
The Celtic Coast Connection © 2013, 1997 Christa Bedwin

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be republished in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.

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Sola Rosa Romance is an imprint of Sola Rosa Publishing. Our mission is to publish only books that make people feel good or help them live better.

You can contact the author, the publisher, the book designer, the cover designer, and various other publishing professionals through solarosapub@gmail.com. We'd love to hear from you.

Live well, spread happiness. We all have the ability to bring light to the world and to encourage others with our kindness.

ISBN 978-0-9918976-0-5

Book design by Aaron Dalton.

Cover design by Sean Young.

Cover photo by Wendy Schotsmans.

# Other Books by Christa Bedwin

This book is part of a trilogy:

  * _The Celtic Coast Connection_ Jane and Rory's story (Nova Scotia and Alberta)
  * _Lanette of the Land_ Lanette and Rob's story (prairies and mountains of Alberta)
  * _Two Secrets and a Chase_ Carrie and Joe's story (Alberta and Australia)

# Coming soon

  * _Her Touch_ : Meg and Andrew's story (Australia and China)
  * Mariko and Mac's story (Vancouver)

To my beautiful grandmother Gertrude Louise Copithorne,

who was a one room schoolhouse teacher

and then, married late, a meek but tough rancher's wife

then a mother who had to board out her young sons and daughters to relatives who lived on ranch closer to the school than her own, so they'd be close enough to ride their horses to kindergarten and up

then a widow who lived back in the city

and later in her life

my very, very best friend.

She believed in me before anyone else ever did.

She still represents much of that shining good I want to be,

a pink, shining, healing, forgiving, loving light to all.

And I believe she would have reacted just like our heroine Jane to most of the situations Jane gets into, with a little too much modesty and service to others and not enough to herself.

Much loved she was, much loved she always will be.
Dear Readers,

Jane and Rory are both from the beautiful, passionate, romantic east coast of Canada, where the culture is dominated by fishing, boats, and music that stems from the early Celtic and French settlers. It's a lovely, picturesque place full of delicious people with a priority on family, friends, and all the things that make life good.

Like so many maritimers in Canada, Jane and Rory both ended up in Alberta, where oil provided money and employment when bad fishery management drained entire maritime towns of their income and youth. Like many maritimers, Jane and Rory each secretly long to go home, if there was only a way...

I wrote this story before the internet and cell phones. Seems incredible to think of it, now. Implausible almost that communication devices could fail our hero and heroine so badly. And in an interesting twist, now the internet has been a salvation for these beauty-soaked provinces in another way—employment can now come to them through the air waves, the phone lines...and so a precious part of Canadian culture need not be lost after all.

Long live vibrant, passion-filled cultures!

I would love to hear from you at solarosapub@gmail.com.

Yours in Adventure,

Christa Bedwin

# Prologue

Tears rolled down her face, and the salty taste on her lips mingled with the tang of the ocean air in her nostrils. She ran to an old sea shanty and pounded at the door. There was no answer, and she slumped against the door as she pounded again.

Her heart gradually slowed. She slumped down on the old wooden step and rested her chin in her hands. As her tears slowly dried, she gazed out at the bay.

The moonlight illuminated a man standing near the water, and her tears were forgotten. The plain lines and colours of the sand, the water, and the night sky were an ideal backdrop for the long, strong shape of his body.

He walked towards the water, strong legs moving gracefully, and the muscles of his back rippled. Her artist's eye was seduced by play of shadows and light on his form, and her fingers itched for her sketch pencils.

His body submerged in the sea. Spellbound, she watched him swim with strong clean strokes to the other side of the bay. Jane rose, entranced, and walked nearer to the water. Numbed by the emotional exhaustion of her recent ordeal, it was a relief to give herself up to the peace of the moment. The bay had always held soothing, calming magic for her, and tonight she needed its solace more than ever before. She needed to forget, to let her mind and her heart and her soul rest, if only for a short while. She sat on a rock near the water, hugging her legs, watching her vision and waiting for his return to her shore.

Normally much too shy to approach or talk to strangers, Jane felt predestined to meet this person, this seaside vision. Her world had turned upside down and changed forever in the past hour, and she knew she would never be the same. Somehow she sensed this man would ease her pain.

The peaceful familiarity of Sally's Cove seeped into her. Jane's violent emotions of the recent past seemed as far from her as the uncommonly hot sunshine of the day had been from the cool, benevolent Canadian night. She sat on the rock, waiting in an odd state of quiet peacefulness. Nothing but the moment seemed to matter just now.

The air had the softness about it that only summer evening air can have, as if it, too, were relaxing after the tumult of a long, hot day. The full moon's bright radiance was more appealing than any man-made light could ever be. It made the shore glow softly, and gave the everyday rocks and trees a shimmering, romantic quality. It lit the waves, as if to beckon for adventure. Trees rustled softly in the baby-soft summer breeze which caressed Jane's hair, soft against her cheek. The sound of the waves lapping rhythmically against the shore soothed her frayed nerves and added to the peaceful calm of the moment.

The man neared the shore again, and Jane gathered the soft towel he'd left there. Cherishing its softness, she prepared to hand it to him, and knew a moment of jealousy that this inanimate towel would caress the lines of his body.

In the light of an ordinary day, Jane would never dream of acting so forward, so brave. But tonight, life was different. Tonight, she would let none of the fears she knew in normal life stand in the way of meeting this person, this lovely vision who had soothed her sore heart.

He emerged from the water, shaking water from his hair.

Jane welcomed him back to shore with a simple "Hi!"

It was lucky she'd been so quick to speak, for her breath caught in her throat when their eyes met. His were of the deepest blue, and Jane would have lost herself in them, if she weren't distracted by the most classically handsome face she had ever seen. Again, her eye traced the lights and shadows cast by the moon, and she wished for a chance to capture his beauty in art. His black hair had sprung into wet curls, completing the outline of a perfect composition with the line of his jaw and highlighting the magic of his eyes.

She barely heard his, "Hello, yourself," so absorbed was she in looking at him. Eventually she had to take a breath, and this simple action seemed to jolt her out of her trance, and straight into a thrill of panic—this guy was much too attractive for the likes of her! _In normal life, he wouldn't even notice me_ , she thought sadly. Who was she to think she would be able to talk to him now? A knot of adrenalin curled in her stomach, but she desperately did not want this to end, and tamped down her urge to run away. The frenetic beating of her heart mocked her serenity of a moment ago.

"Hello?" He was looking at her oddly. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yes..." Where were her words?

"What are you doing out here, all alone at night?"

"Oh, I was coming to see my grandma...but she's not at home, I guess..." _Geez, I can't even make a straight sentence. I sound like a complete dope._

"At midnight? You were coming to visit your grandma at midnight?" Jane wished she could wipe the odd, puzzled look from his face, wished she felt more sure of herself.

"Well, yes..." She quickly changed the topic. "Why are _you_ swimming alone at midnight?" Talking about her own reasons for being alone by the sea tonight would only spoil the magic of this moment. She clung to normal, inconsequential conversation, and felt herself beginning to regain some composure.

He laughed, a deep, attractive sound that pulled at Jane's stomach. "I play in a Celtic band with my uncles. We were up at the pub tonight. I felt like washing the pub smoke out of my lungs with a good fresh swim."

Jane was too young to have ever been to the pub, but she didn't want to show her ignorance, so she didn't say anything about it. "Oh. Well. Here we are then. Do you have to go home right away?" Jane noticed the pleading in her tone, and despised herself for it. _Great. Force your company on him. There's a neat way to show him how friendless you are._

"Well, no, I guess I don't. My uncles and I are staying at a friend's house, but I don't think they'll really mind me late back...even if they do think I'm the baby of the band." Jane didn't think he looked like a baby at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. His muscles were certainly those of a man, and she saw a shadow of a beard on his jaw. _He must be nineteen or twenty, at least,_ she thought.

"However, I do think I should put my clothes back on, if you'll excuse me...it's getting a little chilly out here." His tone had a teasing note to it, as if he was aware of the hungry way she had watched him earlier, of the way she couldn't keep her eyes off him now.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry." Jane averted her head, embarrassed that he had caught her staring, unable to keep her eyes off him. _I wish I could sound light and cheerful and beautiful, like other girls in my class at school. What would one of them be saying right now? They probably wouldn't even have to say much. Boys just seem to like beautiful girls automatically._

Jane realized how messy she must look, and despaired. Her hair was slipping free of its braid, mussed in her race to the seashore. She had left the house in such a hurry that she had only pulled on her smelly old runners with no socks. She hadn't even remembered to put on a jacket over her T-shirt. _He will think I'm a scatterbrained idiot!_

"Well, that's better," he said finally, when he was dressed. "I didn't mind the cool air while I kept moving, but if we're going to sit awhile it's nice to be dressed properly. Say, where's your jacket?"

"I...I didn't bring one." Again, Jane ducked her head, blushing shyly.

Perhaps he sensed her embarrassment, because he didn't demand any further details about it. "Well then, we can just share mine. Too bad the towel's wet, it would have been good to sit on." He put an arm around Jane and settled them on the beach with his jacket draped over them, leaning against the rock she'd sat on earlier. Jane was startled at the sudden contact, but his touch was delicious, comforting, and she did not move away.

"What's your name?"

She was getting drunk with the nearness of him—the wondrous feel of his bicep against her shoulder blade, the tang of his scent beneath the smell of the sea that clung to his skin.

"The night is so magical, I don't want to have a name," she said whimsically. "Can we just be two faeries in the night?"

"All right, for now. If that's what you want. Can I help you fix your hair?"

Jane blushed at his offer. She had been trying, surreptitiously, to undo her braid and tidy her hair a little. She felt silly that he had noticed the little vanity, but the curiosity and temptation that swelled in her breast at his offer were too great to resist.

"Okay," she agreed.

He took her waist long braid from her hands, deftly removed the elastic, and began to unravel it. "Lord, but you've got lovely hair," he breathed. The resonance of his voice near her ear echoed through her, creating a symphony of delicious vibration all the way to her toes. When the braid was undone, he combed through the length of her locks with his fingers, tidying the wild bits. Jane, surprising herself, purred.

He laughed. "Feels nice, does it?"

She blushed again. "Yes. I've never had someone else touching my hair before."

"Really? All this gorgeous thick hair and your boyfriends don't brush it for you?"

"No. I don't...don't have many boyfriends." _I don't have any_ , she amended to herself, but she was not about to admit that to him.

"I'm not sure I believe you, but I won't argue with you just now. You're so sweet and I don't think I can deny you anything at the moment, my little midnight faery."

That tiny possessive word thrilled her. She relaxed against him, snuggled into his body. "It's beautiful here, isn't it?" she sighed.

He marvelled at her trust in him, and was surprised by his own strong response to her. It wasn't only in his body; something in his soul had been touched by this stranger and the sadness he sensed in her. He wanted to protect her, but sensed too that she had her own strength, hidden below the surface, flowing steadily. He felt her shoulder shift against his chest, and forced his mind back to the present.

A silent pause lengthened between them, but somehow it was not a silence. Their bodies continued to hum to each other without words, as if getting to know each other again after long aeons apart. He struggled to find the normal human words to continue their conversation.

"Yes, it's lovely here. I adore the sea."

"Me too. I'm going to miss it when..." she cut her words off.

He felt her body tense and his next words were more alert. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she mumbled. She wanted to stay in this bubble of happiness they had created. Talking about her problems would destroy it.

He didn't push her, seemed to accept her right to privacy.

"Tell me about you," she appealed wistfully. "Why haven't I ever seen you around town before?"

"Well, I'm not from here, am I?" he teased. "I'm just in town for the night, although it looks like our band will probably get a few more gigs out here...they seemed to like us. I just came down here to relax. My uncles are still at the pub, living it up, I imagine. It's the affliction of the Irish, they say, love of good drink and a great loud party."

Jane was quiet, reflecting on the difference in their ages, but not wanting to discuss it. "Do you have a nice family?" she asked instead.

"Sure, I guess they're nice enough. There are five of us kids, my parents, a dog, two cats, and a canary." His voice was easy, deep, and Jane thought she could listen to it forever.

"That's a full house. Are you the oldest?"

"Yes, and I guess I should think of moving out on my own sometime...but it's comfortable there...How about you?"

"I'm an only child," her answer was abrupt. Jane could tell from his tone of voice that he obviously loved his family very much. _Maybe this wasn't the best idea for a topic of conversation,_ she chided herself, and wondered how she would control her tears if she allowed herself to compare his home life to her own.

"Two cats and a canary? How long will that last?" She joked, judging that the subject of his pets should be safe enough.

"It's not a problem. We own a hardware store, with a big warehouse, and the cats live in there and take care of the mice. The canary lives in the house with my mom."

"Is she a nice mom?" Jane asked, the question popping out despite her resolve to try to keep her mind off the topic.

"She's great. I'm not sure how she manages to handle all of us and help my dad with the store, but somehow she does it all. I guess we would all be lost without her. And what about your mom, Jane?"

"She doesn't like me very much." Her tone was bitter. She did not want to pursue the topic.

"What about your grandma? You said you came down here to visit her."

