it's a hole in the wall, we'll keep going."

It was small, but nice and looked clean.

"Been driving all night, need to rest," she told the nice man who answered her pre-dawn ring like the sign said and paid up front.

"Restaurant will be open in another hour, if you're hungry. Breakfast buffet serves until eleven and is free if you show your room key. There's a clean, fenced dog play area out back. Just pick up after him."

Oliver peed on a bush nearby, while she opened the door. It was nice. Smelled good and had a two-cup coffee maker. She made coffee, got Oliver fresh water for his bowl, washed her face and was asleep before her coffee was ready.

"Oliver what's going on? What time is it?"

Oliver's jumping on her chest and licking her face. "You gotta go? Okay. I'm up."

The fenced dog area is very nice and so is the huge sign in red letters informing her that it is RED ANT FREE. The sign looks new, so she feels comfortable that it isn't lying.

There's a redwood picnic table under an overhang that offers shade to dogs' persons and even a water fountain that runs fresh water for dogs. Oliver is finally free to explore, sniff and lift his leg at will.

"Make sure you don't miss any," she calls out and laughs. Oliver glances her way as he walks two more feet and lifts his leg again.

She's hungry. She's got to eat and notices that her clothes are hanging off her in an unflattering way. She's lost weight and lots of it.

"Oliver, the buffet is still open. Let's go get some breakfast. I'll bring you back, okay?"

The motel is small and only a couple cars are next to the rooms, but the parking lot in front of the restaurant is full. The sweet young girl at the register offers to hold Oliver while Tilsy fills a takeout container.

Oliver is thrilled to get a small piece of bacon and a little bit of sausage, breaking the all-important rule of not eating people food from people plates and definitely not begging while people eat. She dives in totally focused on hot, delicious food. The last full mean she ate was when Hank cooked for her.

He's probably in St. Augustine and sure he's with that awful man Dr. Wendell or whoever he was. Why would Hank put out an alert for her and why would he drive all that way to find her? It doesn't make sense. Oliver is fine and Hank must know that, so why is he trying to find her. She hardly knows him and besides, he has no relationship with her, other than Oliver's vet. He's got a full life with girlfriends and a good business, family and friends.

Maybe she shouldn't have run. Maybe she should have stayed to find out why he was looking for her.

No, she did the right thing. She's not in control. She's acting erratically and illogically. She can just imagine the days of lectures from Jeff about how stupid and crazy she is and she should get it in control or else.

She can't deal with others until she can deal effectively with her own thoughts and emotions. Clearly she misread Hank's intentions toward her and went way overboard. She can't trust herself and until she can it's best to stay clear of people, especially Hank.

She's tired. She needs to rest and take care of necessities. Oliver needs a good grooming and bath to get the salt water out of his coat. Delbert needs an oil change and a good cleaning. She never had a chance to get a new cell phone and she could seriously use some clothes.

The nice man at the desk is pleased she'll stay for another day or two. He knows a groomer for Oliver and calls Julia who says she can take care of Oliver as soon as she gets there. And yes there's a cell phone store. It's next door to the dog groomer and he knows just the right garage to take care of Delbert. She's found nirvana off I-10?

Julia is about Tilsy's age. She's dressed in pink, her walls are pink and her towels are pink. She's delighted that Oliver is pink and come back in an hour and a half she says and hugs Oliver, "You are so adorable."

Frank is white haired and married to Julia. He's delighted with her 1998 Cadillac and strokes it with affection. He hands her a business card. Call him when she's ready to go back to the motel and he'll have someone drive her back. He'll keep Delbert because he doesn't want to rush. He'll bring her car to her when he's done.

The young man, who owns and runs the cell phone store, is Frank and Julia's youngest child. He fixes her up with a Samsung G4 mini because it's better than the G5 and the G6 isn't out yet. He gladly takes her other phone that he'll donate to the local shelter group.

By the time she and Oliver get delivered back to the motel, Tilsy feels completely pampered and appreciated. Oliver must have enjoyed himself as well. He's calm and happy with a pink and blue polka dot bowtie around his neck. After she removes it, he jumps on the bed and settles down for a nap.

It's work for Tilsy. She's got to get the Abingdon house settled. Of course, the nice man at the registration desk can print and scan a document for her and oh by-the-way he's a notary and, he is Frank and Julia's middle child. It's done, she's sold her house. Now she and Oliver are homeless for real.

She munches on her salad she picked up from the restaurant's impressive salad bar and starts in on her portfolio. She must be doing something right, the figures are good, really good. One of the best things she ever did was open accounts with an online-virtual bank. No matter where she is, it works and works well.

Staring out the window at the blue skies and bright sunshine, Tilsy feels sad and ashamed. She's betting that Hank's day isn't going as well as hers. Has he talked to Sam? She's sure Hank and Sam and maybe Dr. Wendell went to the condo this morning. She stripped the bed and cleaned up everything, wrote a thank you note to Sam on the supplied letterhead, enclosing the key card to the condo and then she left.

The Flagler house was unique, no doubt about it. She might have stayed if Hank hadn't found her. Irrational, illogical all she had to do was tell Hank she was sorry she inconvenienced him and she was fine so he could go back to Abingdon where he belongs.

But she didn't and now she has to carry more baggage around: guilt. But why is he doing this? It doesn't make sense. Maybe Hank's the crazy one. That awful Dr. Wendell said it was terrible what happened to Hank's wife and that Hank had never gotten over it. Whatever happened to her, Tilsy's sure it wasn't good and maybe Hank's a little crazy too. Tilsy never did buy the story Patrick was selling. But it didn't matter. She likes Patrick and likes being around him. She misses him most of all.

"It usually takes two to really fuck things up." Tilsy quickly looks over to Oliver. Did she just say that and say it aloud around an impressionable puppy.
Book 1 Tilsy

Frank also waxed her car and filled the tank. It sparkled like his proud face when he handed her the keys. "That's one classy car," he said and stroked Delbert before he got in a bright blue pickup truck with Frank's Garage on the side and drove away.

After her nap with Oliver, Tilsy informed him that she's decided on Dallas. "It has cowboys. You'd like cowboys," she told him. "We'll leave first thing in the morning."

Steak and baked potato and the ice cream bar. Tilsy got a scoop of every flavor. The server managing the Wayward Restaurant buffet laughed with her as she dug into the tubs of creamy ice cream, filling a takeout container. There no such thing as too much ice cream and there's no one to yell at her that she'll get fat or she's stupid to eat so much. The server person, who looked a lot like the registration desk man, approved of her dessert selection.

Tilsy breezed through Pensacola without stopping at their world famous beach, by-passed New Orleans and spent two nights in Beaumont Texas because she liked the name and the motel she found. She's in no hurry.

The stars were so close she could touch them. Tilsy and Oliver sat for the longest time at the motel's pool just looking up. "Did you see that, Oliver? Was it a falling star or an alien invasion?"

Oliver has no opinion and isn't afraid of either.

"Wonder what Hank's fixing for dinner tonight?" She thinks of him standing at his restaurant sized gas stove making pancakes. Piles and piles of pancakes and three flavors of syrup, she'd bet he's making his own, starting with a simple syrup.

Jeff wouldn't use anything but corn syrup. Ugh! Sweet, smooth but totally flavorless. It used to make her queasy just watching him cover her delicious pancakes until they were not recognizable as pancakes and then slurp them up like mush.

"Blueberry is my favorite for pancakes. I like maple or orange for French toast and a fresh whole berry sauce for waffles. It's a shame you haven't had any, Oliver. I promise that tomorrow morning I'll get pancakes for breakfast and I'll share with you. What do you think?" Tilsy is using her happy voice and sure enough Oliver is excited and can't wait for breakfast.

After buying a Beaumont, Texas T-shirt, Tilsy moves on toward Houston and there she'll turn right and head straight to Dallas.

"Let's see Oliver, I have a Wilmington T-shirt, Florence, St. Augustine, Anastasia Island, Pensacola, Wayward Motel and Restaurant, an orange New Orleans, and now a Beaumont, Texas my wardrobe is coming along beautifully, don't you think?

It's been almost four weeks since Andrew crashed Patrick's party. She's really got to do something about her boys. Losing them is not an option, but loosing herself to them isn't either.

Oliver is staring at her.

"You want me to call them?"

Oliver sits.

"Why don't you call them? I'm sure they'll like you and lot better than they like me." She's been feeling good since Wayward and she really doesn't want to bust the rainbow colored bubble she's been riding on.

"Andrew, its Mom." Click.

"See I told you so." Her voice was cheerful for Oliver but it sounded a lot like a broken heart to her. Her chest physically hurt. "So much for feeling good, let's go to bed and get an early start with pancakes to send us on our way."
Book 1 Tilsy

The traffic and roads are crazy. Five lanes going eighty to ninety miles an hour, bumper to bumper and weaving in front of her and behind her and beside her, she's holding on to Delbert like a life raft.

Finally she figures out Dallas traffic and its five million cars on the road. Move right when you can or hold on and go with the flow wherever it takes you.

"We could end up in Canada or California, if I don't get off!"

She's pushed right onto a four lane. It's still bumper to bumper and moving like a flash flood, but there are fewer lanes.

"This is better, Oliver. But I have no idea where I'm going. Do you?"

Oliver lies down in the shotgun seat, with a "tell me when we get there" attitude.

Twenty minutes later she's pushed right onto another access road and twenty minutes after that another and she's on a two lane. It looks residential. She sees a shopping center and is filled with hope. At last she can stop. It's way past dark and she really doesn't like to drive at night.

Tilsy spots a gas station with a convenience store at the entrance to the shopping center, Tilsy pulls in and stops.

"Well that was exciting."

Gas stations and convenience stores have got her this far. The people working in them have always been helpful and happy to guide her to the best places.

"Come on Oliver, I see some grass and trees over there by the sidewalk."

Crape Myrtles line the streets and are blooming even in late winter. The nice sidewalks on both sides of the road look new, with freshly mowed green grass and the well-spaced flowering trees. It's very nice wherever she is. First order of business is to fill Delbert's tank. It's nearly empty. Then find a place to stay for the night. She'll get to the details tomorrow about where they are, after she finds a grocery store. Oliver only has two little tubs of food left.

"Are you done?"

Tilsy bends down to get Oliver and when she stands up she bumps into someone running. She was lucky to hold onto Oliver and her feet but the man wasn't so lucky. He's lying on the asphalt. Oh my God, I've hurt someone. She takes a step toward him to see if he's all right and sees a gun lying at her feet. She knows something about guns because her Dad had a couple of rifles for hunting and a revolver and an automatic. It's an automatic and she bends down and picks it up.

"Stop him. Stop him." There's yelling everywhere and now she hears sirens. The man is struggling to get up and Tilsy leans forward with the gun in her hand, to give it back to him. His hands shoot into the air like in an old western on TV.

"Don't shoot. Don't shoot me!" he yells and a couple seconds later, he's thrown to the ground by a man in a uniform . . . a police officer and then there are more and still more.

She's surrounded by police cars with blue lights flashing from every direction.

She's still holding the gun.

"Are you going to shoot him?" A tall man in a dark blue suit says slowly.

"Who me?"

"You're holding a loaded gun and pointing it at him."

"Here you take it. He dropped it when he ran into me and Oliver." Barrel first she reaches toward him to give him the gun and he falls to the ground along with at least four other officers.

"What's wrong with you? Are you hurt?" Tilsy can't think of anything else to say.

"I'll take the gun ma'am." Another man in a light tan suit and a pretty blue tie says and gently takes the gun out of her hand and hands it to a uniformed police officer.

"Thank you." Tilsy smiles because he is smiling at her.

"Will you come with me?"

"No. I don't know you."

He laughs and runs his hands through his hair. "I'm Detective Lance Coulard of the Plano Police Department and you are?"

"Tilsy Tilson."

"Tilsy? I've never heard that name before."

"My name is Lorraine but this kid in my third-grade class always teased me and called me Tilsy to make me mad. It stuck." He smiles again and it feels good for some reason. "This is Oliver."

"Why is he pink?"

"I was painting my bedroom pink and Oliver dumped most of a gallon of paint and most of it went on him. My groomer says it will wear out or grow out eventually." She laughs because Detective Lance Coulard seems amused by her story. "It was a real mess."

"I can imagine." He smiles and it's a very nice smile.

She watches as the man she knocked down is in handcuffs and is being mostly dragged to a police car by a couple of uniformed officers.

"What did he do?"

"He robbed three convenience stores tonight and shot and killed a man."

"Oh. I didn't know. That's awful. I don't know him but why did he do that?"

Detective Lance Coulard ignores her question. "Now that we know each other, will you come with me and you can tell me what happened."

"I already did. There isn't any more."

"Please."

"But I have my car and Oliver and I need to find a motel or someplace to spend the night. We just got here."

"From where?"

"Well, I started out in Wilmington and then St. Augustine and then Oliver and I came here."

Detective Lance Coulard, glances at Delbert. "Is that your car?"

"Yes. I need gas."

"Nice car."

"It's a 1998 Cadillac Deville. I bought it about six months ago. I really like it. I've always been interested in antique cars. Delbert is only seventeen years old and I think a car has to be twenty years old to qualify as an antique. But I like him anyway."

"Delbert?" He laughs so she explains.

"I don't like the term Caddy, so I call him Delbert."

"We'll take good care of him. I'll have our best officer drive him to the police station. You can get Delbert when we're done with your statement."

"But, I need to get gas, and find a motel and buy Oliver some dog food."

"I promise to help you with all that, if you give us a statement. It will be important to put him in jail for what he's done. You'd help us with that?"

She's not going to get out of this. He'll make her go one way or the other. "I need my purse." Detective Lance Coulard, nods to a police officer, who gets her purse from the floor of Delbert. He opens it and looks inside, nods to Detective Lance Coulard before he hands it to her.

"Thank you." She feels her chin tremble. He was looking to see if she had a gun? Oh my, she's really in trouble. Maybe they think she was part of all this. The man's getaway driver?

Then Detective Lance Coulard holds her arm and guides her into the back of a police car. The lights on the top of the car are flashing blue. She feels like a criminal. She's seen this on TV Cop shows.

"Am I being arrested?" She feels tears burn the back of her eyes as she chances a looks at Detective Lance Coulard and hugs Oliver closer.

"No Ms. Tilson, we're just giving you a ride." Detective Lance Coulard leans down and buckles her in. "It'll be all right. I'll take care of you, I promise." He says softly.

He shuts her door and she notices that there are no door handles. She panics silently and holds Oliver tighter. It's taking all her energy not to cry.

Tilsy and Oliver have been sitting in this uncomfortable room for well over an hour. Detective Lance Coulard said she'd be out of here in an hour. An interrogation room that looks just like they do on TV, except this one is smaller and more closed in.

The big black window glares at her. She can't even imagine how many people are watching her from the other side. There are probably cameras and voice recorders on her right now. So she doesn't talk to Oliver or sigh or make a sound. She just strokes him.

Oliver is starting to lick his lips and pant. That means he's thirsty. She's thirsty. She was going to get a cold bottle of water for Oliver and a cold Coke for her. She closes her eyes to imagine how good it would taste right now. She knows the taste of fear. It's nasty and a Coke always took the taste away. She has that taste in her mouth right now.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Detective Lance Coulard nearly throws open the door and walks in with two other men in suits. He looks upset.

"I'm sorry Ms. Tilson you shouldn't have been made to wait here like this." He glances at her but doesn't ask how she is or if Oliver needs to go to the bathroom or if either of them is thirsty.

She nods and tries to swallow but her mouth and throat are so dry, there's nothing to swallow. He ignores his promise to take care of her and he's all business.

He asks her a bunch of questions that were all so silly, like does she know the name of the man who robbed the convenience stores and killed one of the clerks. Does she own a gun? What has that got to do with anything that happened?

He asks her what happened and she told him.

"Is there anything else?"

"No."

"Please wait here, I'll be right back."

Another hour or more has passed and there's no sign of Detective Lance Coulard. She's starting to feel really bad now and Oliver is miserable. "I'm so sorry, Oliver. I'll make it up to you I promise."

She doesn't know but it's been a long time since she's seen Detective Lane Coulard. Finally, a uniformed police officer comes in and lays the key to Delbert on the table and says she can leave. He walks out and leaves the door open. She doesn't know where to go. Where is Delbert? Find him somehow and get out of here. Don't wait to ask questions, go now Tilsy.

"Excuse me. I'm supposed to get my car. The police officer gave me the keys, but he didn't say where it is."

"And you are?"

"Tilsy Tilson. My car is a 1998 black Cadillac Deville. A police officer drove it here from a convenience store somewhere."

"Wait here."

He leaves and she's standing holding Oliver. He really needs to get down, but she just can't let him.

Fifteen minutes or more he comes back. "Take that elevator down to the garage. It should be there."

She's never been so happy to see anything in her life. The elevator doors open. Delbert is parked to her right. She looks around but doesn't see anyone, so she gets in and drives away. It feels like she's stealing her own car.

"I don't know where to go Oliver. It's dark. I hate driving in the dark. I don't see well." She turns right just because it's easier. She's almost out of gas. Delbert is dinging and dinging and the computer reads "low".

"Oh God, I don't want to run out of gas."

Lights up ahead and they look promising. Yes, a gas station. Luck has finally caught up to her. She gets Oliver out, puts his harness and leash on. There's no grass. She walks to the side of the building. "Go. Right now!"

Oliver stares at her and lifts his leg.

"Thank you."

Tilsy's nervous about going into the store for a Coke and water. She studies the store through the window. It seems quiet. There are five people that she can see. Two other people are getting gas. "What the Hell, Oliver, next time I'll just shoot to kill."

Turn right the man said and didn't look at her. She chooses one of the three motels and in a half an hour she throws the chain and leans against the door.

"I don't want to stay here anymore, Oliver. Do you mind if we don't find the cowboys.

The room clock isn't working, so she reaches in her purse for her cell phones. Nothing. She dumps everything out of her purse, her wallet, thankfully is there, but not her cell phones.

"I can't believe the police stole my phones. They just forgot to put them back, right?"

Tilsy swears Oliver rolled his eyes.

Damn. It was brand new. "Well, I'm not going back there to get it. No one has that number anyway, but I will miss my old phone. I was going to call Georgia and check on her and the grandkids."

She's dining on vending machine snacks and Cokes and she and Oliver are sitting in bed flipping the channels on the TV. At least she knows what time it is. She and Oliver were in the police station for at least for hours. She doesn't like TV and rarely watches it. Jeff used to make her sit and watch something he wanted to see. It was agony. But there's nothing to read and she's too wired to sleep.

And then she sees it. Video of her holding a gun on that man and his hands are in the air. It shows her turning toward the man in the suit and trying to give him the gun, but he dives to the pavement. It shows Detective Lance Coulard taking the gun from her hand and the reporter is saying that Mrs. Lorraine "Tilsy" Tilson apprehended the man who robbed three convenience stores and killed Delisto Juan Casone and hour before.

"Oh my God. Do you see that Oliver! Can they put me on TV like that? They didn't ask me if they could do that. We are definitely leaving this place first thing in the morning."
Book 1 Tilsy

Tilsy tossed and turned all night and jumped awake at every sound. By five she couldn't stand it anymore. By six she and Oliver were driving away from wherever they were. All the traffic seemed to be going one way, so she went the other way. After an hour the road felt lonely and abandoned but it felt more like a way to get out of here and away from this place and all the people shooting other people with guns.

"I'm so hungry!" she yelled and Oliver jumped up on the armrest between the two front seats.

"You too? We'll stop at the first decent place we find." That makes him happy.

The land is so flat and dry looking. There's really nothing to even look at. Miles and miles and miles of nothing, "We're lost and we're going to starve to death. You're almost out of water and I'm out of Coke.

Thirty minutes later she sees a couple structures ahead but can't make out what they are. "Oh please be a gas station or a restaurant or something."

Four dirty pickup trucks are parked in front of Fran's.

"I sure hope it's a restaurant and not a whore house, Oliver, because I'm going in."

Fran turned out to be a Jake and he was a good cook and didn't mind Oliver eating at her booth.

"You seem familiar to me. Do I know you?" Jake asked her when he refilled her coffee cup for the third time.

"I don't know you and I've never been here before. Where am I by the way?"

"If you stay on this road, you'll get to Oklahoma City."

"I've never been there. How far?"

About two hours.

"Hey you're the lady who caught that murderer last night. The wife and I saw you on TV." The man sitting at the bar lifts his hat back on his head. "Is that Delbert?" He points out the window to Delbert.

She nods.

"He's good looking. That was really something you did."

She nods wishing it would all go away.

"Damn. I'd like to shake your hand. I'm Herb Wiseman and this is my son, Herb Jr. It's a pleasure to meet you Tilsy, right?"

She nods and shakes his hand and Herb Jr.'s hand.

"Well since you are a celebrity and all and you did a good thing, I won't be charging you for your meal," Jake grins at her.

"Not necessary, it's delicious and Oliver and I were hungry. I'd really like to pay for the breakfast we've enjoyed so much."

"Nope, I own this place and I decide who pays and who doesn't. I'm going to pack you up some lunch to take with you, too."

"Thank you." It's not nice to refuse an offer of kindness. Her mother always told her that. "That's very kind of you."

"You know that video is on You Tube. I saw it this morning and it's had like a million hits already. It's made the major stations too. I saw it on ABC early this morning." Herb Jr. says and glances at Herb Sr.

"So when you were supposed to be doing your chores you were on the computer?"

Herb Jr. puts his head down and stuffs a biscuit in his mouth.

Jakes saunters over to refill Herb Sr.'s coffee. "Herb you know these kids today can't get enough of that online stuff. It won't hurt them. Keeps them knowing what's going on in the world."

"Chores come first, Jake." Herb Sr. looks at Herb Jr. who lowers his head toward his plate.

Oliver suddenly jumps up to look out the window. He's barking furiously. Two police cars with lights flashing have surrounded Delbert and blocked him in.

"We've got company," Jake says quietly and stares at her like she's the cause of serious trouble.

Two huge policemen come through the door like they are expecting trouble. A third stays outside the door like he's guarding it?

A deep scary voice booms at her, "Are you Tilsy Tilson?"

Oliver jumps across the table and into her lap. She holds him tight and stares up at at the officer. "Yes."

"Stay right there, ma'am you have a phone call." He commands.

Jake has taken refuge behind the counter. Herb Sr. has stood up and is mostly standing in front of Herb Jr. He looks protective. The other three guys at the farthest booth from her and Oliver are sitting up straight and paying attention.

The officer hands her a phone. "The Captain wants to talk to you."

"No. I don't know anyone named Captain and I'm eating breakfast." She shakes her head no and squeezes Oliver.

"Captain, she doesn't want to talk to you She's eating breakfast." He doesn't smile or break eye contact with her and he doesn't move away from her. He's too close, too big, too unfriendly and too threatening. He holds out the phone to her again, "Please."

She'd just be stubborn and rude if she didn't talk to the "Captain" whoever that is. She takes the phone from his hand careful not to touch him.

She starts to say hello, but the officer is still threatening her like a black thunder cloud.

"This is a private call. Go stand over there or sit down, you're disturbing these nice people, who are just having breakfast. They haven't done anything wrong."

Tilsy waits until he moves back and stands with the other officer."

"Yes?"

He says Detective Lance Coulard wants to talk to me and tells me to hold on. "Hold on? For how long?" The words fly out of her mouth. She's being rude but experience has taught her that she could sit here holding on for hours, especially for Detective Lance Coulard.

Tilsy hears him laugh. She doesn't think it's funny. She's serious.

Silence and then a click, "Tilsy, are you all right? Where are you going? Everything got so messed up last night. I told an officer to take care of you and get you anything you need. That didn't work out did it?"

"No."

"I'm sorry. I was getting off duty and I was going to take you to fill up your car and find you a nice hotel and take you to the store to get Oliver some food. I was going to take you out for a nice dinner. I couldn't call you. You left your cell phone."

"I didn't leave my cell phone. One of your people took both my phones out of my purse without telling me and didn't put them back. You keep them, donate them, I don't want them anymore."

"Are you all right?" Detective Lance Coulard's voice is soft and apologetic.

"Oliver and I are fine."

"Where are you going?"

"Is that something I have to tell you? It's really none of your business."

"Why don't you come back? I'm off today and I can show you around. You'd like it here, I promise. I really wanted to get to know you. Maybe help you find a place here"

"You don't keep your promises. Oliver and I nearly died of thirst. And Oliver had to go really bad and we sat in that stuffy room for four hours like we were criminals. We're fine on our own, but thank you anyway."

She's ready to hand the phone back, "Tilsy, I'm sorry that happened." She's ready to hang up, "Wait Tilsy. Dr. Hank Witcher called a while ago wanting to know if you were all right and where you were. Who is he?"

"Oliver's veterinarian."

"Is Oliver all right?"

"He's fine."

"You might have to come back for a trial or other court dates."

"I don't want to come back."

"I'll do the best I can, I promise."

"Yeah? Well in that case, I promise to do the best I can to come back."

Tilsy hands the phone back to the officer. "Detective Lance Coulard, says you can go now and leave us alone."

Tilsy focuses on her now cold pancakes. It's hard to swallow. She doesn't know if they're really going to leave. She's never been outspoken or tough before. But this whole thing or whatever just isn't right. Plus she doesn't feel very good and that's their fault, too.

When they walk out the door, get in their cars and drive away, Tilsy breathes.

Everyone in the "Fran's" is staring at her.

"I'm sorry. Oliver and I will go and leave you in peace."

"You're no trouble, Tilsy. Are you all right?" Jake is refilling her coffee.

"I'm fine. Thank you."
Book 1 Tilsy

"Dallas wasn't the place for us, Oliver. I thought that Dallas was so big that no one would notice me there and we could just get on with our lives. St. Augustine was small and new people are noticed. I never expected this. I'm sorry you had to go through with all that."

Hank has seen her on the news so her sons might have too. She's sure they won't get a kick out of it. They'll probably get mad at her for causing trouble, as if they needed another reason not to like their mother. If it's on national news, everyone she's ever known could see it.

This is not good. She just wanted to get away and find a nice place to live, work on her portfolio and take long walks with Oliver. She wanted to find a place to be happy; no complications, no relationships, no trouble.

If she could only blink and have it all disappear she would. But she can't. She's going to have to live with it, just like she did with Jeff.

The last time she cried Hank held her and took care of her. This time it's harder. She has to pull over because she can't see to drive. She didn't even get a chance to get a Dallas T-shirt. She cries harder.

Tilsy spotted a cell phone place soon after she got into town. She and Oliver got another Samsung G4 mini and then the nice lady told her of a bed and breakfast nearby that was really nice.

"Carolyn won't mind a cute dog like Oliver."

Sure enough, Carolyn was thrilled with Oliver and he was thrilled with her. The big old house with a wraparound porch was comfortable and had wireless. Oliver played in the yard, while she sat on the porch and watched. She should get up and play with him after all he'd gone through, but she didn't have the energy.

She closed her eyes for a time to bring Hank's face clearer. Handsome, kind and supportive, and the way he throws his head back when he laughs or gets real serious when she says something he doesn't like. Or when their eyes met at Patrick's party, a brief connection she's sure of it, but she has to be wrong.

Days, weeks would go by without a word. When he blinked and stopped wanting to kiss her. That hurt so much.

When she thinks of him, the most vivid memory that comes to mind is the one in the Barter parking lot. She was standing still watching him with his date. Hank stopped and looked at her. What was in his face? Something she hadn't seen before. Regret? For what?

He must have known that she liked him. He knew she wanted him to kiss her that time in her kitchen. He regrets that she wanted to be friends and he couldn't return the feeling?

So why did he call Detective Lance Coulard to check on her? She could call him and just talk. She doesn't have to tell him where she is or anything. Just talk, maybe he'd like to hear about Jake's pancakes. They were better than hers.

What are you thinking? You made something out of nothing with Hank and you are going to forget him and find a place where you and Oliver can be happy. Call him and do what, make a bigger fool of yourself?

It was a good time at Carolyn's. They talked a lot and Tilsy helped in the kitchen. She and Oliver hung out for four days, while they recovered from their short but disturbing stop in Dallas. She felt like she'd miss Carolyn, but it was time to move on. It was a shame that Carolyn didn't have any T-shirts to sell.
Book 1 Tilsy

She called Brandon, but got voice mail.

She called Georgia, but got voice mail.

She called Andrew, but got voice mail.

Maybe they've blocked her.

Tilsy decided to head back to her country. To where there are mountains and the color green. She's old. She's used to green. Besides, the Appalachians have always been there for her, protective and beautiful anytime of the year.

Before she got on I-40 East, she and Oliver stopped for gas, a cold Coke and water and a break for Oliver. She called Sherry because she really wanted to hear a voice she knew.

"Tilsy, you are all over the news, did you know? Weren't you scared? The young couple that bought your house just found out they're pregnant. Isn't that wonderful? Apparently they've been trying for a while and they say the new house brought them this special gift. Isn't that sweet?"

"That's great news. The second bedroom is perfect for a nursery."

"I talked to Patrick Witcher the other day. He is so gorgeous that I can hardly speak when he's around. He's busy with a couple projects and he was pleased to hear about the couple that bought your house. I think he misses you. He kind of flinched and looked sad when I brought up your name. Maybe you should call him, just to check on him. It's just a thought. Are you still in Dallas?"

"No!"

"Well, Okay. That's good I guess. Dr. Witcher has been out of the office a lot. Momma was complaining about him not being around for Carrie. Her cat, Carrie, has been sick and Dr. Witcher hasn't been there much. Dr. Chandler is seeing a lot of his patients.

"Three more people called about your house. They were disappointed when I told them it was sold. You and Patrick did a really good job on that house. You two should partner up and do renovations like that show on TV. They make a lot of money flipping houses."

Two minutes on the phone with Sherry, is like watching the news on fast-forward. She's a nice young woman. Tilsy likes her.

Tilsy doesn't feel good mentally or physically. The fun and adventure evaporated in the interrogation room at the police station. Tilsy can't seem to shake the feeling of being exposed and helpless that over took her while she waited for Detective Lance Coulard to rescue her. _"It'll be all right. I'll take care of you, I promise."_ His voice was soft and caring, his eyes sincere, but he didn't.

It's not his job to take care of her, so why did she believe him? Why didn't she open the damn door and demand to be seen or allowed to leave.

"There's something really wrong with me Oliver, I don't have any ability to know when someone is true and honest or not."

She could blame it on her Dad and Jeff, neither encouraged her to go out on her own and face the world. Dad questioned all her friends and set tight time restrictions. Jeff didn't let her have friends at all. The job at the insurance company was repetitive and boring with no interaction with anyone other than the few people in cubicles around her. It was work and then home with Jeff. That's it.

She could blame them, but that's not fair. She should shoulder the blame as well. She has a voice and a high IQ. She's resourceful and logical, so why did she sleep through her life until Jeff died.
Like a child, unfamiliar and inexperienced in the ways of the world, her perception is skewed, distorted, warped. She hasn't learned that not everyone is your friend and not everyone views the world the same way she does.

What a promise means to her means something entirely different to someone else. They can't be blamed for their perspective. The blame is hers for not being realistic, flexible and open to a new perspective.

"I'm old and rigid, Oliver. I'm narrow minded, staid, naïve and idealistic! I'm a dinosaur and they're extinct!"

The miles clicked by and the uneasiness and disenchantment continued to plague her thoughts, heart and soul.

"We don't have to hurry, Oliver. We've got no place to go anyway."

An hour more and Tilsy pulled off the I-40 to Little Rock and found a pleasant little motel with a restaurant and lots of green grass and trees. In no time she and Oliver were curled up together, napping with the sun coming through the window stretching across the bed and keeping them warm.

Tilsy woke up hours later, rested but feeling worse than when she laid down.

"I don't want to get up Oliver. Can't you just let yourself out and lock the door when you come back?"

She rolled over and curled up, but Oliver's panting in her ear was maddening. "Can't you just use the toilet like a normal person?"

Oliver jumped away from her and off the bed.

"Oh God, Oliver I'm sorry. Come on let's go out and then we'll find a grocery store. Okay?" It was her pretend happy voice and Oliver bought it hook, line and sinker.

"You should do something about your perspective Oliver. Not everyone in the world thinks you are the cutest and best dog ever."

Wrong again, not only did they allow Oliver to sit in the grocery store shopping cart, but everyone who passed, stopped to say how cute he was and how he's the best dog in the world. Such a little gentleman, most children don't behave that well in the store she heard at least three times.

The stars are bright again tonight. It's chilly, but she's warm enough in her Oklahoma--In God We Trust--sweatshirt.

"When Jeff died I wasn't happy but I was totally free. It felt wonderful, like I could do anything, fly without wings, sing in shower, and dance in the park. And I did those things. I changed my attitude and my longitude and latitude and found a pretty little house and you.

"Remember that I started talking to people, Oliver? I mean really talked to them. I'd ask someone I didn't how their day was going and sincerely wanted to know the answer. I reached out. I'll be all right Oliver, I need to reach out again, but it means getting hurt. If I don't I could find the most beautiful place in the world and I won't be happy."

Oliver crawls on her lap. "You'll just have to get used to me being upset, angry and crying a lot. Are you all right with that?"

He's not sure, but he's not going anywhere.

"It's really been bugging me about Patrick. I feel like I've abandoned him. You know he volunteered talking about his mother. She went away and never came back. Patrick and I liked each other and I went away and he doesn't know if I'll ever come back. That's not a nice thing to do to a friend, is it Oliver? I need to make it right. It's probably going to go badly, are you up to it?"

"Patrick, its Tilsy. Oliver and I are having a strange vacation. I guess you've seen some of it. Anyway, I miss you and wanted to find out how you're doing. If you want, you can call me at this number." I hang up.

Oliver's looks at me like "what?"

"Voice mail. I've always hated it and the answering machine. I figure if someone really wants to get in touch with me they'll call back. If we don't hear from Patrick tonight, we'll call back tomorrow. Or I could text him or send him an email to his website. "I'm the only person I know who can't be reached. That's not very nice of me, is it?"
Book 1 Tilsy

Patrick called back. "I heard your message when you called a little while ago. I had to decide whether or not I wanted to talk to you."

Tilsy swallows hard, "It's okay if you don't, I understand. I've thought about you a lot and missed you more."

Silence, but Patrick didn't hang up.

Tilsy uses her happy voice she's perfected for Oliver, "I found this amazing house on Anastasia Island off the coast of St. Augustine. It was custom built in 1950 by a Hollywood set designer and builder and master carpenter.

"The moment I walked in I thought of you and how crazy you'd be for it. It has a huge sunroom, ceiling to floor fifteen foot wide mahogany and etched glass doors that open with the slightest touch of a finger. It leads to a great room that has a twenty-foot high domed ceiling, created by hand-cut cedar planks. It's the center and the heart of the house.

"No one is taking care of it and the man that owns it offered to me for $85,000. It was magnificent."

"I know. I saw it."

"You did? What did you think?"

"Incredible, but it was butt ugly outside." Patrick laughs.

"You are so right! Sam had to drag me inside. When the front door opened outward instead of inward, he had to grab my arm to keep me from running away."

We laughed together.

"Things weren't going good for me, Patrick. With the house finished, I had no reason to stay there anymore. I didn't abandon you. I needed to find me."

"Have you?"

"I don't know and that's a better answer than the one I could have given you when I left. At least I've opened my mind to different perspectives. I'm still a dinosaur but I'm alive and that has possibilities."

Silence.

"What I really want to know is how you are? I talked with Sherry, who by the way is totally enamored with you, and she said you were working on a couple projects and staying busy. I never did get to hear about them. How's that going for you?"

Tilsy was wrong again. She and Patrick talked for another hour. Hank's name never came up.

She called Brandon, got voice mail.

She called Georgia, got voice mail.

She called Andrew, got voice mail.
Book 1 Tilsy

Two days later and just outside Little Rock, Tilsy is bone-weary tired and trying to sleep but her phone is ringing and ringing. She ignored it until she remembered she wasn't going to do that anymore. Looking at the clock, she's surprised that it's a little after three.

_Patrick_. Tilsy grabs the phone anxious as to why he's calling in the middle of the night. "What's the matter?"

"Dad's had a heart attack. I think he's going to die." Patrick's voice is heavy with unshed tears.

"I'll fly out. It'll take me awhile to get there?"

"Where are you?"

"Little Rock. Don't you have family?"

"Just Dad and my two brothers, they're in Northern California. They'll leave as soon as they can. Daisy from Dad's clinic is with me."

"Why did you call me, Patrick?"

"I need you. Dad needs you. He loves you, Tilsy."

She listens to Patrick say that Hank loves her. For some reason hearing those words doesn't surprise her. They sound so natural. Why? "I'm on my way, Patrick. I love you. Tell Hank, I'm coming and tell him I love him too."

There's a six a.m. flight out of Little Rock, but if she can get to the Memphis airport, she'll cut travel time by six hours. She books the Memphis flight and she and Oliver and Delbert are driving like the wind, but she takes advantage of a stoplight to call a friend for Patrick.

"Sherry, Dr. Witcher has had a heart attack. Patrick is struggling, can you go to him?"

"How is he?" Tilsy turns the corner a short distance from the hospital elevator to see Patrick sleeping on Sherry's shoulder.

"The nurse just went in, I think he's awake," Sherry whispers.

Tilsy kisses her and gently brushes Patrick's hair off his forehead. He looks so young--a child really. She takes a deep breath and opens the door. Her heart catches in her throat and she gasps. Maybe for most people love doesn't happen without dates and romance, but she has proof it does for her. There's no doubt she loves him.

"Ma'am you can't bring a dog in here?"

"Shhhh, you'll upset Dr. Witcher. Of course I can." She smiles brightly at the frowning nurse and then ignores her.

Oliver is whining and struggling to get to Hank. She puts him on the bed and Oliver starts licking his face and whining to him. Hank opens his eyes, "Oliver you're still pink."

Then the man of her dreams looks at her and he only sees her. Tilsy crawls onto bed next to Hank, lays her head on his shoulder and wraps her arms around his waist.

"Tilsy, I couldn't think of any other way to get you back." He chokes out a laugh.

"Shhhh, you talk much." Tilsy leans in close to see his eyes, his handsome face and messy white not sandy hair. She presses her lips to his. "I love you Hank."

She hears and feels Hank's gasp. His arm tightens around her. His head lays on hers. She feels the pain he's gone through. "I love you, Tilsy."

## Book 2 Hank

Dr. Hank Adam Witcher

Date of Birth September 16, 1955

Married 1988

Ellen Louise Motley

Widowed: 1996

Three sons:

Jed Adam Witcher

Delany "Del" Branford Witcher

Patrick James Witcher
Book 2 Hank

When Hank was discharged from the hospital, Tilsy insisted on driving him home in Delbert. "The retrieval people just brought him to me from Memphis. I've missed him and you've never been in my car before." She said like it was an unforgiveable oversight on his part.

She had a smile on her face that didn't go away the whole trip and she kept asking him if he liked her car.

Oliver stood between them. He'd look at Tilsy when she talked and then over to him when he replied. It was fun and Hank wasn't going to ruin what worked for them to tell Tilsy that it wasn't safe for Oliver to stand there. He should be buckled in the back. Hank thought briefly of buying her a dog restraint or a soft-side cage for his protection but kept his mouth shut.

The boys came out to welcome us home. They quickly took to Tilsy when they met at the hospital and she had them wrapped around her slender, soft fingers, wanting her bright smile in no time. They hustled us inside to a feast of heart-healthy foods, a table set for five and dressed with a pink vase of fresh spring flowers.

"Oh my, this is so beautiful. How wonderful," she said and hugged them all. Hank swore, as all his boys blushed.

Our first family dinner was bright and lively just like the woman opposite me.

"Patrick you made this? It's delicious!" And "Del, please pass me another helping of your pasta. I've never tasted better. How did you say you made the sauce?" And "Jed, your herb mixture is so savory and delicious that I can't believe there's no salt. It's brilliant and tastes so much better than the no salt product from the grocery store. I bought some years ago and it's still in my cupboard barely used."

It was all laughter and fun and one of the best dinners Hank ever had at this table.

Tilsy snuggled him on the sofa and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as the boys served coffee—decaffeinated for him—and cookies made without butter or sugar or egg yolks.

"It took us three tries to get it right," Jed raised his eyebrows at Patrick and Del. Hank didn't want to know what that meant, he just enjoyed their light, crispy taste.

"Hummm. These are delicious boys. Thanks for everything you've done. I'm very proud of you."

Tilsy shot him a startled look of surprise. What? Hank has no idea what he said to cause her reaction. But she's smiling at him so she must be okay.

He's getting tired and hates it. He must be patient with himself and that thought irks him more. Hank has always enjoyed good health. He's careful with this diet, works out at least an hour a day, more on the weekends and sets a comfortable pace for his life. This experience has rocked his world.

"You look tired Dad, why don't you go up to bed." His oldest son, Jed, takes charge and the boys get up and start cleaning up. "Don't worry about all this. We've got it covered."

So what now? Hank's nervous. He wants Tilsy to sleep with him. They haven't talked about it. She's been sleeping in the guest room. Will she want to sleep in his bed? Will she be nervous that he might have another attack?

He's never been shy around women and intimacy never put him off. Just the opposite, Hank thrives on it and there's no greater pleasure than to please a woman. But this is Tilsy. He loves her without a doubt, but he knows next to nothing about her.

She seems so innocent so he's unsure how to broach the subject or how to say the words, "Please sleep with me, Tilsy."

He gets up and holds his hand out to Tilsy. "Coming, Princess?"

She beams up at him and he feels his heart stop and restart as she takes his hand. They both kiss the boys and thank them again for a wonderful evening.

There's a moment when he closes the door to his bedroom and turns to Tilsy, when he feels anxious. But then she's in his arms, pulling his lips down to hers. "Please kiss me, Hank. I'm nervous. A kiss will help me."

He doesn't have to be asked twice. He's dreamed of this for months. "I love you Tilsy. I'm so glad you're here." Soft, sweet Tilsy is in his arms and they're alone at last.

She shivers lightly.

"Are you cold?"

"No." She blinks up at him. Her face is open and waiting.

"Do you think I'm going to ravage you and bury your body in the basement?" He laughs at the look on her face. Shock, surprise, her eyes wide and her mouth drops open. She's going to the fun for sure. "No? Well, I think we should get undressed and get in bed."

Tilsy looks unsure.

"Did you have other plans Tilsy?"

"I don't know what to wear?" She blushes and it warms his heart down to his toes.

"Since you have no clothes, why don't we share?" Hank goes to his bureau and pulls out a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. "Here, you wear this half and I'll wear the other." He hands her the T-shirt and watches her face light up.

"Okay."

"Why don't you go to the bathroom first? What do you need?"

"My toothbrush, hairbrush and face cream, I'll run and get it." She's out the door and he's left alone and laughing.

It's been a week, since he was in his room. Hank stares at the bed and flinches with the memory of waking up in wrenching pain. He could barely breathe as he called 911 and desperately made his way down the stairs to unlock the front door. It's a blur of pain and fear. He knew it was a heart attack but he couldn't make his way to the bathroom for an aspirin. He'd just have to hold on until the EMTs arrive.

"You're all right now, Hank," soft slender arms wrap around his waist and hold him steady. "It's over and you'll get better and it will never happen to you again."

"Tilsy, I was so scared. I'd never felt so alone."

Without realizing it, Tilsy has moved him to his bed and she's sitting beside him with her arms still wrapped around his waist.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you Hank. I'm so sorry." Tilsy kisses his chest and burrows into his soul. "I'll take care of you and you'll take care of me and we'll be all right. I know it Hank. I've waited for you my whole life and I'm not going to let anything take you from me."

"Tilsy." There's a lump in his throat that prevents him from saying what he feels.

Tilsy squeezes him tighter. "You're all right now. I'm going to the bathroom to change because I don't want you to see me. But I'm coming right back."

She's gone. Why doesn't she want me to see her? What? Hank hears the water running and changes into his pajama pants and gets into bed. His T-shirt falls to her knees as she quietly walks out. Freshly brushed hair and washed to a blush her face is smiling at him.

Hank opens his arms and she snuggles in on his left side. He was wondering about her preference. It's his too. He's right handed.

"This is nice, Tilsy. You smell so good. You're beautiful."

Tilsy tilts her head back inviting a kiss. He's quick to oblige and moans against her soft, minty sweet lips.

"So why don't you want me to see you?"

Tilsy pulls away slightly. She licks her lips. She's clearly uncomfortable.

"Tell me love." Hank encourages her with a soft voice and a kiss on her temple.

"I'm not young and pretty anymore. I saw you with that pretty blonde. She was at least twenty years younger than me. I don't want you to be disappointed in me . . . in my body."

"Tilsy you're beautiful. Why would you think I wouldn't appreciate how beautiful you are?"

"But you've never seen me . . . naked."

"And you haven't seen me naked." Hank can't help the laugh that escapes him. "What if you don't like what you see?"

Tilsy snorts and sits up in front of him and studies him. She appears beguiled as she runs her fingers through his hair, touches is face and runs her hands over his shoulders and chest. "You are perfect, Hank." She kisses his chest and spends extra time over his heart.

"My boobs aren't perky and my butt sags. I lost weight on vacation and now I'm skinny and scrawny. You're like a GQ model. Handsome and sexy and you look so much younger than me."

"Thanks, but you're wrong, especially with my hair."

"I love it Hank. Does that happen a lot? Does everyone's hair turn white when they have a heart attack?" She studies him for a minute that seems like an hour. Hank has always appreciated his body and worked hard to keep it that way. But under Tilsy's inspection he's squirming inside. "I love your hair. It makes you look even sexier . . . a man of experience, distinguished and classically gorgeous! It makes your blue eyes bluer and all your features stronger. You took my breath away when I first saw you in the hospital."

Hank puts his hand over Tilsy's breast. "You fit my hand perfectly. Look." He watches her face as she looks down at his hand and he squeezes and fondles them both. She looks up grinning. She's panting, turned on by his hands on her. She's pleased that he likes her breasts. This beautiful woman has paid him the ultimate compliment.

"The blonde is Estelle. She and I have been friends for the past couple of years. I don't love her Tilsy. Estelle doesn't love me. We go to the theater, dinner and Christmas parties. She's a pediatrician and our schedules are uncertain and busy. She doesn't get mad if I cancel and I don't get mad if she cancels."

My hands are still on Tilsy's breast and she isn't moving away from me, but her eyes are steel on mine. "But you have sex."

"Yes."

Tilsy gently pulls away and lies against his left side. "So what happens about me?"

"What about you? I love you Tilsy."

"Where do I fit in your life?"

Tilsy's voice sounds odd. Where does she fit in my life? She is my life and Hank knew that with the pink paint phone call. Her question is one he should have answered weeks ago and now her eyes are filled with tears.

"Am I a friend or a girl friend? Who are you going to tell people I am?"

"First thing, it's nobody's business what our relationship is, but I would very much like to everyone to know that you are incredible woman and the love of my life."

"Oh." She sounds disappointed.

Hank laughs but it doesn't sound happy even to him. "Tilsy you are in my bed. Other than Ellen no woman has ever been in my bed. I've never wanted anyone else in my bed."

"So you're going to have sex with Estelle and I will sleep with you."

"What? No, Tilsy. How could you think that? I've told Estelle about you and that I love you. She was happy for me. Whatever she and I had is over. I can't believe you'd think I'd do that to you."

Tilsy's straddling my thighs and holding my face again.

"Good, because I will never share you and if I'm not enough for you . . . "

"Stop, don't go there. You said you'd take care of me and I will take care of you. That works for me, but do you want to talk marriage?"

"No!"

"No? So positive, well then why don't we just grow together awhile and see what happens. Lie down with me, lovely Tilsy. Let's rest, tomorrow is waiting for us."

Book 2 Hank

Hank wakes up for the first time since his heart attack in his own bed. The bed is in his bedroom that's been his alone since 1989 and something is very different this morning. He's not alone. Curly black hair with strands of silver lie on his chest and a slender arm is wrapped around his waist. Tilsy, he squeezes her tighter to make sure he isn't dreaming. She snuggles closer and sighs in her sleep. Slender, almost tiny, she fits against his chest, hips and thighs, like a child.

In years past it was not unusual to wake up and find one or two or even three little boys in bed with him. It always led to a wrestling match and lots of jumping and yelling and him struggling to catch them before they did damage to his body or fell head first off the bed onto the oak floor.

In other years it was another bedroom and honey-colored hair, straight and thick that covered his chest like a heavy blanket spun out of gold. In most of his memories her baby-swollen belly laid against this thigh. When a baby moved or kicked, it always woke him. He'd rub her belly until their baby settled down, being gentle and quiet so Ellen could rest.

Hank does the math. Nineteen years since a woman has been in this bed. None of the women he dated or friends and sexual partners, slept in this bed or in this house. He had three little boys to protect. This was their home. This was no place for casual affairs to drift in and out of their lives and he'd never met anyone he wanted to break that rule for.

Ellen shared this bed equally with Hank. She was a golden goddess, tall and beautiful. Her high energy and flaming passion often challenged his physical prowess as a man and a lover. They'd make slow, sensuous love when they felt the want of it, but usually it was heat and desire. Sex with Ellen was often beyond love. It was vibrant, mischievously playful, and pure lust that left them both satisfied and exhausted.

Tilsy hardly takes any space in this bed and he can barely feel her weight. Her fair skin and fragile body sends both cool and warm tingles down his body. She's a princess that should be softly caressed, cherished and protected. She shimmers with soft colors and her floral scent waifs over him like a bouquet of the sweetest and most exotic flowers.

He's hungry to taste, to feel, to make love to Tilsy. But here he lies weak from a heart that brought his body to a screeching halt with pain and fear of dying without saying goodbye to his sons or knowing the only woman he's loved since Ellen.

Why would fate play these wretched games? Why is it so heartless and cold? He groans and kisses the top of her head to know she's real and she's here with him.

"Hummm. Good morning. Are you all right?" Tilsy's soft voice is warm and chases his anger away.

"I can't believe I'm alive, in my bed and holding you Tilsy. I never thought I'd get this moment with you."

Tilsy moves over him until she's eye-to-eye. "I was thinking the same thing. I slept great, how about you?"

"I did. But this is not how I imagined our first night in this bed."

"Like what?"

"I've spent most nights thinking about making love to you. This bed and you are well acquainted, Princess." Hank reaches for her and brings her lips to his with his hand on the back of her small head. He feels his heart race and for a moment he thinks he should stop. _I'd rather die_. He presses the kiss hoping she'd give him access to her sweet mouth.

Tilsy pulls away with eyes wide and mouth open. He wants to taste her and licks his lips in anticipation.

"I . . . I'm sure I have morning breath, can you hold that thought until I brush?" Her eyes say please, her mouth is too enticing to resist.

He brings her back to him, nipping her bottom lip then caressing it with his tongue and in perfect synchronization Tilsy's lips part and he's there. Tasting her, feeling the warmth of her mouth and tongue and he hears his moan and feels his erection come to life.

She giggles in his mouth.

"Am I funny?" He says against her lips.

"I like that. I've never done that before. Can I do it too?"

"Do what?" He's confused with her question.

"Play with your tongue. You taste good."

_She's serious._ "Go for it Tilsy" and she does. Stroking his tongue side to side and out and in, Tilsy's mouth has opened wider to get more of him. He groans and pulls back a bit to flit his tongue against hers. She moans and does it back and now she's gripping his hair and holding him to her.

"Oh my, I like this Hank. Do it some more."

_No problem._ He's fascinated by her eagerness and it's unexpected. He wasn't sure what to expect from Tilsy. He didn't get the impression that her husband was a good lover or that she had much experience. She is an innocent, he's sure of it. But she's opened herself to him without shyness or embarrassment and he is so turned on it's hard to breathe. His erection grows and then it fades. He stops the kiss with regret that consumes him.

"What? Did I do something wrong?" Tilsy looks stricken.

"Tilsy." It's all he can say and he pulls her against his chest and holds her tight. He feels tears burn in the back of his eyes and his anger rises to red. "I can't . . . "

"Oh that. I felt you hard and then you weren't. The doctor said the medicine was going to bother you for a while, remember?" The beautiful Tilsy is holding his head in her hands and looking hard in his eyes. "It's not us, Hank. It's the medicine."

"But I want . . ."

"Me too and I've thought about it a lot," she blushes and smiles and he can't help but laugh. She goes on and he can't wait to hear what she's going to say. "We–you and me—have never even been on a date. I've never necked or made out before. Can we start there, with dates and necking and playing around? I always thought that's how it should be between two people who love each other and want to know each other."

She is so unexpected. _She's serious?_ "You've never necked or made out?"

"No! Is it fun? I always thought it would be and I heard the other girls talk."

"You've never fooled around in the car at the drive-in or after the prom?"

"You clearly never knew my Dad."

Hank laughs.

"And you would like that?"

"Yes. Please."

Hank is unable to put a coherent verbal response together. He pulls her mouth to his . . . sweet Tilsy.

Book 2 Hank

The boys are going to stay for the week. Jed's girlfriend, Caley, is going to join us tomorrow. Hank has not met her yet, but if Jed is bringing her here, it must be serious.

"So what can I do to make Caley comfortable?" Jed and I are fixing a pancake breakfast that Tilsy says is her favorite.

"You want to know what our relationship is Dad?"

"You see right through me." Hank smiles at the pancake he's turning over.

"I think she's the one," Jed leans against the counter, "But how do I know?"

Hank is used to these casual questions that have huge effects on his sons. He's always careful and just as casual as they are. "If you like most everything about her is a good benchmark. Don't look too hard for perfection, because it's the little quirks that make someone unique. You'll learn to love those quirks."

"She can't cook. She tries but it's just not edible," Jed runs his hands through his hair.

"Well, you can so that works." Hank laughs. "Does she know she can't cook?"

"No. I'm living on antacids and the smell is awful. She's fun, interesting and, of course the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She's smarter than me."

"Does it bother you?" Hank turns two pancakes.

"No. Well sometimes. She's a genius and works for a tech think tank. She comes home all excited about what she did that day and I don't understand a word of it. I think I disappoint her that I can't share it with her."

"Jed you were top of your engineering class at MIT, how smart is this girl?"

"Just wait, you'll see."

"What does she like to do? Let's plan something she'd like."

"She likes to make love outside," Del comes into the kitchen with a huge grin and punches his older brother on the arm. "Big brother here is afraid he's going to get frost bite in all the wrong places. I told him to move to a warmer climate."

"You all must be talking about Caley?" Patrick joins the discussion of his older brothers. "She's incredible, beautiful and sexy as hell. Can't wait until she gets here, what time is she coming Jed?"

"Three."

"Can I go with you to pick her up?"

"No."

Hank tries to keep his sons on track. "Would she like to go to the Barter? We could go out to dinner tonight, all of us. It'll be on me."

"I'm thinking of just making tonight a family dinner. Her family is scattered to the winds. Family dinner isn't something she knows. She's been on her own since she was twelve or so and in college."

"Twelve? How old is she Jed?"

"Yeah. Like I say, she's smart. She'll be twenty on April 16."

"She's still a teenager? That's pretty young Jed."

"Good morning!" Tilsy bounces in wearing a Wayward Inn and Restaurant T-shirt and jeans and straight into Hank's arms. "Hi, handsome." Still holding onto him, she looks at the boys, "Don't you all like his white hair?"

"You're cheerful Tilsy?" Patrick grins.

"Well why wouldn't I be? I spent the night with the most handsome, sexy and sweetest man on the planet. Who's Caley?"

"Jed's girlfriend. She's coming today and he's nervous?" Hank brings Tilsy up-to-date.

"Why?" Tilsy asks.

"You'll see." Patrick laughs.

Tilsy looks at Hank. "Should we plan something for her? What does she like to do?" Tilsy looks at Jed but Hank answers.

"Jed wants a family dinner. What does she like to eat Jed?" Hank pulls Tilsy tighter against him and holds her around his waist. This moment with Tilsy and his sons is extraordinary. He's never had a woman mix with his boys. Tilsy fits right in like she's always been here. He wants to grab them all in a hug and hold on forever. He came so close to losing all this before he even experienced it. He pulls Tilsy tighter. She leans her head against his chest and squeezes his arms.

"Like I said Dad, she has no taste. Dog food might work."

Right on cue Oliver is center stage, wagging his tail and looking up at everyone.

Tilsy picks him up, "Where have you been young man? I've hardly seen you since we've been here?"

"He's making time with the yellow lab next door. They run up and back at the fence. He's fast," Del says admiringly. "The other dogs just sit and watch him run."

Hank was worried about his three rescues and pampered Oliver, but the pup has guts. He's fast and agile and easily manages to stay out from under the Witcher lumbering pack. As if they were called; Teddy, Gruff and Manager barge through the doggy door. The kitchen is full.

"Patrick, feed the dogs, while Jed and I finish breakfast. Del set the table. Tilsy please sit at the table, so I can see your beautiful face while I work?"

"Smooth, Dad." Del punches Hank in the bicep.

"I promise to keep out of the way, but I have to have coffee first." Tilsy says.

"It's ready and I got that cream you like," Jed reaches in the cupboard and pulls out a pink mug.

"Where'd that come from," Hank is surprised.

"I bought it for her. She uses one similar at her house," Patrick says and kisses my girl. "Where is your stuff, Tilsy?" Patrick asks surprising Hank. He had forgotten that her house is sold.

"My clothes and everything else is in storage. I need to go there sometime and get some things. All I have is T-shirts, one pair of jeans and two pairs of shorts. I'd only planned on a weekend away." She traveled with Oliver and Delbert for seven weeks.

It's instantly quiet in the Witcher house. Too quiet, but Hank needs to know, "Why did you leave and why didn't you come back, Tilsy?"

Tilsy's face turns a deep red, but Hank needs to know and he needs his boys around him to hear her answer. She looks at him like this is not the time and place.

"I have no secrets from my sons, Tilsy. We don't do secrets in his house."

Tilsy sits at the table, drinks her coffee and watches Oliver eat. He and Jed continue with breakfast. Everyone is in motion doing what needs to be done. No one is talking.

"That's how it is here, we share our best and our worse." Hank knows Tilsy has suffered emotional and probably some physical abuse in her marriage, it's written all over her face and her demeanor. She has sons, who are just as uncontrolled and abusive as her husband obviously was.

Hank heard all about Andrew's little visit from Patrick and a couple other people. This woman has spent her life alone and with no one to share her thoughts, fears, and things that make her happy. No one cared about this beautiful, sensitive woman and no one heard her.

"Andrew found me. I didn't feel safe here anymore." Her voice stutters quietly. It gets quiet in the kitchen.

"And?" Hank leaves the stove to sit across from her.

"I loved you and knew you didn't love me back. I couldn't stand being here anymore."

"Do you know I chased after you across half this country?"

"Some, I heard you were coming to St. Augustine and Detective Lance Coulard said you called asking about me."

"You ran from me didn't you?"

"Some . . . maybe but not really. Sam asked me if I was being threatened and running. I told him the truth. I wasn't running from, I was running toward. I needed to find a home. So Oliver and I explored but I didn't find any place."

"Did you think of me at all?" Hank challenges.

"I didn't want to. I wanted to forget you. When Jeff died, I woke up and I made myself a promise that I'd only do things that made me happy and that felt good. I wasn't happy in Abingdon anymore and I didn't feel good here. Oliver and I went looking for a place where we could be happy. I kept looking."

"I'm sorry Tilsy. I've loved you since the pink paint incident. I was afraid. It's just that simple. I was afraid to love you, because you are so special. I destroyed Ellen and I couldn't do that to another beautiful, wonderful woman."

Hank feels Jed's hand on his shoulder. "When Ellen killed herself, I blamed myself. I could see she was suffering. I tried to help with doctors and psychologists and brought in a housekeeper for the boys. But I was busy building my practice and I didn't give her my time like she needed. I let her down and my sons had to grow up without a mother because of it. She was my world and I let her down."

Tilsy is staring at him her face pale and her eyes filled with tears. Patrick and Del have joined Jed beside him. She knew there was more to the story Patrick told her when they worked together on her kitchen. She doesn't say anything. Hank needs her to listen; not talk.

"I was afraid to commit like that again. You have lived in a world of hurt, Tilsy. I don't know how you survived. I don't know if I can be everything you need me to be. But I couldn't stop thinking about you.

"When I saw that For Sale sign on your house, I felt relieved and crushed at the same time. You were leaving and I didn't have to deal with you or love you. I didn't have to worry about making you happy or protecting you. But the hole in my heart grew bigger every day.

"And then I realized I was doing it all over again. I was letting you down, just like I did Ellen. I had to find you. I had to talk to you. I had to see if we were meant to be together. But I couldn't catch you, Tilsy." He laughs and shakes his head. "For one little woman you sure do move fast. Detective Coulard said he had to put out an APB to find you."

"He sent the Texas Rangers after me!" Her loud response startles us all.

The boys break out in laughter.

"It wasn't funny. Oliver and I were eating pancakes . . . somewhere—Jake, who owns "Fran's" is a great cook—and three huge police officers came busting in the restaurant. They used their police cars to block Delbert and they made me talk to their captain. Everyone in the restaurant was terrified. Then Detective Lance Coulard got on the phone and said I'd left my cell phone and he couldn't call me. It was so awful at the police station. He made me and Oliver sit in this horrible room without water or anything for more than four hours. Oliver had to go bad.

"I told him I didn't leave it that his people took it out of my purse and didn't put it back. I told him to just keep it, I wasn't coming back. And he said I'd probably have to come back for the trial. I don't want to go back there, ever!" Tilsy's chin is trembling and she's hospital sheet white.

The boys have brought the food to the table and plates are being passed around. It's a typical breakfast at the Witcher house.

"When Detective Lance Coulard made me get into the police car I noticed that it didn't have any handles inside. I was terrified, but he told me he'd take care of me and I had nothing to worry about. He said the word promise. I believed him? But he didn't. The real question was why did I believe him? I realized that my perspective was skewed. What I believe a promise means doesn't mean everyone else believes the same.

"I also realized that I had built you up in mind as something you weren't. I couldn't trust myself anymore to know what was true and what wasn't. I had to connect with someone because I suddenly realized how alone and vulnerable I was. I was putting Oliver at risk too. I called Patrick. I didn't' really believe he'd talk to me. I felt like I had abandoned him and was sure he hated me. But he talked to me."

Tilsy turns to Patrick. "Thank you, I think you saved my life or at least my sanity. I never thought about doing what . . . Ellen did, but all the fun had gone out of my life. Even Oliver spent his time staring at me because I just wanted to lay in bed. I even yelled at him in a motel room, to let him self out and lock the door when he comes back!"

The boys burst into laughter.

"I couldn't even make myself get up and take Oliver out for a walk."

Tilsy gets up and pulls a sheet of paper towel and blows her nose. All eyes watch her, including Hank's.

"Then the phone rang at three o'clock in the morning and woke me and Oliver. Patrick was upset, afraid that his Dad was going to die. My only thought was to get here for you and Patrick. I told him to tell you I was coming."

"He did and it meant everything to me Tilsy." Hank swallows feeling her story as much as hearing it.

"I know. I knew it when I said it. I knew then that fantasy or not. Real or not real, I loved you. I mean we've never even gone on a date, but still I loved you. When I got on the plane, the man next to me asked me where I was going."

Tilsy swallows hard and looks around the table. "I told him I was going home."

Hank's out of his seat and he has Tilsy in his arms. "I love you Tilsy. I'll do my best to be there for you."

This wonderful woman looks at him with her bright eyes boring into his. "I love you Hank. I'll do my best to be there for you."

The boys jump up grabbing us in hugs and kisses. "This is so intense and I'm worried about Caley's cooking? So you two are going to stay together?" Jed stands tall in front of Hank.

Hank looks at Tilsy. She smiles and he answers, "Yes."

"Can I call you Mom?" Patrick has his arm around Tilsy's shoulder. "Please."

"Sure, why not. I am a Mom."

Patrick puts Tilsy in her chair and Del loads it with pancakes. "We've got blueberry, strawberry and orange syrup. Which do you want Mom?"

"Blueberry, please, it's my favorite, son."

"Speaking of sons Mom, what are we going to do about your other sons? If Mark Conway hadn't stepped in, I was going to kick Andrew's ass myself." Patrick stuffs a half a pancake in his mouth. His eyes are full of disapproval.

Tilsy shakes her head.

"Patrick told us about what happened. Do they treat you like that all the time?" Jed looks like Hank when he's upset.

Tilsy shrugs.

Hank senses that Tilsy has had enough sharing, "We'll all work it out another time, boys. Now, Jed, we've got to figure out what to do for Caley. You take her out to dinner, I assume. What does she order?"
Book 2 Hank

"Oliver you know I like you, but my bed is off limits. You may sit in the side chair any time you want." Hank points to the wing chair closest to the bed.

Oliver sits and looks at Hank for the longest time, then gets down, jumps in the chair and lies down. "I think I won that one Tilsy, what do you think?"

His princess giggles and he brings her into his arms. The overwhelming feeling of love and warmth when he holds her just gets better and better. "I could stand here and hold you forever, Tilsy. Lie down with me. I hate that I get tired so quickly but I promised myself that I'd be patient and be a good patient."

"You just got out of the hospital yesterday, Hank. To be honest, I'm overwhelmed with everything and the boys have so much energy. Oliver and I aren't used to it. I'd love to snuggle with you."

We're on top of the bed Tilsy insisted she make up this morning. Comfortable against the pillows and headboard, covered in a quilt Tilsy carefully laid over him.

"I could get used to this very quickly," she says and kisses his chin, cheeks and chest before she lays her head there.

"I can't believe I'm lying here in the middle of the day and on a weekday." Hank is disturbed that it's what he needs to be doing. He's tired and for the first time since the boys were born he feels like they are too much to handle.

If Ellen could see him, she'd give him so much grief but Tilsy is happy here with him. He feels her relaxed and enjoying this moment of quiet and the intimate touch of their bodies, He squeezes her tighter and her soft lips kiss the underside of his chin.

Sam was so worried about Tilsy when he and Patrick showed up in St. Augustine. He was frantic when he found Tilsy gone and her note.

Sam looked at Hank like he was the cause of Tilsy's distress. He was equally harsh to his friend Eric, who hasn't changed except for being better with animals and worse with their owners. Eric expects the worse from them and is barely civil, but there's no one in the world that cares more about the animals and he's a damn good vet.

Sam made it clear that Tilsy was running from something or someone. Tilsy denied it, Sam said, but he didn't believe her and he took a long drink of his bourbon and stared at Hank.

Hank could deny it but he knew better. Tilsy ran because he didn't offer her anything but distance and confusing signals. The kiss he wanted but pushed her away was just one incident. When Hank saw the footage of her confrontation with the murderer in Plano he realized how vulnerable she was out there all alone, except for a tiny dog named Oliver. It could have been her bloody and dead . . . just like Ellen.

He'd been able to track Tilsy to the Wayward Motel and Restaurant and the people there adored her. They said she was heading west that's all they knew. He and Patrick turned back because of commitments. Hank knew an investigator he was going to talk to when he got home.

The practice needed him. Daisy and Max were covering as much as they could, but they didn't have his big animal experience. Just like with Ellen, Hank put his practice first. He groans.

"You all right Hank? Can I get you something?" Her soft voice floats over him and brings him back to now.

"You're safe. You're here. That's all I need Princess."

Hank is sixty two and some. Despite the heart attack he should have started to reorganize his practice before now. He will handle large animals only and bring in another vet to train with him and work the clinic with Daisy and Max. That would mean less hours for Hank and he vowed to give them to Tilsy.

After their nap, Hank and Tilsy decided to make some snacks for Caley's arrival. The boys are gone. It's just Tilsy, the dogs and Hank. The house is quiet and Hank is helping. "When do you want to go to storage and get your things? We could do that today, Tilsy."

"You don't like my T-shirts? I'll have you know there's a great story behind each one. So much better than meaningless store-bought clothes," she laughs and slaps him on the butt.

"I was thinking of taking the boys and Caley to a nice restaurant . . . "

"And you don't think my T-shirts are appropriate?" She stops and raises her eyebrows at him.

"No. not really, though no one would refuse a beautiful woman like you even if you showed up naked." Hank grabs her to him and plants a wicked kiss on her lips and then let's her go, "Especially, if she's with me."

"You've got this whole town under your thumb haven't you? Being the most eligible bachelor, handsome, smart and stable, I bet there isn't a woman in a hundred mile radius who would refuse you anything Hank Witcher."