Jane brightened, and her face softened from the bitter mask it had been when her mother was mentioned. "She's my best friend. We understand each other better than anybody else. People think she's senile, but she's not. She just can't do everything as fast as she used to. I think she's great to visit. She loves me. She helps me through my hurts."

"Do you have a lot of hurts, little faery?"

"Maybe." She hung her head, hiding her face from his view.

"Will you tell me them?"

"Do you really want to hear?" She looked deep into his eyes, and he was startled by the strength of hope and fear that shone from hers.

"Yes, yes I do," and as he said this, he hugged her closer to him under the jacket. Jane's tears, not long stopped, began to flow again.

"My dad...he..." she stopped on a sob, and seemed to have a hard time continuing. Rory waited, until she drew a deep breath and continued. Then her words came out in a rush, as if she were afraid to stop in the middle of the horror.

"My dad hit my mom tonight. I suppose I'm used to him yelling at her, but this time he really hit her. Usually she screams back, and I've always hated it, but this time, he hit her, and she fell on the floor and she just whimpered. Like a hurt dog or something. And I wished she would get up, I wished she would scream back. But she didn't. She just stayed there, curled up in the corner. And my dad seemed sorry, but he didn't go to her. He just sat down at the table again and picked up his beer. I didn't know what to do. I didn't! So I ran here. I thought Grandma would be home, I forgot that she went to visit her friend Mary in Halifax. So now I'm here, and I don't know what to do," Jane finished in a rush. _Oh no, there I go begging him to stay with me again. I have to be strong. I can't let him think that I'm such a weakling who needs taking care of._

He remained silent, and Jane knew what she had to do. "But...I'm okay now. I, um, I'll go to my friend's house," _Yeah, right, what friend?_ "I'll just go there, and let you...I'm sorry for bothering you." Jane struggled to escape his arm around her, intending to stand up. He tightened his arm around her and kept her sitting.

"Hey," he said softly. "Hey, look at me." She couldn't. Shame filled her, and she couldn't face him. Inexorably, his big, work-callused hand under her chin tilted her head so he could see her face. Childishly, she kept her eyes closed, afraid to show him the vulnerability there. "Hey." His voice was deep now, serious. "Please trust me."

Somehow, she did. She felt as if this stranger was all she had in this world right now. She opened her eyes, and his own deep ones were staring back at her, very close, very intense. "It's not your fault your parents fight."

"I...I know that."

"Do you? Their problems are with each other, not you. Their fighting doesn't mean they don't love you."

"They don't love me." Jane's voice was flat, dead, and it broke his heart. She seemed so certain on this point. At a loss for words, uncertain how to help this poor, lost girl, he enveloped her in a hug, trying to share with her the comfort of his body. She started crying again, silent, slow tears. He wouldn't have known, except for a growing patch of wetness on his shoulder.

He wondered how old she was. When he had first seen her, long hair slipping from her braid, framing her delicate face, he had thought her to be somewhere near his own age. But the frightened girl who had just shared her troubles didn't seem very old at all.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, clinched in a hug. Eventually, he thought her tears stopped, and he felt her hands on his back begin to move tentatively over the muscles there. It was an odd little touch, as if she didn't know how a man would feel, and she was mapping it for the first time. Without thinking, his hands began to move on her back, too, and his lips descended to her forehead and kissed the smooth skin there. Through his awareness of the trauma of her situation, he realized that his body was reacting to her. It seemed totally inappropriate right now, and he would have to get out of this position right away. Coming to a decision, he spoke.

"One thing is for sure, I am not going to leave you alone tonight. Come on, let's go get a coffee." He helped her to her feet and put his jacket around her shoulders.

"Oh, but you can't give me your jacket, then you'll be cold..."

"If I can swim in this weather I guess I can walk in it!"

They set off walking at a brisk pace and didn't really talk until they were cozy at a table in the cafe with delicious warm coffees.

"I'll have to pay you back for my coffee later...I'm sorry I didn't bring any money with me," she apologized.

"Don't worry about it," he said with a wave of his hand. "Consider it a birthday present if you must."

"It's not my birthday!"

"An early present, then," he insisted.

Jane giggled at his clownish tone of voice. "That's very silly."

"Well, I am often a very silly customer." He waggled his eyebrows at her and felt a rush of gladness inside. He didn't think he had ever been so pleased to hear any sound, as he had been to hear her laughter a minute ago. He wanted to keep this girl happy.

"You have the most beautiful eyes," he said. They were huge in her face, red-rimmed from weeping, and the colour of the Atlantic in the sunshine.

Jane dropped her eyes to her hands, gripping the coffee mug. "You don't have to make up compliments to try to cheer me up. I know I'm not beautiful."

"What kind of nonsense is that?"

"I know what beautiful is. It's girls like Tiffany in my class. She has this wonderful cloud of blonde hair, eyes like the bluest sky, and cherry red lips. All the boys are crazy about her."

"That's outer beauty. I've never liked blondes, anyway," he claimed, and Jane loved him for it. He continued, "You have something so much more than that...a depth of spirit. And that's something very few people can even comprehend."

She laughed, a choked, bitter little laugh. "Now you're getting closer to the truth...I have an _interesting_ character. I'm _so different_ ..."

" _I_ think you're attractive," he stated bluntly, so that Jane could not doubt that he meant it. His voice softened and his hand covered hers on the table. "And I'm glad you're different," _In fact, I seem to be utterly enchanted with you, midnight faery. Your beautiful blue eyes wet with tears, your spirit so vulnerable._

"You'll probably never understand how lucky I feel to have met you, that Fate has allowed me to be here for you when you need someone..."

Jane blushed but did not laugh the compliment away. Something about the sincerity in his face made her believe what he said. His hand on hers was warm and strong and it made her feel stronger, surer of herself. She felt comforted that things would turn out right.

After coffee, there was no talk of going home. Neither of them felt tired. They fed from the energy they inspired in each other, each fighting their attraction for their own reasons—Jane, because she thought she would be repelled, and him, because he did not want to take advantage of her situation. They walked. Anywhere, everywhere, all through the night. He held her hand, and Jane felt safe.

At one point they walked down Jane's street. "That's my house," she told him. It had not seen a can of paint in ages, and he could see that the front steps were rotting away. The lights were all off, so her parents must be asleep. Hard to believe that they could, while they didn't know where their daughter was!

"Do you want to go inside?" he asked her.

"No." _No, I am afraid to!_ "I would rather keep walking, if you don't mind. My grandma will be back early in the morning and then I will go to her house. Unless you have to go?" she asked, somewhat timidly, praying that he wouldn't leave.

He did not leave her. Finally, they returned to the seaside, sat on the pier to watch the sun rise.

As the light broke over the ocean, splintering the night and breathing new life into the world, he gave up fighting himself and kissed her.

He took her delicate face in his hands and smoothed back her hair. His deep blue eyes gazed, deep and serious, into hers. Lowering his head, he allowed his lips to taste hers, but drew back, afraid of the intoxication overtaking him. Her face, upturned to his, was lovely in the golden morning light, and her soul shone through her eyes, reaching his. Unable to resist, he kissed her again, and deeper. His hands tangled in her hair and his lips crushed against her soft ones. All else was forgotten.

The light she felt within herself rivaled that of the rising sun. She had never been kissed before, but maybe he hadn't known. Magic, oh the magic of the feel of his body near her, of his shoulders beneath her hands. _So right_.

She cried out when he let her go. "Don't stop. Please don't stop," she heard herself beg. He shuddered.

"I must. I'll never be able to, if I don't now."

"Would that be so bad?" she asked naively.

"It would," he said firmly, pressing her shoulders so she stood a little apart from him. "Let's get this business with your parents straightened out first, eh?"

She came back to earth with a thud. But a warm glow was left deep inside of her and she knew with a quiet confidence that she was meant to be with him forever. He would help her solve her problems. Life would be good again. She knew it.

"I have to go, now. My uncles must be wondering where I am. We planned to get on the road early this morning..." He stopped and looked down at her sweet face, sorry to leave. He resisted the urge to kiss her again.

"I'm sorry to leave you now, but we'll be playing at the pub again in three weeks. Will you come to see me?" he asked.

"Yes, I'll come," she said simply.

But she hadn't shown up, and he had never known why.

# Chapter One

Jane lifted the full pot to pour her day's first infusion of life-giving caffeine. Bob, the altogether too-bouncy physical education teacher, strolled in.

"What's up, Teach?" he greeted her jovially.

"Oh, the usual, Robert. Early morning planning. You?" She countered his question politely.

"Oh, you know how it is, put up the nets, play some ball, yell at the kids, take down the nets. Volleyball season, you know! Geez, teach, you're looking a little tired. You oughtta drop a lump of sugar in that coffee! Well, thanks for making the coffee this morning, nice talking to you, gotta go, gotta go." And he bounced out much the same as he'd walked in, having filled his thermal mug with coffee as he talked.

She decided to take his advice and added an extra sugar cube. _Funny man_ , she mused, _always seems so happy and full of life, but is he really?_ She thought about it and realized she had worked with Bob for years and never had a conversation with him more meaningful than today's exchange.

Jane had learned to steer away from staff conversations when matters turned personal. Once people started revealing details of their own lives, they expected equal intimacy from her. Jane was not the type to share her present and her past with all and sundry. _All these secrets I keep have isolated me,_ she realized. Loneliness stung her.

_It's just the new-season blues_ , she reassured herself. The summer vacation had been lovely with the selfish, selfish pleasure of indulging herself in sketching, reading, travelling...doing whatever she wanted, when she wanted to do it. Now it was the beginning of the school year and time to get used to the existence ruled by time and bells and others' needs.

Halfway through September as it was, Jane was usually wallowing happily in the busy school life by now. This year, it just didn't seem as sweet as it used to. _Lonely Lonely Lonely_ echoed in her mind, and almost wished she had not ended her last relationship.

_At least I had someone to take me out to dinner once in a while_. Unfortunately, her emotional side refused to be satisfied with a merely comfortable partnership.

Jane's practical self despaired at the blue-eyed, black-haired memory that kept appearing in her dreams, her thoughts. _Fourteen years, this memory has haunted me!_ Yet somehow every other man was one inch too tall, one joke too loud, or had some other imagined fault. _But I'm never going to see that guy again, I have to get on with life and if I want a man, I had better find myself one._

_Of course, I always get shy around the dishy ones, and end up only dating the extremely_ normal _guys,_ she admitted to herself. _Maybe, if I could get up the nerve to flirt with a really good-looking hunk one of these days...perhaps one of them would be enough to keep my attention._

_But what would we talk about?_

_And how am I going to get over my shyness around this super-male who's going to save my love life?_

_I'm just so tired of searching,_ Jane thought wearily. _Is a little excitement with my peace and comfort too much to ask?_ On leaden feet, she carried her coffee back to her classroom to begin the day's work.

Her natural enthusiasm for teaching kicked in as she prepared for her first lessons, and the day really improved when her students filed into the classroom. Most of them had smiles for her, even if they were not all so keen about their math. It was easy to lose herself and her worries in the everyday business of running her classes.

The first conflict of the semester came in her third period math class when she was collecting homework.

Carl didn't have his done.

It wasn't surprising, really. He had been known for this sort of thing throughout his career at the school. He wasn't the only one in the class who didn't have it done, either. The problem was, Carl wanted to make an issue out of it. Fifteen years old, he was sure he knew everything. He hated "the system," and was ready to take it out on the math teacher.

Miss Parker was a good teacher. Good teachers asked why homework wasn't done. Good teachers stayed after school with students until the students understood and finished the homework. The students at the high school were familiar with Miss Parker's consequences—if they were falling behind, they could expect an after-school detention. Some of them seemed to rely on it, even seemed to plan on getting detained so they could spend some quiet time with Miss Parker, getting extra tutorial help or asking her advice.

So Jane was just following her regular routine when, having finished teaching the lesson of the day and settled the students to working on their assignment, she asked Carl over to her desk to discuss why his homework wasn't done. With most students, it was a quiet discussion.

"So, Carl, what's up with the homework situation? This is the third time this week you haven't had it done." Jane usually kept conversations as casual as possible with her students, letting them know that her consequences were always fair, that their behaviour was in their own hands, and they would never receive unfair punishments in her class. She expected each person to take responsibility for their own success, and wanted students to understand that she was there to help if they wanted it.

"Yeah, so what?"

"Well, do you have a good reason?" Jane asked reasonably, not flustered by his aggressive tone and attitude.

"Yeah," Carl's voice was getting louder, "it's because I don't have any use for this damn school! Why should I do my homework? I don't need math class. As soon as I turn sixteen, I'm outta here anyway. I can get a job on the rig with my brother, and make more money than you're making right now." Carl had the attention of the class now, was enjoying his audience. Jane heard the murmurs of the other students and knew she had to handle the situation quickly and firmly, before it escalated further.

_Why didn't I see this coming?_ she berated herself. _I knew Carl was a live wire. I should have taken him outside the classroom_ _before trying to speak with him._

"Well, Carl, as long as you are here in this school, you obey the rules of this classroom." Her voice was more firm, but still mild. She would not be drawn into a fight. "That includes doing homework."