"Only a hundred miles Tilsy? At least two hundred. I'm also popular in Charlottesville, Winston-Salem and Charlotte, though I have a pretty good reputation in D.C. and with the animal rights people; mostly as the voice of reason." He laughs because it's fun to spar with Tilsy. Ellen, when they first met and then she lost her sense of humor, but other than Ellen there's never been any woman he's enjoyed teasing and talking about nothing more than he enjoys Tilsy.

"I have a dress with me and a pair of dress shoes. It'll be all right. I won't embarrass you."

Hank instantly reacts to her defacing remark. He's angry right now.

"Princess, please don't say things like that. I won't tolerate you or anyone else saying less than flattering things about you." Hank's voice is soft but he knows his eyes are flashing mad.

"Uh . . . okay." Tilsy has gone pale.

"You may be used to that kind of treatment Tilsy, but there will be no more of it. You are kind, interesting, smart, resourceful, talented and beautiful and don't you forget it," he waves the spoon he was using to fill her sweet dumplings in the air.

Tilsy snorts through her nose and laughs in his face. "Okay, Sir Galahad. Just let me finish these and I'll run out and rub down your white horse."

That does it, he grabs her and she squeals as he holds her head firmly with both hands and kisses her soundly.

"We're home!"

They break apart like teenagers caught by their parents.
Book 2 Hank

Caley is very pretty and very young. Twenty, Jed said, she looks sixteen, Hank observes. But she's sized up the Witcher house and the people in it in seconds. Hank could feel her brain buzz. It made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"I know you. Oh my God, it's you!" Caley yells seconds from entering the front door and the second she saw Tilsy.

"You're our hero. The amazing woman that was in the wrong place at the wrong time and doing the wrong thing the wrong way, we're studying your reactions and ran scenarios on possible outcomes. The conclusion is you are a genius with perfect timing and unearthly instincts. Jed you didn't tell me you know Tilsy Tilson!"

Caley flies at Tilsy and hugs her hard. "Hi. I'm Caley McGinnis. You're real too, we thought that you might have been a computer generated image that the media and police put together to fool us stupid humans in believing they are doing a good job. I mean the cute dog was almost too much."

Caley pinches Tilsy's arm. "Ouch."

"No you're real! I've got to tell the group." She whips out her phone, pushes it in Jed's hand and stands beside Tilsy. "You don't mind if Jed takes a picture of you and me. They'll want proof you're real and that I'm with you right now."

Tilsy shakes her head no. Jed takes the picture. Caley grabs it from him. "Bathroom? Gotta go."

Jed points to the downstairs powder room and she's gone.

"See!" Jed glares at Hank.

"I see Caley has arrived," Patrick walks in with Sherry just in time for our 'what the Hell was that' laughter. "I can tell because of that stunned look on your faces. What do you think of her?" Patrick looks at me for a response. I look at Tilsy. Her mouth opens but nothing comes out.

"Yea, that's a normal reaction." Patrick snorts.

As usual everyone wanders to the kitchen where Tilsy and I continue making her crostini platter, and put the cheese plate, veggie plate and sweet dumplings on the table with the four dips Tilsy made.

Jed takes the bartender role and Patrick brings out the plates and napkins. We're a well-oiled machine here at the Witcher house.

"Where's Del?" Hank asks.

"He met up with some of his friends from school. He said he'd catch us later." Jed says and hands Tilsy a glass of white wine. "Sorry Dad, none for you."

Hank senses an energy spike and looks for the source. Caley is standing in the middle of the great room staring at Oliver, who is sitting quietly in front of her staring back. Hank gets Tilsy's attention and points.

"What is she doing, Jed," Hank whispers. Jed looks and shrugs. "Who knows? She's probably trying to mentally communicate with Oliver."

Right on cue Oliver turns and looks at Jed and then back to Caley.

"That's not it," Tilsy whispers and walks to Oliver and Caley. "Oliver this is Caley." He stands up and wags his tail until it looks like his butt's going to fall off.

"It's okay you can pet him," Tilsy smiles at Caley, who looks anxious. "Most people don't know how to pet a dog." Tilsy says quietly.

Caley looks confused, "There's a procedure?"

"Yes. Look at me." Tilsy orders softly. Caley looks at Tilsy and Tilsy raises her hand and to us onlookers it looks like Tilsy is going to pet Caley on the head. Caley flinches and steps back. "Most people do that to a dog. It's uncomfortable isn't it? This is how you pet a dog. Give me your hand."

Caley does and Tilsy turns Caley's hand palm up and both beautiful women bend down to Oliver. Tilsy lets Oliver sniff Caley's hand and then puts it under Oliver's chin. "Tickle him. Gently."

Caley is laughing and Oliver is thoroughly enjoying it.

"Now you can ruffle his hair. He likes it."

"He likes me!" Caley looks up at Jed. "I've never petted a dog before. Look, Jed, he likes me." She's on her knees and Oliver is in her lap licking her face. "You like me. I like you too Oliver," Caley laughs and it sounds like bells.

"You're a natural, Caley." Tilsy smiles at her.

"I am?"

"There's your proof." Tilsy laughs. "Come back to the table, Oliver is a glutton when it comes to showing off and licking people. He's spoiled enough."

Caley looks like she doesn't want to leave Oliver, but she follows and orders a beer from Jed. He hands her a Coke.

"If you usually drink beer, you are welcome to have one in the house," Hank says and she turns to him still holding her Coke.

"Have you seen the recent data on the foal death rate in the U.S.? It could be concluded that mares are being bred younger here than in other places in the world, where horse breeders have a longer history. The horse breeder associations disagree that the practice is causing the upswing. I would be interested in your opinion. I will be filing a paper requesting further study. I think it could be significant and worth additional study." Caley's face is sincere.

"That's an unusual topic for study?" Hank is puzzled.

"Because I'm a girl?"

"No, because it's not main stream."

"Obscurity shouldn't be a reason to ignore practices that could eventually wipe out an entire species. I believe it's changing the genetic tables and I don't think it's in the best interest of the species."

Hank sits by Tilsy and pets Oliver who has settled in her lap. "I have a small practice in a small town. I have seen the data and I have experienced problems with young mares. But I can't offer an opinion from my personal knowledge. I couldn't even agree or disagree based on the small numbers I work with. I've had only six deliveries in the past year. One of the six died and the cause was a birth defect that is not uncommon."

"Dr. Witcher, your reputation inspires respect. You personally designed the Vet alert system and you are connected to every vet in the U.S. and beyond. Don't discount your small numbers."

"There are vets who specialize in breeding, they would serve you better."

"How so?"

Hank sighs and wants to get off this subject that isn't interesting to the others. "That should be clear to you, Caley."

"It is, but they have a vested interest in not cooperating or providing accurate data. You on the other hand are only interested in the health and wellbeing of the animal. In my book, your opinion is more valuable."

"We are very glad you are here, Caley, please enjoy some of the wonderful food Tilsy made to welcome you. If you like, we could make time to discuss this issue. However, I will have to get permission from my clients to disclose their information."

She's is an amazing young woman. Jed is looking at her like she's the only thing in his world. Hank wants to make sure Jed doesn't think he's not cooperative or open minded. "I look forward to that discussion, Caley. By the way," he looks around the table and draws their attention. "Tilsy and I are taking you all out to dinner tonight at Maize's. Can we all be ready by six thirty?"

Tilsy and Sherry discuss the storage of Tilsy's things. "I labeled every box for what's in it but also where it was before I packed it. I'll take you tomorrow, ten in the morning?"

The conversation at this table is interesting and varied. Del came in with two of his friends from school. Laughter is easy but louder and soon Tilsy's delicious finger food is gone and Hank feels the weight of tired.

"I think I'd like to rest before dinner. Will you come with me, Hank?" Tilsy says and he loves her more every minute.

"We'll clean up," the boys say together. Hank nods thanks.

Like yesterday, Tilsy settles him in and then lies close and wraps her arm around his waist. There's so much he wants to say. He wants to kiss her. He wants to tell her how amazing she is. He was mesmerized with how she handled Oliver and Caley. As someone who's worked with people and animals all his life, he missed it entirely. Caley said her group concluded that Tilsy was a genius with perfect timing and unearthly instincts. He couldn't agree more.

"Wake up handsome doctor," a soft voice and soft lips wake him.

"I fell asleep?"

"In seconds." More softness and kisses. "It's five thirty. We should get ready for dinner."

Dinner? Who cares? He only wants this woman. Pulling her tight, Hank lifts her chin and her lips to his. "Hummm."

Tilsy moves and she's lying on him, holding his face and kissing him. He feels the tip of her tongue caress his lips and opens his mouth. She liked this last time. A flick and then warm, soft strokes spike his tongue and he feels his instant erection.

She dives deeper in his mouth and her hand is on his chest moving down to his stomach and then covers him. "Tilsy."

She groans and rubs her hand over him through his slacks and gently squeezes his balls. Her touch, her scent, the feel of her body on his, Hank wants . . . needs her now. Hank's hands are on her breasts . . . so soft and then her back and waist and covering her round butt squeezing, massaging and pressing her hard against him. "Beautiful."

"You feel so good, Hank. You're big and hard."

"That's what you do to me, Tilsy. Do you like it?"

"Yes," she's rubbing his thighs and then moves back between his legs to rub and squeeze.

"I'm dying here, Tilsy. I want you." Hank starts to roll over her but she squirms away with a giggle.

"We're necking and petting right?" Her tongue strokes his and he's consumed by her teasing. "More Hank. I want more."

He doesn't have to be begged. He's with her all the way. His hand is covering her. She feels hot and moist through her jeans. He rubs his palm between her legs and she's doing the same to him. He's going to embarrass himself, if this goes much further.

"Clothes. We need them off, Tilsy."

"Yes, we need to change for dinner."

_Dinner?_ "I want to make love to you."

"I know. Me too." She's gone from his bed, standing over him, looking down at the very big bulge in his pants.

"What?"

"Necking and petting and making out, right?"

"You're kidding. I could devour you right now. Take your clothes off and come back here." Hank reaches for his pants and zipper.

Tilsy reaches down and covers him with both hands and rubs and squeezes. "I like this. I like this a lot. We'll get there. Come on get up."

"I can't walk now. I need you." No woman has ever done this to him. No woman has ever denied him after he carefully staged his lovemaking. Even Ellen couldn't resist him, even when she was mad at him.

"Come on, we'll play later please." Tilsy looks distressed.

His erection collapses. His whole body sinks into his mattress. She's right, he's still unstable, and disappointment hovers, threatening if he moves too fast. Charlie warned him to give it time.

Hank's out of the bed and he's holding this darling, lovely woman tight against him, "You're right Tilsy, I forgot. You turn me on so much and I got worked up."

"I love you so much Hank, I can hardly breathe."
Book 2 Hank

His woman is with Sherry at the moving company's storage units. Patrick left by six to work on a master suite and ensuite renovation, Del never came home after dinner last night, preferring to spend time with his friends. Jed and Caley went "out". He's alone in the house and he feels uncomfortable and eyes on him.

"It's just you and me Oliver. Come on we'll go to my office."

Hundreds of emails, but it's been nearly two weeks since he did any work. He organizes them using the "From" tab and deletes the junk to start.

Only three needs answered. Mail is piled up in two foot-high stacks. He eyes it and then reaches for the nearest pile when the front door bell rings.

"You're home. We've all been so worried." Marjorie my twice a week housekeeper moves passed me and shuts the door behind her. She looks around, "The boys are home? That's wonderful. I'll start with the bedrooms then, I'm sure none of them are made up." She laughs. "Don't mind me, I know what to do."

She's been with him since Ellen. For more than six years she was full time. She took Patrick to school on his first day. Hank wanted to, but Patrick wanted Marjorie.

"I like your hair, Dr. Witcher," Marjorie grins and heads upstairs. Hank loves that grin and that woman. She and Hank raised his sons. When the boys got older, she cut her hours back and then her days, "Edgar and I like to get out and travel some. We're not getting any younge." She said.

Hank breathes, he's glad he's not alone in the house. "I'm going to get over this right, Oliver?"

He organizes the mail. The ones he needs to deal with are the smallest stack. The rest go into the garbage can next to his desk that's lined with a white plastic bag that smells like fake flowers. "Marjorie." He laughs. Oliver looks up briefly from the chair he's picked out as his and then lays back down.

"God I am so stupid!" Oliver's up and on the floor. Hank hasn't even considered Tilsy's needs in his house. She's still using her makeup bag and putting everything back in it, when she dresses, like she probably did traveling from motel to motel.

Hank hasn't said anything to her about moving in permanently, he figured she understood that. He just assumed she'd move into his bedroom. Maybe she doesn't like it or the décor. All his drawers are full and there's no space for her clothes or for her personal things in the bathroom.

"I'm an ass, Oliver. I don't deserve your beautiful friend."

"Marjorie, I need your help." Hank yells as he heads up the stairs with Oliver on his heels.

Tilsy will be back soon, he's got to get this ready. He and Marjorie are pulling things out of his bureau at a panicked pace.

"She'll need at least two Hank give her the top two. It's easier for a woman."

Marjorie found boxes somewhere and Hank's weeding out what he doesn't need or hasn't worn for ten years.

"Does she have a lot of clothes?" He and Marjorie stand at the walk in closet that is packed full.

"I don't know." Hank says disturbed that he doesn't.

"Okay then, let's give her one side to start. We can go from there." Marjorie doesn't pause with his revelation.

God, how many clothes does he have? Some he doesn't even remember. He's slinging them on the floor and Marjorie is trying to get them organized and at least off the hangers.

"She's going to be here soon. Hurry, Marjorie."

Marjorie is hauling clothes to the guest room. "I'll shut the door and we'll go through them later. Goodwill always needs things and the shelters too."

Hank grabs a box and starts piling shoes in it. He only wears three pairs regularly. There are at least thirty in here. There's more stuff on the upper shelves. Tilsy can't possible reach there, so he doesn't bother and heads for the bathroom, with another box.

"Women prefer drawers. It's better for the little stuff. Just clear the lowest shelf in the medicine cabinet and two drawers." Marjorie orders and Hank is throwing everything he doesn't immediately recognize in the box.

"Don't you ever finish a tube of toothpaste or deodorant before you open a new one Hank? These aren't useable?" Marjorie is filling the garbage can when we hear the front door.

"Put everything away, I go get my princess." Hank starts to move to the door and then stops and turns back to her. He puts his hands on her shoulders, kisses her cheek and hugs her tight.

"Thank you, Marjorie. Thank you for everything you've done for me. I love you, you know?"

"She's good for you, Hank."

"Have I always been a thoughtless, inconsiderate ass?"

"Pretty much, but you have a good heart Dr. Witcher. It's worth putting up with the rest."

And then he sees her and his heart flutters in a good way. Tilsy's there at the bottom of the stairs looking up at him. Hank can see the tension in her face. He groans. He put that look there.

"Hey, Princess, I missed you." She's in his arms and all his anxiety disappears . . . poof . . . gone. "Oliver and I have been busy. We got my office organized and cleared away two weeks' worth of work and other things. Marjorie is here. I want you to meet her."

"Marjorie, Tilsy's here!" Hank calls up the steps and Marjorie starts down and then a wide Marjorie smile lights up her face. "Del!"

Hank looks around and sees Del behind Tilsy holding a box. Hank hadn't seen him. He only had eyes for Tilsy.

Del swings Marjorie around while she screams. "You devil. Put me down. You're going to break me and then you'll be sorry."

"You get more beautiful every day, Marjorie. Come back with me when I leave. I need someone to take care of me. I miss you."

"Get your own woman, Del, my Edgar needs me." Marjorie's voice softens and she looks at him head to toe. "You're good, Del, really good. I'm very proud of you. I loved my birthday present. I wore it to the Barter last week and everyone complimented it. Edgar was jealous because your gift was better than his." She laughs her Marjorie laugh and they hug again.

Birthday? Marjorie had a birthday? Of course she had a birthday, not like you paid any attention, Hank. "I thought you were with your friends, Del."

"I was but Mom needed some muscle, so I cut it short to help. She didn't bring much though, just these two."

"Mom?" Marjorie looks at Del and then Tilsy.

"She said it was okay to call her Mom, Marjorie. It doesn't mean we love you less, you know." Del smiles and Hank realizes how devilishly handsome his second born son is.

"Of course, sweetheart, you know I'm happy for you boys and your Dad. But you better take care of her, or you'll have me to deal with young man."

"Ms. Lorraine Angela Tilson . . . Mom. . . I'm proud to introduce you to Mrs. Marjorie Ann Harper, wife of Edgar Harper and housekeeper, nanny and friend to the Witcher boys. She's taken care of us since we were in diapers and we love her very much."

"Hi, Ms. Tilson, welcome," Marjorie wipes her hand on her jeans and holds it out for Tilsy.

"Tilsy, please, it's a pleasure to meet you. They are wonderful." Tilsy and Marjorie smile at each other knowing . . . everything. Women have always amazed Hank.

He walked in the kitchen of his grandmother's house one bright summer day and found her sitting at the kitchen table crying. "What's the matter Gran, are you hurt?"

"No precious, I've just been thinking things through."

He was confused. "What things would make you cry?"

She wiped her eyes and kissed him on the cheek. "Something you should know, Hank. Men think women are weak because we cry, while men hold in their tears and think it makes them strong. Women cry because we understand so many more things than men. Our tears are often born of frustration because we have so little control to deal with or change things. One day, perhaps things will change and we women will cry less. I hope for change but not for the absence of tears."

That connection between women is so much stronger than between men. Friends, comrades in war, sports and challenges, building companies and battling disasters all bond men, but it's different. With women it's instinctive. With men it's earned. Mysterious creatures' women, he's always been fascinated.

And here he is, proving Gran's words. He understands very little and spends hardly any time thinking about why he's like that.

Hank was excited and intended to grab Tilsy right away and show her what he'd done. He was proud that he'd thought of Tilsy but was it more about him than her? And now he's caught in this scene and mesmerized by it. He's a bystander now and since Ellen.

He thought he'd been in the thick of things, but every day with Tilsy he's beginning to realize he lived on the fringe of his own life. He spent the time, he was interested. He loves his sons and Marjorie but it didn't reach his core. Tilsy is opening that cold, hard, dark place locked away since Ellen and its mostly upsetting.

He loves Tilsy so why do his thoughts keep Ellen here and very much alive to him? Hank realizes that he's been comparing Tilsy and Ellen. That's despicable but Ellen is more alive since Tilsy. The two women are night-to-day different but his reaction to each of the women he loves is the same. The thought of not having Tilsy in his life gave him a heart attack. The day he and Ellen married he looked at her and knew that if something happened to her he wouldn't survive.

But he did. Somehow he survived and Tilsy is here beside him proving that. Damn, Hank, get it together, this is your life and it's the only one you get. You better get your act together or you'll lose Tilsy too.

"So, what do I do with these boxes?" Del jerks him out of his uncomfortable thoughts.

"That's up to Tilsy, but Marjorie and I have cleared out a lot of my things to make room for yours."

Hank draws her into his arms. "I'll do whatever you want. I thought that until you decide what that is, you could share my room? We can make changes as we want too. Will that work for you, Tilsy?"

Her face is myriad of emotions in fast forward. Her beautiful gray eyes bore into his and he knows this woman is reading his soul. "Yes."

Why do men make the world so complicated? A simple yes from Tilsy solved all the immediate problems in his universe.
Book 2 Hank

After Hank watched Tilsy put away the few things she brought from storage, she stood in the middle of their bedroom holding her laptop close to her chest.

Finally, Hank understands why. "You need a place to work. Why don't you share my office?"

Tilsy wrinkles her nose in that way that has him totally smitten and clearly says no. "Okay." Hank is thinking fast. _Work space for Tilsy. Work space for Tilsy_.

"Come here," he takes her hand and walks her to the guest room, ignoring the piles of clothes and stuff from his bedroom. "That desk, would that work until you find something you like better? Or do you have something in storage you'd like me to get? I thought we could set it under the window in our bedroom. Jed has a nice office chair that he doesn't use anymore, or we could go and buy you one or any chair in the house you like."

Tilsy looked at him. "What's going on here? Why are you being so . . . accommodating?

Hank pulls her in his arms and lays his head on the top of hers. "You want to now why I'm being thoughtful and nice to you?" He laughs and feels her nod. "I love you Tilsy. I want you here and I want you happy."

Hank must have dozed off because he woke up.

Tilsy's working on her computer in their bedroom. Hank is lying on the bed watching her. She seems happy and focused. The window directly in front of the small writing desk that was his Gran's would have driven him crazy. He wouldn't have been able to focus. He'd always rather be outside.

Tilsy loved the desk instantly and his stories about Gran. He notices that Tilsy has chosen the wing chair that matches the one Oliver uses. They really are a charming pair.

"What are you doing?" he says and hopes is voice sounds interested and not challenging.

"Working."

She offers nothing else. He waits until he can't stand it anymore. "I didn't know you had a job."

Tilsy turns in her chair and brings her pink coffee mug around with her. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be evasive and I realized some time ago that I tend to do that with you. Do you know why?" Her beautiful face mirrors her puzzle.

"Do you trust me?"

"I guess you're right. I trust that you love me and I love you, as far as the rest of me, I guess not . . . yet." Tilsy pleads with me to do what?

"Princess, I intend to spend the rest of my life with you. We have time to work all that out. No hurry. No pushing. I believe that we'll get around to everything in time."

A huge smile fills her face. He's seen it before just once. It was when he told her he liked her too much. He saw it and walked away from her. Never again will he make that mistake.

She crosses her leg and leans toward him holding onto her pink coffee mug. God, she's sexy. He feels the bulge in his jeans that is thankfully hidden under the quilt.

Tilsy takes a deep breath like she's taking on a difficult project. "I worked for twenty-eight years for an insurance company in Roanoke. It was boring, unchallenging and there was no possibility of growth. I didn't interact with anyone but the few people in cubicles around me. We weren't even friends. I went to the office at eight and left at five. That was it.

"Jeff's social security wouldn't give me enough money to live very well and I wouldn't be able to keep the house that I paid for. I couldn't bear going back to that horrible job and Jeff's pension wouldn't be available to me until I'm sixty-five and then I'd only get a portion. It's stealing really." She shakes her head in disbelief.

"His insurance paid off the credit card and everything else we owed. Fortunately we didn't owe much, because there wasn't much insurance. I sold my house and that horrible huge SUV Jeff bought for me to drive, and his car and pretty much everything else . . . furniture . . . everything."

"Then I moved here and found that pretty little house and bought it cash. I paid $4,000 for Delbert. But even with that I figured I had only a couple of years that I could live on with what was left and nothing for any major emergency situations. I needed to make money."

God, he loves to hear her talk.

"My Dad was into collectibles and he dabbled in the stock market. I think he must have broken even most of the time. But I'm really good at it." Tilsy grins huge.

"Math has always been my strength and now after a year, I can live comfortably for the rest of my life, if I manage things well."

Hank is impressed. "That's amazing. I have no aptitude for it. I have an investment firm, but that's mostly to secure my practice. My pension funds, Social Security, and life insurance policies are about all I have, except for this house and another I use as rental property." Hank has moved to Oliver's chair and holding him on his lap.

Tilsy smiles, "That's a lot to work with. I had only what was left from the house and the cars. I use the widow's portion of the Social Security for everyday expenses--utilities, groceries, gas. He died at sixty-two, so there wasn't a full benefit. Oh, I used some to buy my new laptop!" Tilsy laughs and glances at her shiny computer. Hank realizes she's proud of her self and that makes him love her more.

"I'm very impressed and glad to know you have this ability. Can I dump all my finances onto you?" I'm happy and teasing. Tilsy fades. Hank is determined to bring her back into the light. "What? You don't want to help me?" He teases.

"You want to merge our money?"

Now he's got it. He's sure Jeff never let her have a cent without a fight. "Absolutely not. I wouldn't taint all your good work with my mess. As far as I'm concerned what you earn belongs to you. I had nothing to do with the work and have no right to the rewards. However, I never want you to do without or suffer financially in anyway because you don't want to be honest with me and tell me if you need something. Everything I have will be freely given and without questions to make you happy Tilsy."

The look on her face is skeptical.

"Money means nothing to me, Tilsy, except as a resource. I've always been that way and that's why you married a poor man."

"Married?" Tilsy's eyes open wide in surprise.

"Aren't we?" Hank is on his feet and holding out his hand for her.

She hesitates and then puts her hand in his. "Yes, I guess or something similar."

Hank feels his heart flip, stutter and then settle into a strong, steady rhythm as he draws her to him, "Yes." He whispers in her ear and feels her shiver.

His kiss comes from his heart and soul but stirs his physical parts hard. He pulls back and holds her away from him with his hands on her shoulders. "On that note, will you go out to lunch with me? There's this great little place downtown. They make a killer burger. I'd very much like to take you there."

"A turkey burger?" Tilsy's so charming when she teases him.

That's something that Ellen never did. Challenge him yes. Taunt him often. And mock him, more than was comfortable sometimes.

Hank likes Tilsy's way. It seems to bring out his gentler side that he likes more and more.
Book 2 Hank

"So you grew up in Abingdon?" Tilsy is driving because he's still not allowed and she's holding the bag from the restaurant in her lap. Hank couldn't resist buying her a T-shirt from the restaurant.

Surprisingly they served a turkey burger and if he didn't think about it too hard, it is good. But what is good, is the company and the conversation.

Tilsy is interested in everything. Like a sponge begging to be saturated, Tilsy is eager, a great listener and contributor. Two hours went buy in a flash.

"Let's run by the clinic and say hello," he suggests.

"You're supposed to rest and not get involved in things." Her face shows worry that he's going to overdo.

"Just to say hello and let everyone know I'm still alive. A few minutes and we'll leave."

Tilsy's face is unconvinced and concerned.

Honestly is what he promised her. "I miss it."

She sighs deeply, "Which way?" She really does love him.

Hank's tech and office staff made a huge fuss and it was embarrassing in front of Tilsy. Even Daisy and Max left their patients for a minute to say hello. No one said anything, but they all noticed he's holding Tilsy's hand.

"By the way, you all remember Ms. Tilson and Oliver?"

Eager faces wait.

"This lovely lady has thrown caution to the wind and consented to be my wife."

Pandemonium. Even Daisy and Max join the fray until he waves them to stop. "I'll be making some changes in the clinic," that quiets them down. "I'm going to bring a couple more doctors into the practice and I'll be cutting back my time in the clinic to spend more time with large animals."

Hank's already talked to Daisy and Max and they like the idea to expand the practice. "And that means that you'll have to work even harder," he laughs as they let out a collective sigh of relief.

"You thought I was going to close down and sit in a rocking chair on the porch?"

Heads shaking but he knows they've been concerned about what was going to happen.

Tilsy is quiet on the drive home.

"Something bothering you, Princess?"

"None of my business."

"Tilsy, everything I do from now on is your business. Spit it out."

"Expanding would be a lot more work for you? Wouldn't you have to drive a lot more and work longer hours?"

"No."

She looks over and clearly doesn't believe him. Hank tries to assure her, "I want to spend time with you. I'd like to travel with you and get more involved in some of the projects I've wanted to do for quite a while. The large animal practice is small and right now, I would probably spend twenty hours a week or less.

"However, I'm going to bring in two vets. One will stay in the clinic to cover my patients and the other will travel with me and I'll train him or her to take over large animals and then I plan to manage and be available for emergencies and vacations and consults."

Hank reaches over and takes Tilsy's hand. The lump in his throat is preventing him from speaking at the moment. "I want you Tilsy. I want us to have fun and see things and do things. I've been working everyday my entire life. I've never had a vacation. The only time I've spent away from the clinic was with Ellen or the boys and it was far too little. Trust me to do this right."

There's that smile that has turned his world upside right, but it's a little off. She's still worried he won't keep his promise?

"You're leaving?" Hank's standing in front of Del, who just informed him that he's heading back to California tomorrow. He needs to be back at work.

Hank doesn't want him to go. He wants Del to stay and get a job here. Hank shakes his head in disbelief. He was the one who encouraged Del to seek more than Abingdon and go main stream. He never imagined that he'd feel this way. Del is exceptional and he was heavily recruited out of college. Several big companies were on the East Coast, but it was Hank who encouraged him to go where the big boys play. It's bit him in the ass.

Hank can't believe the words coming out of his mouth. "But I don't want you to leave."

Del looks startled. Tilsy softly takes Hank's hand and he realizes that he's never asked his boys for anything. His mindset was to make them strong and send them out in the world to make it better and good life for themselves. "Do you need a ride to the airport, Del?" Hank hears his unsteady voice.

"That would be great. Thanks."

Hank has upset Del and that makes him feel worse, but he can't help how he feels. He doesn't want Del to leave.

Del grabs a beer and a bottle of Tilsy's wine out of the refrigerator. "Let's talk Dad."

My son fills Tilsy's wine glass and pours a finger high portion of his beer into another glass and hands it to Hank.

"I've been working with a couple of guys at the company and we've come up with a plan to break out on our own--maybe in the next few months. If we can pull it off, we'll do really well. We'll have the resources to build our own company. It's not uncommon in our industry and most companies even encourage independent work, mine included. They know it's a good way to get the inside track on new technology. If we do this, the company will be our first customer." Del smiles his face bright, eager and full of promise. "If that happens, there's no reason I couldn't work from anywhere I want."

He'd want to come back here? Hank's afraid to even consider the possibility because of the potential for being disappointed.

"I would like to come back here. It's close to Duke and UVA and the others that I'll work with. Justin wants to stay in California and Jacob would like to go home to Chicago. We'd have the country covered."

Hank can't speak.

"That's wonderful Del," Tilsy reaches over and covers his hand with hers. "That's so exciting! It's an amazing world we live in, isn't it?"

Del starts in excited with details, but Hank can't focus on anything but Del wanting to come back and is working to do just that. Tilsy is keeping up and Hank can hear their conversation from a third ear, distant, unattached to the conversation.

"Do you need an investor? I'm always looking for up-and-coming new companies," Hank hears Tilsy and it brings him back.

"You'd do that Mom?"

"Are you kidding? The inside track on making a few million turns me on big time!" Tilsy and Del are laughing and talking numbers. "You'll joins us won't you Hank?" Tilsy nudges his arm. "You might not be poor anymore."

"Whatever you need it's yours Del."

"We'll be fine. If it works like we've figured and Justin never makes a mistake when it comes to money, we'll be good."

It was three weeks yesterday that Hank had his heart attack. Charlie said take a month off and then go slow for the next three and then get on with his life. What Charlie didn't tell him, that physically he was fine, but the mental and emotional toll could bring him down.

If a friend, who had gone through this, came to him for advice, Hank would tell that friend to seek psychological support. A therapist might be able to alleviate his fears and this feeling of vulnerability. That's what he'd tell a friend. For him, having his family is all he needs.

"Where's Jed? I haven't seen in since yesterday and then only briefly." Hank interrupts Del and Tilsy.

"He's probably outside in the backyard." Del says grinning.

"Why?"

"Because that's where Caley is." Now Del is laughing. Hank looks at Tilsy, she shrugs.

"Excuse me." Hank heads for the backyard.

Jed is sitting in an Adirondack chair on the deck watching Caley, She's on hands and knees in front of Teddy, Gruff and Manager, who are standing face-to-face with her. Oliver is standing on Caley's back.

"What the . . . "

"Just watch." Jed whispers and points to the chair next to him. Hank sits down to watch.

Caley raises her arm. Hank can see his dogs tense. She waits three seconds and lowers her arm. Oliver jumps off Caley onto Manager's back and then Gruff and then Teddy and is back on hers in a few seconds. She says sit and Teddy, Gruff and Manager sit.

"What the . . . "

"Dr. Witcher, did you see? Want to see it again?"

He nods because what else could he do. "Tilsy, please come here quick." He opens the deck door. She and Del are here in seconds.

"What the . . ."

"Shhhh," Jed says and laughs while Hank pulls Tilsy onto his lap.

Caley is standing with Oliver right beside her.

"Hut." She says quietly. Hank's untrained rescue dogs stand up. Caley raises her arm and drops it. Oliver takes off, jumps on Manager's back, then Gruff's and then Teddy's. "Run" Caley orders and led by Oliver the four dogs run the perimeter of the fenced in backyard, come back and sit in front of Caley.

She's on her knees snuggling and petting each dog. "Good dog. Good dog. Good dog." They're licking her and now she's on her back and they're wrestling with Caley and she's screaming in delight.

"What . . ." Hank is incredulous that this girl had never petted a dog before yesterday?

"This has been going on all day." Jed says. "Wait there's more."

Once all dogs have been appreciated, Caley stands up. The four dogs sit quietly in front of her. She paces back and forth in front of them. They watch her every move. "Which one of you wants to be first?" All tails wag.

"Manager, go."

Hank's mouth drops open as Manager, the oldest and most incorrigible of the three lopes around the perimeter and returns to start position. Caley kisses him on the nose.

"Who's next?" She paces. They watch.

"Teddy, go." He takes off faster and when he's half way around. "Gruff, go." Off goes Gruff, who is younger and faster and is catching Teddy."

Caley bends down and whispers to Oliver. In a flash he's tearing around the yard passing the other two, then sits and gives them a smug look when they take their places.

Tilsy is clapping and hollering, thoroughly enjoying the show.

Caley says something but we can't hear. Teddy, Gruff and Manager dash to the deck and sit in front of Jed. Oliver jumps on Tilsy's lap.

Jed pets each dog and then Caley yells out, "Play ball."

They dash away as Caley throws a big red ball into the middle of the yard. All the dogs start, bumping it and chasing it and pushing each other out of the way. Oliver sits with Tilsy.

"They needed exercise. This is good for them," she plops down on Jed's lap. He grunts.

"Oliver can't play ball with them. He's too little, plus he doesn't need the exercise."

"Caley that's amazing. These dogs were only trained to eat, sleep and not mess in the house." Hank says and Caley lights up with happiness.

"They can learn anything now. I was getting ready to teach them to fetch but I'm hungry now. Feed me Jed, please."

My son grabs her hand, pulls her into the kitchen and points to a chair at the dining table. "Sit."

"Jed's going to teach me to cook, if I promise not to cook anything he doesn't supervise," Caley says as Jed hands her and Tilsy a Coke.

"Jed's a really good cook . . . chef quality," Hank says as he, Jed and Del search the kitchen for the makings of a meal, "he'd be a good teacher for you."

"Didn't your Mom or someone let you help in the kitchen when you were growing up," Tilsy asks Caley.

"They let the professors take me when I was twelve. I lived with professors and such and all I did was study and go to school. Jed had to teach me how to make a bed."

"Still learning," Jed yells out and then, "Chicken or fish."

"Either or both. Caley yells back.

"What did you study?" Who would do that to a child, Hank is furious and trying not to show it.

"Oh, you know math and stuff. I got a degree in math and statistics when I was twelve and then a doctorate by fourteen. But I got three of them at the same time. It's no biggie."

Tilsy looks at me like she's going to cry, "Who took care of you?"

"Like what?" Caley's face is sincere with her question.

"Helped you with your pretty hair and buying clothes, stayed with you when you were sick, went to your school plays and Christmas mornings . . . who took care of you?"

"Assistants and housekeepers, mostly but I had a friend once. She was a senior and we hung out together. It was fun. We'd go shopping and just fool around. She graduated. Caley pauses and it looks to Hank that she's thinking of her friend. Then she's over it and looking at Tilsy's startled and sad mommy face.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm fine and Jed is a lot of fun. He took me to Disney World last month and bought me Minnie Mouse ears," she laughs. "Where did you grow up?" Caley's eyes bore into Tilsy's.

Tilsy tells stories of her Mom and grandmother. Hank was particularly interested in the swing story and her first bicycle adventure and her best friend Bonnie Sue.

"You were smart weren't you?" Caley looks sideways at Tilsy.

"Pretty much."

"School was boring?"

"Yes, but it was fun to be around my classmates." Tilsy tells of being in the band and playing the clarinet and marching for football games and parades.

Caley's fascinated but totally put out that Tilsy didn't go to college. "Dr. Witcher, may I play your piano? I haven't had a chance to play for a while. Jed doesn't have a piano. Yet." Caley asks.

"Sure."

The music flows from classic to jazz and then rock and pop before, Jed wraps his arms around her, throws her over his shoulder and deposits her at the table. "Dinner's ready."

"Isn't he wonderful," Caley whispers to Tilsy and then grins at Hank.

It's been an emotional day, Hank feels drained and exhausted. The family and the clinic account for a lot of it, but Caley really rocked him to his core. Hank always wanted a daughter. He just can't get over her parents cutting her loose like they did.

"What kind of people could do that?" Hank pulls Tilsy closer as she snuggles in bed.

"Strange, but she seems to be well-adjusted and well-rounded. She gets along with all of us and what she did with the dogs? Hank have you ever seen anything like it? Two days ago she didn't even know how to pet a dog. She's accomplished and interesting and engaged. I see nothing but a charming, lovely young woman who loves Jed."

Tilsy kisses him under his chin and caresses Hank's chest. He feels the beginning of calm he hasn't felt most of the day. "I love you so much Tilsy. I can't imagine my life without you."
Book 2 Hank

"But you can't," Tilsy is wringing her hands in front of him. He hasn't seen her exhibit that nervous habit since he's been home from the hospital.

"I have to Tilsy, the bull is really sick. It means a lot to Herb's farm."

"But I thought someone was covering for you."

"Yes but he's on another emergency." Hank draws Tilsy to his chest and hugs her hard. "It's what I do, Tilsy. I'll be all right."

"Sure it will, after all it's only one huge bull you'll be man-handling. But you're not supposed to drive. I'll drive you." She tilts her head and tries to stand tall enough to look him in the eyes.

"It's a fully-stocked medical van and twelve-foot trailer," he raises his eyebrows.

"I can do it. I'll figure it out as we go."

"Go where?" Jed and Caley come down the stairs.

"Your dad is going to see a patient and he's not supposed to be doing that. What if something happens," Tilsy says and Hank hears high-pitched stress in her voice. Jed hears it too.

"Going to use the mobile clinic? I'll take you Dad, When will you be ready?" Jed puts his hand on Tilsy's shoulders. "It'll be all right. I've done this quite a few times before. I'll take care of him."

"Can I go? Please! Please! Can I?" Caley's in Hank's face.

"Stay with Tilsy, Caley." Jed says softly.

"No, it's all right, Caley you can come. Ever been a medical assistant before?"

"No, but I have a medical degree."

Of course she does. Hank squares up and gives her his best in charge look. "Can you do what you're told?"

"I can try."

On the drive to Herb's farm, Caley gleaned about just everything Hank knows about bull anatomy, common medical problems and treatment. As expected Herb's money-maker bull was a real mess. Hank suspected bloat and spent a lot of time searching for the cause.

Caley was competent and efficient. It didn't surprise Hank. You don't succeed in her world if you aren't. He's never had a better assistant. But most significantly, she calmed the bull for treatment.

"It's all right Patty. You let Dr. Witcher take care of you'll feel better right away."

The two ton bull looked her in the eye and settled down. Apparently he liked the name she gave him. All four of the farm hands were tense and stood ready expecting the older bull to fight. But Caley lead him into the holding pen without incident and just like she said she could.

"Good boy, Patty." She scratched his forehead and the bull snorted. Hank thought Jed was going to have a heart attack.

Caley was quiet the entire trip back. Hank kept trying to talk to her, but mostly she ignored him. "You were terrific, Caley. I appreciate your help." She nodded.

Hank looked at Jed but he shrugged.

When they got back to the house, Caley went straight upstairs without saying another word.

"Did something happen?" Tilsy is holding onto Hank like she hasn't seen him in a month.

"Hey, I'm all right Princess. Caley took care of everything anyway. I was worried that I've have to sedate the bull, but he took one look at her and behaved just like Manager, Gruff and Teddy. She was amazing, Tilsy." He laughs in disbelief. He usually has no trouble. At six-foot four, two hundred and forty pounds Hank has an edge or at least equality when it comes to larger animals. Always calm, nonthreatening and sure, animals usually respect him. But this little girl had no experience and admitted to have never seen a live bull before, was a natural.

Apparently when Tilsy is nervous she wrings her hands but also cooks. Beef stew, homemade bread and a huge salad were waiting for them. "The brownies will be done soon. I like them hot with ice cream on top. Oliver and I ran to the store and got some. Jed, you want to call Caley down, it's ready to eat."

Jed shakes his head no. "No way, she'll come down when she's ready."

Patrick joined us half way through dinner and we're nearly finished when Caley appears.

"Dr. Witcher, would you consider letting me intern with you?"

"Intern for what, Caley?"

"I got accepted at University of California veterinary school. Its rated No. 2 in the U.S.--Cornell is rated No. 1--but I want to stay close to Jed. I'll be finished in about a year and I want to work with you."

"You want to be a veterinarian? A year?" Hank can't help the laugh that escapes him.

"Yes."

"It's mid-term, how . . ."

"I'm known around. I called the president and he called the dean and well, I start Monday."

"Sweetheart, where are you going to live? Do you really want to do this?" Jed is clearly upset. She'll be leaving him.

"I know it's not how we planned it Jed, but I really think this is what I'm supposed to do. You'll help me work it out?"

She's wringing her hands like Tilsy does. "I love you."

Jed sighs and pulls her to him. "We'll work it out, Caley, I love you too."

Tilsy puts her arm around Hank's shoulders and kisses him on the neck. It feels good and this scene between Jed and Caley is as precious as Tilsy's kiss.

"So I can intern with you, Dr. Witcher?"

"Yes."

Caley let's out a great sigh. "I'm so glad you said that. I already told the Dean I was going to work with you. He knows you, of course, and was more agreeable to things. We've got to get back, Jed. I've got to quit my job and pack and things. Will you help?"

"Let's get online and find you an apartment." Jed takes her hand.

"No need, the dean said I could live with him and Alicia."
Book 2 Hank

Tilsy has that look again. Staring out the window in front of her master bedroom office, her face is one of the saddest he's ever seen on a human. He's been seeing it a lot recently, especially since the boys and Caley left.

Hank heard her earlier, calling Andrew and wishing him a happy birthday. She left messages for Brandon and his wife, Georgia. And then she sat wearing that look and staring out the window.

Wrapping his arms around her shoulders and drawing her back against him, he kisses her neck, chin and ears making her giggle. He's discovered her ears are especially sensitive and he loves taking advantage.

"Cute little ears," he nips. She squeals.

"Come on Princess, why don't we take Oliver for a walk in the park?"

"The park Oliver and I used to go too?"

"Yeah, I think he'd like that. He hasn't been there since you came back."

That brightens her face and, consequently, his.

"Oliver! Want to go to the park?' Tilsy yells as we get the bottom of the stairs. He's there in a flash and impatiently waiting for the front door to be opened. Hurry his cute face says and his butt is about to shake loose.

It's a beautiful day and he feels good that he thought of getting Tilsy out of the house. He really is more sensitive than he's ever remembered.

She's holding Oliver's long walking leash and Hank is holding her hand. He adores the feel of her soft small hand in his. He and Ellen never held hands, she felt it was demeaning. But Tilsy, his princess, needs someone to cherish and protect her and hold her hand.

"How old is Andrew?" he says casually, hoping that opening this subject doesn't bring Tilsy's sadness back. She has a peaceful expression walking with her face partially raised toward the sun. He smiles watching her soak it up and he doesn't want to ruin it for her.

Tilsy doesn't answer. Hank tries another question.

"What was he like when he was little?"

Silence.

Hank likes to talk about his boys. Most parents like to talk about their kids. He decides to prime the pump.

"When Patrick was little he was always building something with Lego's, Erector set, Tinker toys, twigs, it was difficult to get him out of the house and his legs moving. Jed and Del were into sports, like I was growing up. His brothers used to tease him and call him a sissy and recluse."

Silence.

"You never said if you liked the house?"

Tilsy stops suddenly and looks at him like she's made a terrible error. "I haven't? I'm sorry. It's beautiful. It's comfortable and very efficient."

"Patrick designed it when he was six."

"Six? Really?" Her voice is brighter and interested. Hank breathes a sigh of relief.

"One night when I called the boys to dinner, Patrick walked in with a large drawing and put it in the middle of the table. He stood in front of me and said we needed a new house with enough rooms so he could get away from Jed and Del."

Tilsy laughs and Hank can tell she's impressed.

"That's the house we have now. Unbelievable, but Patrick managed most of the build and when something didn't suit him, he'd reconfigure and redraw and argue with the builder."

"So that's why there's an adjoining bathroom to each bedroom?"

"Patrick said he was tired of being pushed around and having to brush his teeth in the kitchen." Hank bellows at the memory. "Patrick lifted his shirt and there were light bruises on his ribs and upper arms. I had a firm talk with Jed and Del, but I think Patrick's solution worked out better."

"It's a magnificent house. I've never seen anything like it and now I know why. He's is exceptional isn't he?" Tilsy says her eyes bore into his with enough love to make him gasp. "What's truly exceptiona Hank, is that his father trusted a six year old and went along with his plan."

"Look at it from my perceptive and it's not so amazing. I was busy. I knew we needed a bigger house. If someone wanted to take that job off my hands, I wasn't going to argue about it."

They share a laugh but it's not enough for Hank. He can't seem to get enough of this woman. His arms draw her to his chest and he holds on. Loving her and the closeness he feels in his body and heart.

"I love you so much, Tilsy. Please let me in."

Tilsy briskly pulls away and stands three feet in front of him. "What do you mean? I love you. I'm here."

"And I'm overwhelmed with that." Hank uses the voice reserved for dangerous, injured animals and steadily walks toward her taking her hand as he passes to continue their walk. Movement is always best. He brings it to his lips and kisses her soft, slender fingers and holds their entwined hands up to their eyes. "This is exceptional, Tilsy."

"I don't know what you want from me?" Hank hears her voice that is laced with frustration . . . tears? But he's not going to let her go. It isn't going to happen.

"I want nothing dividing us. I'll answer every question you have. I'll tell you my darkest secrets," he chuckles. "I believe we can tackle any problem if we are together. I have never felt so strong or sure about anything in my life. It's you Tilsy, you've given me . . . us that."

Hank walks slowly and stops when Oliver does.

"I'm struggling with the whole heart attack aftermath, Tilsy. You know that without being told and you are helping me without even having to work at it. What we have is so natural it's almost scary."

Tilsy's body is almost rigid. "You want to know everything about my life before you? I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to remember it. Why can't you just leave it alone?" Now there's anger in her voice.

"I see you sad like you were this morning and it tears me up seeing you like that. I overheard you calling Andrew and I know that you know your son won't listen to his mother's message wishing him a happy birthday. I hear you leave messages for Andrew and Brandon over and over. But they aren't calling back. Your sadness is getting deeper. Eventually, it will come between us and that will just kill me Tilsy. We've got to deal with your boys."

Silence.

Keep it light, he tells himself and takes a deep breath. "You know I don't even know what your sons do or where they live. I heard you mention grandchildren, but I know nothing. I think grandkids would be wonderful and I'm really looking forward to being a grandfather one day. I know for sure that you're a fantastic grandmother."

Silence and tears are falling down her face and onto her St. Augustine Beach T-shirt.

"Talk to me, Princess, it'll be all right. Sharing makes things only half as hard."

"Thirty-four today . . . I can't believe he's thirty-four years old. He's never married. I think he enjoys playing the field or more likely he has commitment issues. Who could blame him? Jeff and I weren't exactly good role models for marriage is fun.

"He's into the 4-wheel drive scene and owns a specialty parts store for 4-wheel drive vehicles. He's active in off-road clubs and was president of the Mid-Atlantic association a couple years ago. He sponsors a couple races each year.

"I went once. It was very exciting and very dirty. I enjoyed both." Tilsy sniffles and then laughs softly. "I tried to get him to let me drive, but he said Dad will have to approve it first."

Silence. Hank's decided to wait her out no matter how long it takes.

"Jeff said it wasn't appropriate and women shouldn't be involved in activities that are men only. It looked like a lot of fun though and there were other women and even a Powder Puff race. It would have been fun to be involved in what Andrew liked."

Hank feels his ears turn red hot with anger.

"Brandon is a high school science teacher. He should be finishing his master's this spring." Some years ago, I know he was interested in teaching at the college level."

Hank squeezes her hand to encourage her.

"My daughter-in-law Georgia is an incredible artist. I have several paintings she gave me."

"I remember a large canvas in your living room with a sunrise coming up a mountain and a doe and two fawns. Is that one of hers?"

"Yes! That is my favorite. She painted it off Mill Mountain in Roanoke when she was a student at Hollins University. It's lovely, isn't it? Her colors are striking. I decorated my little house using the color palette in that painting.

"Even the pink bedroom?" Hank bumps her shoulder affectionately.

"Yes. It's in there. It was perfect."

"It was. Would you like to redecorate our bedroom? I really didn't have much to do with it. The furniture I've always had. It was my grandparents. Patrick and Marjorie chose everything else. It's been that way since we moved in. I certainly wouldn't mind getting rid of the dark colors."

"The drapes," Tilsy muses.

"Especially the drapes! There are windows. It would be nice to see them." Hank pulls her to him and holds her chin so he can see her face. "Would you take on the challenge of making it our room? Some place that we can look forward to every night."

"Carpet?" She looks tense.

"Can it be thick and plush and warm and feel good on my bare feet?"

Tilsy smiles and I see a hesitant twinkle in her eye.

"If it feels good, I'd love it. I'm not opposed to new furniture either. A king size mattress would be nice. We'd have lots of room to roll around in and my feet wouldn't hang over the end," Hank laughs and squeezes her butt.

Hank expects Tilsy to push him away. They are in a public park with other people around. Instead she grabs his butt with both hands and squeezes back. "We could work something out."

"Don't tease if you don't mean it, Princess, I'm a man on the edge."

Tilsy giggles like a teenager and his heart sings. It was an important battle for Hank to win today and he feels like it was a win. She opened up some, which is better than none. Important for her to know that he intends to be supportive in everything she does, will love her regardless and she can trust that.

"Is Oliver still good with being out?" Hank has decided not to push Tilsy further about her family. She spoke of Andrew, Brandon and Georgia and lightly tripped by her grandchildren. That's going to be hard and she's had enough for today.

"Yes, Oliver and I stayed on the road everyday all day. He's good. Why?"

"Can we sneak him into the home store? 'I'm in the mood to look around, you know I haven't been there in . . . I think I went with Patrick once when he was a lot shorter than he is now."

Tilsy laughs. "Sure but only if you promise to behave, as well as Oliver."

As it turned out, Hank didn't need to be concerned about hiding Oliver. He was welcomed by name. "Is Oliver a celebrity?"

"At his favorite place in the whole world, absolutely," Tilsy raises her eyebrows in that cute way Hank loves.

They're stopped at every isle by a worker or customer who wants to pet Oliver and say hello to Tilsy. Their progress is slow. Tilsy and Oliver are relaxed and happy in this place. Who'd figure that? So Hank relaxes too. Come to think of it, he's where he wants to be—with Tilsy—so what's the rush?

"I had no idea all this was here? " Hank is struck dumb at the outdoor department looking at comfortable, sharp looking deck furniture. After all the Adirondack chairs and picnic table were his grandparents' and are still painted the now ugly and pealing redwood colored paint. He was floored at the lamp and lighting isles and miles of light bulbs for absolutely every need. And to think he's been buying light bulbs at the grocery store.

They've been here for an hour and have seen only a small part of the store. He spots a drink cooler and gets a Coke for Tilsy, a tea for himself and water for Oliver. "Maybe someone has a cup?" Hank's looking around for a coffee pot stand or something.

Tilsy reaches in her purse and unfolds a small blue canvas water bowl. Oliver drinks happily still in the shopping cart. "Thank you, Oliver and I were thirsty." Tilsy beams at him.

Around the next corner is a wall of paint swatches. "How would we ever choose? I had no idea there were so many choices?" Hank grips Tilsy's hand in fear. Appropriate colors have always eluded him.

"They'll custom blend too," Tilsy says like it's nothing special. She turns and looks at the swatches and then walks over to a section of tan. White tan, yellow tan, brown tan, green tan, blue tan and pink tan and while Tilsy's grabbing this one and that, he reaches above her head for a bright yellow.

"I like this. Do you like this?" He says and watches her blink.

"I never thought of that but if you like it . . . "

"Well you were only looking at dull tans . . . "

"Tan is what you like."

"It is? I didn't know I like tan."

"Hank, it's all you wear except for jeans. Tan pants and light blue button down shirt."

Hank looks at himself and sure enough he's wearing tan slacks and a light blue button down shirt. "Well that's because it what's in my closet."

Tilsy is laughing and holding onto the shopping cart for support.

"Hey, you wear T-shirts from public places and states." He defends his choice of wardrobe.

"Okay no tan; got it," she chokes back another round of laughter. "What color are we, Hank?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you think of you and me, what color do you see?" Tilsy's voice is now soft and alluring.

"Not this," Hank puts the bright highway line yellow back. "I don't know."

"Close your eyes." Seduced by her sense of play, Hank has no problem with her game. She's happy and he wants to keep her that way.

Soft lips caress his and a slender warm hand lies on his chest and slowly glides down to his belt. She nuzzles his neck and the smell and softness of her hair sends electric signals to his important parts.

"See it? Open your eyes and find it." Tilsy challenges with a whisper and warm, sweet breath in his ear.

Hank takes a deep breath still feeling the electric tingles and opens his eyes. He's drawn forward toward the swatches. Warm peaches like the blush on Tilsy's cheeks when she's embarrassed, lavender that fills the bathroom after she's showered, fragrant sage from the smell of her body when she turns over in bed during the night and a soft warm gray of her eyes and he's holding them in his hands. Hank closes his eyes again and thinks of him and Tilsy together.

He's drawn to a Carolina blue sky, sunshine yellow at the peak of the day and an apricot glow of a winter sunset. A bright green of the first leaves of spring and the pink of a pearl tulip streaked with red. Alive, fresh, new are the colors he sees when he thinks of him and Tilsy together.

Hank hands them to Tilsy. Her mouth is open but nothing is coming out. And then she's in his arms and her lips are on his, "I love them all. I love you. We are meant to be together aren't we Hank?"

"Yes."

Hank must have done something really right, because Tilsy lets him drive Delbert back to the house. She held the color swatches and looked at them over and over. "They're all so beautiful, Hank, everyone you chose is a favorite of mine. How did you do that?" Tilsy looks at him with her eyes swimming in pools warm gray.

"I love you Tilsy. By the way this is a great car. Did you know the side mirror adjusts down when I back up and then back in place when I drive forward?" He's excited and Tilsy grins.
Book 2 Hank

"You'll be ready by four, right?"

Tilsy looks up from the floor where she's meticulously painting baseboards with a bright white high gloss. Howard is on the ladder painting the walls a rich but pleasant sage green.

She's got white paint in her hair, on her nose and all over her hands.

"You'll wash up really good before our date, right?" He laughs and heads out the door.

"Don't forget to shut the dr....."

"Sorry, young man," Hank pets Oliver who has been banished from the master bedroom while it's being painted and anxiously sits in front of the closed door.

"You're not going to tell me where we're going?"

"The sign for I-81 North kind of gives it away, Tilsy."

"So we're going to I-81 North. I hope it's a good restaurant because I'm really hungry."

He and Tilsy talk nonstop about the new master bedroom and Patrick's renovation of the master bath, he didn't realize it was so outdated until Tilsy looked at him three weeks ago with eyes wide and said, "Really?"

He chose—according to Tilsy—the new granite for the double sink counter, and the square recessed sinks and the unusual faucets that turn on and off with a wave of the hand and hot and cold with a side wave.

"You were smart to choose those. That way we won't get soap and toothpaste all over them." She smiles sweetly. "I'm also glad you thought of the high toilet, Hank. It was so like you to realize we're not getting any younger. I'm sure that low toilet for five year olds had your knees up to your chin?"

My princess giggles at the image she's never seen. She still keeps the door shut when she's in the bathroom. He follows her lead.

Time whizzes by and when he turns off to the Blacksburg exit--surprise me again.

"I've never been to Blacksburg," Tilsy muses and is straining her neck to look at everything.

"What?"

She shakes her head no.

"Tilsy you lived a half an hour away. Didn't you go to a Virginia Tech football game?" He knows he sounds incredulous but that's what he is? His ears are hot with anger at her late husband and at her.

"Didn't you bring your sons to a game? I mean Tech is a nationally ranked team, plus it's a Hell of a lot of fun."

"Oh, Jeff and the boys used to come all the time. One of the guys he worked with had season tickets, but I think Jeff used them more than he did. I'd make all kinds of tailgating food. It would take me days to get ready."

"But you never went?" He's losing it.

"Jeff said it was a guy thing and none of the wives ever went."

Hank shuts his mouth and keeps it shut. Anything he could say at this point would be cruel. Instead he reminds himself over and over that it is 2015 and not 1815 or 1915. "We're here."

"This is really nice," Tilsy is holding his arm. She's so lovely and he sees people notice them as they walk to their table. And now his other guest is in view and Hank feels his heart flip, stutter and he takes a deep breath. What the Hell, nothing happens if you don't do anything. His princess is proof of that.

"Andrew?" Tilsy is gripping Hank's arm as her youngest son stands up. "Oh Andrew," Tilsy lets go of Hank and she's hugging Andrew and looking at his face. "You are so handsome. I love your haircut."

Hank notices that Andrew looks uncomfortable and doesn't hug her back. Tilsy doesn't seem to notice. All she sees is Andrew and that he's here.

"Andrew, I'm Hank Witcher. Thank you for coming." He holds out his hand and he and Andrew shake. It's a good shake—firm, strong and pleasant--and Andrew meets his eyes during the traditional greeting. "Let's sit," Hank holds out Tilsy's chair.

Tilsy looks at Hank with eyes liquid and sparking. "You did this?" She's thrilled.

"Birthdays are a big deal in the Witcher family. A belated birthday, but still Andrew's birthday is important to all of us."

"So that is what this is all about?" Andrew glares at Hank.

"Let's order." Hank ignores Andrew and discusses wine with the waiter, "Is that agreeable to everyone? Andrew, would you prefer something else?"

An angry shake of his head and a storm cloud gray look to Hank.

"I'm sorry for the deception, Andrew, but your Mother misses you very much. My only goal in life is to make this lovely woman happy. She wants you and Brandon to be part of her life."

Andrew starts to rise.

"Sit down Andrew!" Hank doesn't move a muscle except to hiss quietly at the man who doesn't deserve Hank's control.

Smartly Andrew sits.

"So, I understand from your Mother that you own a four-wheel drive store. My sons and I rebuilt a Willy's about ten or twelve years ago. We never did get it off-road worthy," Hank laughs pleasantly and takes Tilsy's hand. It's shaking. "The headlights only work if the windshield wipers are on," a small laugh. He's trying to sound normal and pleasant. "We still have it, if you're interested or know someone who is."

Silence and Tilsy's hand is vibrating against his.

"They're very rare now," Andrew is hesitant. "Electrical issues are common and a rebuild is not for the novice restorer. One of my customers is a specialist. I'll ask him if he's interested. What year?"

"I believe it's a 1943, but not really sure. My older sons, Jed and Del, bought it for $500 and we've spent well over $2,000. It runs," he stops and laughs and leans back comfortably, "just not well."

The wine arrives and not too soon for Hank. He shouldn't and Tilsy is watching him with wide eyes and as he downs half a glass. "I'm going for a steak. The chef here does them better than any I've had." Hank adds fuel to Tilsy's fire over his meal choices.

Andrew nods. Tilsy is frozen, head down and someone Hank has never seen before.

"Tilsy their fish and seafood is excellent," he opens her menu and releases her hand. "The halibut looks to be the special of tonight."

She nods. It must be a genetic trait.

"You are living together?" Andrew spews at Tilsy.

"Son, don't talk to her in that tone. It's not worthy of you or her. Tilsy, try your wine. Your taste in wine is better than mine. Let me know how I did?" Hank maintains his pleasant, calm voice as he hands her a glass.

"You're drinking too!" Andrew leans threatening toward her.

"Your last warning, son, I really don't want to embarrass this lovely lady by beating your ass right here and right now."

The waiter that arrived during the exchange looks undecided. "We'll order now." Hank says and looks at Andrew. _Kid you'd better get it together and right now_. He doesn't need to say the words. He's confident his demeanor and facial expression will work. It always has.

"Steak. Medium." Andrew slams his menu closed without looking at it.

"Me too. Tilsy have you decided? You don't have to rush, Princess." He smiles at Tilsy who turns to look at him with love that really makes his heart stop.

"You're right Hank. I love the wine. It's perfect just like you. Thank you." She turns to the waiter and orders the halibut and requests a different sauce. She and the waiter discuss options and settle on the meal she wants. The waiter seems pleased with the exchange. People who really know food like to talk about it.

"Excellent, Ma'am, the chef will be pleased with your selection."

Then my princess surprises the heck out of me. "Andrew do you remember that time we went fishing in the James River. I'd never been fishing and neither had you or Brandon. We bought some fishing poles and worms and we all learned together?" She giggles. "I think we all had nicks and cuts on our fingers and gooey worm stuff all over us. You had to walk in the water to get your fishing pole you dropped when that fish bit your bait." She laughs for real. "It scared me too!"

Andrew smiles? Hank takes another sip of his wine. Between the tension and the wine, he's feeling the effects and reminds himself that he's not supposed to drink alcohol.

"Brandon caught the first fish." Andrew says quietly.

"Yes! It scared us to death. It was flopping around on the ground and we were just staring at it. You finally reached down and picked it up and wiggled the hook out. I was so glad you did that. It looked like it would really hurt." If I've ever seen an adoring look on a woman's face it's there on Tilsy's and I'm trying really hard not to laugh. "You were so brave." Tilsy smiles at Andrew.

"It was only about four inches long, Mom."

"You threw it back in the water and we all went to the bank to watch it."

"It did kind of float there for a while and then swam away," he laughs softly and it sounds like his Mother's laugh. "Brandon and I caught about five more, but you didn't get any."

"I must confess, Andrew, I never baited my hook," she giggles.

"You made us bury the worms and then you took us to Long John Silver's for lunch." He's smiling for real when our food arrives.

The chef personally delivers Tilsy's plate and they discuss sauces for a while before he takes her hand and kisses it. "Please enjoy your dinner ma'am."

Hank refills her wine glass, she'd barely touched. She smiles and it makes his heart flutter again. The rest of the meal was pleasant as Andrew and Tilsy loosened up. The subject matter was about everyday topics and all in all, Hank thinks it was enjoyable. He still had the urge to take that young man out back and give him a good fatherly talk.

"We should all go, we don't want to be late," Hank says as the last fork is down and the coffee nearly finished. He signals the waiter.

"Your car is waiting out front, Dr. Witcher."

Tilsy and Andrew both look surprised. "The game starts in about thirty minutes. Parking is difficult. Let's go."

Andrew pushed through the front door leaving his mother behind and the door nearly in her face. I pulled her into my chest and held tight. "I hope you like basketball. It's a conference game . . . important. It will be loud and fun. Ready?"

"I've never been to a college game. I liked basketball in high school."

"Well then, Princess, you are going to love this!"

And she does. Andrew is also a fan and very knowledgeable about Virginia Tech's team. Sitting between him and Andrew, most of the conversation was between Mother and son. Hank's heart was beating, strong and steady.

There's a bag for Tilsy in the back seat the driver purchased for Hank while they were at the game.

"You got me a Virginia Tech basketball T-shirt? Oh my God, Hank I love you more every minute." Tilsy kisses my cheek. "Thank you."

"I bet you didn't know your mother was a T-shirt addict?"

Andrew shakes his head.

"Do you have a T-shirt for your shop?" Tilsy asks Andrew.

"Yes, for the sponsored races."

She's bright and shining and waiting for his offer to share. Hank's ready to pommel him when he says," I'll get you the shop T-shirt and the past couple races."

"Really? Thank you, I'd love to wear them. Did you hear, Hank? Andrew has T-shirts!"

The Taj Mahal as a gift wouldn't compare.
Book 2 Hank

The hotel suite is very nice Tilsy said as she headed for the bathroom, where she has been for ages. Hank is stretched out on the king-size bed waiting and is struggling not to fall asleep.

The bathroom door opens and Tilsy is standing backlit by the bathroom light wearing her Virginia Tech basketball T-shirt. She's breathtaking. Hank is wide awake.

"Come here, Princess," he holds his arms wide and she practically jumps into them, straddling his hips and nuzzling his neck.

"Don't start what you don't want to finish, Princess."

"I want to finish Hank. Please let's finish. You've been punishing me too long."

He wants to argue that the necking and petting and making-out idea was hers, but he's no fool. Hank rolls over and pins her to the bed.

Tilsy squeals as he holds her head and nibbles at her ears. "Let's have some fun, Tilsy. Let's play like teenagers." He takes her breast in his mouth and sucks and nips.

"Hank!"

"Want me to stop Princess?"

"No!"

He fondles her breast, gently twisting her nipple, while he takes the other in his mouth.

"Hank!"

"Do you like this?" Tilsy moans. Hank nips. "Yes?"

"Yes!"

"I thought so," he laughs and squeezes her breasts together, so he can have both in his mouth at the same time. Sucking hard and nipping one at a time and then looks at her. Her face is the most beautiful he's ever seen but her eyes are shut tight.

"Open your eyes Tilsy. Look at what I'm doing to you. I want you to watch us make love."

She does and he hears his name from her lips that's more a groan than a word.

"Beautiful," Hank takes his mouth from her nipples to her lips their eyes locked.

Tilsy's lips part wanting him and the tongue dance they both enjoy begins. "Hummm," vibrates against his tongue and spurs him to delve deeper into her luscious mouth.

He knows his kiss is punishing but she is urging him on, her hands gripping his hair pulling him down harder. He feels what she wants and it's what he wants too--more. He can't get close enough. He can't taste enough. There's so much more to her and he wants to know all of it.

For the first time, Hank caresses her breasts, down to her flat belly, over her narrow waist and the soft curves of her hips. "Tilsy you are so beautiful. I've dreamed and fantasized about this for so long."

Her thighs are strong, her calves gently shaped like fine carvings. Hank's fingers close around her ankles until his fingers meet. Soft slender feet and like her hands her nails are perfectly painted in pearly pink. He must see her. Rising and whipping off his T-shirt, Hank pulls her to sitting and gently eases her Virginia Tech T-shirt over her head.

He gasps at her pearl white flawless skin and kisses each deep rose colored areola and nipple. "Do you know how beautiful you are Tilsy?"

Her eyes bore into his, anxious, tense, and self-conscious as he looks at her. "No panties, Tilsy?" He teases and knows his face is covered in his grin. "I like that. No more panties for you ever!"

He bends down to her and kisses her at the apex of her thighs.

"Hank, no!" Her hands grab for his hair trying to pull him away. She's afraid? Hank hovers over her looking down onto her face and the tears he sees.

"Tilsy you are so beautiful," he kisses her tears. "I want to kiss you and touch you. I smell you when you turn over during the night and your luscious scent is an aphrodisiac to my senses. I won't ever hurt you Tilsy. Do you know that?"

A tortured expression on her lovely face, "Yes, but I've never been . . ."

"You've never been kissed on your other lips?" Hank kisses her and laughs softly determined to not to give into her fears but to make their lovemaking fun, relaxed and as open and honest as she'll allow.

"Then I get to give you your first kiss, Tilsy." He gently puts her hand on his head. "Guide me, Princess. Show me what feels good to you." He kisses her lips, then her neck, shoulders, breasts and works his way down her body with soft kisses and his hands holding her still.

When he nuzzles in her curly dark hair, Tilsy's body goes stiff and trembles. "Oh, I like this Tilsy. Hummm." His lips vibrate against her and his nose takes in her full scent."Oh my God, Tilsy you are exquisite."

Gently he rubs her thighs and inches toward her center. Keeping it slow because she needs to process what he's doing and he's in no hurry. He's harder than he ever remembers, but Tilsy first. Her first and he's ecstatic than he can give her this.

When his fingers touch her, Tilsy cries out and he has to put his arm around her hips to hold her still. Gently he rubs her with his palm up to her clit and back. Her juices are flowing into his hand.

"You are so wet Tilsy."

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes! You are made for me, Princess."

His head replaces his hand and his tongue caresses her. She's gripping his hair like a life raft and he's delighted that genetics has given him a full head of hair at the age of sixty plus. He opens her with his fingers and her scent nearly overwhelms him into embarrassing himself.

His tongue reaches inside her and she cries out again, but now her hands in his hair aren't pulling him away but pushing him down. Hank accepts her consent, desire and fully extends his tongue inside her, moving as deep as he can and circling her inside and with his nose against her clit.

She comes almost before he realizes it. Waves upon wave and he holds her there, pressing harder inside and against her. She's screaming his name as he pushes her legs wider, replacing his tongue with two fingers and sucking on her clit.