"I don't have to listen to you!" Carl was still combative, buoyed up by his audience of peers.

"Unfortunately, Carl, you do. Now, if you don't feel that you can sit and work on math, I suggest you leave the classroom until you calm down. Other students _do_ want to pass this class and would like a quiet environment to work in."

"Fine." Carl's tone was still belligerent. He grabbed his binder from his desk and jerked his head to his buddy Jimmy. "Come on, man, let's get out of here." Jimmy ducked his head and followed Carl, obviously more worried about what would happen if he didn't follow, than about the trouble he would now be in with the school.

Jane sighed inwardly but knew she wasn't done yet. Twenty-two other students were watching her to see what she would do. She looked at her class and raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Is everybody okay?" The students laughed. "Good. Let's try to get some math done with what's left of the period." To Jane's relief, the majority of the students quickly settled down to their papers. There was a little more murmuring than usual, but Jane didn't see the advantage in crushing it at the moment. It was natural for them to be a little unsettled. Carl was generally regarded as charming and was quite popular around the school. Jane was thankful for her experience as a teacher and her reputation among the students as fair. The situation would still require some managing, but Jane felt equipped to deal with it.

She knew Carl was right. Manual labour jobs in the oil fields paid extremely well and with the economy booming as it was, they were hiring all the able-bodied workers they could get. Plenty of men in oilfield towns started work without graduating high school, and had decades of good steady employment.

"Class," she interrupted her labouring students, "may I have a word?" Jane felt grateful when the students gave her their immediate attention, raising their faces to her. "Carl had a point. We all know there are jobs out there. But I hope you also know that as long as you're in this class, you have to stick to the rules. I assume you're in here because you are working at getting your high school diploma, and I am here to help you with that goal."

Jane wanted to make sure the students were in on the discussion, so she asked, "Who here plans on getting their diploma?" The students all raised their hands, looking around at each other.

"Does anybody want to add anything? I would be glad to hear what you have to say," Jane invited.

"Yeah, Miss P., I think you were right," Cindy, a petite blonde girl, offered. "Even if we could get a job right away, it's still smarter to get your high school diploma first." Several students nodded in agreement with her.

"Yeah, otherwise you're closing doors on yourself," someone else added.

The bell rang and the students looked to Jane. "Thanks for your input on that. Keep it in mind while you're doing your homework for tomorrow! You're dismissed." The students filed out, and one of the quieter boys hung back.

"I just wanted to say, I don't think Carl should have been so disrespectful like that."

"Thanks, John, I appreciate that." Jane liked the way that teenagers always seemed to be so honest about their feelings, even though it did take patience sometimes to hear them out.

"Well, bye. Have a good day," John said, and rushed out.

"Bye..." Jane said to his retreating back. _Well, I suppose that turned out as well as it could have,_ she thought. _I guess I had better go let the office know._

By the end of the day she was exhausted. Even when the system worked well, teaching and dealing with little "incidents," like the one that had happened today, took plenty of energy.

Jane dragged herself home with twenty-five test papers from her fifth period class under her arm, waiting to be marked. She dropped them on the island-counter of her spacious and bright kitchen and kicked off her shoes.

She had intended to prepare dinner as soon as she arrived home, then relax with a glass of wine until her best friend, Lanette, arrived to share the meal. But when her eyes strayed to the canvas sitting unfinished on her easel, she felt an urge to work on the scene she had started last weekend. It portrayed a small lake surrounded by green and brown cat-tail rushes. A pale yellow wheat field stretched to the horizon in the background, and five colourful mallard ducks swam towards the rushes at one side.

The scene was inspired by a real-life lake just outside Brooks, the prairie town in Alberta where Jane lived. The lush water hole was not a natural feature of the dry prairie ecosystem, but a creation of the massive irrigation projects that had been necessary early in the twentieth century, to make crop-farming possible in the area.

The bright metallic-green heads of the male ducks had been the first colour Jane had splashed onto her base sketch, after the brilliant blue sky. She probably should have saved the ducks' bright tops for last, but she had been feeling impetuous at the time. Now, needing peace and relaxation, she lost herself in the quiet activity of filling in the detail of the wheat in its calm blonde hue.

"Jane? Ja-ane!" The front door opened and Jane realized that time had passed more quickly than she had noticed-a not uncommon happenstance when she picked up her paintbrush. She pushed her soft brown hair away from her face, where it had fallen forward while she was working.

"Hmm." Lanette commented as she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. "I was expecting the aromas of some delicious concoction, but all I smell is oil paint!"

"Sorry," a sheepish Jane apologized to her friend. "It was a long day, and I just couldn't resist a little work on this piece I started last weekend."

"Yeah, I think that one is going to turn out well. Who except you would think of painting the boring old prairie, and turn it into such a lovely scene?" Lanette's head was already buried in the refrigerator. She started pulling out vegetables—a zucchini, an onion, and a couple of green peppers—and took them over to the sink.

Jane was just finishing the section of the wheat field she had been working on, and Lanette walked across the kitchen to stand behind her. "I don't know why you don't sell your work, Jane. Or at least put some pieces in shows or contests. What are you waiting for? You're really good!" Lanette wandered back to the sink to wash and chop the vegetables, confident that Jane would answer in her own time.

Jane appreciated the easy, informal relationship she and her best friend had. Lanette encouraged Jane's art, but never pushed her too hard. She hadn't made a fuss when dinner wasn't prepared, as she would have expected it to be. Instead, she just lent a hand.

In the other half of the double sink, Jane washed her hands and the brushes in a small amount of solvent.

"I guess I am just not ready yet, Lanny. It will take a lot of work to find out how to market these, and I've been busy, teaching, renovating the house...I guess I will know when the time is right. Besides, I only started painting to release all my emotions while I was a teenager...it was pretty rough being tossed into your prairie culture, all you descended from pioneers and me a strange east-coaster."

"Maybe, Jane, but you never seemed strange to me..."

"No, Lanny, but you have always understood me better than everybody else...and I think you are the only one I really trust."

"Your aunt and uncle were good to you," Lanette insisted.

"Yes, I know, they welcomed me as much as they could. But it never changed the fact that I don't really belong here. I am not a real cowgirl like you are, Lanette."

"Yeah, well...hey! You changed the topic! I think you're just procrastinating about those paintings." Lanette accused as she chopped the zucchini with Jane's largest knife. "At first you said you weren't good enough, but since you took some courses and saw that your paintings were always the best in the class, we know that's not true!"

Jane made a murmur of protest, but Lanette wasn't finished. "Then you insisted that you needed a large collection of paintings before going public, which I suppose is logical enough. But how many do you need? You have paintings from the prairies, the mountains, even of the various European cities we've visited. Your spare room is stacked with finished canvases. So what are you waiting for?"

"I don't know, Lanny." Jane didn't seem embarrassed or sad. She sounded implacable, firm in her own conviction. "I just know that the time isn't right yet. Anyway, where would you have me exhibit art in this town? It's not exactly a tourist mecca. Farmers and oil-rig workers aren't likely to pay much for art to hang on their walls." Jane took out her big spaghetti pot and put some water on to boil.

"No, maybe not here. But Calgary's not all that far away. I am sure we could find a gallery there that would be glad to carry your work."

Jane reflected once again how lucky she was to have a friend who automatically included herself in Jane's ambitions, who assumed she would help out. "Lanette, have I told you lately how much I love you?"

Lanette looked astonished. "Jane! What's gotten into you?" Even though Jane said she'd found it hard to fit in to the prairie people as a teen, she had grown much like them in emotional reserve. She had learned to "play her cards close to her chest," to guard her softer emotions, and didn't normally go around talking about her feelings. Even Lanette, who knew her better than anybody, sometimes couldn't guess what Jane thought or felt.

"I just appreciate that you're always so...so _here_ for me. But it's just not time for these paintings. I have a feeling...I am sure I will know when I'm ready, when it's time."

"Okay, okay. Point taken, subject closed. I guess it's just that, now my life is changing, I imagine yours should change too. Somehow I can't see leaving you here in this town, doing the same thing, when I go away."

"It's funny you say that, Lanny. Because I was thinking along those lines, myself, today. It's not all as exciting as it once was. But what's going to change? That I don't know. I like my job at the high school, love my students. I am not about to give that up without a reason."

"But life's not all about the job, is it?" Lanette pointed out wryly.

"Maybe not. But selling a few paintings in a gallery wouldn't be sufficient reason to up and drop my job, my house, my life here."

"I guess not. Anyway, guess what happened at the office today?" Lanette launched into an amusing tale about the latest exploits of the new travel agent that had been hired on at her agency, a trainee who would take Lanette's place when she left. The greater issues of what to do about Jane's future were laid to rest for the evening.

Later in bed, though, after Lanette had left and Jane had finished marking the test papers she had brought home, thoughts of the future returned to Jane's restless mind. _Maybe I am coming to a point in my life where I should take a risk._ Lanette was the only person who ever spoke to Jane so bluntly, who even seemed to see the possibility that Jane _could_ do something other than what she was already doing. Students and coworkers at school seemed to see only the formidable Miss Parker, math teacher.

_I'm beginning to resent that,_ Jane realized. _I wish that people didn't have to see me as so flat and boring. Don't they realize I have emotions? That I might do something with my evenings other than composing math exams?_

_But you never show your feelings, or any other side of you,_ she wryly told herself. _How can you expect people to know you have anything inside you but math equations?_

_It's nice to have the admiration, and even affection, of my students, but it's not enough anymore._

_But are my paintings good enough? Do I really want that unstable artist's life?_ Jane's mind struggled to generate possibilities, but none of the alternatives seemed satisfactory. _Too bad I couldn't have an exciting day job somewhere_ and _sell paintings, too..._ was her last thought as she finally drifted off to sleep. _And a handsome Romeo to inspire me, a prince who can get past this wall that keeps my emotions locked in, who can chase away that aching memory..._

Rory tossed the last boy's backpack into the van and slammed the door shut. He checked that the sliding passenger door was firmly shut, and climbed into the driver's seat to start the engine.

"Ready to go, guys?" he asked, twisting around to scan the half-dozen boys filling the back of the van, and received a chorus of cheers in reply.

"How long is the drive, Rory?" asked Michael, the rather serious little man who was sitting in the front seat beside him.

"It should be about two hours, Brendan," Rory replied easily. They pulled out onto the long, straight Trans-Canada Highway that would take them to Calgary and beyond. He had volunteered to drive a van full of Boy Scouts out to the mountains where a few clubs were having a camp-out together.

The town faded and flat yellow prairie stretched out on either side of the road, and a chant of "Music! Music!" came from the back seats.

"See what you can organize for some tunes, will you, Brendan?" Rory knew that the spectacled kid in the front seat was shy around his peers, and hoped to help him fit in a little better. He knew it wouldn't be an overnight process, but enjoyed helping any way he could.

"Sure, Rory," Brendan eagerly got out the CD case and began to ask the boys in the back what type of music they would like. Rory could see that the boy was happy to have an important role, and to have something to talk to his peers about. Tuning out their good-natured argument, Rory reflected that his motives for helping the troop out weren't entirely altruistic. He was definitely along on this trip for his own pleasure, as well. It was always nice to get out to the mountains.

"Are you glad we're going out to the mountains, Rory?"

"Sure, Brendan, aren't you?"

"Yeah!" Brendan's voice was excited. "I've never been out to see the Rockies before, have you?"

"I have spent a little time in them. Years ago, when I came west to find a job, most of us young people who came from the east spent some time around Banff and Lake Louise before we settled with a steady job somewhere else." Rory thought back to those years, when he'd been forced to face the reality of the failing economy in his home province of Nova Scotia. His parents owned a business, but between five kids there wasn't enough work to go around for all of them. He had learned to deal it, now, or so he thought. He certainly wasn't the only Maritimer who had to leave home in search of work, and they all missed home.

"Oh, yeah...I heard that you're from the Maritimes. What's it like there?" Brendan was a sponge, waiting to soak up any information Rory chose to send his way.

"Well, the mountains are not as steep as the Rockies. They're more like hills, I guess. There are plenty of forests, and lakes. Of course, Nova Scotia has the sea beside it...that's kind of like Alberta's prairie, I guess!"

Brendan laughed, delighted at the funny comparison.

"In Nova Scotia, we have more kinds of trees in the forest: maples, birches, aspen, coniferous pines, fir, and spruce. It's very colourful. You'll notice out here, though, Brendan, there aren't that many actual types of trees—there are fewer species that can handle the high altitude here and the thin soil."

Brendan, the young scholar, wanted to show his knowledge. "Yes, of course, we were reading about it. The forests in the Rockies are mostly spruce, pine, and fir, all evergreens and conifers. But still, Rory, it's a lot more trees than I get to see in Brooks!"

Rory laughed at the pedantic tone of the young boy's voice. "True enough!" Brendan's comment reminded him of the bleakness of the flat, barren prairies compared to the rich forested slopes he'd grown up with. The Rockies were beautiful, for a visit, but not the same as home, and this chat had left Rory feeling a little homesick for the east coast.

Rory glanced over at the cute, bespectacled boy gazing eagerly out the window at new, unexplored territory, and his heart ached in a different way. He got to share a few hours at a time with these boys, but he never got more than that. He loved their special qualities, but he only saw a small part of each boy, and it made him yearn even more for a son of his own.