"Hummm" he vibrates against her to make the experience as good as he can. It's her first and he's determined to make it memorable and hopefully she'll desire his attentions again and again and again . . . His mouth is filled with her juices. Delicious, hot, sweet, sweet, sweet Tilsy and he presses until he feels her pulses begin to stop and then he slows and eases to bring her down gently.

_Sobs?_ Hank moves over her and lies between her legs. Looking into her eyes that are raining alligator tears, "Oh my God. Oh my God," she's saying over and over through her sobs.

Hank wraps his arms around her and rolls to his side pulling her tight against him. "It's all right Tilsy," he whispers in her ear. "It's good Tilsy. I love you. I love you so much." He caresses her hair, shoulders and back. "You are wonderful and sensitive and delightful. I had a great time. You are delicious." He takes a chance and kisses her lips, sensually, intensely until she responds. "Hummm." He says against her lips. "Open your mouth Tilsy," he's surprised when she does and he kisses her with open mouth. "Taste you? You are delicate, delicious, sweet, Princess."

"Oh Hank. I've never . . . "

Placing gentle kisses all over her face he doesn't even pause, "Never what Tilsy?"

"That?"

"Orgasm?" He teases and presses his tongue against hers.

She's fifty-nine years old with a forty year marriage behind her and she's never had an orgasm? Her sexual instincts are strong, how in the Hell did she survive? "You liked it Tilsy. You liked it as much as I did. Didn't you?"

Silence.

"Say it Tilsy. I want to hear you say you liked it."

"I did, Hank, I liked it so much. Is it always like that? Is that what was supposed to happen?" Tilsy is clutching him, kissing his face and neck with soft pecks. "Yes Hank. Yes I liked it." She yells and it's a happy sound.

Hank drops his hand and caresses her mound giving extra attention to her clit, "That's just the beginning of our fun Tilsy." He puts two fingers inside her and her hips jump up to take him deeper.

"It's good isn't it?" He waits a few seconds. "Say it Tilsy. Say it feels good."

"Yes. Yes it feels good . . . so good."

She surprises him, "More Hank. May we do more? I want more."

She's so small and Hank knows it has been years since she's had a man inside her. She's nearly a virgin and he's big. The last thing he wants to do is to hurt her. He adds a third finger and still she's pushing herself up to him. She's tight but seems to be able to adjust and he hopes so because he's so hard it's painful. His need for release is intense.

"I'm going to take you Tilsy," he whispers in her ear and rolls her over, adjusting her head on the pillow. "I want you to watch. I want you to watch us make love."

Slowly he moves over her and she releases her arms around him. Her eyes stay on him as he moves between her legs and raises her knees. He takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks and nips while he rubs his hard, tortured penis up and down, gathering her juices.

"You are so wet and that's so right . . . so wonderful. I'm so turned on by you Tilsy."

He's rewarded with a small smile on her lips and a dreamy look in her eyes. He places himself at her opening and she gasps. Her hips jump up toward him and he eases just inside. She's so tight. He pushes in only an inch or two and then moves in an out a little deeper each time. He hasn't made love to a woman without a condom since Ellen. He's clean and he knows for sure that Tilsy doesn't sleep around or even had sex with her husband for fifteen years. Naked feels wonderful.

Hank watches her face closely to make sure he's not hurting her. Her lips are parted and she's breathing steady. Her hips start matching his rhythm. It's going to take patience to get fully inside her. He only hopes he can wait. He's trembling with need.

"You feel so good Tilsy. You are so tight and it feels . . . God it feels good."

"Hummm."

He moves forward and when he's mostly inside her, she wraps her legs around his waist and locks her ankles, pressing him deeper.

Her face is so lovely, almost serene. She doesn't appear to be uncomfortable and she's watching, her lips parted and she licks them often. Hank presses deeper and moves faster until his balls are against her smooth pearly white butt cheeks.

"Oh my God, Tilsy, you feel amazing." He gently lays on her, holding still inside her and kisses her until she's breathless.

He's been still because he's so close. Rising to sitting position, Hank pulls Tilsy up against his chest, they are face-to-face. It's so intimate and deep this way. She's so close to coming and he doesn't want to miss a moment of her pleasure.

"Yes! More Hank . . . please."

He moves, small, slow and then Hank can't hold on much longer once he feels Tilsy convulse and squeeze him inside, he's determined that she have a vaginal orgasm and begins rubbing and pinching her clit and lifting her up and down against him.

"Come Tilsy. Let go Princess."

She blinks not quite understanding. "Feel it Tilsy? I can feel you pulsing inside. Let go of it and let it happen, Princess."

"Ahhhh," Tilsy yells with surprise in her voice.

"Let go, baby. Just go with it."

Her orgasm shocks him with its intensity and he lets go. "Tilsy, yes . . . yes. You are incredible."

Sweet release, powerful and for a moment Hank fears for his life. _Take me now Lord because I'm already in heaven_. Hank brings her tighter against him and puts his head on her shoulder, until his breathing returns to steady and easy. _Thank you Lord, I didn't die_ , he chuckles.

Tilsy is holding his butt and he relaxes and enjoys being where she wants him to be until their last quiver.

If he were twenty, or thirty or fifty even, Hank would stay in this place until he was hard and do that again. _Damn_. He feels tired and that's never happened. _Five minutes just give me five minutes_.

"I love you Tilsy. You are amazing. That was amazing!"
Book 2 Hank

Hank wakes and the sun is bright through the windows of their hotel suite. Tilsy is still wrapped around him and his morning erection is pressing against her soft belly. They fell asleep. "Damn."

Tilsy's eyes open. She's so beautiful with her dark curly hair and fresh pearly white skin. Her warm gray eyes sparkle.

"Good morning Princess." Hank kisses her lips, soft and warm from sleep. He rolls over and pulls her on top of him and caressing her naked body from her shoulders to her thighs as she lies on his chest. "You feel so good, Princess. Hummm."

"I love you Hank."

"I know." He chuckles.

She nuzzles his nipples and takes one in her mouth. "Hummm." Her voice vibrates on him and he feels his nipples harden.

Hank rolls to his side and presses her lips against his nipples. "I like that Tilsy. Do it some more." Hank hears her giggle.

Later, much later Hank is in the shower and he's surprised by Tilsy. "Got room for me," she blushes.

"Only if you'll wash my back," he laughs and draws her against him and pulls her under the water.

"Hot!" She squirms to get away but he holds her tight.

"It's perfect, just like you."

"Quit dawdling, we're going to be late." Tilsy is still in the bathroom with the door open. "You look beautiful."

"I can't figure out when you packed for me?" She comes out zipping up her cosmetic case."

"Good planning. I'm known for it. Are you ready?"

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise." Hank holds his princess. "You feel so good. I want to hold you forever, Tilsy, but now we have to go."

"What about Oliver. He's missing me for sure. We've never been apart before."

"Marjorie is with him at the house and Patrick is taking him to work. He's fine. Every young man needs some guy time."

We're changing planes in Charlotte and Tilsy is getting anxious. "Please tell me, Hank, I don't really do surprises well."

"California. I want to meet your grandchildren."

He expected trouble, but was unprepared when she locked her knees and nearly pulled him over. Hank tried to unlock her grip on his hand, but gave up and took her in his arms.

"We're meeting Brandon, Georgia and the children for dinner and then we're flying back. I'll be with you every minute."

Tears . . . lots of them. He waits until the worse is over, "Come on Tilsy, people are going to think I'm being mean to you. I'll get arrested," he whines and notices that she's looking around and furiously wiping her face dry with her hands. He helps and kisses her lips that are soft from crying.

"Together, Tilsy, we can handle anything together. Come on now they've already announced last boarding."

It's like she's holding her breath. She isn't talking more than the basic responses. She only played with her food and is staring straight ahead.

"Most people enjoy first class Tilsy. If I'd known you were just going to sit there, straight and stiff, I could have saved money and put you in coach. I on the other hand, have to fly first class. I don't fit in coach," Hank laughs. Tilsy doesn't.

"Please Princess this is supposed to be fun. You don't like to fly?"

"First time," she stares straight ahead.

Hank gives up, holds her hand and watches a movie. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he wakes up.

"We're getting ready to land," Tilsy squeezes his hand a little harder. Apparently neither he nor she let go the past couple hours. "You're awfully handsome when you sleep," Tilsy says quietly.

"I thought I was handsome all the time." He laughs and kisses her cheek. "You, however, are beautiful asleep or awake."

"It's time for your pills, Hank. I had the woman bring water."

Pills. Geeze. This is his life now. Let it go Hank. "Thanks and she's a stewardess."

"Okay but her name is Stephanie."

"Welcome back Dr. Witcher. Tilsy and I had a great talk while you slept. I also agree with her that you are very handsome," she laughs pleasantly shaking her blonde hair and looking at him with her exquisite sparkling sea green eyes. Another time, Hank might have gone for her phone number, but Tilsy has wiped want or need of it right out of him.

"She talked to you? Well she wasn't talking to me and that's why I fell asleep." Hank responds and both women laugh. "Boredom."

"We'll be landing soon." Stephanie says to Tilsy. "You have time to go to the bathroom."

Tilsy breathes a huge sigh of relief. "Thanks, I thought I was going to pee my pants."

She jumps up and is gone and I meet her at the bathroom door when she comes out.

"My turn," Hank's flippant remark is rewarded with her giggle.

We settle in just as the landing light comes on. He takes her hand, feeling her cool, slender fingers. "So why did you have to pee so badly?"

Tilsy blushes at his question and he raises his eyebrows wanting an answer.

"I didn't want to let go in case you woke up while I was gone."

Hank's heart skips a beat and all the following beats are twice as strong. "Oh Tilsy, no one . . . I love you so much."
Book 2 Hank

Hank hired another car, for several reasons. One he is unfamiliar with L.A. and two he was thinking that he and Tilsy could make out in the back seat.

Zombies don't make out. Holding hands with Tilsy will have to do. He tries for conversation instead. "Have you ever been to L.A.?"

Head shake no.

"So you haven't visited Brandon and his family, since they've been here?"

Head shake no.

"How old are the children?"

"Six, five, eighteen months."

"According to my friend, the restaurant caters to families, infant through twelve years olds and they pamper the adults, as well. Think that will work?"

Shoulder shrug.

Hank gave up. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he pulls Tilsy close and holds her hand.

"I won't leave you for a second," Hank kisses her temple and smells her lavender body-wash. "God you smell good. I was thinking that we could make-out during the drive. That was on your list, if I remember correctly." He laughs.

She snuggles into his chest. Okay not a zombie.

"Up ahead, sir." The very young driver calls to us on the intercom. It's a big place. The parking lot is nearly full. Good thinking on the car and driver, Hank mentally pats himself on the back.

Tilsy is gripping his hand like a vise. "I bet they've gotten so big." She's panting with excitement and ducks under Hank's arm as he opens the door.

"Dr. Witcher I'll take you to your party. The children are adorable." A nice looking grandmother-type says with a sweet smile, complete with dimples.

Hank hears Tilsy squeal in joy and anticipation and then we're stopped in our tracks.

"Wait! Don't go in there I've changed my mind." Tilsy and I turn together to face the angry voice.

"Brandon . . ."

"No, Mother, I won't let you go in there!"

"Outside." Hank grabs Brandon's shoulder and shoves him back through the door. Hank is not nineteen, in recovery from a recent heart attack but his college football training is not forgotten and his body is nose guard fit. It takes him two seconds to take control. Once outside Hank and Tilsy faces her older son who is shouting at them.

"You are living with this man unmarried, gallivanting around the country alone like a slut. You are not fit to be a mother and definitely not fit to be a grandmother. You stay away from my family."

It is intentional and quick. Brandon is on the ground from Hank's right hook and then he's in Brandon's face with his voice calm, low and threatening.

"Get up and shut up. You do not speak to this woman that way. You have no right to do so. You owe her your life." Hank holds out his hand and reaches toward Brandon, "Get up." His voice is lower and more threatening.

He senses him before he hears the man say, "Dr. Witcher do you want me to call the . . . "

"It's handled. I apologize for the disturbance and it will not happen again. Will you please escort Ms. Tilson to her grandchildren? Her son and I will be in shortly."

Brandon disregards Hank's outstretched hand, but he grabs Brandon any way and pulls him to his feet.

"I love Tilsy more than my own life. She is a loving person, resourceful and brilliant. You will not use that disrespectful tone or attitude toward her or your wife, or your daughter. I will know and you don't want that."

Anyone watching would think the two are having a pleasant conversation.

"Tilsy wants you and Andrew in her life, but she doesn't want the remaining years of her life to be as miserable as the previous forty. Your mother only wants to be happy son. Do you have a problem with your mother being happy?"

Hank is face-to-face with Brandon. "You will honor your mother. You will honor her decisions. I have three sons. Tilsy and I want all our children to be part of a happy, caring family. As the eldest of the five, Brandon, it will be your responsibility to make that happen and to be responsible for your four brothers.

Brandon's anger is gone. Hank can't help but feel sorry for this man, who was taught all the wrong things. Jeff should have been on the receiving end of Hank's fist. Hank relaxes his demeanor and voice. "In two weeks, I want you and your family to visit me and Tilsy and meet Jed, Del and Patrick. You five men can work things out between yourselves. While you are there you will be pleasant and loving toward your mother. I will help you anyway I can."

Hank reaches in his wallet and hands Brandon an airline card. "Use this to pay for your flights and secure first class, because we are all going to have a great time and you should be rested and ready to enjoy yourself. Do you understand me?" Brandon looks angry but in control.

Hank puts his hand on Brandon's shoulder and is surprised when Brandon doesn't shrug it off. "Son, let's put on our happy faces for the women we love. Shall we?"

For the first two hours of their flight home, Tilsy happily went through the photos on her cell phone and his.

"When Brandon picked up Timmy and sat him on his lap, I thought my heart was going to bust out of my chest, Hank. He was so nice to the children and Georgia."

"Yes, he was. He's a very smart man, Tilsy." He says with a secret smile and a serious voice.

"When you started talking about Georgia's painting and how beautiful you thought they were, I watched Brandon and he seemed so surprised. Her art was what first attracted Brandon to Georgia. You know I think he forgot that until today."

Tilsy unbuckles her seatbelt and sits in his lap. Her arms wrap around his neck and her face very close.

"Yes?" Hank grins at his princess.

"Thank you. My sons don't know what a real man is. You showed them, Hank, and I can never repay such a huge gift. You have changed their lives and mine."

"I'll think of someway." He laughs and raises his eyebrows playfully.

"Seriously, you know what you've done for me?"

"Hopefully, I've made you happy."

"Yes. You have done that, but more, Hank. All those years I was invisible. I had no voice that anyone would listen to. After the first year or so with Jeff, I realized that's how he wanted me to be. A servant . . . compliant, complacent, and speechless and I did it Hank. I did it for the boys or so I told myself. But I was so wrong. I did it because I didn't believe in me. You have no idea how I've kicked myself for the past twenty-years. I don't believe in marriage anymore but I also don't believe in divorce. You make a promise and a promise is not to be broken or so I thought." Tilsy takes a deep breath but Hank is holding his.

"There was a moment when they were entering their teens that I should have taken them away and made a life for us. It would have been good. It would have been fair, but I missed that moment and then there was no going back. None of them would listen to anything I had to say. They wouldn't have gone with me. I missed my chance with my sons and you have given me another. Second chances are so rare. Thank you."
Book 2 Hank

Andrew and Patrick have gone off inspect Patrick's newest job. Andrew has visited a couple times since our surprise dinner and he and Patrick have hit it off pretty well. Hank knows that Patrick misses his brothers and it's been him and Hank for a while, but he's a Dad not a brother.

"You're going to be ready soon? We've got to get the airport," Hank calls out to Tilsy who is putting out the new towels in the guest room.

"The crib doesn't make it too crowded in here, does it?"

He walks out of their bedroom to find her. He's hates to leave it's an incredible space and he's never been more comfortable anywhere. All the colors he chose that day at the home store are here in the pillows, throws, rugs and paintings and all the little touches only a woman like Tilsy could have made. He thoroughly enjoys the king-size bed, especially with his passionate princess in it.

"No, it fits well and I really like the decorative screen you got to divide the space."

"Jed was nice to give his room to Timmy and Caroline. I sure hope they don't pee in his bed. I put a plastic cover over the mattress, but you never know how that's going to work."

Hank is leaning against the door frame watching her fuss over the tiniest of details. She's fluffing a pillow, moving the desk chair a tenth of an inch, and smoothing the comforter that doesn't need smoothed.

She turns and looks at him. Her eyes are wide with fear. "They're really coming? I mean Andrew's been here a couple of times, but Brandon . . ."

"Hey, Brandon texted just before the plane took off. They were aboard. They have to arrive, Princess, it's a nonstop flight."

Tilsy giggles and wrings her hands. His heart flips. She's afraid. She's talked a lot about her life with Jeff and the boys since their trip to California, but seeing her like this her words are more real than he can stand. He's got to think of something to break her fear.

"I think we should take Oliver. He's never been to an airport before, right? I'll smuggle him in or hire someone to watch him. What do you say?"

"Really, I can take Oliver?"

"Let's ask him if he wants to go."

There's no arm rest between the front seats of the family friendly van he rented, so Oliver is happily sitting in Tilsy's lap. "You have to behave Oliver or you'll get arrested." Oliver looks at her face while she talks and then he looks at Hank.

Really?

"Yes." Hank says playfully and winks at the little dog.

Oliver lies down on Tilsy's lap.

Oliver is on his newest leash and is behaving beautifully. He's getting a lot of stares and giggles and a few people stop us so they can pet him. The attention, however, also drew the attention of security.

"Ma'am you can't bring a dog in here," Oliver wags his tail and smiles up at the security guard, "No matter how cute he is."

Hank had a plan and now he'll see if it works. He ignores Tilsy's immediate and intense distress and pulls a card out of his jacket pocket.

"I'm Dr. Hank Witcher, veterinarian and consultant to the animal assist for the handicapped. This is Oliver. He's never been in an airport before and he's taking his final exam. If he passes his test today, he will be given to a little girl named Caroline. She's very excited to get him. I'll take responsibility for any problems."

"He's awfully small for an assist dog."

"So is Caroline. She's five."

"Five? That's a shame." He reaches down and pets Oliver. "You'll take good care of Caroline?"

Oliver's butt nearly shakes loose.

"I sure hope he passes. Good luck little man. If anyone says anything to you, just tell them that Mike said it was okay and they can call me."

"Thank you, Mike." Hank smiles, shakes his hand and takes Tilsy's arm to move her forward. She's frozen.

"How . . . brilliant but what if they find out that you was lying? You'll be disbarred or whatever."

"They wouldn't dare and I wasn't lying. Aren't we here to meet Caroline? You hold her hand and she can hold Oliver's leash and we'll wave at Mike as we pass by," Hank chuckles.

"There's a side of you I need to get to know better, Mister," Tilsy narrows her eyes at him.

Tilsy is staring at the arrival sign like it's her lifeline. Every time a plane lands, "Maybe that's it?"

Despite my efforts to get her to sit, she's pacing in front of the gate. She's dropped Oliver's leash and he's pacing with her. I've taken at least ten incredible cell phone photos of this lovely woman. My favorite is her bright eyes, wide open, hands held out toward the gate, "Maybe that's it? First class gets off first, right?"

Hank nods for the fifteenth time. At last the doors are opened and she's staring into the empty, silent ramp that's holding its breath just like Tilsy.

"Grandma," we hear before we see a young boy running down the ramp, screaming for his Grandmother with his sister on his heels.

"Timmy. Caroline." Tilsy has elbowed her way through a couple in front of her, "I'm here! Timmy! Caroline!"

She's on her knees now with her arms clutching them as Oliver is jumping up and down on the children. Hank got the photo.

Brandon sprints out of the doorway with a sour look on his face and he's breathing hard. Hank intercepts the angry Brandon. "Hi son, young ones are a handful." He laughs.

Hank can tell Brandon's intent was to grab them away and yell at them for breaking loose. No way, Hank is going to allow this moment to be ruined for Tilsy. Her grandchildren are here for no other reason than be with her.

"They'll outgrow it. We're here. It's all right. They're safe." Hank claps him on the shoulder. "Will you just look at that? Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

Brandon looks at me like I'm from another planet. "Relax son, enjoy the moment."

Hank feels Brandon's shoulder relax just a bit.

"Help you wife. She's struggling back there. Carry the baby and we'll get out of the way before coach gets off. That could get dangerous." Hank laughs again. "Go on, I'll handle this bunch."

Hank got Tilsy to her feet, put Oliver's leash in Caroline's little hand with instructions, not to let go for any reason, and herded them to the side.

"Are we all here?" Hank says loudly. All eyes look at him. "Well?" He looks directly at Timmy. "Yes?"

Timmy finally gets it and seems to count in his head. "Yes sir."

"Okay then, let's go. We'll take the ladies and the baby to the van and then we'll get the luggage. Stay close to your Dad, Timmy. Caroline you and Oliver are with me."

Hank takes Caroline's hand and watches with an internal smile as Timmy takes his Dad's hand. Brandon looks surprised but, thankfully, holds it tight. From what Tilsy hold him, he's sure Brandon has never held the hand of any of his children. What a loss and a prick of sadness touches his heart. Hank only felt secure when he was holding the hands of his children. They were safe, if he was holding them. That's what a Dad does.

Hank looks around for Mike and sure enough he's watching. Hank waves to him and points to Caroline and Oliver and nods his head. Mike makes a mock sweat off the forehead motion with his arm and nods back.

Hank puts Tilsy in the front seat, and feels Brandon silently object. _Tough kid, that's my princess and she sits with me_. He starts the van and sets the AC. "Come on men, let's get the luggage."

Hank knew Brandon was going to object to Timmy's inclusion, but one look of warning and Brandon backed down and took the little boy's hand that was reaching for his. This is going to be a long three days, he thinks as he Brandon and Timmy head for luggage pickup.

Brandon was quiet but Timmy had lots to say about his first airplane trip. Timmy was impressed by the stewardess who brought him all the orange juice he wanted, the movie "Freeze" and the cool bathroom.

Patrick, Andrew and Del are there to meet us out front of the house. Brandon is cool, even to Andrew, but there's work to be done. The baby is fussing and needs to be put down for a nap, luggage and introductions all round.

Thank God his sons are there. They pretty much take over at this point, directing Timmy and Brandon about luggage duties and settling everyone in their rooms.

"When you are all finished, come on down for lunch. Patrick, Andrew and I made cold plates," Del says. Hank would prefer a nap with Tilsy snuggling next to him. He heads to the kitchen instead.

"This looks great guys, thanks," Hank says as he notices the fresh salad and sandwich makings. "Where did the flowers come from?" He notices a beautiful arrangement of spring flowers on the center of the table.

"You know how much Mom likes flowers. We thought she'd enjoy those."

"That was very thoughtful, Patrick."

Brandon is standing watching Del, Patrick and Andrew scurry around putting the meal on the table.

"Beer or wine, Brandon?" Andrew calls to his brother, who looks startled.

"Beer," he mumbles and watches Andrew reach into the refrigerator, pull out a beer and hold it out toward him. Finally, Brandon's feet move. "Hank, what for you? Timmy?"

"Water, please."

"Me too." Timmy says. Andrew brings our bottles to the table and rushes back to help Patrick and Del. "Thanks Andrew, I was thirsty."

"Me too. Thanks Uncle Andrew." Timmy mimics Hank.

"The guys have this under control, sit down Brandon and relax a bit." Hank nods to the other side of the table. "You've got to be tired after taking care of your family for about eight hours now," Hank chuckles.

"Remember the time Del got lost at the airport?" Patrick teases and laughs from the kitchen.

"You know we weren't ever going to talk about that again." Hank grumbles.

Patrick and Del laugh. "Dad made us promise never to tell anyone about the Del Incident."

"I've never been so scared in my life." Hank still shivers at the memory. He looks at Brandon and shakes his head. "We'd gone to the airport to pick up an associate of mine. Patrick was about a year and half old, so I was carrying him. That left only one hand free to keep track of the other two. I was holding Jed's hand, looked around and Del was nowhere. I mean seconds and he was gone."

"I can still hear your scream for Del," Jed marches in laughing. "I have nightmares about that scream. Hi Dad," he kisses Hank's cheek and pats his shoulder. "Need help?" Jed calls to the kitchen.

"We've got it. Beer?" Del says and hugs his brother.

"You're late?" Hank says,

"Plane delay," Jed takes a huge drink with a finishing "Ahhhh."

"Hi, you're Brandon?" Jed walks to him holding out his hand.

Hank watches as Brandon pauses and then stands to shake. "I'm Jed, the oldest of the Witcher boys. Glad to meet you."

"So how did you find him?" Andrew asks.

"You know how you see cop cars all over the place, unless you need one? It was the same at the airport. Not one security person anywhere. The only thing I could think of was to run around like an idiot dragging Jed and screaming for Del."

My sons laugh.

"It wasn't funny."

"I heard it first," Jed says, "I couldn't get Dad to hear it though. He was so caught up in his own screaming. They were announcing that a young boy in a red and white stripped T-shirt was at Gate 12. I was pulling on Dad's hand and finally he got it.

"Dad actually asked me what Del was wearing. A red and white stripped T-shirt," I said and then Dad looked down at me and said, "Are you sure?"

"I mean come on Dad, how many young boys could be lost in the airport at one time? With or without red stripped T-shirts."

Laughter from the kitchen.

Hank looks at Brandon. "You're the only one here who can understand my hysteria. You're a Dad, you know. Kidnapped and thrown into the trunk of a car, run over by an airplane landing or taking off, I mean he could be anywhere and all I could think of was would I ever see my little boy again. They can't understand. I'm glad you're here, finally someone who gets it."

As expected Brandon looks startled. He is a man like Jeff taught him to be. He is above those fears.

"Okay enough. You guys wait. Someday you'll have your own children and then you'll stop laughing at me." I nod to Brandon like we're buds.

"Where was your wife?" Brandon spits out and takes a long drink of his beer.

You could hear an ant crawl across the floor.

"Dad raised us alone. Mom died when Patrick was shy of a year old." Jed put his hand on Brandon's shoulder, but Hank saw how hard he laid it there. My sons know all about Tilsy's life and her sons. They'll give Andrew and Brandon the benefit of the doubt, but provoked, Hank's not sure of their reactions.

Lavender floats in the air and Hank breathes it in, Tilsy. "Ladies, it's so nice to see you," Hank says, stands and reaches for his princess. He needs her right now and here she is. Smiling, fresh from combing her hair and washing her face, he can't help but draw her to his chest. "I missed you." He kisses her soft cheek and feels his body lean on her a bit. She looks up at him as if to ask if he's all right.

"Georgia, Caroline, welcome. Come on in lunch is ready, ladies, please have a seat." Hank says still holding onto Tilsy.

Brandon doesn't rise but Jed is there introducing himself to Georgia and Caroline and holding out chairs for them. "The guys made a cold-plate lunch for you ladies. We hope you will enjoy it." Hank explains to Georgia who seems a little lost with all the activity of his sons.

Del comes and introduces himself taking the ladies drink orders. Patrick brings them and introduces himself. Hank is so proud of his sons, and he's awed that they actually survived childhood to become fine young men.

"Oh my God, what beautiful flowers," Tilsy calls to the kitchen and fondles a couple tulip blooms. "Who did this?"

Patrick blushes and Tilsy hugs him. "Thank you Patrick."

"Hey, Mom Patrick doesn't get all the credit, Andrew and I helped," Del says and draws her into a hug. "We want you to be happy."

Hank wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Brandon flinch with Del's Mom reference. _Tough kid, get over it._

Tilsy hugs Andrew and then takes a seat next to Hank. "This looks delicious. I don't know where to start. You guys are amazing."

It was a usual Witcher meal with lots of conversation and lots of eating. Hank gave up trying to follow all the conversations. He noted that things were going good and that worked for him.

Tilsy's baby monitor announced that Jacob was awake. Georgia started to get up, "I'll get my nephew, Georgia, please finish your meal," Jed said and glanced at Brandon, "if that's okay with you, Brandon? I don't want to step on a Dad's territory."

Brandon looked startled and shrugged.

"I'll help you Uncle Jed," Timmy says and scoots out of his chair.

"Okay, little man, let's go get the rest of the family."

Timmy takes Jed's hand and Hank's sure Tilsy is going to cry.

"Does he know what he's doing?"

Georgia looks nervous.

We all laugh. "Jed has probably changed as many diapers as you have

Georgia."

"Oh, yes, of course." She blushes beautifully.

"You are so beautiful, Georgia. Your blush is delightful. Tilsy's is a little more sunset pink. We're all very glad you are here. This house that Patrick designed and built when he was six has been a man cave far too long. You lovely ladies bring it to life." Hank kisses Tilsy's hand and he's delighted with her blush and giggle.

"I'm wondering if I could commission a painting." Hank moves on with his plan.

Georgia looks startled and shoots a glance at Brandon.

"We'd love to have a painting of this house. I don't want a photograph. I'd like an interpretative painting. There's so much more than the roof and walls. As you heard Patrick designed it and managed the build, my sons grew up here. The art you did for Tilsy touches me and I can't think of anyone better to do this for us."

Georgia looks at Brandon for what? Approval?

"What do you say, Georgia, will you at least think about it?" Hank prods and gets her attention away from Brandon and to him.

"I'd love to do it. The view from the upstairs is incredible with the mountains as a backdrop. I grew up in Roanoke and I'm very familiar with this area."

"The first time I met Tilsy I fell in love with her. The second thing I saw was your painting on her living room wall and I fell in love with it too. It's in our bedroom and I get to enjoy it every day. So you'll do it?"

Georgia glances at Brandon, gets no response and then she nods yes.

"Good, that's settled. Anything you want or need just ask."

"Where are you thinking of hanging it?" Georgia asks excited.

"We pretty much live in this room. What could you envision for this space?"

"A painting on that wall," she points behind her. "It can be seen from every angle and would be the first thing anyone would see when they come through the front door. The kitchen is obviously the heart of this house and a painting there it would define the space and set a homey, comfortable tone to your beautiful home. Patrick I'm awed that you did this?"

Patrick blushes from her excitement and appreciation of his first architectural project.

"You think this is great, you need to go see the renovation he's working on now," Andrew speaks up. "It's amazing. Have you checked out his website, he's got Mom's kitchen photos? The before and after are wild."

"You know Georgia; you've given me a great idea." Patrick sits down and leans in toward her.

"I've been trying to think of something to give my customers. Something special they would appreciate and remember my company and the work I did. It would be a calling card for their family and friends that might need renovation or new building. What if you did a painting that I could give them when the job is done?"

"That is a great idea, Patrick. I bet no one has ever done that before. I would love to have something like that and I can't imagine that anyone wouldn't love it." Georgia says.

"Some of the architects I know frame their custom designs for customers. But usually it's an original rendering, wonderful sure, but a painting goes the extra mile."

"I'm not sure I could keep up."

"I can only do about four or five projects a year, would that be too much?"

"No! I could handle that with the kids and all."

Hank's tired and looks at Tilsy. Maybe she'll want to stay and talk the family or play with the kids, instead of resting with him. He sure would like some quiet time with her. It's been an exhausting day so far.

"Why don't you guys figure out dinner, I'm required to rest and I want to get back on my feet ASAP, so if you all will excuse me." Hank gets up and is surprised that Tilsy rises and takes his hand.

"We'll see you all later. Have fun together. Think about a mural, Georgia." My princess suggests and starts pulling me upstairs.

After covering me with the new quilt she had made with all our favorite colors, Tilsy kicks off her shoes and snuggles against my chest and wraps her arm around my waist. "I love you so much Hank. You have been incredible. I and everyone in this house and beyond are privileged to know you."

She kisses his chest and underneath his chin. He feels his tension and stress melt away. He wants to tell her he loves her mural idea . . . he wants to tell her he loves her . . . he wants to talk about what she said about not believing in marriage . . .
Book 2 Hank

"Whoa!" Little feet jump on his thighs. Hank is instantly awake and transported back twenty-five years ago. "Boys, you're going to get hurt," Hank rolls and grabs the child and opens his eyes.

"Hey, you aren't one of mine. Where did you come from?"

"Jacob woke and was fussing. No one came running up, so I brought him in with us," Tilsy is now wrestling with a giggling eighteen-month-old on their new California king.

She blows on his belly and he giggles and squirms. "You like that don't you?" She blows again and it sounds like a huge fart.

"Did he do that that?"

"Silly," Tilsy throws her arms around Hank's neck and kisses him hard on the lips and then lifts his shirt and blows a fart on his belly.

"Tilsy!"

Jacob is giggling and reaching for Hank's belly, too. "Oh no you don't little man. Slobber on my belly is a no go!"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jacob, Tilsy and Hank look up to see an angry Brandon at the now open bedroom door.

"Playing with our grandson what does it look like? Shut the door we'll be down in a minute." Hank's voice is quiet but his tone isn't.

Brandon grabs Jacob off the bed and marches out the door, slamming it behind him.

Tilsy's frozen and then she's angry, "What in the Hell am I going to do with him? You know he hasn't spoken one word to me?"

"Yes."

"I have never seen anyone more miserable in my life. What am I going to do?" Tilsy pounds the bed with her tiny fist.

Hank draws her down and holds her tight. "People rarely change, Princess, and they never change overnight. At least he came up to check on Jacob instead of ordering Georgia to do it. That's a step forward." Hank lifts her chin and kisses her hard until she pushes him away.

"Hey, I was a good sport!" Hank laughs and draws her back forcing his tongue between her sweet, soft lips. There's no way he's going to allow her to wallow in her life before him.

Tilsy and Hank walk hand-in-hand down the stairs to be greeted by delightful kitchen smells and sounds. Tilsy has freshened up and changed into her Tilson 4-Wheel royal blue T-shirt.

"It's about time you two woke up. Is sleeping half the day away what we can expect when we get old." Del yells and everyone else chuckles.

"You should get so lucky, Del," Hank says and swings Tilsy around in a hug and her feet off the floor.

"Put me down you're not supposed to lift anything." Tilsy giggles.

"Princess, you're not just anything."

Timmy and Caroline are looking up at us with silly grins on their young faces. "Look Grandpa. Look what Mommy's doing."

Hank gasps softly and looks at Caroline's sweet face and curly honey hair. He's never heard anyone call him Grandpa before.

"Oh my, Georgia, it's wonderful!" Tilsy has broken away from him and is watching Georgia pencil a drawing on the dining room wall. "How did you do this in just a couple hours?"

Hank follows slower studying the wall and gripping a little girls' hand. "Do you like it Grandpa?"

It could be any day at the Witcher house when the boys are here, cooking, laughing, sitting at the table with a beer. He recognizes, Jed, Del, Patrick, Tilsy and him, but there are other shadows with no definition.

"I was thinking something like this?" Georgia looks up at him with eyes wide with uncertainty.

She's done it. The energy, the camaraderie and the love he feels every time he walks into this space. He can't stop the tears in his eyes. He must touch it.

"It's just pencil. Patrick said he could paint over it, if you don't like it."

Hank looks down at the lovely young woman on her knees. "You . . . you are truly gifted, Georgia. I don't know what to say."

"We like it Dad," Patrick is beside him. "We think it's perfect, except it's missing a few people don't you think?"

"After you and Mom went upstairs, Georgia was just busting with ideas. We couldn't stand watching her squirm and we couldn't find any paper for her to draw on. We told her to use the wall." Jed claps Hank on the back. "So?"

Hank has to sit down. He pulls a chair away from the table and faces the wall. Caroline scoots on his lap. "It's perfect except it's incomplete."

"Jed! Mom! Dad!" the front door opens and then slams shut behind Caley. She's jumped onto Jed and has her legs tightly wrapped around his waist. They're kissing frantically and then Jed walks her into the dining room and deposits her butt on the table.

"I've been worried sick. You haven't answered your cell phone and I've called you and texted you a hundred times!" Jed holds her head and looks in her eyes.

"Surprise!" Caley yells and draws him down to her lips.

"X-rated!" Patrick yells out, "There are young children here!"

"Where?" Caley breaks away from Jed and looks around. Mesmerized she gets off the table, dives under Jed's arm and she's standing in front of Jacob, who's sitting on the living room floor slobbering on a small plastic blue puppy pacifier starting up at her with big blue eyes.

She has that same look she gave Oliver and Tilsy comes to her rescue again. "That's a baby. It's a boy. His name is Jacob. Have you ever seen a baby before?"

Caley looks at Tilsy and shakes her head no. "Not close up and personal. Where did he come from? You and Dad?"

The boys are doubling over and the comments to Jed are less than appropriate outside a beer joint, just before closing on a Friday night.

"How do I pet him?" Caley looks totally lost.

My princess picks up Jacob and thrusts him in Caley's arms. "You'll figure it out. Maybe you can train him not to drool." Tilsy kisses Caley and then Jacob. "Take good care of her Jacob."

Before Tilsy can get back to him and Caroline, they hear: "Jed, help me. It's turning red!"

Hank quickly looks around for Brandon and expecting a tirade in face of Caley's learning curve. But he's nowhere to be seen. He breathes relief that he's not here to witness this scene, as Jed rushes to Caley's rescue.

"Now where were we? Georgia the entire family is here, we need to make sure everyone is in the painting. Also, allow for growth. I'm sure Andrew, Patrick and Del will marry at some point." He turns and looks at his sons with his eyebrows raised. They all turn away and get busy with supper.

"I was thinking of using this center space ceiling to floor. It would give us room for one on either side. Those paintings could reflect the family's growth," Georgia leans against her knees.

"I'll need to do a portrait drawing of everyone, as a reference. Patrick is going to get me the blueprints of the inside and outside of the house and the building site. That way I can plan at home, and then it won't take me anytime to paint it. You and the family would have a chance to critique it before it's put on the wall."

"Like a family history?"

"Hank, would you want the first painting of you and the boys when you all first moved in?"

A painting of that time? Hank cringes even as Caroline gently plays with his fingers. He tried to make this place happy and good for the boys and God knows he and Marjorie did their best, but the sadness and guilt he carried around until he met Tilsy, he doesn't want to relive it every time he walks into the house or the kitchen.

"Now . . . right now this house is full of promise and dreams come true, what you have there is the perfect time to start."

Hamburgers and hot dogs with homemade potato salad by Patrick, baked beans by Jed and ice cream cones, compliments of Brandon, the Witcher family is having a backyard picnic. It's a little cool but that enhances the taste of good food grilling out on the deck.

Caley provided most of the entertainment with her dog show and her guitar. After hearing him hum along, she coaxed Brandon into joining her for a wonderful duet of "Take me Home Country Road" and a family sing-along with "Old Doc Witcher had a farm", had everyone participating and laughing. Hank could always count on his boys to use any excuse to make fun of him. The impromptu verses were really funny, he has to admit.

Hank's not sure what caused Brandon's relaxed, cooperative demeanor this evening, but he isn't going to rock the boat. Brandon thought of the ice cream stand and did the shopping.

Watching Tilsy and the kids having a great time with his ice cream carnival complete with apron that hung past his knees was worth everything to Hank because it was worth everything to Tilsy. She glowed as he piled her cone with four scoops, smashed down hard so they wouldn't fall off.

"More," she begged her son, "There's no such thing as too much ice cream!"

After the children were put to bed, Patrick lit the fire pit. The stars filled the clear night sky, the air was cool and the sound of the crackling fire took him to a place he'd longed for forever. He and Ellen used to dream of a time when being together as a family was the only thing important in their lives.

A flash of anger makes him burn. Ellen never gave them the chance to get there together he told himself every time a special moment happened. Maybe it wasn't meant to be for him and Ellen. That logic gives him only a small bit of comfort, like always. Life swirls and flows and no matter how much you want it to happen differently, you just can't defy it or swim upstream. Life moves forward—always forward—you either catch it or get left behind.

Maybe the dream wasn't Ellen's. Maybe he assumed she shared it with him. He's not sure anymore.

Tilsy's marriage was so awful and abusive she doesn't believe in marriage. His marriage was ripped from him with a bullet. He pulls her tighter in his lap and breathes in her soft lavender and warm earthly scent. She needs him. He needs her. Amazing that after all they've both been through they still believe in love and are willing to give themselves unselfishly and completely to each other.

Here, right now, this moment, his dream is happening and he can't imagine two people who deserve it more than he and Tilsy. "I love you, Princess."

She snuggles closer and kisses him on the underside of his chin. "It's real isn't it Hank. I've always dreamed of a life as sweet as this."
Book 2 Hank

Hank's eyes open wide as a flash of pain hits his heart. Heart attack! He breathes. It's easy. Then he remembers. Everyone is leaving today.

Tilsy is wrapped around him as always, their legs entwined, her head on his chest, his hand on her bare breast and her slender arm wrapped around his waist.

The pain was the realization that their three days together is ending. He can't lay here. He must get up so he won't miss anything.

Without disturbing Tilsy, Hank smoothly pulls away from her and resists the urge to lean down and kiss her sweet, peaceful face that still has an edge of tired. Let her sleep. Jeans and T-shirt and down the stairs to the kitchen, he'll get started on pancakes, sausage and bacon. Hot and ready for when anyone gets up.

Standing by the dining table with Georgia's family portraits spread out and holding Jacob, Brandon looks up as Hank walks in.

"Coffee's ready. Patrick left early for work," Brandon says calmly."Jacob and I were just admiring Georgia's work." His eyes are filled with pain.

"The best I've ever seen, son. Georgia is gifted for sure."

Another painful shadow crosses Brandon's face.

Jacob reaches for Hank and Brandon let's go without a fuss. Hank settles him in the high-chair with a couple teething biscuits and a sippy cup.

"I can't believe I kept her from her art. Every time she picked up a pencil and paper, I gave her a hard time. A few weeks ago, she was saying we needed some repairs to the house and I told her to get off her fat ass and go to work to pay for it." Brandon collapses in the nearest chair holding his head.

Just like he does with Tilsy, Hank isn't going to let the past mare the future. Move on. "Do you know how to make pancakes?" He asks Brandon with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What? No." Brandon's head pops up.

"Come on we'll make breakfast."

Hank pulls out the huge pancake bowl. "Four eggs . . . frig and grab the buttermilk and regular milk." Brandon hesitates and then moves. "Put them in there," Hank orders quietly and shallows his laugh as Brandon fumbles with trying to figure out how to open the eggs.

"Fish out all the shells. They don't taste good."

Hank continues to talk Brandon through the pancake recipe, as he heats up the grill and fixes the bacon and sausage pans and puts them in the oven. "Add more milk, too thick."

When the first pancake starts to sizzle, "What happened to your wife?"

"Postpartum depression."

Brandon pauses over the grill.

"I'll never forgive myself." Hank offers and swallows his grief he's carried in his gut for so long.

Minutes pass.

"How?" Brandon's voice quivers.

"Gun. Jed called me. He was four, almost five. I came home and found her in the kitchen. She told him to stay with Del and Patrick and when he heard a gunshot he was to call me but not come out of the bedroom until I got home. I got her psychological help and a part-time housekeeper. Her Mom and Dad were killed in an auto accident two months after Patrick was born. Three babies in five years and it was just too much for her."

"Sounds like you did everything you could?"

"What she needed was me, son, but I was busy building my practice. All the help in the world from other people couldn't save her--strangers. I was her husband and I let her down."

"Georgia has been distant and unfocused since Jacob was born. I come home from work and see her eyes red from crying and I get mad and yell at her for the house being messy or dinner not ready. I've never given it a second thought until I saw how happy she was drawing. That beautiful face full of creative energy has been gone for years. It's my fault isn't it?"

"Can't say, son, you're her husband. You should know her better than anyone."

"Dad was always like that with Mom. He treated her really badly, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad she has you. I've never seen her look so beautiful or smile so often. She's playful again. I remember flashes of when Andrew and I were little and she'd plan adventures for us after Dad went to work. She always said they were our secret adventures and secrets were special and we weren't to tell our secrets, especially to Dad."

"Turn those over, son, they'll burn . . . doesn't taste good."

"I don't know what I'd do if something happened to Georgia. What do I do?"

"Men like your father aren't really men Brandon. I learned that the hard way. As men, husbands and fathers our role is to be more than just someone who goes to work and brings home money. Our priority is to be responsible for the happiness and protection of our family. Women give so much of themselves, physically and emotionally. Their effort to create a family is almost invisible, if we don't pay attention. Quietly, selflessly they give and give and give. As men we need to be aware of their personal sacrifice for their own dreams and desires and support them unconditionally. You've let Georgia sleep in?"

"She looked tired. She's been taking care of the children and drawing nonstop."

"When she comes down stairs and sees that you're taking care of Jacob so she could sleep in and have made breakfast for her, look at her face, Brandon. Really look at her. There's your answer. Do whatever it takes to keep that look on her face. Your reward is greater than you can imagine."

Soft arms wrap around Hank's waist. "You left me."

Hank whips around and grabs Tilsy hard to his chest. "You looked so peaceful and beautiful I didn't have the heart to wake you, Princess."

Hank glances at Brandon who's watching, and smiles. "God you feel good Tilsy. Get your coffee and sit over there, so I can see your lovely face." He swats her butt, "Go on woman and get out of our way. This is man's work."

"Brandon, what are you doing?" The boy hugs his Mother and Hank feels a lump in his throat. "Good morning Mom. Hank is teaching me how to make pancakes. Dad would never let me and Andrew cook, but I always wanted to try."

Tilsy raises her eyebrows in the charming way she does that says she doesn't believe it.

"No, really Mom, I'm making the pancakes. I picked out the pieces of egg shells and everything?" Mother and son share a laugh.

Timmy runs in like a stressed messenger. "Mom said she'd be down in a minute. She's hurrying to get Caroline dressed and she's coming."

"Thanks, son. Why don't you get the plates and silverware and put them on the table."

"Really? You want me to help?"

"Sure." Brandon says casually. Hank guesses Brandon has been paying attention.

"These are amazing, Brandon. Have you seen them?" Tilsy is drinking coffee and looking at Georgia's drawings.

"Jacob and I studied them this morning. I forgot how good she was." Brandon shakes his head but Tilsy gives Hank a look that causes an immediate bulge in his jeans.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I don't know why I slept in. Brandon I'll get your breakfast right away," Georgia is almost in tears and is dragging Caroline behind her.

Hank moves away from the stove so Brandon can get to Georgia. He places his hands gently on her shoulders. "One sugar and two creams?" He kisses her lightly. "You and Caroline sit. I'll get your coffee. Hank and I have breakfast almost ready." He gently pushes her toward the table. "What do you want in your coffee Caroline?" He laughs as her mouth drops open.

"Daddy, I don't drink coffee?"

"Really? Okay, how about milk or orange juice."

"Orange juice please, Daddy." Her darling sweet voice and matching smile focus on her Daddy.

"Timmy, please take these to Mom and Caroline."

"Yes, sir."

Andrew is with Patrick. Jed and Caley haven't come out yet. "Have you seen Del, Brandon?"

"Earlier, but he left. Didn't say where he was going?"

Discussion is mainly about Georgia's drawings and sketches for the mural. Brandon watches her talk about her work. Her excitement makes her face blush and her hands move at dizzying speed. She looks down at her plate and it's empty.

"Brandon I ate it all. They were the most delicious pancakes I've ever eaten. Pancakes have never been a favorite of mine, but they are now." She sparkles at him.

Hank swears he sees Brandon blush. He glances at Hank.

"Any breakfast left?" Del crashes in and tosses Brandon a large bag. "You'll need those. You have to change planes in Atlanta on the return flight."

T-shirts, Brandon Straight Family Flight 734, is imprinted on red shirts with large white lettering, "After the Del Incident, Dad always made us wear matching shirts when we traveled, even in the car. We all hated it, so I thought I'd pass on the tradition. Sorry kids."

Tilsy is doubled over in laughter and now she choking on her bacon. Her laughing eyes look hard at Hank. "You did that?

"I'm a Dad. I do things Dad-style," he shrugs.
Book 2 Hank

Hank feels like he's dragging through the rest of the day. Everyone is gone but he and Tilsy. Tilsy, however, is full of energy. She's caught up on her finances, stripped all the bedrooms and bathrooms, remade the beds and is on her eighth load of wash. He's content sitting in the living room in his favorite chair pretending to read the newspaper. He calls out to her every now and again, "Want me to help?"

"Got this. Stay out of my way." His princess' voice rings out from somewhere in the house.

It's going to be fine, he tells himself. The two families are compatible and have come a long way in getting to know each other. Brandon was the biggest challenge and the person Tilsy was most afraid of. There are some things he would have done differently, but for the most part Hank is pleased with how he handled some tricky situations and at least Tilsy is happier that she's had this time with her sons and her grandchildren.

Another difficult situation was Andrew and Caley. He noticed right away, within minutes of Caley's surprise arrival, that Andrew was smitten with Jed's girl.

For two days Andrew hovered and watched her constantly. Any excuse to get her something or talk to her and Andrew was on it quick. Hank felt sorry for the boy because Caley and Jed are serious about each other. She makes his son happy, she's happy with Jed and all Hank wants is for them to be happy.

Hank's come to love her too and well that's just icing on the cake.

Several times, Hank wanted to take Andrew aside and talk to him about Caley and Jed, but in the end he's glad he stayed out of it.

Just before she and Jed left for the airport, Caley walked up to Andrew and put her hands on his face and looked at him closely. It felt like minutes passed.

"You are very a nice man, handsome and smart. Any girl in the world would be thrilled and turned on to be with you. I love Jed. I've always loved Jed. I'll always love Jed. I'm sorry, I'm not for you," she kissed him and then hugged him for a long time.

Everyone was there. Everyone watched. No one knew what to say after she kissed him on the lips and walked away.

"Beer." Del shoved one in Andrew's hand.

Hank couldn't sit anymore and pretend to read the newspaper, he wandered to the backyard. As soon as he opened the door, his three rescues jumped up, and sat in a line in front of him. Remembering Caley's show, Hank looked down and sure enough there was Oliver sitting beside his right foot.

He held up his hand and the three dogs stood. He dropped his hand and Oliver ran over their backs and sat down next to Hank.

"Manager. Go."

Sure enough he took off around the perimeter, then Gruff, then Teddy, then Oliver. Oliver beat them all back and they sat and waited.

"If you expect me to kiss you on the nose and roll around on the ground with you, get this through your heads right now. That's not going to happen."

He walked in front of them and rubbed each dog behind the ears. "Good boy."

He heard it and then confirmed with a look to the upstairs back bedroom, Tilsy was watching and laughing outrageously. "Sit," he hollered up to her. She disappeared and when he turned around all four dogs were sitting in a row in front of him.

He walked past them and picked up the big red ball and tossed it in the air. They didn't move. "Ball," he yelled and the three rescues took off.

He and Oliver went to the deck and sat on the edge. "I think I liked them better before. They ate, slept and didn't mess in the house. Why would a dog want more training than that?"

Oliver didn't know. But he liked watching them run and bump into each other over the big red ball.

## Book 3 Tilsy & Hank
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

"Isn't it too soon? I thought it would be another week," Tilsy knows she sounds whinny and she's being a nag but she doesn't want Hank to go back to work. Sure he's been restless and has been working in his office more and more each day, but she stops whatever she's doing to play with him, or take a walk or go shopping. She makes snacks and takes them to his office, so he doesn't feel so alone. He seemed productive and happy being here with her.

"I need to go to work, Princess. One of the doctors I'm looking to hire is scheduled to be here today and I need to meet with him." Hank looks at Tilsy and answers the question that's all over her face but is unspoken. "No I need to meet him at the clinic so I can show him around and we can talk about things in a proper clinical environment."

Hank pulls her to his chest and holds her for a few precious minutes. "I'll be all right Tilsy."

Tilsy pulls away and shakes her head taking a deep breath, "I know. I just feel better when you are around. Go. I won't even ask you when you are coming back. Oliver and I will be fine. The upholsterer will be here shortly to help find material to for the living room furniture and dining room chairs."

She wanted Hank's input but he'd probably just tell her to get whatever she wants anyway. She just hates to pick something that in the end he hasn't seen before its permanent.

"Four o'clock," Hank kisses her and walks out the door. As it closes he stands just outside and has a moment of uneasiness. He's really going back to work. Is he ready?

Hank takes a breath as deep as Tilsy's. He'll be fine. He'll do what he needs to do there and then he'll come home to Tilsy. He'll get home early and fix her lunch. Potato soup, he's never fixed it for her and he knows she'll love his. Better go or I can't come back to Tilsy and eat warm creamy potato soup and have lovin' in the afternoon.

His step feels sure as he crosses the porch down the steps and strides confidently to his car.

Tilsy is standing still and facing the closed door. Through the glass panes she sees Hank pause. She hopes he'll come back in, announce to her that he's retiring for good and suggest they take Oliver for a walk. She waits with Oliver and she feels physical pain to see him walk across the front porch, down the stairs and stride to his car.

She watches until his car starts to move. She doesn't want to watch him leave her.

"Come on, Oliver. Help me pull these ugly, ugly, heavy, gross drapes off the living room windows."

Ed Allen didn't look as young as his resume said he was and Hank was relieved. Abingdon is a small town and the older people can be wary of the younger generations. But he is only one year out of veterinary school and has limited experience.

His education is more than sufficient, his references impeccable and their phone interview was very satisfying. Hank reminds himself that at Ed's age, he probably had less experience.

Hank had two appointments scheduled. Both are long-time clients and they've gone through quite a few pets together over the years.

"Ann, it's good to see you again," Hank says as he calls her from the waiting room with her very shaggy rescue dog, Rags. Rags had been hit by a car and when he was healed enough to leave the clinic, Hank called Ann to see if she would take him.

She was justifiably reluctant. She had just lost Phillip, another rescue she had for almost ten years. They were inseparable and he cried with her when Phillip had to be put down.

"I don't want another dog, Hank. I don't think I can stand loosing another." But she came anyway and left with Rags. That was four years ago.

He and Ann graduated from high school the same year. They were friends then and now.

"You look good Hank. I was worried. When am I going to meet your lady, I'm hearing so much about?"

"I'm keeping her to myself. I know everyone will tell her bad things about me and I like that she thinks I'm wonderful," he laughs and kisses Ann on the cheek.

"No one around here has anything bad to say about you Hank. The women's club is having our annual fund drive dinner. You always come. Will you come this year and let us meet her?"

"I'll ask Tilsy. I don't make those decisions anymore." He laughs.

"She's good for you Hank."

"I'm getting that a lot Ann."

He really didn't realize he was an arrogant, stand-offish person. He'd always thought he was nice to everyone, responsible and accountable to the community. At least everyone seems to agree that Tilsy has been good for him and at least, if it doesn't work in his favor, he can blame Tilsy for his personality change.

Ed was efficient, calm, personable and great with Rags. Hank let Ed handle the exam and by the time he was finished, and Rags' ear infection was identified and treated, Ed, Rags and Ann were good friends.

"I'll call tomorrow to see how he's doing?" Ed told Ann as he patted Rags' head and they left.

"So you read his file?"

"Yes. Well, it was more a scan than a study, but I only had a few minutes. It didn't matter. I could smell him as soon as he walked in."

"Don't bill this client," Hank picked up Ann's file and started out.

"Why?"

"Rags is a rescue—hit by a car and abandoned—Ann took him. I don't charge when someone steps up like that."

Ed nods.

Hank's next patient should tell the real story of whether Ed will fit in his practice. Mrs. Connelly is in her eighties and her Chihuahua is ten. Mrs. Connelly is terrified of her own dog and for good reason. Chico is a mean little bugger. Hank can't help but wonder what Caley could do with Chico.

Snarls, growls and screams are heard at the clinic's entrance. Hank puts his hand on Ed's shoulder. "Our next patient has arrived."

"Dr. Witcher, take him. Hurry, please!" Mrs. Connelly is struggling with Chico's leash and trying to keep her ankles out of the way of his little sharp teeth at the same time. "It took me an hour to get the leash on him and a half an hour to get him in the car." Mrs. Connelly is sweaty and rumpled.

Hank nudged Ed and then took the leash. Chico calmed down immediately and sat looking up at Hank. "Chico isn't so bad with anyone except Mrs. Connelly, but don't let him fool you. He can turn on you in a second." He hands Chico's leash to Ed.

Hank puts his arm around Mrs. Connelly and follows behind Ed to the exam room. "I see nothing has changed between you and Chico?"

"He almost bit me this morning when I put his food bowl down."

"I've been telling you for years, to let me find him another home and you another dog."

"I love him, Dr. Witcher." She's nearly in tears.

"But you can't even pet him."

"I know, but I like to look at him. He's so cute!"

"Mrs. Connelly, I worry about you getting hurt."

When Hank and Mrs. Connelly enter the exam room, Chico has Ed pinned in the corner.

"Chico, sit." Hank stands in front of the tiny dog and crosses his arms over his chest. Chico bares his teeth, walks to the far corner and sits.

"So what's the trouble, outside the obvious," Hank is sitting next to Mrs. Connelly. His eyes never leave Chico's and Ed has decided not to move at all.

"He smells and he isn't eating very well. He even peed in the living room the other day and he never does that. I watched him this morning and he lifted his leg four times outside, but nothing came out. He laid down in the yard and he never does that either."

"Okay, I'm going to have to keep him overnight. I'll need to run some tests. Are you okay with that?"

"What's wrong with him? Is he going to die?"

_If we're lucky._ "Could be a urinary infection, but I won't know until I run some tests. Why don't you call Ethel and go out to lunch. Have a good day and we'll take good care of Chico. Consider it a day off," Hank chuckles.

"Bye Chico, be a good boy and I'll come and get you tomorrow," she says sweetly as Chico rushes her with teeth bared. Hank quickly steps between Mrs. Connelly and Chico and shuts the door behind her. All hell would break loose if he got out.

"Your strategy?" Hank looks at Ed.

"A gun?"

"Thought that myself a couple times. If he doesn't survive our basic tests, we would be doing Mrs. Connelly a great service. She's old and I really do worry about him hurting her or making her fall."

"Have you tried to give him a small daily dose of sedatives?"

"Couple years ago, but Mrs. Connelly didn't like how he acted, so she wouldn't give them to him. I even found her a cute little female that was gentle and sweet, but Mrs. Connelly wouldn't trade. I worked with her at home to get Chico under control but she couldn't do it. He's almost eleven. It wouldn't be unusual for him to have something fatal. I've never lied to a client before. However, it might be time to deal with this situation. Even the experienced staff won't handle him anymore."

The two doctors look at each other and then at Chico. It's like he understood every word and he rushes Ed with teeth bared.

Hank quickly reaches to a low drawer, grabs a blanket and throws it over Chico.

"Thanks," Ed says as he stares at the snarling blanket.

"Fix a sedative. I'll grab him when you are ready."

"It's so nice to meet you. Thank you for coming," Tilsy greets Sharon Lightner at the door. "I know it's an inconvenience, but I find things work out better if we choose materials in the environment where they'll be used."

Tilsy notices that Ms. Lightner is only carrying one book of swatches. "Do you need me to help you bring in the other samples?"

"No. This is all I brought. It'll be enough."

Tilsy holds out her hand for the upholsterer to follow her to the dining room table. Without the heavy, ugly drapes the space is so much brighter with just the blinds, but still the table would be better.

"I've made fresh coffee and sweet rolls, would you like to join me?" Tilsy says with a nice smile, even though she's smarting with the fact that the woman didn't bring a range of fabrics and colors she requested.

"Okay."

Tilsy sets the pre-prepared coffee service on the table. "Please help yourself."

"So you are living here with Dr. Witcher?"

Tilsy is totally taken back by the outrageous question. She smiles and sips her coffee. "Show me what you've brought. We'd really like to settle this today. The painter will be here early next week." Since Ms. Lightner didn't make a move, Tilsy reaches over and draws the swatch book over and starts flipping through.

"It was nice of Sherry to recommend me. She's a nice girl. I grew up with her Momma. I hear she's dating Dr. Witcher's youngest boy, Patrick."

Okay, she's more about gossip than work and Tilsy is totally put off but trudges forward. "This is nice but we were thinking something lighter. Does this come in other colors?"

The woman takes a bite of sweet roll and shrugs.

Tilsy opens her file for this renovation and pulls out a couple paint samples. "This is the color we'll be going for in here. My daughter-in-law will be painting a mural on that wall and we'll be upgrading the hardwoods. Do you have a recommendation for us?"

"I heard about you when you sold your house and left and saw you on TV with that gun thing in Texas. Dr. Witcher is a fine man and we're not happy with some woman coming into our town and taking our men."

Tilsy's anger flares and she wants to grab Sharon Lightner's bleached blonde hair and toss her out the door with a few choice and unlady-like words to follow her to her car. Hank is well known and respected here, she can't. It's not fair to Hank and after all she's been treated worse than this.

"He's dated a lot of women in this town since his wife killed herself. Love 'em and leave 'em Hank we call him. But still he's gorgeous and has money. Most of us would do anything he wants just to be with him, if only for a short time."

Tilsy watches Sharon Lightner take another bite of the treats she worked so hard making and talk with her mouth full.

"Be warned Tilsy Tilson, Hank isn't going to settle down with anyone. He's a player and well worth playing with. Just don't get all caught up in a fantasy of a forever with Hank because that's not going to happen with him."

Tilsy smiles, "Thank you for your advice. Oops!" She reaches in her pocket for her cell phone. "Excuse me a minute, I need to take this call. Please, help yourself to another roll. I'll be right back."

She paces in Hank's office long enough for Sharon Lightner to get the idea that she is really taking a phone call. She figures Sharon Lightner is looking through Hank's drawers while she's hiding out in Hank's office.

"I'm so sorry, but something has come up and I must take care of it immediately. Let me show you out."

"But we haven't looked at the samples?"

"It will have to be another day. I'm so sorry. I really appreciate that you came all this way to help us." As she closes the door she smiles and says, "I'll call you."

Tilsy shuts the door and looks down at Oliver. "When Hell freezes over, don't you think?"

Oliver agrees.

An hour later, Tilsy has set an appointment for tomorrow morning with a decorator she found on the internet. Her shop is in Bristol and she didn't seem to know Hank or her.

Even though her brain tells her that the Lightner woman was not someone that Hank would have anything to do with, still it was unsettling.

Even more unsettling was her comment about "living with" Hank. What does that make her? She's not a kept woman. Tilsy has her own money and she buys groceries and anything needed at the house, despite Hank's objections.

She's always believed that if one person thinks something, it's a sure bet that twelve others think the same thing and twelve times twelve times twelve . . .

Tilsy looks around Hank's living room and suddenly realizes that that no matter how much she would like it to be true, this is not her house. It's Hank's house and Patrick's, Del's and Jed's. She's an interloper playing house.

She's suddenly missing her pretty little house that was all hers. She owned it, painted it, fixed it and lived in it because it was hers. It was the only thing, except for Oliver and Delbert than she's ever had in her entire life.

"Sam, its Tilsy."

It was good to talk to Sam and he was happy to hear from her. But she's so in love with Hank, obsessed to the exclusion of everyone else she knows. She's upset that she gave Hank trouble about going to work, but it felt like he was leaving her. That's so juvenile, so teenage immature, but still that's how she felt.

Hank has given her no reason to feel this way and that fact, makes her thoughts more troubling. He was a godsend with Brandon and Andrew. He's single handedly responsible for getting her back with her sons and grandchildren.

"Damn it Oliver. I don't deserve someone like Hank. Handsome, kind, smart, responsible and so sexy, he's too good for me. Now that he's well, I need to let him get on with his life, don't I Oliver?"

Oliver agrees that she's being possessive and nuts to boot.

It was a whim for sure, but still she'd been thinking about the house in St. Augustine since she left it. She could fix it up and it would be a nice vacation place for her and Hank. The family could come and visit them at the beach and go to Disney World.

Or it could be like a time share for the family, where they could vacation even without her and Hank. Tilsy has always wanted to go to Disney World. She bought it.

She should have discussed this with Hank. They could have worked it out together. She hit send to transfer the funds. Sam is emailing the paperwork and he can't wait to see her again.

Tilsy pours a glass of wine, finishes dinner she made for Hank and goes outside to sit in the sun and wait for him.

Oliver moves in her lap and Tilsy realizes she fell asleep. It's nearly dark and she can feel the cold dew on her skin. It's way past four o'clock.

Tilsy runs inside yelling for Hank

"Hank! Hank! Are you home? I fell asleep on the deck." She laughs hoping he'll think it's funny. No sound.

She checks his office. It's empty and untouched. She dashes upstairs to his bedroom. Nothing. She looks out his bedroom window and down to the driveway. His car isn't there. She checks her cell phone. It's after six and there are no messages. Her first thought is that he's had a heart attack and is in the hospital.

"Oliver, I'm going to the hospital." He stares at her and sits down. "You're right. They would have called Patrick. Patrick would have called me, right?"

She puts her purse back on the chair. She could call him or text him. But she made such a stink this morning about him going to work it would be like she's checking up on him. He's used to running his own life. He knows how. Hank doesn't need her to help him with that.

"Well, come on Oliver, I'll fix your dinner. I bet you're hungry aren't you?" Oliver wiggles agreeably. "Think we should feed your backyard buddies too?"

"No it's no trouble. It's getting late and I'm hungry. Come to dinner and we can finish our talk. Follow me."

Hank has missed Tilsy all day, but it's been a good day and it feels good being back at work. Ed is going to work out really well. The staff likes him. He, Max and Daisy had a great meeting that went on for more than an hour.

He knows there are three steaks in the refrigerator, he'll put them on the grill and make a salad. Tilsy will be glad he's eating a salad with the steak he's not allowed to have. He laughs imagining the look she's going to give him.

When he leaves the office, Hank realizes its dark outside. He looks at his cell phone it's ten minutes after seven. Damn, he told Tilsy he'd be home at four. He checks his calls and messages nothing. She must be busy. That's good, maybe he won't be in trouble with her.

"Tilsy," Hank calls when he opens the door. The first thing he notices is that the drapes are gone. It looks nice. The second thing he notices is that the table is set for two with candles and fresh flowers and there's a great smell coming from the kitchen.

"Tilsy?"

The door to the deck opens and she's smiling and wearing one of his old sweatshirts. She looks amazing. "Sorry it was chilly outside and this was handy." She whips it off to reveal her Beaumont Texas yellow T-shirt.

"I brought company," he says and draws her into a hug and a gentle kiss on the lips. She feels so good and he takes a deep breath for the first time since he left this morning.

"Tilsy this is Dr. Edward Allen—Ed—and he will be handling small and exotic animals at the clinic. He's already started."

"Hi. Welcome to Abingdon. Have you been here before?"

Tilsy leads us into the dining room and indicates we should sit. Ed accepts her offer of Chianti to go with her veggie lasagna, antipasto and home baked Italian bread. She pours him a full glass and a finger high amount in his and sets a glass of ice water beside it. She fills her glass and takes it with her into the kitchen all the while chatting sweetly and bringing us out of our clinic day and into a comfortable home environment complete with a home-cooked meal.

She's amazing and now he wishes he didn't ask Ed to come to dinner. Hank only wants to be alone with Tilsy.

Dinner's over and Tilsy has given Ed two helpings of gelato and three cups of coffee. Hank is tired, but more he's tired of Ed. He wants to be with Tilsy. Usually, she knows when Hank's had enough but for some reason she keeps encouraging Ed to talk.

And then she shocked him. "Do you have reservations for tonight? You are welcome to the guest room. There's just the three of us in this big house. It would be no trouble."

And then Hank's shocked again. "That would be really nice. Thank you." Ed says with a smile to Tilsy.

Tilsy's cleaning up from dinner, while Hank escorts Ed to the guest room. "You two go on, I'll finish here and be up in a minute. "She says without looking at Hank.

Hank is in bed when she finally comes up. "Do you need anything Hank?"

"Just you, Princess."

She smiles and goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. That's not good. Maybe she's mad that he got home late, didn't call and brought a guest she didn't expect. She seemed okay with it and he thought he got away with it until she shut the bathroom door.

He waits and waits.
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

Hank wakes up. Damn. He didn't intend to go to sleep. He looks left and he's alone. He doesn't remember that she ever came out of the bathroom. Tilsy's pillow has been slept on, but she's not there now. Damn.

Tilsy was relieved when Hank brought a guest home for dinner. She didn't want to go one-to-one with him in her current mood and show how petty she can be. She also knew that if she wasn't here, Hank would have invited Ed to dinner and to stay the night. He looked surprised but she knows that's what Hank would have done. He's a good man, thoughtful and gracious and she doesn't want to interfere or change who he is.

She got up early to make breakfast and the coffee was just finished when Ed came down stairs. It was good that she left Hank and got down here before Hank's guest found a cold, empty kitchen.