At one time Rory had volunteered full time with the Scouts, leading his own troop, but he found that he didn't want to be so involved with other people's children. It only made him yearn more for some of his own. This trip was just one of the occasional favours Rory did for the friends he had made among the leaders. He wouldn't even stay at the campsite with the boys...he was just going to transport the boys to the site, help them hike in and get their tents set up, and then go in to the nearby town of Canmore to visit some friends.

Brendan turned around to respond to a remark from the boy behind him, and Rory sunk deeper into his own thoughts. He wondered if he would ever find a cure for the loneliness he felt. It was true that he had many friendly acquaintances and a few people he would consider good friends. On the surface, his life was great. But something in his soul cried out for more.

A feeling crept up on him, a prickle in his consciousness. _Things are about to change._ A smile stole over his lips as he thought of his grandmother's talk about "Celtic intuition." _Too bad I've never figured out how to predict things more precisely. Then I wouldn't have any worries,_ he thought wryly.

Brendan recaptured his attention and the rest of the trip passed quickly. Rory pulled into the gravelled lot and parked the van, then busied himself setting the boys up with their backpacks, adjusting straps and repacking loads so they would ride comfortably on the strong little backs for the hour-long hike into the campground in Heart Valley.

"Hey, guys, look, there are the girls," said one of the boys.

Rory watched his charges watching a van full of Girl Guides approach. The emotions were open on their faces—they were clearly torn between making friends and making a retreat. Rory made their decision for them. "Let's hike in and get our campsite set up, so they'll be impressed with you when they get there," Rory said.

The boys liked that idea. Rory had seen the driver of the van and felt an extra urge to clear the campground before they parked...it was Margaret, a Girl Guide leader he'd run into occasionally over the years. She never missed an opportunity to try to butter Rory up or to remind him that she was available and willing anytime he would like a little...company. Now that Rory finally had his boys all set for the hike, he didn't want to wait around and see how she might try to corner him this time. He hustled the boys up and they escaped the parking lot before the girls were even out of the van.

Rory enjoyed the hike with the boys and arrived at the campsite to discover that the other group from their town was already set up. He gave his crowd a hand setting their tents up, then gratefully accepted a cup of campfire coffee from Tom, one of the leaders and father to two of the boys along on the trip.

"Thanks for bringing the boys out for us, Rory. You sure you don't want to stay on?"

"No, thanks, Tom. I am scheduled to visit some friends in Canmore this evening...and do a little business research," his full-lipped mouth quirked into a grin at that and Tom's eyes sparkled back knowingly.

"Business research, eh? I take it that means you'll be visiting somebody else's drinking establishment, to compare it to the one you own?"

"Something like that, Tom. Actually I will also be making a visit to one of my suppliers...you know that superb brew pub they have here. It's owned by some old buddies of mine."

"Oh, yeah...what's it called? The Grizzly Paw or something like that? I've heard of it but I've never actually had a chance to get there yet." Tom shook his big bearded head regretfully. "I'm always with the boys when I come up this way. Enjoy your single life, Rory! And have a pint for me!"

"That'll be easy enough, Tom. But you know, I am planning to stock some of their beer on McGillicutty's taps. If you can manage the time to stop by some time, I'll have a pint waiting for you."

"One for my wife, too?" At Rory's nod, Tom replied, "That's a generous offer, Rory. We might take you up on it." He finished his mug of coffee and smacked his lips. "Now, I suppose I had better go see how Mark's getting on, teaching those rascals to chop wood."

"Thanks for the coffee, Tom. I'll see you."

Rory enjoyed his hike back out to the parking lot, alone in the forest. He had always loved the serenity of the outdoors, and fancied he could absorb the strength of the trees when he was among them. _I sure can't feel this on the prairies,_ he mused.

Mike granted Rory a warm welcome, and they quickly settled an order for a few kegs of thick dark stout and some marvellous pumpkin beer for the winter season. Rory didn't earn a large profit by stocking Mike's specialty beer, since costs were higher for the small batches, but he liked having items of quality available at his pub. Pumpkin beer was not to everyone's taste, but it was nice to be able to offer people something a little different from the ordinary. The Grizzly Paw provided him with a few different brews that rotated seasonally.

He had enjoyed building his business into the popular establishment that it now was, but he gained more satisfaction from the knowledge that he had created an enjoyable atmosphere and a very nice place for people to come and relax, than from his financial success.

_It's clear that Mike and Lisa feel the same way about this place,_ Rory thought, watching them from where he'd settled at the bar with a pint. He thought back to the music festival in British Columbia where he'd met them, and how they had always seemed so in tune with each other, in their spirits as well as their music. The pair had just been dating then, but they were now married and expecting their first child. Rory envied them their togetherness.

Rory had tried to be patient in finding a partner of his own. When he'd first started renovating the bar, he'd told himself he was too busy with getting the business going, to develop a meaningful relationship.

_But now the business is running smoothly._ _Time's slipping away, and I am no nearer to having a wife and family than I have ever been._ Three of his siblings, all younger than him, were already married, and he had four nieces and nephews to date. _What's the matter with me?_

His mind turned, as it often did, to the girl he had met when he was a teenager, to the certainty he had felt that she was the one, the only one, for him. He felt his stomach clench with the familiar frustration, and he shook his head impatiently. _I'm miles and years away from that night. Why can I never forget? She obviously isn't thinking of me. She dropped me like a hot potato, couldn't even bother to show up to meet me a second time._ The hurt welled up inside him like a fresh wound despite the years that had passed. _Why can't I get over it?_

_I'm never going to fall in love with another unless I learn to trust again._ At least, that was what the psychologist he'd seen a few years ago had told him. _I have tried, I have._ He thought in despair. _I've dated tall girls, short girls, pretty girls, plain girls. Lovely people. I like them, I enjoy their company. Why can't I fall in love?_ Try as he might, he had never again felt the depth of emotion that he had felt that night on the beach, wandering around with that lovely, lost faery, ever again.

_It's like she's stolen my heart. Maybe I should try finding a witch doctor, to send out a spell to get it back for me,_ he thought somewhat hysterically. _This love from afar hasn't brought me joy, only pain. Am I cursed forever?_

Mike interrupted Rory's morose contemplation of his mug of excellent beer. "What's the matter, man, is the beer too sour?"

Rory looked up into his friend's laughing green eyes, which held a touch of sympathy and the corners of his mouth turned up wryly. "No, Mike, the beer's great, as usual. It's just my insides that are so bitter."

"Oho!" his friend chortled. Mike didn't ask what Rory's problem was...he had heard the story years before and could guess. Rory was a pretty stable, easy-going guy, and there was only one thing that brought him down this way. Mike had found that the best thing to do was jolly him out of it. "Lisa, I see you put the philosophical hops in this batch! I thought I told you not to do that anymore, everybody who drinks it ends up crying on my shoulder," he called to his wife down the bar, where she was filling a mug with frothy stout from the bar tap.

"Oh! Darn it," his wife bantered back. "Sorry, Mike, I keep getting the vats mixed up in the store room there. I was sure I had them labelled right. One of these days I'll accidentally use up all of our eye of newt!"

Despite his mood, Rory laughed along. The pair obviously read too many of those magical fantasy novels he knew they were fond of. _When will I find someone to share with like that?_ he wondered.

The phone rang the next Tuesday night while Jane was sitting on the couch, half-heartedly reading a historical western novel, procrastinating on the task of making up a homework sheet for one of her classes. Lanette's voice was cheerful and energetic on the other end.

"Hey, Jane, are you up for a night on the town Friday? There's a talent show running out in Bassano and my nephew is in it...want to go with me?"

Jane, who had been feeling restless and bored, seized the chance. "You bet. What's the matter with Rob? He's not coming into town this weekend?

"No, he will be taking a group of tourists on an extended tour...white water rafting, paragliding, and hiking in the Kootenays."

"Too bad you're not going along!" Jane laughed at the wistful tone in her friend's voice.

"It's better when I get him all to myself, just the two of us and the wild things. Small talk with tourists gets a little boring, even when the surroundings are marvellous!"

"Wild things, hmm?" Jane picked up on the word wryly, turning her friend's innocent nature comment into an innuendo. "Anyway, Lanny, you know I won't pass up a chance to go out with you...but this isn't another one of your set-up jobs, is it?" Jane demanded suspiciously.

"No, no, my nephew's only nineteen. But, honestly, Jane, maybe it's time you lightened up a little about men. Maybe a big handsome cowboy is just what you need to dance you out of this morose mood you've been in lately."

"Hm." Jane considered this. "Maybe you're right for a change, Lanette. I sure need something...this math sheet I am supposed to be making up, isn't it!"

Lanette laughed. "Well, cross your fingers then! The place should be jam-packed, so maybe we'll finally find your Mr. Right!"

"Hrmph," was Jane's disbelieving reply. "I don't think I'll get my hopes up just yet."

"As long as you don't play your turtle act...all friendly and open one minute, but when something starts to happen—oops! Back inside your shell you go!" Lanette teased.

"I'll try not to, Lanny. If you catch me retreating, you have my permission to grab my chicken neck and drag me back out!"

"It's a deal! I'll pick you up." Her friend promised.

_Well, Janey-girl, here's your chance to find that super-stud you wanted...bolster up your courage!_ she advised herself.

# Chapter Two

"Wow. This is the tallest door I've seen since that castle we visited in Denmark," Jane remarked to Lanette, gesturing to the high double door of the old Bassano Hotel, which had been restored and renamed McGillicutty's. It was solid wood like the rest of the building, and it looked as if it had taken quite a share of abuse through the ages.

Lanette laughed in her usual cheerful way. "It does seem a little over-sized. I wonder why?"

"Got me," Jane shrugged.

A couple of cowboys, long, lean, and dressed in traditional jeans, hats, boots, and button-up shirts, sauntered up the boardwalk as the two girls paused outside. One of them held open the door for them to enter, while the other answered Lanette's question. "Old Peanut, the founder of this here bar, used to like to ride his favourite cow pony in for a beer."

The girls gawked at him in disbelief. "Really?" Lanette asked, sounding fascinated.

The cowboy grinned at her and his handlebar mustache twitched. "Sure thing, little mama. Would I lie to you?" Jane recognized the line and the accent from a recent country song, and was hard pressed not to giggle.

The other cowboy, lacking the impressive mustache but sporting a lip full of chewing tobacco, asked, with rodeo-cowboy quickness, "Can we buy you two ladies a drink?"

As Lanette accepted, Jane, mindful of her new resolution, sized the two cowboys up. _Nope, not sexy enough. No spark. Nice and all, but not the super kind of man I am looking for tonight,_ she decided. _At least I won't be too shy to talk to them._

"Why, thank you boys. That's very kind of ya. We'll just have whatever Big Rock brand they've got on tap. We'll be waiting right at this table over here." Lanette drawlingly accepted the cowboys' offer, as Jane had known she would. As Lanny said, just because she had bought a book didn't mean she had to surrender her library card! Jane suspected that the other girl was probably still hoping to get Jane hooked up with somebody. Anyway it was always nice to have some new people to talk to and ready dance partners.

Lanette was now in the happy state of being in love, perhaps having found the one man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Because Lanny had always seemed to be the quintessential prairie cowgirl, Jane found it ironic that Lanette's boyfriend wasn't a cowboy. Instead, she'd found herself a mountain man who lived in Canmore and ran outdoor adventure tours based there. They had fallen in love practically over the telephone. Lanette always had been the kind of woman to know her mind. She hadn't decided for sure that he was the man for her, but she was going to try moving closer to him, anyway, just to see how it turned out.

Jane smirked at her friend as they pulled up a couple of the wooden chairs and sat down. "I hope you're not going to carry on in that accent all night," she commented dryly. "My-ah ea-ahs will get tihiyered rihiyihight out!"

"Ah, well, you know I just can't resist it sometimes." Lanette tried to look apologetic but she didn't do very well.

"Well, I'll tell you, putting on a funny accent is all right when we're on the other side of the world and nobody speaks "redneck" Albertan. But I don't care if you are a cowgirl—talk normal. Leave the drawling to them!" Jane commanded.

"Okay, okay. You know I always lose the accent when I get into a real conversation, anyway." Really, that was the way it was with most people. The accent and funny sayings often came out most frequently in the greetings of the region. When a person got right into a deep conversation about grain futurities, the economy, or the latest stock watering system, most Alberta cowboys sounded just as intellectual as any white-collar city dweller.

While the men fetched drinks, Lanette and Jane let their eyes wander around the room. Lanette, true to form, was scoping out the men, and it took her a moment to swing her attention to Jane when she commented, "check out this building. I didn't even realize we had such a grand building in our neck of the woods."