Ed is a pleasant young man and very excited about working with someone of "Hank's reputation" he said. Ed says he knows that Hank got more than two hundred resumes for the job opening he posted.

Over scrambled eggs, Ed has her laughing talking about Chico and can't believe it when he said he suggested to Hank that they pull Chico's teeth.

"No!"

"Hank's really worried that Chico will hurt Mrs. Connelly and I agree with him. I don't know what he's decided to do."

Hank comes down the stairs to the sounds of laughter and the smell of coffee. Sounds like Tilsy and Ed are getting along great.

"Good morning, Princess." Hank pulls her to his chest and kisses her lips.

"Sit. Breakfast is ready. Ed was telling me about Chico." She laughs and looks happy. But something's off. He'll only go to work to meet with his best candidate for big animals and then he'll come home and find out what's really going on with his princess.

"What's this?" Hank stares at his breakfast plate. It's beautifully prepared and presented but he was expecting pancakes, bacon and sausage.

"Egg white omelet and it's good for you. It tastes good. Go on and eat."

He takes a drink of coffee. "What's this?"

"Decaffeinated . . . doctor's orders."

Hank looks up at a young Ed who is grinning at him. "Thank you, Princess."

Finally Tilsy sits down with a cup of coffee. "You're not eating?"

"I grabbed something while I was cooking. How do you like the omelet?"

"Delicious," he lies. "By the way how did it go with the upholsterer yesterday?"

"Didn't work out, but I have a meeting with a decorator in Bristol. She does great work."

"Who was here yesterday?"

"A friend of yours . . . Sharon Lightner." Tilsy tries her best to keep her thoughts and feelings out of her face.

Hank notices immediately. Sharon's not a friend. She's the town's biggest gossip and has worn out three husbands. He's only heard rumors, but they say she drinks quite a bit. He's ready to question Tilsy further, but his cell phone rings emergency.

"Excuse me," Hank goes to his office and returns the call.

"I'm sorry, Ed there's an emergency. We need to get to the clinic and get the big animal rig."

He looks at Tilsy. He wants to stay with her. He wants to talk to her.

"Be careful," she says, smiles, but doesn't get up to see him out. Now he's worried, but he has to go.

"It's been a long time since we've been in the park, hasn't it Oliver."

Marjorie was coming this morning and Tilsy didn't want to be there, while another woman cleans Hank's house. She would have thought that Hank would want her to do it.

"He likes things done the way they've always been done. It's his right to want that isn't it Oliver? After all it is his house."

Oliver has no opinion about Marjorie but he's happy that the white poodle is here at the park. And Tilsy's glad that the decorator got held up and won't get here until twelve thirty. Marjorie should be done and gone by then.

"You can play all you want Oliver. We have no other place to go this morning."

While Oliver and the poodle do their thing, Tilsy occupies her mind with the St. Augustine house. She makes a list of the things she wants done, researches on her laptop. It would be great if Patrick would help her with the house, but he's busy with his own projects. She'll ask Sam to recommend someone in St. Augustine to work with.

Tilsy has been so involved with her new house, that she's lost track of the time. She looks around for Oliver and he's asleep at her feet. "Shit Oliver the decorator will be here soon. We've got to go."
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

It's ten o'clock when Hank finally gets home. He's exhausted but he's more worried about Tilsy. The kitchen light is on and there's a note with a smiley face that his dinner is in the oven.

He's too tired to eat and he has to be up early to check on the mare and foal. He missed his interview with the big animal vet yesterday, so Hank is picking him up from his motel and they'll travel together. He has three calls to make after checking on the mare.

Hank turns off the oven and slowly climbs the stairs to their bedroom. Tilsy is sound asleep. When he gets in bed, he reaches for her. She rolls over and puts her arm around his waist without waking. He wanted to hear about the decorator and what she did all day.

Tilsy jerks awake. It's barely light outside and Hank is gone. There's a note "I love you. I miss you" on his pillow. Tilsy rolls over and goes back to sleep. There's no reason to get up.

She wished Hank could have been there to look at her choices. What if he hates the furniture when it's finished? Jeff would scream and yell and toss them outside, she shivers thinking of what Hank would do. He's bigger and stronger than Jeff.

It happened when he disappeared to go to back to work. Everything has changed. Hank's body is around because she's washing his clothes from yesterday and she made the bed where the imprint of his head was in the pillow.

She tries to figure out what she's done wrong and can only come up with her hassling him about going to work. She should have known better than to question a man about his work. Now she's ruined everything.

It's after nine, he and Grady Bollinger were pushed all day. They've stopped for food and Hank wants to call Tilsy. It's late, he calls anyway.

"Hi. You all right?" Tilsy's voice sounds sleepy.

"Did I wake you?"

"Yeah. It's okay. If you make it back, I've left a warm meal for you in the oven."

If he makes it back? Where else would he be going if not home and to her?

"Grady and I just stopped at a restaurant. We haven't eaten all day. We're a couple hours away."

"Okay? Be safe. Good night," Tilsy hangs up.

"Everything all right?" Grady asks.

"Yea, I miss my lady and I woke her."

Hank wanted to tell her he loved her. He wanted to hear that she loved him. He wanted to hear about her day, but she hung up and it sounded like she didn't want to bother him about what she was doing. Could that really be what she's thinking?

Grady is going to work well with the staff and his clients. In his thirties, he's experienced enough to handle this side of the practice on his own and young enough to be comfortable with new techniques. Hank is always learning and getting more advanced providing for his patients and he expects his doctors to do the same.

It's going to be fine and now Hank can back off and spend time with Tilsy. It's what he's planned and so far, it seems it will work out. God he misses her. He suddenly realizes that he misses Tilsy more than he missed his practice.

Tilsy is asleep when he finally gets home. It's nearly midnight when he crawls into bed and reaches for Tilsy. He wants to wake her. He wants to hear her sweet voice. He's hungry to know what she's been doing.

She rolls over and puts her arm around his waist without waking. Tomorrow, I'll get up and fix her breakfast. He goes to sleep visualizing their intimate talk over coffee and sunrise. A playful morning before the bed is made and a hot luscious shower with her lavender body wash. Hank chuckles and squeezes her tighter against him thinking what his staff will think when he comes in smelling like lavender.
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

"Where did you put the directions, Oliver?" He looks at her like she's nuts. "Oh right, you haven't learned to read yet. We've got to fix that situation, young man."

Tilsy has an early appointment with Francine in Bristol. They couldn't find the right material yesterday, so she's heading to Francine's shop. She left a note on her pillow next to Hank and noticed he looked exhausted.

She feels bad about that, but he doesn't want her to take care of him.

"I think he's been clear, Oliver." She had bought another coffee pot yesterday for his decaffeinated coffee and left it hot and full along with an egg white omelet in the oven and fresh homemade bread in the toaster. She hopes he doesn't think she's being too pushy by deciding what he eats for breakfast.

"Hank is perfectly capable of doing what Jeff does. Toss it in the garbage or the kitchen sink. That's not hard to do, is it Oliver?"

Tilsy sighs. She tried four recipes until she found one she thought Hank would tolerate.

"Hank shouldn't be working hard enough to make him look so exhausted. I thought he was supposed to just go into the office for a couple hours, but he's full out. I can only assume that he knows how to take care of himself. He doesn't need me to messing in his business.

"But still Oliver, I worry about him. You won't tell will you?"

Jeff would push her into the nearest wall if she asked how he was even if he had a cold or his allergies were acting up. "It's none of your damn business woman. Get my breakfast and none of that crap you made yesterday."

Tilsy shivers remembering the pinched look on Hank's face when she served him the egg-white omelet. Jeff would have thrown it on the floor or at her, but Hank had a guest. He had reason to behave.

"Hank has such beautiful manners, doesn't he Oliver? He's a good role model for you."

Hank reaches for Tilsy without opening his eyes. He rolls over intending to kiss her and feel her and make love to his princess. His erection is hard, just the way she likes it. The sheets are cold and empty.

"Tilsy?" Hank sits straight up. He's alone. "Tilsy" he calls loudly. No answer. "What the crap?"

She must be downstairs getting breakfast. He goes to the bathroom for necessity and then spots a piece of paper on her pillow.

Good morning. Oliver and I are on our way to Bristol to meet with the decorator. Your breakfast is ready. You have your own coffee pot now. (Smiley face) I'm not sure what time I'll be back. Have a good day. Tilsy

"What?" He reads it again. She's gone. Pain like a cramp in his heart but he's not worried about a heart attack, he's now seriously worried about Tilsy. She didn't even write I love you on her note.

He grabs his cell phone and calls her. He gets voice mail. "Oh my God." Memories of before when she ran. She never answered her cell phone.

Hank showers quickly and notices that the clothes he wore the day before are cleaned ironed and in his closet. "Tilsy you don't have to do this. I send them to the cleaners." But she doesn't know that because he never told her.

He turns off the new coffee pot with the orange carafe and calls Patrick.

"Have you seen Tilsy?"

"No. I've been busy. She called once but I couldn't take the call. I forgot to call her back. Dad?" Hank feels the panic he hears in Patrick's voice.

"I've been swamped for three days and have barely seen her. She bought me a decaffeinated coffee pot." Hank has a lump in his throat. "I'm only getting her voice mail."

Silence.

"Do you know the name of the decorator she's using? She's from Bristol, I think she said."

"No. I haven't talked to Tilsy in over a week, Dad."

"Okay, she left a note saying she didn't know when she would be back, so I guess she's just busy. We're redoing the great room and dining room. If you hear from her will you let me know and tell her that I called you trying to reach her?"

"Like before? Yes."

Hank is supposed to be at the clinic for a staff meeting right now. Screw it. He walks around the house. Its pristine and definitely not Marjorie's work. Even the dogs' water bowl looks sparkling clean without a bit of drool in it.

Her desk is clean. Her laptop is gone. The few clothes she brought are hanging neatly in the closet. He would have thought she would have brought all her things here by now. Her one pair of dress shoes are polished and neatly placed below her clothes.

Nothing out in the bathroom, unlike Ellen who used to leave her things everywhere and only the smell of lavender tells him that Tilsy even lives here.

Doorbell. Fear that something has happened to her. Hank grabs the door and opens it quickly frightening the man standing there.'

"Certified letter for Lorraine Tilson," The postman said holding out a large envelop.

"She's not here. I'll sign Wayne."

It's from Sam's real estate company. He shouldn't but he has to. It's the title and bill of sale for the house on Flagler in St. Augustine. She's leaving him.
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

Tilsy tries to open the door to Francine's shop but the door is locked.

"I guess we're early Oliver. We'll wait. We have nothing else to do, right?"

The best part of waiting is that she knows no one is missing her. She shivers thinking of Jeff, who's probably going to give her at least a two hour lecture about going somewhere he didn't approve.

"You just stay out of his way, Oliver. Jeff's usually just mad at me, but just to be sure, you stay behind the sofa when he's yelling. Okay?"

Tilsy shakes her head. "Jeff is dead, right?" She looks at Oliver. Silly, Oliver was lucky enough to never know that man.

She checks in with her financial account and sees that the money for the St. Augustine house has been deducted. She buys and sells a bit.

"We did good Oliver. We made enough to cover the house today. Now we'll work on getting the money for the renovations. What do you think we'll need? I'm thinking fifty thousand."

Oliver likes that amount too, but he's bored waiting here in Francine's parking lot.

"Want to drive around a bit and explore Bristol. We've never been here have we? We could get some gas and buy you cold water. I could use a Coke."

Her cell phone is ringing, but she doesn't want to answer. She only wants to talk to Hank and for sure, he isn't calling her. He's busy at his clinic.

"You remember Hank don't you Oliver? He was wonderful wasn't he?"

Hank drives to the clinic because there's nowhere else to go. She'll be back. She knows to find him here if he's not at home.

"Sorry, I'm late. Let's have our meeting now before the schedule starts."

One thing after another and its lunch time, he was going to be home by now and with Tilsy, but she's not there. Marjorie is there and she said she hasn't seen Tilsy all week.

"I don't need to be here either, Dr. Witcher. There's nothing for me to do. This place is as clean and neat as the Buckingham Palace."

Hank tries Tilsy's phone and again voice mail.

"Dr. Witcher." he hears from the waiting room. He sees Sharon Lightner with her cat, Megan.

"Hi Sharon, what's wrong with Megan?"

"It's just her annual. Tell that woman you're hanging out with that she was supposed to call me. I've been waiting. We had a nice talk and I told her all about you Hank."

"What woman?"

"Tilsy or something. It's an odd name isn't it?"

"What about me, Sharon?"

"You know and the Love 'em and Leave 'em Hank we all know and love." She laughs and it's unpleasant. "I warned her that you were never going to settle down and she shouldn't get her hopes up for something more."

"What?" Hank has never in his life thought of hitting a woman, but he clenches his fist and takes a deep breath. If Sharon were a man, he would have already knocked him on his ass. "When do you see her, Sharon?"

"Monday. I went to her house for an appointment. She barely looked at the samples and then took a call and said I'd have to leave. She practically kicked me out of your house."

Hank asked Tilsy how the appointment went with the upholsterer and now her answer makes sense. "Friend of mine . . . didn't work out".

Oh my God, Tilsy thinks he's slept with Sharon and every other woman in town and he's playing with her too. He told her about Estelle. Didn't she understand that he's been discreet and selective? He thought he'd been clear. She seemed to take it all right.

Sharon did it. She turned it all around and then threw it in Tilsy's face. Oh my God. She isn't going to come home. She's really running.

His first call is to Sam in St. Augustine, but he hasn't seen her or heard from her? "What happened to her, Hank," Sam's voice is stressed and clearly he's blaming Hank for Tilsy's disappearance.

"Please call me if you hear from her?"

"Sure." Sam hangs up.
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

Finally Francine arrived and apologized that she mixed up the schedule. They've spent several hours going over everything and Tilsy is excited about her choices for Hank's house. She pays Francine in advance and makes arrangement for the pickup of Hank's furniture."

"Here's Dr. Witcher's phone number and the number of his housekeeper. They will let you in."

"I thought you lived there Tilsy?"

"No. I'm just helping out someone I knew. My home is in St. Augustine. That's where my house is. It needs a lot of work and I'm headed there to get started on it."

Hank has called his friend at the local police. They are going to put out a locate alert to all agencies including the State Police. Hank didn't want to, but if he doesn't find her soon, she could go anywhere. Every minute makes finding her more difficult.

He hired Grady and sent him off with his most experience tech to cover the out calls. "Call me if you need anything. I can get there or I'll send someone to help you."

It's after two when Hank pulls up to the house. Delbert is not in the driveway and Hank's heart sinks. He wants to be angry with Tilsy, but he can't justify it. He's doing the same thing to Tilsy he did to Ellen. He let her down. He told her he'd only work a couple hours. That's what she expected, because that's what he told her.

"What's wrong with a text saying I love her or a phone call saying he's running late? I'm not that busy!" He yells as he unlocks the front door and is met by silence.

"Tilsy?" He calls out anyway. Teddy, Gruff and Manager come barging in the living room. "Hi guys. Do you know where Tilsy went?"

They sit and wait.

"I guess not."

Hank heads for the kitchen because that's what he always does. He puts his cell phone on the counter for faster access. The new coffee pot placed nicely next to the older one mocks him. Hank opens the oven and finds an egg-white omelet, shoves it into the microwave, along with a mug of cold decaffeinated coffee.

She's been trying so hard to take care of him without letting him know she's taking care of him. It's amazing that he missed that completely.

"Damn you Hank."

While waiting for his microwave food, Hank spies a white notebook next to the other cookbooks. He hasn't seen it before.

The title, _Recipes for Hank_ , is printed on the cover in a pretty shade of pink. He flips through. She's researched a whole new diet for his cardiac condition and recovery. It's divided into categories: Meat, Starches, Sugars, Vegetables, Fibers, Grains, Menus and one that says, "Just for fun".

He eats his omelet and realizes that it has a lot of flavor. Just like the turkey burger, if you don't think about what it is, it tastes good. He groans and feels the omelet not settling in his stomach. It's not the food making him queasy, it's the fact that he has been a jerk.

His conversation with Brandon replays and makes his stomach feel worse. "See that look on Georgia's face and try to make happen over and over," he told Brandon.

Hank thinks back over the past weeks since the family left. He's seen a happy look on Tilsy's face but not the real one. Worse is the knowledge that he had noticed. "So why didn't you do something about it!"

Who is he to give advice to anyone? He killed one wife and is forcing Tilsy away from him. Arrogance pure and simple, Hank thought he was being considerate and careful with Tilsy. He thought he understood how fragile she was for close relationships.

"You thought you could wipe nearly forty years of abuse away with a kiss and a first orgasm!"

The Hank Bashing continues. He may be a vet but he's a doctor. He heals. That's what he does. So many signs and a barrage of symptoms and he missed every one.

"Just keep her safe, dear Lord."

Tilsy turned south when she left Francine's. Her goal was St. Augustine but her heart is just not into it. Oliver is lying in the shotgun seat and staring at her.

"Getting real tired of that Oliver."

Actually she's getting really tired period. It's dark now and she hasn't even thought about stopping. She's sure Oliver is hungry. She hasn't eaten a meal for a couple days, but that's not an issue.

She never liked to eat around Jeff. He'd use the table time to pick on her. It wasn't very good for digestion.

For the past ten years, she nibbled in the kitchen as she cooked and served him in front of the TV. She'd linger in the kitchen, because he'd always want something right away. The sooner she met his wants the less he'd yell at her. Just do it and get it over with was her motto.

Sadness overwhelms her and she has to pull over. "I don't feel good Oliver."

The little dog gently climbs in her lap and lets her cry and wipe her tears in his fur. "I want to go home. I don't know where that is. I want Hank, Oliver. I don't feel good when I'm not with Hank."

She cries as the rain begins. Buckets, torrents it's raining inside and out.

"Talk to me Oliver. We could go back and if we did, maybe he'd let us stay there. We could stay out of his way, like I do with Jeff. I could cook and clean and leave him alone. Do you think you could stay out of the way, too?"

Oliver squirms and licks her face. "Yes, I know, you don't take up a lot of space, but you do bark a lot. Could you not do that, especially when he's on the phone?"
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

Hank's phone rings. He grabs it. It's not good news. There have been no sighting reports of Delbert or Tilsy or Oliver. She's driven out of Virginia.

"Thank you. Call me if you have anything, even a suspicion."

Patrick got here about seven. He stops his pacing from the living room to the dining room.

Hank shakes his head.

Patrick resumes his trek and then stops suddenly. "I'm sorry Dad, but why didn't you know something was going on? I'm sorry. That's not fair. I should have called her back, too. She doesn't call unless she has something to say, I knew that and still I forgot her."

Patrick paces. Hank sits at the dining table, looking at the recipe book Tilsy compiled for him. She has lots of detail right down to ratios of starch to sugar, protein to fibers and everything in between. She must have worked her butt off to do this and he didn't even notice she worked on it.

But then he's pretty much been holed up in his office for the past ten days or so. Several times he got irritated when she opened the door, peeked in for the tenth time, "Need anything?" She'd smile. He waved her off without a smile. He never once bothered to ask her if she needed anything.

Hank hears the rain pouring down on the house. The rain echoes through the empty space that used to be occupied by people, and it seems even louder and more menacing.

He checks his cell phone. The rain is blanketing the region from D.C. to Florida. Wherever she is it's probably raining hard. If she's driving, it's dangerous.

Tilsy turned around somewhere near Columbia, South Carolina and she's heading back to Hank. He may refuse to let her in, but at least she'll be nearby. It couldn't hurt more than it does now.

"I like that little bed and bed and breakfast near the Barter. Next time we stop, I'll call them and see if they have room for us. Would that be okay?"

She can hardly see out of the windshield, the rain is so heavy. Delbert is working overtime to keep her vision clear, but it's not happening. Half the time, Tilsy is guessing where the road is.

"This is really dangerous Oliver. I should pull over and find us a place to stop, but I can't see good enough to pull over. I'll just have to hold on and go as straight as I can."

Delbert's clock reads 1:02. Then she's jerked awake as a semi races passed her and covers the windshield. "I can't see anything, Oliver. Hold on." She yells and now she's scared. She's really scared. "I can't see anything! I don't know where the road is!"

Tilsy holds the steering wheel straight and hopes she isn't going to fly off the road into the darkness. Finally red lights ahead and she knows there's someone ahead of her. She's too far left and adjusts to the red lights.

Keep following the red lights. Don't let them get away. Stay up with the red lights.
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

"Go lay down for a while, Dad, you don't look so good. I'll call you the second I hear anything."

Reluctantly Hank drags himself up the stairs and falls on the bed Tilsy bought, pulls the quilt she had made over him. _I love you Tilsy. I'm so sorry_.

The miles keep piling up. Tilsy has no idea where she is because she's following the red lights. Doesn't matter where the red lights are going, they are keeping her and Oliver safely on the road until the rain stops. She'll find out where she is when it stops.

She's got to pee really badly and she's so thirsty. She'll just have to pee in Delbert if it comes to that and then she sees it. A sign to Bristol, but she'll have to leave the red lights to go that way. She's sure the red lights will stay straight.

"No. Yes. The red lights are turning, Oliver. Look, the red lights are going to Bristol. Get up Oliver! Oliver, get up we're almost to Hank!"

Delbert's clock shows her 3:10. It doesn't matter what time it is. Keep following the red lights and don't go to sleep again. Don't go to sleep. Blink. Blink. Keep blinking.

She'd love to roll the window down for fresh air, but she'd be soaked in seconds. She pushes the fan higher and colder. She's shivering but she's not sleepy anymore.

And then there's Abingdon and the red lights pull away. "I can do this Oliver. I know these roads right? I just need to slow down and not get excited."

Light coming through the window wakes Hank. He's instantly on his feet and running down the stairs.

"Patrick have you heard anything?"

He's asleep on the sofa with both cell phones lying beside his face. Hank grabs them, hoping for a message. Nothing.

"I'm sorry I think I fell asleep sometime between three and four or maybe four or five. Anything? What time is it?

"A little after six."

"I'll make some coffee." Hank notices that the rain has stopped and the backyard is flooded. "That was a hell of a storm."

"Yea. I guess I won't be working today, but I need to run and check on the building site. I'm sure there's damage."

Hank's running water for the coffee pot. "Dad!"

He knows the sound of panic in his son's voice. He drops the carafe and runs to the great room.

"Look!"

"Oh my God." Hank is out the door and heading for Delbert that's parked at an odd angle but mostly on the driveway.

Patrick beats him there. "She's in here."

The door is locked. "Oliver. Oliver. Wake up Tilsy." Hank beats on the window. The little dog is jumping at the window but Tilsy hasn't moved. She's slumped over the steering wheel still holding on with both hands.

"She drove through that storm, Dad. I can't believe it. The news reports were telling everyone to get off the road and the governor issued a state of emergency about two.

Hank runs to the driver's side and is calling Tilsy and Oliver. He's hoping Oliver will wake her up if she's asleep. She doesn't look very good.

"Break the window Patrick. I'm not sure she's sleeping."

"She better be sick then or she's going to kill you for breaking Delbert's window."

"Just do it!" Hank yells and instantly feels ashamed. His number one Dad rule: never yell in anger or fear.

Patrick grabbed a sledgehammer out of the back of his pickup and brought it against the back side window. It bounced off. "Damn. Delbert is a tank!"

He's aiming for the side of the window instead of the center this time.

"Stop. I think she's waking up. Tilsy open the door. Open. The. Door!" Hank is yelling at the window with Tilsy locked behind it.

The first thing she notices is that she's stopped. The second thing is that it's light outside. The third thing is Hank screaming at her through the window. The fourth thing is that he looks mad.

"Damn."

Oliver is climbing all over her. She pulls on the door handle, because it's what she should do and Oliver flies out. Hank is grabbing for her and pulling her out.

"Oh my God, Tilsy, I love you. I love you." He's holding her tight.

"Pee."

Hank looks startled and then he laughs, picks her up and runs into the house and into the downstairs bathroom. He helps her get her jeans down and then pushes her down on the toilet. She's freaking because he's just standing there watching with a huge grin on his face?

"Pee. I'm not leaving. You'll disappear."

She has no choice. Her body takes over and she closes her eyes in relief. She really didn't want to pee in Delbert's black leather seats. She made it.

"Done?" Hank hands her a huge wad of toilet paper. Then he flushes the toilet and pulls up her jeans and fastens them. "Wash your hands."

Hank turns her around and turns on the water.

"Is Mom all right?"

"I think so. How's Oliver?"

"He peed for at least two minutes. I guess they couldn't stop."

"Probably couldn't see good enough to pull over. I've been there. It's not fun."

Tilsy hears them and sees them, but she's really not focused enough to participate.

"I think she's asleep on her feet. I'm going to put her bed." She hears his voice and then she's being carried up the stairs and then she's lying on Hank's bed and he's covering her with his blanket.
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

"I'm going to move Delbert. He's blocking the driveway. I'll check on the building site and come right back. I thought I'd stop at Hardee's. I'll get you something."

Tilsy is out cold. Hank doesn't like the color of her skin and she shivers every once in a while.

Her pulse seems strong and steady even if it is slow. Hyperthermia or dehydration, he takes her blood pressure. It's also low as is her temperature. He strips her out of her jeans to make her more comfortable and then pulls down the covers and puts her between the sheets. She doesn't move as he covers her with the comforter she bought and the quilt she had made.

"Tilsy, can I get you anything?" He's close to her face and kisses her lips. They're cold.

No response, not a flicker but when he moves away a small almost invisible shiver.

"Howie can you come over and check Tilsy? She drove through that storm last night and she doesn't look good. She's asleep and I haven't been able to wake her. I didn't shake her or yell or anything, but still. . . I don't want to take her to the emergency room."

"When is the last time she ate?" Howie has done everything Hank did with the same results.

Hank shrugs.

"I can't see anything wrong, except what you found. Hyperthermia and maybe a little dehydration mixed with exhaustion. I'll take blood and run it."

"Is Mom all right?" Patrick's back. Hank shrugs. "Delbert ran out of gas when I moved him in the driveway. I put in a couple gallons. I can't believe she made it here with a spoonful of gas left."

"Keep her warm. Maybe make some broth for when she wakes up. Keep her in bed and let me know if something changes. You know when to call the ambulance, right?"

Tilsy didn't even flinch when Howie drew three vials of blood.

"I'll let you know as soon as I get the results. How did she get in this shape, Hank?"

What can he say? He's an asshole?

"You don't look that good either. Why don't you lie down and get some rest. Your body will help warm her. I'll call you as soon as I can."

Patrick walks Howie out and comes back in about five minutes with a sausage biscuit and cup of coffee for Hank.

"This is an incredible room. Mom has excellent taste. It's a good room, but I never thought it was this beautiful. You eat and lay down like Howie said. Should I make beef or chicken broth?"

"She probably would prefer chicken. I don't know. Maybe beef or vegetable, Patrick I'm sure she could tell you what I'd like, but I can't tell you what she likes. What does that say about me?"

"That you need to work harder," Patrick puts his hand on Hank's shoulder and then leaves.

Hank eats part of his biscuit and drinks all his coffee. Tilsy shivers. He undresses and climbs in bed, pulls Tilsy against him and holds her tight.

"Come on Oliver, you need to snuggle too. Tilsy will want you close when she wakes up."

Oliver doesn't have to be asked twice and he stretches out against Tilsy's back.
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

Hank's phone rings and wakes him up. He reaches for his phone and the fancy thermometer Tilsy bought to have when the grandkids were here.

"Hank." Howie and Hank say hello as he takes Tilsy's temperature. It's up a degree. He tells Howie and he likes that. Howie said he doesn't have the blood work back, but any minute.

"If she doesn't wake up in the next couple hours, call me. I'll come over and set up an IV for the dehydration with a light antibiotic. You got broth?"

"Hot and ready, Patrick made chicken, beef and vegetable, as well as some ice chips."

"Good, I'll call back in two hours."

Howie is a good doctor and he thinks Hank is too. Hank takes care of his kids' ponies, four or five dogs, and lots of cats, a python, two goats and a menagerie of other critters. Howie has six children. The oldest is sixteen and the youngest is two.

Tilsy shivers and Hank draws her closer and kisses her temple. She's still cool to the touch. "Wake up Tilsy. I need you to drink some hot broth. Wake up, Princess." She shivers and groans.

It's been six hours since he and Patrick found her inside Delbert. Other than "pee" she hasn't said anything.

"Hank."

"I'm here Tilsy."

"Hank."

She's not awake. She's asleep and saying his name.

"I'm here Princess."
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

Eight hours and Tilsy is still asleep. Howie just left having inserted an IV.

"Has she had an emotional crisis, Hank?"

"She suffered a forty-year abusive marriage that ended about twenty months ago when he died. She's been estranged from her sons, she experienced her first orgasm with me and I've pretty much ignored her for the past two weeks."

"I'd say that qualifies. She is the Tilsy that was on national news subduing a murderer?"

"Yes and her experience with the police scared her badly. She and Oliver wandered around most of Southeast U.S. for about seven weeks as she searched for home. She bought a house in St. Augustine the other day and we just had all of her family and mine here for three days last month. It was tense.

"Oh and Sharon Lightner told her Monday that I'm Love 'em and Leave 'em Hank and that she shouldn't expect to me to be permanently involved with her."

"That woman should be locked up. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say she's suffering some depression. This sleep is different than exhaustion, it's more like escape. Has she moved or said anything?"

"She shivers every now and again and she said my name twice."

"Let's give her more time. Call me if she doesn't wake up in another four hours or call me when she does wake up. I suggest you stay with her. Don't leave her alone."

Leave her alone? Hank's never going to let her out of his sight for the rest of his life.

"Wake up Tilsy." He kisses her. Her lips are still cold.

"Oliver can you wake Tilsy? She needs to wake up. Come on boy, jump on Tilsy."

Oliver looks at Hank like he's nuts and lies back down.

"Okay, if you won't do it I will," Hank leans over Tilsy and licks her mouth, cheeks, nose and eyes while he pants in her face.

"Oliver, no," she mumbles and moves her head a little bit.

Hank licks some more and now Oliver is paying more attention."

"Go away Oliver." She moves her hand a few inches.

"Open your eyes, Tilsy. You need to wake up. Please Princess, you need to wake up." Hank puts his arm around her shoulders and half lifts her. "Tilsy, open your eyes."

"Hank?"

"Yes, Princess, you're home. You are in bed with me and Oliver. Come here Oliver and see Tilsy." Now he shows off after Hank did all the work. Oliver is standing on her chest and licking her face.

"Are you all right Oliver?" Her voice is off and she's kind of stuttering and mumbling.

God she sounds so weak. Hank reaches over to the night table and grabs one of the thermal bottles Patrick put there. He lifts her to lie against his chest and holds it to her mouth. "Drink this, Tilsy. Please drink this. The doctor wants you to drink this."

She takes a sip and makes a face. "What?"

"I'm not sure." Hank smells it. "It's chicken broth. Here have some more. You are dehydrated and suffering from hypothermia, you need to drink, Tilsy.

"Ugh."

Hank puts it down and picks up the next one. "Try this. It's better."

She sips. "What?"

He smells, "Beef broth."

"Good."

Hank laughs. Now he knows. "Come, Princess, please drink some more and then you can go back to sleep."

"Pee."

"Okay. I'll have to help you. The doctor has you on an IV. Wait here a minute."

Hank reaches for the Hope Chest Tilsy put at the foot of the bed and filled with colorful soft blankets. He pulls out a soft, lightweight, spring green throw and wraps it around her shoulders.

"Okay, let me do the work. Put your arm around my neck." She tries but can't quite reach him. Hank moves it for her. "Hold on I'm going to carry you."

He noticed when he carried her from the car that she had lost weight. She's even lighter now. He puts her on the toilet and he's more than glad that she insisted on the high toilet, but he has to hold her or she'll fall over.

"Take your time, Princess. You and I have all the time in the world."

He settles her in the bed and hands her the beef broth thermal cup. "Please drink as much of this as you can. I have some ice chips too, if you'd like some."

It seems hard for her to focus. She can't hold the cup steady enough to drink alone. He holds it for her and helps her tilt her head back enough to drink.

Did she have a stroke?

She shakes her head that she's had enough and closes her eyes. He lies her back down in bed and she's asleep before he can cover her up.

"Howie, Tilsy woke up. Well I woke her up."

"That works."

"I don't know but something's wrong. She couldn't hold the cup of broth and bring it to her mouth. She had to pee and I carried her, but she couldn't put her arm around my neck. When I sat her on the toilet, I had to hold her so she wouldn't fall over. What's going on?"

"You think she's had a stroke. She didn't so calm down. She could be allergic to the antibiotic. Turn it off or I can be there in twenty. Her sugar was low too. Is she diabetic?"

"I'll do it, but come anyway, please. I don't think so."

Howie has his pen light in her eyes. They are reactive but slow. Howie agrees. "Wake up Tilsy!" Howie yells in a mean voice.

Her eyes open and then she's afraid. Hank pushes Howie away and holds her head. "It's Hank, Tilsy." He kisses her. "That's Howie. He's a doctor and my friend. He's been helping you."

Tilsy looks away from me to him, but she's having a hard time focusing. "When is the last time you ate, Tilsy?" Howie asks in his I'm your doctor and I expect an answer.

She stares like she can't understand what he said. "She's diabetic, Hank." Howie jumps up and starts barking orders on his phone and then at him. "Honey, corn syrup, go, I'll stay with her."

Hank bounds down the steps hoping there's something in his cupboards. Karo and a spoon and he take the stairs two at a time to get back to Tilsy.

Hank holds the spoon to her lips and lifts her with his arm, "Tilsy, open your mouth."

She doesn't move.

"Tilsy open your mouth, Oliver wants you to taste this."

She opens her mouth and Howie laughs. Hank places the spoon in her mouth and wipes what falls out. "Again Tilsy."

Howie looks at his watch and then checks her eyes. "Better. Make her wake up."

"Oliver needs to go for a walk. Wake up Tilsy."

Tilsy moves, like she's trying to get out of bed, "Just a minute Oliver," she says in a weak voice that doesn't sound so weird.

"I'll take him out for you, Tilsy, if you eat this," he says and reloads the spoon.

"Really?"

Hank laughs. "Really. Come on open up."

She reaches for the spoon and misses. "That's okay Hank, don't worry about it. I can fix this."

"I know. Did you know diabetes is on the rise in dogs?" Hank talks to distract himself from his beautiful princess who is in so much trouble.