The inner walls were solid wood all around. The beams and supporting columns were large, exposed logs. Here and there on the wood, cattle brands were burned right onto the wall, suggesting a long history with the ranching community. Scattered around the room were all sorts of interesting artifacts and artwork that looked as if they had been here since they were new, so much were they a part of the room. There were rodeo prize saddles slung over the beams, an old harness hung on the wall, and old black-and-white autographed photos of bronc riders, steer wrestlers, rodeo champions and queens. A couple of original oil paintings depicted prairie life in the early days. They were not masterpieces, but they added to the atmosphere. The stage for performers and the dance floor took up about a third of the area of the room. The sound equipment, and the cash register at the bar, were the only visible modern additions. Off to one side there was a huge barbecue with a chimney off it, where patrons could cook their own steaks.

"Yeah, it is pretty neat. It wasn't always this nice, though. The new owner just finished renovating it about a year or so ago."

The cowboys were just returning and one of them heard the latter comment. "Did you ladies hear about the ghost here? She knocks on the walls sometimes, and she plays waltzes to couples who stay upstairs. Either of you ladies feel like trying it out, I'd be happy to rent a room with you!" Mr. Chewing Tobacco offered, and though Jane sensed he was joking around, she wasn't fond of this turn to the conversation so early in the evening. Her prim and proper teacher self wanted to take over, and she thought ruefully of Lanette's "turtle" remark.

"Mmmm. I guess we'd better get at those steaks while there still are any! It's going to be packed in here later on," Jane suggested. _It's easier to think about flirting, than actually doing it!_ she thought. _Obviously I'm still not as comfortable with light flirting as the other three at this table are._

The four of them ordered big, juicy steaks for the grill. A tantalizing salad bar set up beside the grill offered everything a person could want to complement a steak. There were two types of salad, a choice of chicken noodle or tomato rice soup, corn on the cob, baked potatoes, cooked vegetables, and brownies for dessert. Jane, who often didn't cook very much for herself while she was home alone, tucked into her meal as enthusiastically as the others. Her coltish five foot seven frame had never put on spare pounds.

The men introduced themselves as Jake and Hank, and said they worked as cattle hands on a ranch nearby. They turned out to be good dinner companions, on their best gentlemanly behaviour after Jane's earlier retreat. As the beer flowed and the contentment of a good meal settled upon them, Jane began to relax more than she had in a long time. She sat back in her chair and let the conversation flow over her as her gaze wandered around the room. The talent show was due to start soon, and the bar was filling up with an interesting mix of people of all ages. Country people were easy to identify in their uniform jeans, boots, and shirts. Some of the country ladies had on western-style dresses with long flowing skirts that would swirl beautifully when their two step partners twirled them on the dance floor later.

Lanette's cousin stopped by to say "howdy," but didn't accept their offer to sit at their table. He was with a group of his own friends on the other side of the bar. He promised to come back later to dance with each of the girls.

"Anyway, Greg, you're sure lookin' fine!" Lanette teased him. Jane definitely agreed. He was wearing new black Wrangler jeans and a black rodeo shirt with a shocking pink lightning bolt stripe of aqua and neon pink. His brown eyes beneath his black Stetson were definitely enticing to the female of the species. _Too bad you're so young!_ Jane thought. Surely Greg was handsome enough to take her mind off silly memories!

Jane cast her glance around the room, trying to see if there were any more suitable candidates who seemed unattached. Hank and Jake were nice enough, but Jane was serious about trying out her plan to find a truly gorgeous man.

_Hmmmm...country boy or townie?_ she debated. The town folk in the room, who didn't ride horses and fix fences, were easy to spot. Somehow, country people just wore their jeans with more...purpose about them. It was in the way they walked, and the scuff on their boots from kicking around in the dust. Sometimes townies dressed in the same duds as cowboys did, but you could still spot the difference a mile away. Jane had learned to tell the difference by immersion in the culture when living with her aunt and uncle on their cattle farm. She had felt like a fish out of water when she had been sent to live with her relatives after the big blow up with her parents, but had gradually adapted to the different way of life.

_Understanding and belonging are two different things, however,_ Jane acknowledged ruefully. Even though she'd been out west nearly half her life, she still identified more with the maritime culture she'd been born to.

_I wonder how the people would look to me back home in Nova Scotia?_

_Why do I still call it home? Maybe that's part of my loneliness problem. I've got to get over it. This is my home now, where my job and my bank account are. I must learn to accept it._

As Jane's eyes continued to meander around the room and its patrons, she began to get a feeling of being watched, herself. Her previously idle gaze took on purpose as she searched for her observer.

Unexpectedly, he was standing behind the bar, and his brilliant blue eyes were glittering in her direction with an intensity that most people would have found disturbing. Jane felt a thrill pass through her as the stranger realized he had caught her eye, and winked. She caught her breath with a feeling of déjà vu, and searched her memory banks. But she had never seen this man before. No-one could forget that impressive black beard and lumberjack's build. The man gave her a small wave, and Jane realized she was still staring at him. _He's actually flirting with me!_ she thought, and felt her heart race. Unsure of what to do, she gave him a weak smile back, and tried to return her attention to the conversation happening at her table.

Her thoughts ran frantically around in her head, so she couldn't hear much of what was said. _This is my chance, this is my chance,_ Jane thought _. He is definitely exciting, but how can I..._ "Jane. Jane!" Lanette was calling her. "Snap out of it, darling. The talent contest is about to begin."

"Oh. Oh, of course." Jane turned her chair to face the stage, and found herself seated between Hank and Lanette. She was happy to note two things: one, the mysterious man had disappeared, at least for the moment, so she could relax. Two, Hank was between her and the bar. She planned to hide behind his broad shoulders if the man reappeared. She wasn't used to flirting across crowded rooms, heck, flirting, period, and she didn't think she could handle having him looking at her all through the show. New resolution notwithstanding, she was a shy girl at heart, and old habits were hard to break. _I_ am _going to flirt with him,_ Jane promised herself. _I just need a little time to plan some strategy._

"What's going on?" Lanette hissed in her ear.

"There's a guy...big, like a lumberjack. With a beard. Behind the bar." Lanette immediately craned her neck to see.

"I don't see him," she insisted.

"I guess he's moved somewhere else," Jane said.

"Well, let me know when you see him," Lanette directed.

The music turned out to be of a much higher quality than the girls had expected. Greg acquitted himself quite well with an old Johnny Cash tune. His voice was much deeper than Jane had believed possible in one so young. _Maybe it's me who's getting old,_ she thought ruefully. Even Jake had gotten up and proven himself quite worthy of the enthusiastic applause he received after singing a popular song by George Fox, a nationally famous Albertan country singer. He swaggered back to the table with pride in his eyes. Jane squirmed when he angled a look her way as if to say, _"aren't you impressed with me now, baby?"_

To avoid Jake's advances, she decided to appear intensely interested in the show. She moved herself a little closer to Lanette and was glad that there was no room for Jake's chair in between her and Hank. She didn't have to feign her fascination. Although Jane had a good voice herself, she had never been brave enough to sing in public, and she was impressed with others who could perform in front of an audience.

The judges had a difficult decision at the end, between a beautiful native girl who had sung a slow, sweet, heart-rending ballad, and a cowboy who had sung and played guitar to a lively Cajun piece. There was a final round where they each sang a second piece, and the cowboy won. The prize was the chance to compete in the next round in Calgary, and the final winner would get a recording contract with a record company.

Throughout the show, Jane had kept an eye and more than half her mind on the bar, but the man with the black beard had not reappeared. She was relieved, and then a little piqued that she hadn't been worth more than one wink and a wave. Lanette probably would have had him buying her a drink by now. _Oh, well, I probably wouldn't have had the nerve to flirt with him, anyway._ Jane tried to swallow her disappointment and the odd tears that seemed to have gathered in her throat, and was quite grateful when Hank asked her to dance, as soon as the contest was over and a band was playing.

He turned out to be quite an enthusiastic two-stepper, and she was laughing and flushed by the time they stepped off the dance floor after a few lively songs. Lanette and Jake were also just coming back to the table, and the four of them sat down at their table to take a breather.

"Geez, Lanette, I'm glad you can handle guys like that Jake," Jane whispered to her as they sat back down. "I didn't know what to do when he came and sat back down and leered at me after he was on stage...he was kind of coming on too strong."

"Don't worry, chicken, I'll protect you," Lanette was teasing and reassuring at the same time.

"Anyway, Hank was a good dancer."

"Mm...Jake is, too. I love dancing." Lanette gave a contented sigh. "Hey, what about that dish you mentioned earlier? Has he popped back up yet?"

"Ssshhh!" Jane admonished. "Not so loud! No, he hasn't shown up yet. He probably isn't going to."

"Well, cheers, at least you've noticed one worth your while." Lanette wasn't even trying to be quiet. "It's about time! Let's toast to it!" She reached for her glass, but realized that they were out of beer. "On that note, I'll even buy the next pitcher!" and she began to rise out of her chair. Before she even had a chance to stand up, a waitress appeared with a pitcher and four new glasses. "Compliments of the owner," she said briefly, setting it down before Jane, and shooting her a somewhat venomous look.

"Well, I guess I don't have to buy the beer after all...I didn't realize you knew the owner, Jane! You are full of surprises tonight!"

"I don't," Jane replied. "I knew that waitress, though, she was one of my first students. Gee, she hated me!"

"Maybe that's why her eyes were shooting daggers at you!" Lanette suggested. "Either that, or she's got her eye on the owner herself and you've stepped on her turf."

"Who knows?" Jane shrugged. "Do either of you guys know who the owner of this joint is?" but Hank and Jake shook their heads.

"Nope, but I'm guessin' the beer was meant for you. Like it or not, that girl knew who she was deliverin' to." Hank said decisively.

"Looks like we have competition, Hank. Somebody else has got their eye on one of our ladies!" Jake joked.

"I don't blame him for thinking Jane's a fox!" Hank's mustache twitched as he grinned again and waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Jane gave an unladylike snort. "As if that's likely." But she blushed under the compliment. _Maybe I could get used to this flirting game,_ she thought.

Jake, already picking up the jug, said, "I don't really care where it came from. It's beer. Let's drink it before it gets warm while we sit around, wonderin' where it came from."

Jake was definitely losing his gentlemanly demeanor as the night wore on. She puzzled silently over whether someone had actually sent her a pitcher of beer, without it being a mistake. It had never happened to her before.

Jane was jolted out of her reverie when the men stood up, apparently going to visit someone at another table. She gave them a distracted smile and a half-hearted, "Sure, see you later," when they thanked her and Lanette for the beer and the company. She didn't really care if she did see them later or not.

"Geez, Jane, I have never seen you so distracted," Lanette commented as soon as they were alone. "Here we are, with two long, lean, jean-clad hunks, and you have been totally zoned out for most of the evening. Any sign of that guy again? Do you think he's the one who sent the beer?"

"Hmm. I don't know. Don't you think he would have shown his face again if he was interested?"

"It does seem a little odd," Lanette agreed. "Maybe he left."

"Oh, I hope not!" Jane was a little embarrassed that she was letting herself get so worked up over a stranger, but she couldn't seem to help herself. "I promised myself I was going to flirt with someone dishy tonight."

"It happens to all of us...you think you see the man of your dreams, and he just vanishes..." Lanette agreed casually, and took a long, cool swig out of her glass. Over the rim, Jane saw her eyebrows suddenly shoot up, and then watched her friend struggle to swallow her mouthful of beer.

"What is it, Lanny?"

She nodded off to Jane's right. "It seems like your lumberjack is coming our way."

Jane's head snapped around. She gasped. "That's him. You're right. What will I do if he comes here? Maybe he's not coming here. Maybe I imagined the..."

"Would you like to dance?" The man was in front of her, suddenly, and even though she had been waiting all night to talk to him, it seemed too soon. Jane's panicked eyes collided with Lanette's. Her friend winked and grinned at her.

"Yes, go, silly. I see some friends I'd like to talk to, don't worry about me." And with that statement, Lanette was up from her chair and heading across the room.

"Ah...er...do I know you?" For some reason Jane seemed stuck to the chair. All her intentions of flirting had vanished. Her heart thudded uncertainly in her chest, her hands felt clammy, and she couldn't seem to order her legs to stand up.

"Maybe not," he said, taking her cold hand in his and urging her towards the dance floor, "but you soon will."

_So...she doesn't even remember me. All these years I have been pining for her, and she doesn't even know me when she sees me,_ he thought.

As luck would have it, the band was playing a slow, sweet song. As Jane put her hand on the man's flannel-clad shoulder, she felt his muscles bunch and she nearly swooned with the sensation. She could feel her inner self sinking deliciously into a lost place, that delicious lost place only known to lovers.

"My name's Rory," the man bent his head to say, sweet and low, into her ear.

"I-I am Jane."

"I'm verrry pleased to meet you, Jane," he purred, close to her ear. _Jane,_ he thought. _How often have I wondered about my midnight faery's name? It suits her. Strong, like I sensed she was, but not flashy._

The deep tones of Rory's voice resonated all the way to Jane's belly. She was much too warm and she was having trouble breathing. She tried to put some space in between them, but his strong arms surrounded her securely and she couldn't budge him easily.

"Ummm," her voice sounded small and mouse-like "I can't breathe. Can I have a little space?"

Quickly, he complied by holding her a foot away from him. It looked ridiculous as a dancing stance but it allowed Jane to gulp in some air. He chuckled. "So, you feel it, too? This fire between us?"