"I didn't, but it doesn't surprise me. I suppose you see the junk people feed them. I have a patient who told me she bakes her dog a chocolate cake every week."

"I know that dog. He's dying. She's killing him and he's a good dog. Did you tell her not to do that?"

"I told her she couldn't have any either." The doctors share a chuckle as Tilsy goes back to sleep.

"Let her sleep. My nurse will be here soon. Can you bring her in tomorrow, I need to run the tests again and get her on a program."

Howie reconnects her IV without the antibiotic. His nurse arrives with a kit. He tests and gives her an injection. Waits and retests.

"Take the IV out when it's finished. Make sure she gets breakfast and then bring her by. I'll be in my office all day and I'll see her whenever you arrive. You can bring Oliver too, if you want. He's the only man who can handle her."

Hank swallows.

"She'll be all right, Hank. I'll see myself out."

Hank stands and looks down at his princess. How did she manage to drive through that storm in her condition? He needs her. Maybe it's time he told her that. Hank sets his watch to wake him when the IV should be finished, then climbs in bed and draws her to him. Tilsy moves her arm and Hank gently wraps it around his waist.

"It'll be all right Tilsy. We're meant to be together. I need you. I love you."
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

"I can't do this. I just can't."

Hank comes close, takes Tilsy's hand and kisses her hard as he pricks her finger. "You're just doing that to get a kiss out of me." He laughs. She frowns and then smiles.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Vixen. You're a wanton woman, Tilsy Tilson." He says glancing at her reading.

"Yes? Do you have a prescription for my condition, Dr. Witcher?"

"Oh yes, I'm a very good vet." He covers her mouth with his lips and sucks playfully as quickly injects her thigh, then picks her up and carries her to the newly upholstered couch that he loves.

"You need a healthy dose of me." Hank follows her down, lies between her legs and kisses her hard. "And then you need lunch."

"I love dessert before main course." She smiles, wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down to her.

She and Hank have come to an understanding. Long hours of talking honestly and trying not to point out flaws in either of us and now we understand absolutely everything!

Hank loves her. She loves Hank. Our home is wherever we both are at the same time or where both of us have clothes in the closet. She promised to tell him when he's being insensitive and assuming and she understands that he won't get mad. Hank promised to tell her when she's being too sensitive and evasive and she promised she won't pout and runaway.

"Andrew is installing GPS with tracking on Delbert," Hank raised his eyebrows when she asked, "What is Andrew doing to Delbert?"

Hank's office manager emails his work schedule directly to Tilsy every morning and calls her when it changes.

It works. They are having a great time together. Hank goes to the clinic most mornings, while she works on her financial accounts. Marjorie still comes twice a week so she and Hank can pick up and go anywhere they want anytime they want.

They replaced the crumbling unpainted backyard deck with a screened porch that extended to include a stone patio. Hank had an enlightening but difficult time picking out real furniture for the porch and patio because she wouldn't help.

"You've made me make all the decisions for renovations. The grill and outside is man territory. I'm not going to get involved." It took him most of the day in the home store but Tilsy and Oliver didn't mind.

"I can't believe I didn't see how awful those Adirondack chairs were," he said and chased her around one of the new chaise lounge chairs with an evil sexy grin.

Hank and Mark Conway surprised her with a courtin' swing for the screened porch.

"You never gave me a chance, Tilsy." Mark Conway has become a friend and regular visitor. She was already Hank's when she met Mark Conway. She didn't say anything, just smiled and gave him a hug.

Hank has kept his promise about dating her. He asks her out on a date at least one night every week, she's reciprocating by asking him out and paying just as often.

They even double date at least twice a month or so with Mark Conway and whomever he is seeing at the time.

The family gathered a couple of weeks ago for the big reveal of the renovations. Georgia arrived three days early to paint the mural. She brought the baby, but left Timmy and Caroline in Brandon's care.

"Brandon, you can handle it. Timmy and Caroline are grown enough to take care of themselves and each other. It's good for them to know that you can take care of them, as well as Georgia. Providing stability for children is part of a man's responsibility." Hank didn't wake Tilsy for this late night phone call from Brandon.

"But what if they get sick?"

"Call their doctor."

"How do I feed them?"

"Kids eat simple. You know how to make pancakes and kids will eat them for every meal. Cheese sandwiches, PBJ'S, and cereal works. If that fails there's McDonald's Happy Meals." Hank chuckled Brandon didn't.

"You know Brandon, the kids will tell you want they need and want. That's one of the things that make them so special. Listen to them, do what you're told and make them believe it was your idea."

A begrudging Brandon was silent. "I need to do this for Georgia, don't I?"

"You're a good man, husband and father, Brandon. I'm proud of you."

Georgia was just as nervous having left him with the children. "I shouldn't have."

Hank drew her into a huge hug, "Yes, you should have. You did the right thing. Now get to work. I'm excited about your painting. Tilsy and I are taking Jacob to the park with Oliver. Make yourself at home and have fun. We'll be back when we get back."

The second family gathering was a lot less tense than the first. Jed made it but Caley was too involved with her studies.

Both Tilsy and Hank noted Andrew's pout and distant stare now and again during the weekend. It was always associated with comments about Caley.

However, he made a huge splash of his big reveal. The old Willy's Jeep was now bright yellow and "Zonker" was embosomed in glossy midnight black across the hood.

We all got to take turns riding in "Zonker" though I think Tilsy got the most out of it. Every time Andrew climbed the seventy-degree incline behind the house we could hear her scream in delight with her head thrown back yelling "Go. Go. Go."

Hank held his breath when Andrew let Tilsy drive. We survived.

But the surprise of the weekend was Patrick's announcement that he and Sherry were engaged to be engaged.

Tilsy looked at Hank for guidance. _Engaged to be engaged? What does that mean?_ Hank shrugged. She giggled. But we congratulated them just because we think the world of both of them and they seem very happy with their announcement.

"So when are you and Mom going to get married?" Del yells above the congratulations for Patrick and Sherry.

Tilsy freezes. Her face pales.

"When we're damn good and ready, son," Hank yells back and pulls Tilsy close to him. He feels her tremble.
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

Despite settling critical issues in their relationship, Hank and Tilsy don't talk about marriage anymore.

Tilsy hates feeling the way she does. But she made a promise to herself after Jeff died that she would live by what is best for her. If it feels good, do it. Hank feels good . . . soooo good and she'll do anything for him, but she'll not marry anyone. Marriage isn't good for her. Even the thought makes her queasy.

If she'd only met Hank first, everything would have been different. She loves Jed and Del and Patrick, and oh my God what if she never knew Brandon and Andrew. She's sighs deeply but it doesn't give her relief.

Hank wants to marry. He wants them to be man and wife, legally. He wants her to take his name and become Tilsy Witcher. She's tried to explain to Hank how she feels, but her words feel as swallow to her as they obviously do to him. She sees his face drop, open and waiting for her to explain why she doesn't want to be his wife.

"We're so good together Hank. I love you more each day. Let's not do anything to destroy what we have."

Tears fill her eyes that Hank can see even in the dark of their bed brought on by the talk he planned having after their passionate and fun lovemaking. It's a soft and gentle time for them. A time they are so isolated from everything but each other.

He knows she rid herself of everything to do with Jeff and their marriage. He painfully endured her escape from him and their unspoken love for each other. She put her life at risk and traveled endlessly to search for a life without entanglements, solidity, and what Hank meant to her. Destroy was the word she chose. He couldn't help the gasp that escapes his lips.

Destroy . . . annihilate . . . demolish . . . devastate . . . . . ?

His ears flame red hot with anger and he breathes deeply to force the desire to kill Jeff Straight. Hank wishes Jeff wasn't dead so he could kill him.

But he wants them to be man and wife. He'd give her anything else but he wants this. Now he's scrambling to verbalize how important it is to him.

"What you had with Jeff isn't the marriage we would have Tilsy. I want to hear you call me husband. I want to speak the word, wife and know that it's you I'm referring to and thinking of. I need to know that we are legally and morally dedicated to each other and be a united, loving presence and role model to our family, friends and community. Nothing will change between us."

Tilsy jumps out of his arms and their bed. "So you want to marry me because you are ashamed of living with me out of wedlock? You believe that our love is illegal?"

Hank freezes at her outburst that was woken up Oliver and he hears the three rescues bark and howl. "No!"

"That's what it sounded like to me. Do you duck every time you walk around a corner expecting to be stoned to death? Are you afraid to walk in the grocery store with me because you think everyone is whispering that we're living together and not married so I must be a slut and you are getting free pussy?"

Okay this isn't how he expected this conversation to go. He's struck dumb.

"I was married to Jeff for thirty-nine years and we were never a united, loving presence and role model to our family friends and community and neither were you and Ellen! It's been how long? Twenty years and still they talk. What was it Sharon Lightner said? Oh she said, 'He's dated a lot of women in this town since his wife killed herself. Love 'em and leave 'em Hank we call him. But still he's gorgeous and has money. Most of us would do anything he wants just to be with him, if only for a short time. He'll never marry again'. I don't think you and I should be role models for marriage for anyone, anytime, anywhere, Hank."

Tilsy's words cut deep and she doesn't stop.

"I'd go from being called 'that slut' to 'that poor woman'." Tilsy's face is glistening in the moonlight of our bedroom window. Tears are falling like a flash flood. "I don't think that would be very good for your reputation either, Dr. Hank Witcher!"

Hank can't believe what he's hearing from her normally soft voice and sweet lips. It's as if she's morphed into a terrified stranger and he's terrified.

"I see your face when I say something I shouldn't and it brings up memories of Jeff for me and that fires righteous indignation for you. If he walked through that door right now, you'd beat him senseless because you love me so much. Wouldn't you?"

Tilsy is trembling now. She's out of control. "Yes," he says and after a moment, "probably. At least I'd have words and speak my mind."

"And what of Ellen? What can I say to defend myself against Ellen? Struck down in the prime of her life leaving a loving husband and three beautiful baby boys to fend for themselves, she has the sympathy of the whole world. Do you think I would put you in a position of public ridicule because you marry another woman and disrespect Ellen?"

_What? No one would possibly think that. Would they? "_ Stop Tilsy, please stop," Hank has her in his arms. She's sobbing uncontrollably and he's mostly holding her up. "Stop, Princess, please. It wouldn't be like that. As far as me and Ellen, everyone in this town has always given me a hard time because I didn't find someone else to love. It wouldn't be that way. It wouldn't?"

"Hank you are always comparing me and Ellen. They all do the same."

"Jed, Del and Patrick asked if they could call you Mom, Tilsy, remember? You're wrong. You're so wrong I can't grasp where this is coming from." Hank pulls her tighter. It's all he can think of to do.

She groans in agony. _Why can't he let us be? Why can't he be happy just being with her? Why does he have to change who she is and they are?_ "Look at us now Hank. I feel awful and I don't want to feel that way about you ever. This is what marriage does to people. Don't you see that?" She hears the pleading in her voice. She's begging him and she hates that she had to beg another man to hear her.

"Let me go!" She pushes him away and sees that he's so startled that his arms drop reactively. "I'll fight you Hank. I love you more than my life, but I'll fight with every ounce of strength I have to keep us together!"

"And you think marriage will destroy us," Hank's voice is a whisper.

"Yes!" Tilsy yells in his face. "Yes and you can't tell me any different. Can you?"

"No one can see the future Tilsy, but if I didn't think I could make you happy, I wouldn't have asked you to marry me."

She looks like she's going to hit him. He gasps.

"So you think we weren't happy, before you opened this discussion tonight?" Her voice is taunting him. He won't win this because she won't let him destroy their relationship. "I love you too much to give into you about this, Hank. I don't want to talk about this ever again!"

This has gone way over his head. He wants to say that it's important to him to marry her. He wants to say that his desire to be her husband and her to be his wife should be considered. Equal with mutual understanding is that they worked out together. Why is this subject off the table because she decides it without considering him?

Hank has to turn away from his princess to gather himself. He hears her gasp and then the bathroom door slam shut and hears her crying behind the closed door.

Women cry because we understand so much. Gran's voice from so long ago rises to his consciousness: We cry mostly from frustration because we have no control.

He had no control over what Ellen did. Tilsy had no control over how Jeff treated her. Is his nearly overwhelming desire to marry Tilsy coming from his need to be in control of them . . . of her?

No. That's not it at all. It's how he sees them in his mind and heart. Mr. and Mrs., husband and wife, it's natural, expected, safe and protective for them both. Why is that wrong? Fall in love, get married and be a family that's how it's done. That's how it's always been done. What's wrong with that? His head starts to hurt. His heart is erratic. So _you think we weren't happy before you opened this discussion tonight?_ Her words haunt him. They were deliriously happy then. They aren't now.

Hank pushes open the bathroom door and sees her sitting on the toilet crying into a towel. He sees her mouth open and she's going to yell at him to get out. Before he knows it, he's picked her up and then carries her to their bed, lies down, and puts her head on his chest and her arm around his waist.

"If you ever want to have this discussion again, warn me, okay?" He kisses the top of her head. "Go to sleep, Princess. I love you."

Tilsy feels his heart relax to a steady rhythm. She's upset that she let her fear push her out of control. He's still recovering from a heart attack. What was she thinking? Hank would have discussed this in an adult manner if she hadn't jumped into theatrics? It isn't her way at all. "I love you too."
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

"I really don't want to go," Hank means it and hears the pout in his own voice as Tilsy puts the last suitcase in the trunk of Delbert, smiles and shuts it. He and Tilsy have been in St. Augustine for a month. He loves the Flagler House. It's like his personal island, despite it's in the middle of a street lined with houses on all sides, he walks through the door and everything outside this house disappears.

"We'll come back," she says in a patronizing tone and kisses him on the cheek. "The kids are coming in three days."

"I don't see why they can't come here. It's more fun here." He drags into Delbert, shuts the door and fidgets with the seat belt.

"Caley can't get off from the practice right now. Patrick and Sherry's baby is due in one month and she can't travel, and its spring break, so Brandon and the kids have a few days off and they want to go to the 4-wheel race Andrew is sponsoring this weekend and, which I want to go to. Not to even mention that Del is going to move into your first house. The renovations are done and I can't wait to see it." Tilsy's voice is happy and tense.

"I don't know why he had to get his own place. Our house is so big we never even saw him." Now Hank sounds like a petulant child, but he can't help it.

"Darcy is why."

Hank stares at Tilsy. "What?"

"You remember that beautiful blonde you fell into instant love with last month before we left for St. Augustine?"

"Yes. So?"

"He hasn't talked to you?"

"About what?"

"About Darcy." My princess smiles.

"He's going to do it?"

"Yes. He wants the family around when he proposes to her." Tilsy grins and adds loudly, "Two days from now!"

"So that's why all the fuss about dinner? I'm not sure having everyone there is a good idea. What if she says no?" Hank muses.

He knew about Del's infatuation with the lovely Darcy and Hank answered all Del's questions about when you ask a girl to marry you and how did he ask Ellen. Hank answered honestly without offering an opinion until he heard Tilsy come in the front door and then he quickly cut Del off. They didn't have time to discuss it since.

It's been two years since that night in their bedroom. The subject of marriage between him and Tilsy has never been broached since.

"So what do you think about the condo project with Sam?" Tilsy asks as they drive across The Bridge of Lions and Hank expels a huge sigh of regret that he couldn't talk Tilsy into staying. "I can't speak to the money aspect. That's your domain. I like the location and the privacy it offers. I would pay more for it than the condos placed side-by-side on the beach. That little corner of the beach is very nice." Hank offers.

"It also gives more protection from storms. I agree with Sam that you should build up the land to at least meet the height maximum allowed by zoning. The cost would be worth it to buyers." Hank really has no interest in real estate except for watching Tilsy enjoy the planning, buying and selling of her and Sam's partnering properties. They've taken on four projects in the past two years. All have been successful, so they both say as they open an expensive bottle of champagne when each project is finished.

Darcy said yes and then everyone piled into cars and drove to the newly renovated house. Del handed her the key and the title in her name as an engagement gift. He swept her in his arms and carried her across the threshold, while hollering back to us, "I sure hopes she lets me live here with her."

Del talked to him about getting the house for Darcy. Patrick and Sherry built their own. Del's theory was based on Tilsy's fear of being worthless and homeless. "Mom needs to have her own things to be happy. You put her name on your house title. People that get married merge their bank accounts, cars, property, but still the man's name on the title carries more weight. I think Mom is right and I want Darcy to have something that belongs just to her. I want her to feel happy and secure and I want to give her that."

Hank couldn't argue even though it crossed his mind that Darcy might say no or change her mind and the first Witcher house would be gone from them. So be it. The way Tilsy is buying up everything in the Abingdon area they don't need it anyway. And the best part, it makes Del happy to live in the house where he was born.

Champagne and ice cream cake covered with strawberries is enjoyed. Hank walks around. It's the first time he's been in the house he and Ellen bought before their wedding, since he and the boys moved into the house Patrick built.

It's totally updated. Modern, stainless, glass showers, new hardware floors and amazing windows, but still it smells the same. He and Ellen conceived all three of their boys in this house and all three were brought home here. He and Ellen's first Christmas, the delightful morning battles they had over the one sink in bathroom. The burnt dinners of a new bride learning to cook and the candlelight that made them taste good.

Hank never could sell it. So he's been renting it to mostly young couples as their first house together. At least seven babies came home here. One divorce left the house empty for about six months. When Del asked to buy it, Hank gave it to him.

Hank has Tilsy he has no need of the house or its memories. Still . . . why is there a lump in his throat. He's sixty-four, almost sixty-five. He must be getting sappy, he smirks at himself and then looks up to see Tilsy watching him with a pained expression on her face.

A flash of Ellen's bloody body lying on the kitchen floor and the sound of three little boys crying upstairs shakes him and he reaches for the kitchen counter.

"It's the first time you've been here since we left, isn't it?" Patrick has his hand on Hank's shoulder.

Hank nods.

"It was hard for Tilsy too. But she stuck in there helping me with the designs and choosing the materials and finishes."

"She did this?"

Patrick nods. "She did it for Del."

Hank looks back to where he last saw her. She's not there.

"It's really wonderful, Patrick. You and Tilsy did an amazing job." Hank hugs Patrick and dashes off to search for Tilsy.

A slender foot is peeking out from a back porch chair. Hank easily and silently slides open the new glass double doors and walks out. He sees Tilsy tip her full champagne glass and drink it down.

"Hey, princess, that's not good for a diabetic." He squats down beside her and gently removes the empty champagne glass from her tiny hand.

"It tasted good," she smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Do you like what we did?"

"It's beautiful."

"Del said not to spare any expense, so Patrick and I took him at his word." She snorts in that cute way he loves. "We spent as much as the house was worth before the renovation.

Hank chuckles back at her. "So that means its worth twice as much?"

"Close enough."

"Thank you for doing this and for helping Patrick and Del. You are a great Mom." Hank shifts so his butt is on the floor and he can lean against her legs. She runs her fingers through his hair. "I don't really remember your hair before it was white."

"It was a little lighter than Jed's. It was great hair and all the girls loved it. I have been told it was the best thing about me."

"How many women?" Tilsy smarts off to tickle his ego.

"Hundreds . . . thousands maybe," he laughs and waves his hand in the air.

"Hummm. Well, that may be but I'm the only woman who gets to play with it now that it's truly beautiful."

"I love you Tilsy."

"I know. It's good isn't it?"

"Yea."
Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

"I'm home" Hank yells as he throws open the front door.

There's no response. Usually Tilsy calls out from wherever she is. Hank pauses and yells again maybe she's in the back yard.

Oliver usually runs to meet him with the three rescues on his heels. Hank looks down and Oliver is sitting quietly.

Instantly alert, Hank's heart jumps. Something's wrong.

"Where's Tilsy, Oliver?"

The silver toy Schnauzer gets up and uncharacteristically walks slowly toward the kitchen. Hank is quick to follow, realizing he's holding his breath. He'd call out again but he doesn't have enough air.

She's at the dining table. Hank breathes and grins ready to yell, "There you are" but he's momentarily stopped by her slumped shoulders and a faint whimper and sniffle. He stoops to see her face. Tears, red blotchy cheeks, he puts his arm around her shoulders.

"Hank! I'm so glad you're home!" Tilsy's never been happier to see anyone, anytime in her life. Her arms act on their own accord and grab this beautiful, wonderful man, who's here when she needs him.

"Are you hurt, Princess? Are you sick? I did your testing just a little while ago, you were fine then." Relieved that he's obviously not the cause of her distress, Hank also realizes that she didn't hear him come in.

Tilsy clutches him tighter and shakes her head no.

"Sick?"

A giggle and another head shake.

"Hungry?"

Tilsy laughs, "No. Are you?"

"Not anymore," he kisses her wet swollen lips. "I take it that you're glad to see me? You can call me anytime and I'll come home. You know that don't you?" Hank sees she didn't want to bother him at work look. "If I called you would you have come, Tilsy?"

"Yes, of course."

"You are not being fair. Cut it out." He's nose-to-nose with Tilsy.

"Lunch is ready. I made the salad you said I should have for lunch with chicken, baby spinach, walnuts, apples and lemon and honey. I bought fish for supper."

Hank leans back and decides to give her this one. "Good. Is that's why you are crying? I could run and get you a Burger King Whopper, if that would make you stop crying."

"It's this," Tilsy's hands are shaking as she pushes a letter toward him. It looks very old and it's handwritten in a scribbly manner that tells him someone old wrote it.

"It's from my Grandma. She wrote it to me more than twenty years ago. This letter," Tilsy hands him another, "is from a law firm that worked with my grandparents. Their instructions were to not send it to me, if I was still married and living with Jeff. They've been trying to find me since he died."

"I don't understand Tilsy?"

Tilsy takes a deep breath and tells him everything. Her grandparents were dead set against her marrying Jeff but when they tried to talk to her, her father intervened and said he would never let her see them again, if they did.

"The day of my wedding, Grandma and Grandpa surprised me while I was dressing at the church and they kept saying that I didn't have to marry that man.

"Grandpa pulled me tight and whispered that his car was out front and they could take me away and I could live with them, go to college and he and Grandma would keep me safe. Dad burst through the doors and broke it up. He yelled at them to get out. He took Grandpa's arm and pulled him through the door and slammed it shut. It was awful."

Hank sits in a chair and pulls Tilsy on his lap. "Is this the Grandma you used to sit in the porch swing with?"

She nods to him, "I never saw them alone ever again. They sent me lots of cards and letters and I'd always write back. They wouldn't call me, but I'd call them and we'd talk for as long as I could when Jeff was gone. I sent pictures of the boys and drawings and report cards and things . . . you know what is special to Grandparents and Great-Grandparents.

He nods.

She tells Hank about when Grandpa died and Jeff wouldn't let her go to the funeral and her Dad backed him up and didn't even let her mother go to her own father's funeral. She didn't get to see her Grandma before she died and then didn't get to go to her funeral.

"Oh God, Hank, how could I have been so weak and stupid all those years?" The tears flow again.

"You were abused, Tilsy, it's a form of brainwashing just as potent as if you were a prisoner of war. Without support or some help, no one could fight that." Hank's heart flips and settles back down. "It's over, Princess. It's over."

He holds her tight and rocks gently, letting her cry until she stops.

"So what's in the letter?" Hank's voice sounds more excited that he actually feels. He waits while Tilsy clears her throat and reads:

My Dear Lorraine,

I know everyone calls you Tilsy but me. It was my mother's name and I loved her with every breath I take. You are so much like her, gentle, sweet caring and smarter than anyone I've ever known.

You know how much Grandpa and I love you and you know we never wanted you to marry Jeff. We kept our distance to keep you from getting worse treatment. So many times Grandpa and I were headed for the car to kidnap you and the boys. We should have Lorraine, I'm so sorry. Grandpa died with those words on his lips.

Good will kick evil's ass sooner or later, Lorraine. Grandpa and I decided to make sure you know that. We are sending you our wedding rings. We don't need them anymore. There is nothing in this world or the next that could separate us.

We decided to send these to you so you would know that life is so much better than what you have experienced. We hope Jeff dies a long and painful death like your Dad did and when that happens we have only one wish.

Lorraine, we wish for you to find someone to love and who loves you as much as Grandpa and I love each other. You remember how we are together. Find him Lorraine so you can be happy for once in your life.

" _When it's time, the lawyer we hired will find you and give you our love and this package._

Grandpa and I will see you again in heaven and we want to hear all about the love of your life. Don't come to us until you've found him and don't come to us until you've had a long and luxurious love affair with him.

Give him all the passion you've been holding inside and all the love you've never let loose.

Grandma and Grandpa

Scribbled on the side of the letter: _By the way, Grandpa was 89 today. We celebrated by not getting out of bed—all day._

Tilsy giggles reading the scribbled note aloud. "They were always necking on the sofa with the TV blaring. I'd hear them playing chase in the backyard and Grandpa would always catch her. If he was working on something and she walked by, he'd grab her around the waist and kiss her hard, then tell her to stop distracting him."

Hank opens the small velvet box. Inside are his and hers filigree gold wedding bands, still bright despite their age.

"These are beautiful." He looks closely at them.

"They had them made by a friend of theirs. They are one of a kind just like Grandpa and Grandma." Hank watches Tilsy figure quickly. He's always amazed when she does that. "These rings are ninety-three years old. Grandpa was nineteen and Grandma was seventeen when they married.

"What were their names?"

Harry and Sarah; she was five-foot-even with long butt length red hair and he was two heads taller and lean. He was French. She was Irish." Tilsy smiles with a memory of how high Grandma had to reach up and how far Grandpa had to lean down for them to kiss.

Hank laughs at the vision her words produce. "Like us. You are so tiny and I'm an overgrown football player."

Tilsy is startled at what he just said. "Yes, we are and you're the love of my life just like Harry was to Sarah. You're my soul mate, Hank." Tilsy stares at his sparking blue eyes, bluer with his snow white hair and her love surges out of her soul toward him. She feels it. She likes it.

Now Hank stares at her. She can feel his brain process and he's thinking about how much he loved Ellen. She can feel and see his face clearly as he visits his love for Ellen and his love for her. What is she to him?

Seconds seems like hours, Tilsy waits for a response. The more seconds the more anxious she becomes. _Can he be my soul mate if I'm not his?_

Hank reaches for her hand. He caresses her slender fingers that touch him so often and with the sweetest passion. When he first heard her voice on the phone declaring a pink-paint emergency, Hank never thought of anything but getting to her. He never did that before and always tells them to bring their pet in to be seen. He had to go help her.

"Yes. That's exactly what we are Tilsy. I loved Ellen and would have spent the rest of my life loving her. My love for you is different . . . a level of loving that I never imagined."

Hank watches Tilsy's face light up and she kisses him hard as her delicate tongue plays with his. "I love doing that. I'm so glad you taught me," she giggles.

"Me too." Hank dives in for his turn.

When they break away they are grinning at each other like teenagers.

Tilsy reaches over and picks up her grandparents' wedding rings. "Hank Adam Witcher will you marry me?"

Hank isn't going to wait to be asked twice. "You want us to be married with these rings?" Hank glances at his princess.

"Yes. I want what they had."

Tilsy's eyes stare at his hand as he picks up Grandpa's wedding ring and puts it on his ring finger. It fits him perfectly. "Hank, it fits you. It really fits you. Does that mean yes?"

"Princess, there was never any doubt that I want to be your husband." Hank frowns at her. "You do know that right?"

Hank watches as Tilsy puts her Grandma's ring on her finger. "It's too big. We'll get it fixed before the wedding." Hank says as he whirls it around her beautiful finger. "When?"

"Today!"

"You don't want a big wedding with family and friends and everyone?" Her wanting to get married today was totally out of his radar.

"No. I had a big wedding and I was miserable at the wedding and the marriage. Hank, can we get married just between you and me. I want you and me to stand together without interference. I'll jump over a broom right this minute, if you agree."

Hank laughs at Tilsy, his brain processing that the broom is in the utility closet. "Ellen and I had a huge wedding too. It was a circus and to be honest, it took weeks before I felt like we got back to the relationship we had before the wedding. Yes." But . . ." Hank smiles at his princess and watches her eyes get large.

"But?"

"Lunch first okay?"

Tilsy is wearing her Wayward Inn and Restaurant T-shirt, Oliver is wearing a denim bow tie and Hank has changed from khaki slacks and blue button down shirt, to jeans and his favorite plaid flannel shirt.

"I do," Tilsy's eyes bore into Hank's in front of the marriage license staff and a twenty-something justice of the peace, who's name is Chad and who also wore jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. Tilsy and he were husband and wife by four o'clock, just three hours after Tilsy's proposal. The wedding was perfect.

Hank's holding Tilsy's hand as they leave the courthouse. "So where would you like to honeymoon, Princess?"

"You'll think it's silly."

Hank stops in his tracks, turns her toward him and bends to look in her eyes. "Wife, Mrs. Witcher, Tilsy, Lorraine, Princess I want you to understand once and for all that I only want what you want and silly is never a word I would use to describe you in any way."

"Can we go to Disney World? Will you buy me a Mickey Mouse T-shirt and Minnie Mouse ears like Caley has?"

Hank scratches his head because his brain is whizzing and it tickles. "Wife, I will not . . . ever . . . wear Mickey Mouse ears. A T-shirt maybe; ears never. Don't beg or whine or nag or use your sexy ways or sweet smile, it won't happen."

Hank takes his princess' hand and they walk toward Delbert.

"Okay that's a deal. Instead you can buy me a Donald Duck T-shirt and a Disney World T-shirt, okay?"

"They have princess T-shirts," Hank whispers. Tilsy's eyes light up with joy.

## Thank you for reading Tilsy & Hank

Love and passion is ageless. In my mind Tilsy and Hank lived and loved into their nineties. Thirty years they shared their love and passion for life and each other and Tilsy's T-shirt collection grew and grew and grew.

I hope you enjoyed Tilsy & Hank as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'd love to hear your comments or critiques and will respond personally to each. Please feel free to share this book with your family and friends. – Carol Jean

caroljeanbooks@gmail.com

## A Special Thank You

While most hours are spent alone when we write, rarely, if ever, authors actually finish a book and get it into the hands of readers alone.

I am so honored that Mary A. Arnold of Columbia SC read my epic novel BRANCHES and that she took the time to tell me how much she loved it. And then she blew me away.

In her email she wrote: "Now, I must give constructive criticism. There were way too many extra words that were not edited properly. I am very conscious of grammar because many years ago I was a proofreader before word processors and computers."

Mrs. Arnold went on with her detailed critique of BRANCHES and I absorbed every critique. I was delighted and awed that she took the time to help me. And she did so because she liked what I wrote. She said that BRANCHES was so good, she overlooked the errors to enjoy the story.

Astounded and amazed, I casually suggested that maybe she could read my next work. I told her I didn't have the money to pay her but if she wanted to check for errors, I would be forever grateful.

Aren't people amazing? Without thinking about it or back peddling or making excuses, her next email came quickly.

Mrs. Arnold said, "Okay."

Just like that. Okay.

I sent her what I thought was a clean and final edit of Tilsy & Hank. She did what she said she would do and quick as a bunny, I received her email with her edits.

WOW. Mrs. Arnold found all kinds errors. Because of Mrs. Arnold's diligence and intelligence, readers of Tilsy & Hank won't have to suffer the errors I didn't catch.

Mrs. Arnold and I hope you enjoyed Tilsy & Hank, as much as we enjoyed working on it.

Mrs. Arnold's review of Tilsy & Hank

April 18, 2015

I give Tilsy & Hank a five-star rating and highly recommend it to all lovers of romantic novels/stories.

I hope my attempt to edit and review your latest book was successful. I loved every minute of it. Please remember to give me a chance to do this many more times, for you must keep on using your God given talent.—Mrs. Mary A. Arnold, Columbia, S.C.

## About Carol Jean

Nearly seventy and new to the exciting world of fiction Carol Jean finds the experience more than fun, better than thrilling, and greater than awesome.

Her only motivation is to have her readers wish her books would never end.

Carol Jean lives on the eastern edge of the Blue Ridge in Roanoke, Virginia. A published writer, author, news reporter, copywriter and editor since the age of fourteen, she spends twelve hours a day writing or thinking about writing.

Samuel, Karlee, Miranda, Jacob and Kell are the darlings of her life, as well as her Schnauzers Bridger and Ozzie.

## Other Books by Carol Jean

### BRANCHES

Currently Out of Print

New Release June 2015

Sold as a Complete Novel

Initial Release February 13, 2015

Words: 535,110

(Review)

_Wow...brilliant. In my 59 years of saga reading I never expected the depth of the characters nor the fast paced plots within. Thank you_ _,_ _Carol_ _Jean,_ _for spending_ _four years_ _writing Branches. I am now a fan girl. Looking forward to reading more of your work._

_Reviewed by_ _Tara N_

February 20, 2015

_Kobo_

SHORT DESCRIPTION:

An epic love story layered in mystery and spiraling twists of bizarre, BRANCHES tells the story of Viola Ann Mills and Rwen Alexander Morgan Seaton, their love and their struggle to survive it.

When Viola and Rwen lock eyes for the first time, the resulting shock wave deposes the status quo and the full power of the Seaton family rises up to defend it. When murder, kidnapping, extortion, coercion, intimidation and cruelty aren't enough to destroy Viola and end the unacceptable relationship between her and Rwen, they decide to sacrifice their favorite Seaton son. It's love and life or death for both.

Non-stop action unexpected and unbelievable, we wonder how we would fare if we were faced with Rwen and Viola's situation. Their story is tragic, fun, sad, happy and sexy.

### TRIGGER

Sold as a Complete Novel

All Major Retailers/Distributors

Released January 19, 2015

Words: 70,850

(Review)

I rarely write a review but Trigger kept me on edge and wide awake until it was finished. I look forward to reading more from this author. Well done!

_Reviewed by Darlene T._

January 27,2015

_Smashwords_

SHORT DESCRIPTION:

Judy doesn't want to be who she is now. She wants to be who she was before Steven and before Simon. She wants to be at her company full of ideas and energy and hope.

When she was her, before she gave herself away to Steven and then to Simon, she was strong and vibrant and her step was sure and steady. She used to spit fire and face down lions unafraid and confident she'd win.

They made her weak and dependent. They destroyed who she was and then left her -- broken, alone, shallow and empty.

There are all kinds of triggers. The most dangerous isn't the one on a gun. It's the sore spot in your heart, irrational logic flaming your mind, or unjustifiable cruelty shattering your soul that makes you pull the trigger of a gun.