Jane was quiet. She could not admit anything yet. She just wasn't ready for all this!

"I'm coming on too strong, eh? Well, I'll back off. I don't want you to run away, now that I've found you." Rory's brain raced furiously. _No, I'm sure not going to let you get away...I've got to get you out of my system, whether you're cold-hearted or not._ He noticed the speed his heart was pumping and was annoyed with his body for reacting beyond his control.

Jane looked up into his face, into his eyes, when she heard a little pleading in his tone, and she was jolted again. Close-up, his eyes were an amazing, deep blue. She'd only ever seen eyes like that once before...and they had affected her the same way. Was it possible this was the same person? _Wishful thinking,_ she mocked herself. _That was years ago, and far away._

Jane turned away and headed for a table, conscious every minute of him close behind her.

Rory held her chair for her and Jane sat in it. _I'll be every inch the gentleman until she can't resist me...just like I haven't been able to resist her memory._ He felt the familiar tightness in his gut at the unfairness of him feeling so much for her while she seemed to take him so lightly. He forced the feeling down, felt it swirl and mix with nervousness in his stomach. He tried to squash his emotional reaction, to appear calm and charming. He forced his smile to appear easy on his face.

The same waitress who had delivered the beer earlier came over immediately. "What will you have Jane? Coffee?" At Jane's nod, Rory said, "Two coffees, Nelda. Thanks."

"You must come here often if you know the waitresses by name," tumbled out of Jane's mouth before she could stop it.

Rory chuckled. "You could say that. I own this place."

"Oh! It was you who sent the beer."

"Yes." He paused. "Just how many of us _do_ you have smitten tonight, Jane?"

"Well, none," Jane stammered, "I'm not the kind of girl men usually buy drinks for. I thought it was a mistake, actually."

"No, no mistake. I meant it for you, so you wouldn't forget me while I was out of sight. It looked as if it got put to good use, anyway,"

"Yes, those cowboys guzzled it down pretty fast. But how did you know? Were you watching? Where have you been all night?" she asked curiously.

"I've been helping out back stage. The place doesn't run itself, you know!"

"Oh, I guess that makes sense."

"I should be done for the evening, though. I think the staff have everything under control. Can I offer you a tour of the establishment? I noticed you seemed to be pretty interested in the decor earlier."

"I'd love that. Thank you."

Rory shook his head as her voice, low and sexy, reached his ears. He realized he had been staring at her, fascinated by the play of emotions on her face at his simple question. Such a complex creature she was!

_I don't really know her at all,_ he realized. _I've been obsessed with her memory for years, on the strength of one night's acquaintance, but she's all grown up now...Is it possible I'm wrong about her being a cold tease? Could she be as warm and sweet as she seems?_

_She's certainly a rare jewel compared to most of the women here,_ he couldn't stop the thought from rushing through his mind _._ She glowed with the deep inner glow of a ruby, so much more mysterious and enchanting than the other girls who looked diamond-bright. She looked different in every new light he saw her, in every different emotion. _And the night's still young!_ He dreamed for a minute of other emotions he could try to put in her face, of the way she would look when he kissed her again. He struggled out of his fantasy world back to the present.

_It's a facade,_ his protective inner voice insisted. _She might seem sweet, but she'd probably do the same thing all over again...get you all excited and leave you wanting. Leopards don't change their spots._

He tried to sound casual as he said, "I'll be right back. I should just let my staff know where I'm off to," but his voice cracked a little in the middle and he had to clear his throat.

Jane waited at the table while Rory went across the bar to inform the bartender of his plan. Her heart fluttered in her breast as she watched his broad, flannel-clad shoulders weave between people on his way across the room. She saw the bartender flash a quick grin in response to whatever Rory was saying, and her stomach jumped as she realized she would soon be alone with this incredible man. Her palms felt sweaty and she tried to make herself cool down. What had happened to cool Miss Parker? Jane realized she wouldn't be capable of putting on her calm, professional persona right now, to save her life.

Rory returned to the table with a bounce in his step and helped Jane gallantly to her feet by taking her hand. He did not immediately let go and Jane's stomach clenched anew at the sensation of her small cool hand in his large warm strong one.

"Ready for your tour?" he asked, his voice deep and husky.

Jane realized that they really were standing quite close, and electricity pulsed through her as she let herself drown in the magic pools of his eyes. With an effort she pulled herself back to the present. _You're in public, honey, try to act like it_ , her inner voice chided her.

"Yes! Yes, I'm ready." Trying to be discreet, Jane tugged at her hand until he let it go. He looked at her, surprised, because her hand had felt so natural in his that he had barely been conscious of taking it. All he was looking at was the top of her head because she seemed very busy studying her boots, and the dance floor, and everything but him. _At least she's coming for the tour, she must have a little interest in me,_ he thought. _Or is she just measuring up the assets?_ He shrugged. _And why am I so eager to show this all to her, despite knowing the kind of tease she is? No wonder she didn't tell me her name that night...she was probably leading me on the whole time and never planned to come see me again._

Rory tamped down his unpalatable contemplations. _I should enjoy being with her, now I've found her,_ he told himself.

_Why? So she can hurt me again?_ Rory begged the voices in his head to be still, and led Jane to a quieter corner. "I guess I'll tell you a little about the bar room, first. It looks completely different from when I bought it. I run it much differently, too."

"Oh? How's that?"

"Well, there used to be quite a racket of illegal activities out of this joint—gambling, drugs, ladies...of the night." At this last item he raised his eyebrows at her, wondering if she would blush. To his delight, she did.

"Oh. So you've stopped all that now?"

"Well...the illegal aspects, anyway. The RCMP in town were a big help. I admit that the erotic dancers still do put on the occasional show, but nothing like they used to, here."

"There must be some stigma left, though," Jane asked. As a new teacher, her coworkers had vehemently espoused the importance of a good reputation. The churches were quite strong in most small prairie towns and even in the nineties people looked to old-fashioned morally upright values. As a young teacher it had been hard to lock herself away, but she had gradually grown a shell and learned to fit into the mold of "small town schoolteacher." Over the years, restricting her social life had only increased her natural shyness.

"Yes, there are still people who believe that this place is totally degenerate," Rory agreed. "But those are usually the same people who frown on all drinking, and are against educating the youth about birth control...the reality is, this is a working man's town, and there are a lot of lonely guys here who need an outlet after work. When push comes to shove, I'm a businessman, and I've got to deal in realities if I want my business to thrive."

Jane smiled ruefully. "I know what you mean. I end up adapting my teaching curriculum to fit the working community here, too...Anyway, it seems like the whole community must be here tonight, so I guess you have succeeded in winning them over!"

Rory grinned. "Of course, they might all be here just to try and glimpse our ghost."

"Ghost!" Jane looked as if she didn't believe him. "The cowboys we were sitting with tonight said something about that, but I thought it was just a rumour. You mean to tell me it's true?"

"Yes, she seems like a nice ghost, though. We call her Elle. There are several rumours going around about who she really is, but I'll tell you the version I think is most likely true."

Jane was gazing at him with round, eager eyes, and Rory laughed.

"You're not going to get too spooked?" Jane shook her head in an emphatic "no."

"Well, back in the twenties, Elle was honeymooning here, and she was killed in a freak accident. As the story goes, Old Peanut—have you heard about Old Peanut?"

Jane nodded and Rory lost his train of thought for a moment, dazzled by the eager shine in her eyes. _God, she's lovely,_ he thought. _As lovely as ever._ He shook his head to clear it, and continued his story.

"Well, as they normally did on a Saturday, Old Peanut and his horse were in the bar for a beer. Elle and her brand-new husband were waltzing on the dance floor. Over by the bar, a fight broke out between two cowboys, and somehow, they spooked the horse. It went a little crazy, reared and bucked its way onto the dance floor, and before anybody could get control of it, it had cracked its hoof against the bride's head."

"Oh no!" Jane gasped involuntarily, and Rory lost his thoughts again. _I'd like to kiss her lips where she's biting them._ He allowed himself to admire her teeth, nibbling worriedly at her lip, for a minute.

"Afraid so. As the story went there wasn't much blood. There must have been internal injuries, though, because she died in her lover's arms very shortly afterwards, right out there on the dance floor. Apparently she opened her eyes for a minute before she died, and said to her lover, "I will wait for you." Legend has it that he kissed her as her last breath left her, and he has never had another love. He just went back to the farm and moved into the bunk house, letting his younger brother have the main house to raise his own family. He was a regular in this bar, until he moved into a nursing home in town a couple of years ago."

"That's so sad," Jane said.

"It is tragic. I wonder at times if Harry's move to the home and the cessation of his visits is why Elle became active when I bought the place. The previous owners never knew a thing about her, but it may have been that she stayed quiet while Harry was here every week. He went into the nursing home at about the same time that I took over. I went to have tea with him once or twice, but whenever I tried to bring up Elle, he just drifted off and wouldn't answer anything. I would like to think that they would get back together sometime in eternity. If the story is the right one, they sure do seem to be waiting for each other."

"It is pretty interesting." Jane was fascinated by Rory's tale. "What do you mean by 'became active?'"

"Well, I'll tell you that bit as we go along."

"Oh, you're teasing me!" Jane delivered a light punch to his abdomen, a thrill racing through her as her knuckles grazed the dips and curves of well-developed muscles there. His fingers clamped around her wrist implacably, holding her fist to his stomach.

"So you want to play rough, do you?" The look in his eyes made Jane think of many things other than ghosts, and she felt each beat of her heart as she held her breath. He released her wrist and carried on with the tour in an even, unaffected tone.

"The bar itself with its sale of alcohol is my main income earner. It has supported the other projects I have done, like updating the kitchen and restoring the second floor."

As frustrated as she was that he seemed not to be interested in her as a woman, Jane was fascinated by his tale of the renovations, and marvelled at his business sense. _That's what I'm going to have to learn how to do, if I want to make a success of my art_ , she thought. She listened avidly to the details of how he'd built his business.

"I think at the beginning the actual bar room was the lobby and dining area of the original hotel. It was probably very similar to the luxury hotels that were built by the Canadian Pacific Railway around the turn of the century. I am not sure if this was an actual CPR hotel, but it must have been the jewel of town in its heyday. When I took it over, it was in an appalling state of disrepair, and that's where Miss Elle comes in."

"Yes, hurry to the ghost story, the suspense is killing me," Jane implored.

Rory laughed. "All in good time, Jane, there are so many details in Elle's story that I had better tell them in order or I will forget some of them." _I'm already having a hard enough time keeping my thoughts on this chatter when I'd rather just be holding you,_ he thought, but decided not to blurt that particular thought out just yet. Jane was waiting impatiently, tapping her foot, so he continued.

"The first thing Elle started doing was knocking on the walls. I guess it was her way of showing us where to start—she really seemed to want the renovations done. I understand why, now that I see the finished product!"

"Yes," Jane agreed, "It's lovely now."

"Thank you," Rory murmured, and Jane felt her stomach quiver in response. "About thirty or forty years ago, someone made some horrible changes to the place, covering up much of the original beauty."

Rory was speaking enthusiastically and Jane could tell that this must be one of his favourite topics. They were ascending a lovely carved staircase that swept along the side of the barroom. "As an example of the total poor taste that went into the old renovation job, this staircase was completely blocked off by a false wall of cheap plasterboard. Until we took the plaster walls down, there used to be atrocious knocking on them at night."

"Why do you think she was knocking?"

"I guess she hated the hideous renovations, and wanted us to undo them. It's amazing they didn't destroy the place entirely!"

Jane murmured her agreement, fascinated with the sparkle in Rory's eyes as he talked. No small wonder his eyes shone—he had done a fantastic job of renovating his investment.

"My first priority was to clean up the atmosphere of the bar. It was really seedy before, and failing financially, so I wanted to get some business back, and some income. It was lucky that I was able to push the real estate deal through before the bank foreclosed and forced the previous owners out. It would have been a shame to lose the regulars, which I probably would have if the place had been left vacant for a period of time."

"What about during the renovations?"

"They didn't take as long as you would expect. Because the foundations were in very good condition, it took very little to restore the bar room itself, to what you see now. I hired three out-of-work brothers who had just arrived in town, and together the four of us made quick progress. I gave them the second floor apartment to stay in for a while, so they didn't seem to mind working long hours with me. I planned each stage of the renovations so that it could be done quickly, independent of the other processes. We were usually able to clean up for the weekends. The die-hard regulars stayed on anyway. I think they're more interested in the company of their buddies and the drinks than the atmosphere of the building. I guess they found the renovation process interesting, too."

"Mmm." Jane agreed. "I love watching a project go from start to finish."

Rory looked at her for a moment, pleased that she understood his sense of satisfaction with building and creating. "You should have seen the carpet that was in here—some crazy orange and mustard yellow combination, full of cigarette burns and alcohol spills. The first thing we did was rip that up, intending to replace it. We discovered a sturdy wooden floor beneath it, though, and when we were done cleaning it up from its hibernation under the carpet, it looked as if it had always been there, so we never did recarpet."

Jane loved watching the animation in his handsome face as he talked, loved how she felt when his deep voice spoke just to her. She felt as if she could listen to him all night.

"Then we took down the horrible old ceiling tiles that were yellowed with age and smoke and discovered that the roof was of the same sturdy wooden construction with large beams criss-crossing the roof. Happily, whoever installed the tiles for the hippy renovation managed to do so without damaging the beams underneath too much, and the whole rack of tiles came down quite easily. There were a few nail holes left over that didn't look so hot, but someone had the idea of hanging horseshoes over them, right-side up, for luck. They look good, don't you think?"

"Yes, the decorations add to the ambiance," Jane agreed. "It's almost like a cowboy museum."

"The removal of the ceiling tiles had left the very tops of the gyp-rock walls bare, so we pulled down the rest of the gyp-rock too, and it turned out that the walls were nicely paneled in solid wood, too. Underneath we discovered some old cattle brands were burned into the wood, from some of the earliest ranches in the area. At the grand re-opening, I invited the newer ranches to add their brands, now I have some loyal new customers."

"That was a good idea!" Jane exclaimed. It was easy to get caught on the tide of Rory's enthusiasm. "It must have been a lot of fun to start this all up from scratch."

"You're right, I did have a lot of fun with it, making a success of something that had been failing. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure if I enjoy the hum-drum managing that I do now nearly as much, although it is less work!"

"Guess you'll have to just move somewhere else and do it all over again. Want to be partners?" _Oops!_ How had she let that slip out? _Anyway_ , she vindicated herself, _I am just flirting. Surely he understands that?_ _Am I doing it right?_ It was very odd to have such a forward thought after knowing him so briefly, but Jane realized that she had really meant that offer, even if it had been offered in a teasing tone. Here was a man she would enjoy being partners with—in business or in pleasure.

"I thought you were a school teacher, not a business woman?"

"Well, a woman can change her career these days, you know!"

"That is true." Luckily, although it was a bit of a set-down, Rory seemed in a more practical frame of mind and did not play along with her ridiculous fantasy. She didn't know what she would have done if he had. "However, maybe we should get to know each other a little better before we jump into business together. Unless you were talking about another kind of partnership?" He leered at her suggestively.

He rejoiced. _She is interested in me. Now just the right amount of hard-to-get to really reel her in...What are you going to do with her then, buddy?_ he asked himself.

_I'll cross that bridge when I come to it,_ he thought. _At least I'll get her out of my system, once and for all._

Jane blushed. "Er..."

He laughed, delighted with embarrassing her, high on the rush of strength he was feeling at having her near him at last, having her paying attention to him. "Back to our tour..." Despite himself, despite his resolve to not get too hooked on her, he found himself talking and talking, dredging up every detail of the renovation, just to prolong this time with her, just to watch her listen.

"I couldn't believe how easy it was to renovate this floor. Elle must have helped us out, somehow. It was as though the hotel had only been wishing to be restored to its former glory. It turned out nothing like I imagined it would, but I like it now."

"Yes, me too, it's perfect, very cozy. Where did you get the artwork from? Those paintings look to be about the same vintage as the walls!" Jane admired the prairie scenes depicting the everyday adventures of the early settlers. Her artist's eye considered the style to be somewhat crude, but effectively pleasing nonetheless.

"Even those were given to me by Lady Luck...and Elle! A honeymooning couple mentioned hearing waltz music on the third floor. I went to investigate, and I found an old storeroom. Sure enough, there was a record player in there, with some waltz records, but they didn't look like they had been used for decades! I don't know how Elle manages to make the music, but she seems to be a pretty determined ghost. As far as I can figure, she only plays this music to people who are very much in love. When she wants to make music, she does."

Jane shivered, and he wondered if she would shiver the same way, if he ran his finger lightly along her skin..."Don't worry, I think she's kind at heart. It just sounds creepy. I have never heard the music, but people who have say they just feel cherished and appreciated. In the same way that the bands started to take Elle's knocking as a compliment, the married couples seem to like being visited by her too. They say it's like a kind of approval, as if she believes in their love."

Jane was touched by the story, although the cynical side of her personality told her not to believe it.

"Anyway, I found the paintings in the store room, under a heavy layer of dust, but not too much the worse for wear. I liked the pioneer days theme to them. They match the almost all-wood decor of the bar very nicely, I think."

"It's very western and homey feeling. Kind of like walking into the past, but with all the modern amenities!"

Rory looked pleased with her assessment. "I'm so glad you like it, Jane." Her insides quivered with his regard of her.

With his luck in discovering what already existed, Rory was able to move quickly to update the rest of the place.

Jane and Rory had progressed to the top of the staircase. "Up here was pretty bad, too. It had been used as free accommodation for members of the bands that came to town to play...they sure couldn't have charged for it!"

Jane was amazed at how easy she found being with this big bearded man. She felt totally comfortable with him, with none of the awkward shyness or disinterest she normally felt around men.

"...the orange shag carpet was definitely on its last threads!" Rory finished.

Jane laughed in amazement. "Shag carpet!"

"I like shag carpet," Rory insisted. "It was kind of a shame to let it go...history, you know."

"I suppose..." Jane didn't want to hurt his feelings, but then she saw the twinkle of mirth in his eye and realized he was joking. She snorted. "Yeah, right!"

Rory shrugged his massive shoulders. "I guess Elle agreed with you. She knocked up here until the shag carpet was gone. I'm just waiting to see what other ways she'll find, to let us know she's here!"

Rory led Jane up another staircase. This one was narrow and functional, rather than grandiose like the one from the first floor. "The whole third floor of rooms had been closed up, so they were relatively untouched during the last renovations."

"That was a blessing!"

"It sure was. These rooms still contain much of the original furniture from the early part of the century. It is good quality, but it was badly neglected. In a wetter climate it would have been rotting and mildewed. Here in the dry prairie, the furniture was in need of wood oil and furniture polish, but it certainly was not beyond repair. So even this level was easier to restore than I had anticipated it being. Luck was sure on my side!"

_Or maybe just sheer determination_ , Jane thought. Rory's enthusiasm and entrepreneurial spirit seemed to have carried him through loads of work that would have had most people giving up or quitting.

"So!" Rory concluded, "that was the tour. What do you think?"

"I'm very impressed," she said with quiet certitude. "You're a worthy guy."

"Well, thanks." Finally it was Rory's turn to look a little embarrassed. _Is it possible she's a nice person after all, not as cold-hearted as I've thought?_ He felt himself warming under her interest, and despised himself for it.

"So what kind of music do you get in the bar? Mostly country and western, I guess."

"Well, you're right, in this community a certain amount of country music is called for. But we're actually quite eclectic. I kept on some of the local rock acts that have been playing here for years, and we've started a weekly tradition of free-to-all jam sessions. Saturdays the rockers and country players come out, and Tuesdays, we do Celtic. We don't do that so much for the local crowd, though. It's just something that's always been a part of my life, and I was lucky enough to find some fellow Maritimers out west here who are also into the Celtic scene. I have Celtic musician friends all over the west, sometimes one or two drop by for a day or two. I meet them at Celtic festivals around the place."

"Hmmm..." Jane said, concentrating on her lace-up dancing boots as they trod down the stairs. "It sounds like I'll have to make it out to see some of these jam sessions sometime."

"You're sure welcome," he heard himself assuring her. "Why don't you join in some day? Do you play any music? Or sing?"

Jane felt inadequate all of a sudden. "No...not really. I play the classical flute, but that's hardly something to jam with."

"No, I guess not."

They'd reached the main floor bar-room now.

"Can I offer you a drink?" Rory asked.

Jane looked at her watch, and she saw Lanette sitting down, looking towards her. "Oh, no, thank you, but I think I'd better go. It's getting late and Lanette has to work tomorrow."

"Mmmm.... too bad. I'd like to see you again, Jane. Can I take you for dinner this week?"

"Why?" she blurted out. _He can't be interested in plain old me._

"Can't you feel why, Jane? Have you ever felt a pull between two people as strongly as there is between us?"

_Yes, once, a long, long time ago,_ Jane thought. She thought of her resolution and tried to squash her shyness. "All right. I don't live here, though, I live in Brooks. Where should I meet you?"

"Meet me! No way. I'll pick you up. If you give me your number, I'll call you this week and arrange something."

He waved Nelda over and asked to borrow her order pad and a pen. Jane could feel the other woman's glaring eyes as she wrote the number down, but refused to let her hand shake. She finished quickly and gave the pen back. The waitress flounced away. Rory picked up her hand and reverently kissed her palm, his eyes burning into hers. Jane felt the warmth and electricity of his lips travel all the way up her spine. "Until the next time." He walked with her to Lanette's table, and went back behind the bar.

"Wowsers!" Lanette exclaimed. "No wonder you're in a cloud. He is a hunk."

"Yeah, I know," Jane said dreamily.

"Sooo, what's the deal? I saw him taking your number."

"Yeah. But I am not sure, Lanette. I have just realized...the school board is not going to like this. Even though Rory renovated McGillicutty's and changed what goes on there, who the clientele are, the fuddy-duddies who control my job still think of the way it was."

"Isn't he worth a little risk, though?" her friend demanded. "We were just talking about something new in your life...isn't this it?"

"Maybe it is, Lanny. But what if it's not? I could lose my job over something like this...hanging around in the "wrong" places, with the "wrong" people. It has happened in this town before."

"Get real, Jane. Not in this day and age."

"I hope you're right, Lanny, I hope you're right. I have to admit I want to give it a try."

"I knew it!" Lanette was triumphant.

"Well," Jane used her cautious voice, the one she usually reserved for overenthusiastic teenagers on school field trips, "We'll just have to see what happens."

Rory collapsed in a chair at three in the morning. Finally, all the guests had been ushered out and the place was tidied up. Jill, his assistant manager, would usually have been the one to stay to the end and lock up, but he'd sent her home. He knew he would be completely unable to sleep, himself, with the amount of nervous energy that was surging through his system. Clancy, a friend of his, had stayed on, sensing that something was up, and now the two men blew companionably on hot cups of coffee cradled in their hands.

"So, man, are you going to let me in on what's bugging you?" Clancy asked.

"I can't believe I've finally found her."

"Who's that?"

"You know, Clancy, _her_. The one I've been miserable about all these years...and she walked right in the door of my own bar tonight. Didn't even recognize me." The misery in his voice made Clancy's heart ache.

"That one? The one from Nova Scotia?" Rory nodded. "Do you even want her? I thought you told me she stood you up, that she was unreliable."

"I know, Clancy, I know," Rory expelled a huge breath. "But she seems so sweet. What if I was wrong about her?"

"Oh, I don't know, mate. I don't think people change. If she treated you wrongly before, she'll do it again." Clancy had just been through a bad breakup himself, and was admittedly biased, but what he said echoed Rory's earlier thoughts, and he wondered if his friend was right.

"But I want to be with her, Clancy." Rory's voice was tortured. "I can't help myself."

"So sleep with her," his friend said casually. "Get her out of your system. Hey, wait a minute, I've got some inspiration for you." Rory watched curiously as the Australian crossed the dance floor to the DJ booth and rummage through the CDs.

"Listen to this," Clancy commanded as music flooded the empty bar.

Rory heard the familiar chords of a country song and then heard the words fill the room.

_I'll come back as another woman. The one with all the secrets to your heart...I'll be the one you turn to, who you reach for in the dark. I'll be the one to melt your cold cold heart._

_"_ What are you trying to get at, Clancy?"

" Don't you see? It's your big chance, man. She doesn't recognize you. You've come back as another man. It's your chance for a little revenge."

_I'll come back as another woman..._ His emotion, his anger, frustration, elation, warred inside him. _How would she like it if I made her crazy about me and left?_ He shook his head. _I've been so lucky to find her again...it would be foolish to give that up now._

"Ohhh, Clancy, that's not nice."

"Well, mate, from what you've told me over the years, she's not all that nice herself. She stood you up and didn't care that you were miserable for so long. Don't you think turnabout's fair play?"

"All is fair in love and war, eh?"

"Now you get it, mate, now you get it."

_But what am I trying to win?_ Rory wondered.

"It's a dangerous game you're suggesting, friend. I don't think it's such a good idea."

"No more dangerous than that time you nearly had your chest stepped on by a bronc when you tried to ride it in that rodeo a few years ago. Come on, man. It's your chance to get back at them. Do it for all of us men they've treated wrongly. Do it for me, man. At least get her into bed."

But in the end, Rory knew...he'd asked her to dinner because he wanted her company, couldn't get enough of her.

Nelda smirked from where she sat in the office, where she'd gone to change from her waitress outfit before leaving. Naturally she'd stayed when she'd seen the two men sit down to talk. _So that's what he's been so het up about all night. Who would have ever thought old Nosy Parker had a man like that in her past? Anyway, she's much too boring for him now. I'll fix her. Rory deserves a more exciting woman. A woman like me._

# Chapter Three

Jane passed the next week in a quiet haze of happiness. She worked at her painting, delighting in the bright blue of the sky and the enchanting depths of the water. When it was finished, she felt a satisfaction more complete than was usual when she finished a piece. Standing back, she thought it was one of her best works yet. There seemed to be something special about it, an extra glow coming from the wheat where she had touched the stalks with sunlight.

Work smoothed out, too, over the week. Carl got himself kicked out of school on a matter totally unrelated to Jane's class, and other students who had been thinking of following him down the road to misbehavior were subdued for a while.

Rory called her on Wednesday and asked if she would like to go out for Saturday night. She was more nervous than she had been in ages. She felt like a teenager, but she couldn't think of a thing to change that would make her life better.

"So, big date with the honey tonight, eh?" Lanette teased Jane over the phone.

"Yep," Jane grinned at her friend's teasing tone. She could not remember when she had last felt so happy and carefree, and she didn't even rise to Lanette's teasing bait.

"So...what are you going to wear?" Lanette was asking her now.

"Hmm...I don't know. Why don't you come over and help me pick it out?" Jane invited. "He's not picking me up until 6:30."

"Okay, I'll be over in five minutes."

When Lanette arrived, Jane was curling her hair, which was so long and healthy that it looked fantastic even when she did nothing with it.

"Wow! This _is_ a big deal. I can't remember when the last time was that you actually bothered with your appearance. Usually it's just a dash of lipstick, a quick brush of your hair, and off we go. This must be some impressive guy."

"Oh, I don't know if he's anything all that special. It's just been so long since I've had a real date! But then again, there is something so...electric...about his eyes."

"Mmmm...he sure is a looker! And as I recall, that electricity was all aimed your way the night we were at his bar. I noticed quite a few girls giving you nasty looks. Not that you would notice, you were so focused on Rory. Mind you, he was just as focused on you!" Jane blushed. Lanette sighed. "Handsome, strong, gorgeous eyes, and an entrepreneur to boot! If I didn't have such a wonderful guy of my own, I might even have tried to give you some competition. He sure looks better than most of the guys in this town, those rig workers, all dirty and smelly even when they go out...too piggy to have a shower!"

Jane silently agreed but she still felt compelled to argue a little. "We don't really have proof he's such a hot entrepreneur. Maybe he just got lucky with the bar."

"Oh, Jane!" Lanette sighed, exasperated. "Always so cautious with the evidence! Live a little. You know your instincts are screaming out that he's a fantastic guy, why deny it?"

"I don't know. I guess it just seems too good to be true."

"Anyway, you can't deny that sparkle in your eye, and the rose in your cheeks, can you?" Lanette teased.

Jane's baby blue eyes, which had started September so tired and lackluster, were sparkling as if she had a special secret. Her cheeks were blooming and even her lips seemed happy and ready for a kiss. There was no trace of Miss Parker, school marm and disciplinarian.

In the end, they decided she should wear her full button-up denim skirt with a romantic lace petticoat that was designed to peek out the bottom, and a fitted lace blouse. It was an old-fashioned look, but Jane carried it off with style, and she knew that the tight bodice showed off her tiny waist to advantage.

He picked her up in a battered old lime green truck, a well-turned out, very fine looking gentleman despite the dilapidated vehicle. He opened her door for her, and he gave a low, sexy wolf-whistle and teasingly patted her rump as she climbed up on to the seat.

Jane laughed to cover the sensation that zapped through her. "And here I was about to call you a gentleman!"

Rory laughed too. "Well, I am an honest man, darlin', so I can tell you that you'd better get that idea out of your head right quick!"

"Well, I love your truck, even if it's not a gentleman's BMW. It has so much character about it. How old is this thing, anyway?" she had to ask.

"It's a 1942 edition. It takes a little maintenance, but I love it. I bought it from a buddy of mine when I was working on the rigs."

"I didn't know you had worked on the rigs. Lanny and I were just talking about 'rig-pigs' an hour ago," she said teasingly, slanting him a sly smile.

"Well, I'm not a 'rig-pig' anymore. I don't think I ever was that "piggy" myself, although I would not say the same for all the guys I worked with. It's amazing how some of those guys live. Anyway, that's what brought me out west in the first place. You know there's not much work at home." _Oops, did I just give it away?_ he wondered, but covered it quickly by continuing his story:

"I worked until I saved enough capital to buy the bar."

Ignoring his odd phrasing, Jane asked, "Out west? Where are you from originally?"

"I'm from a little place in Nova Scotia near Lunenberg."

"Really? I was brought up on the Digby peninsula."

"That's incredible. Isn't it funny that we lived so close to each other growing up, then we moved six thousand kilometres away from home, and end up living a half hour apart? It seems we're getting closer all the time. It must be Fate," he teased. _Just like I knew it was that first night we met, Janey girl. Do you really not recognize me? Of course, I am still wearing this beard,_ he reminded himself optimistically, and stroked it thoughtfully. _Maybe I should shave it, maybe then she'd recognize me._

_Yes,_ she thought, _it is like Fate._

_If only it could actually work out._

_If only I can somehow swing this relationship without losing my job._

They ate at the best restaurant in town, which happened to serve Greek food. The decor was lovely, all white plaster walls and ceramic tile on the floor, and travel posters of Greece on the wall.

"I hope you don't mind Greek food," Rory said.

"Oh no, I love it. In fact, Greece must be one of my favourite countries out of all the ones I have travelled to." Jane enthused.

"Have you travelled much?" Rory asked, after they had decided on their order. Jane liked to share when she went out for dinner, and she was happy that Rory seemed to have the same idea. They ordered _calamari_ , fried squid, to share for an appetizer, and then a combo plate for two with a Greek salad to share on the side. Rory also convinced her that they needed a bottle of retsina, the typical Greek pine-flavoured wine. Jane did not resist too vigorously. She knew that she would probably regret relaxing her guard so much with this man who she barely knew, but at the moment, she could not help herself. He was so likable, and somehow she trusted him implicitly. It was so easy to let down her guard and have fun for a change.

That trust and the wine made her tongue much looser than usual throughout dinner. Jane rattled on about her trip to Greece and the Middle East, her trip to Asia, and her trip to Europe. She rattled on about the Caribbean, about Disney World, about Northern Canada. Rory was such a good listener that they were eating baklava and drinking strong Greek coffee before Jane realized that she had monopolized the conversation.

Feeling a little sheepish, she resorted to attack being the best form of defence. "Oops.... once I start talking about travelling, I have a hard time getting stopped. But here I have been babbling away, and I don't know a thing about you."

"I am a mystery man. Maybe I won't give up my secrets so easily," he replied, raising his eyebrows and peering at her flirtily above his coffee cup. "Anyway, you're lovely when you're so animated with excitement..." _makes me wonder how those baby blues will look after I kiss her..._ He cleared his throat. "Er, what would you like to do now? Do you want to check if there's a band on at the 'Zoo?'"

She hesitated. _Another place the school board doesn't like._ "Sure," she answered recklessly. _Why shouldn't I live a little? I am a grown woman!_

As it turned out, they shot a few rounds of pool while they were at the bar, because the band was playing folk music. It was a good band, but the music wasn't suitable for dancing. Which was both a relief and a disappointment to Jane, who would love to be in Rory's arms, but wasn't sure if she could control her hormones if she did get the chance to be near him. It was a good compensation to get to ogle him across the pool table.

"Gee!" said Rory. "You're pretty good at this...for a girl!"

"You big...! Why, I oughtta.... " Jane chased him around the table with her pool cue. "I've probably been—"

"Yeah, Miss Parker! Go get him!" came some voices from across the bar, and Jane stopped dead as she realized that some of her old students were in the room.

"Er, maybe we should sit down," Jane said, chastened. _Oh, great, if Mr. Wiggers hears about this he'll be giving me the cold shoulder all next week..._ While Jane recomposed herself, Rory ordered a couple more pints of the dark beer they were drinking. Peering into her distracted eyes, he finally caught her attention and said sympathetically, "Students can be a pain in the neck, eh?"

"Ah, they're just having fun. It's more my principal I'm worrying about. He has a theory that teachers shouldn't be seen in bars, so if he hears that I was here, he'll be giving me the evil eye all next week. Dangit!"

"Ah, well, we're having a good time, aren't we? So maybe it's worth it."

Their beer arrived and Jane raised hers in a toast. "It certainly is! Here's to the most fun I've had in ages!" she proclaimed heartily.

"It certainly is, Janey girl, it certainly is."

Rory had that look in his eye again, the one that burned in Jane's stomach, and she covered up by starting to babble again.

"As I was saying, before we were so rudely interrupted, I've probably been playing this game longer than you have. My great uncle Edward was a crack shot at pool, and he taught me. Some of my fondest childhood memories are around a pool table. His wife, my great aunt Marcie, was a great cheerleader. She had all sorts of interesting comments: You got it in the hole! Hurray! Another one in! You did it again! Good Job!—things like that. I used to like to count up all the different ways she had of congratulating us. I guess her encouraging habits were left over from when she was a school teacher. She was such a dear little person. But the funniest part of it was, Aunt Marcie never did grasp the fact that the white ball is supposed to stay _out_ of the pocket. She would cheer the loudest for that white ball, I always thought. Uncle Edward and I got a lot of laughs out of it.

"We tried to teach her the game, once. She still cheered when the white ball went down the pocket, even when she was the one who had shot it down there! We just decided to let her keep cheering after that, and everything went smoothly."

"Well, you seem to be a crack shot yourself. Maybe next game, we should play for stakes," Rory suggested, wagging his eyebrows naughtily at her.

Jane laughed. "I usually lose when there's something at stake...what did you have in mind?"

"How about, winner gets a kiss?" he suggested.

Jane flushed hot, then cold with goose bumps. She tried to cover it with another laugh but it came out sounding weak and nervous. "That doesn't make sense. Then the loser gets a kiss too. What kind of stakes are those?"

"Equitable ones. I am _such_ a fair guy," Rory complimented himself in a boastful manner.

"Yeah, right. You can't kiss me in the bar, anyway. I work in this town. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

"Well, I promise not to kiss you until we get in the truck, then."

Understandably, Jane missed the next few shots. When she finally gained her composure back and it looked like she might win, Rory blew in her ear while she was lining up the shot. "Hey! No fair!"

"May I remind you, turnabout is fair play?" he asked self-righteously.

"What do you mean, turnabout? I haven't touched you!"

"No, but that blouse of yours is enticing me every time you lean over to make a shot."

Jane looked down, checking his story. Her peaches and cream complexion quickly turned cranberry-colour for the third time that night. Indeed her blouse was a little low-cut, although not indecently so...when she was standing or sitting straight up. "Oops...and here I thought this blouse was so old-fashioned looking."

"Don't apologize to me. I really don't mind. I just hope that nobody else notices and wants to fight me for you!" Rory would just not let off his teasing tonight. In a way, Jane was glad, because when he was not teasing her, her treacherous thoughts turned to kisses. Which was hardly her fault with all the comments he was making.

"Ooh, Roreo, you'd get into a fight over little ol' me?" she faked an accent and batted her eyelashes.

"Sure would, sugar, as long as you promise to patch me up."

Suddenly she was wondering how much longer they would have to play games around the pool table until he took her home. Deciding to take some initiative of her own, Jane looked at her watch and yawned. "Gee, look at the time! I'd better get home."

"It's Saturday, Jane." Rory's voice was dry, his smile quirky.

"Well, I'm tired of playing pool. Let's go drink a cup of tea or something."

"Okay. But we haven't finished this last wager game."

Jane tried to employ her best pool skills from that moment, but she was somewhat distracted and Rory ended up winning. "Looks like you owe me a kiss soon, darling." His rich voice was sure and full of intent, and the knot in her stomach tied itself tighter.

Rory again opened her door before her own, and Jane's stomach clenched as his body brushed hers as he helped her get up into the truck. She tried not to stare at him nervously as he hopped into the driver's seat. He sat for a moment and looked at her, and the teasing light was still in his eyes, although there was seriousness, too. She sat, looking helplessly back, her stomach practically a hangman's noose by now. But he chuckled, started the truck, and backed from the parking spot. Jane's stomach felt like the fist squeezing it had suddenly let go, and she breathed a huge sigh of relief before she could stop herself.

Rory slanted her a sly look, but he didn't say anything. Neither of them seemed to have anything to say now, and as they neared Jane's house, her stomach began to tie itself in knots again. It was a hard fist in her midsection when they arrived at the door. But again, Rory turned the truck off and came around to open her door without any attempt to take her in his arms. He solicitously held the truck door for her and followed her up the walk to the door. He waited patiently until she opened the door and then he followed her in.

_Honestly,_ Jane thought, _if he doesn't kiss me soon, I am going to take the chore upon myself!_ Then, the old insecurities came back to her. _Maybe he doesn't actually want to kiss me. Maybe he was just teasing._

With this thought in mind, Jane's attitude cooled a little toward Rory. Breathe in. Breathe out. She was calm, cool, and collected when she walked into the cloak room and turned to ask, "What would you like to drink?"

And it was then, when she had stopped expecting it, that it happened. "I would like to drink in the essence of your soul." He lifted her chin a little with his big, strong, warm hand, and his eyes searched hers with an intensity that took her breath away. "I would have your eyes forever as the spring of my life's energy," he said. And there, with her coat half off, and his still on, he took her in his arms and kissed her.

And kissed her. And kissed her. And she was _definitely_ kissing him back. His beard tickled her face, but she barely noticed. It felt like she was drowning, drowning, and losing herself inside him...but it was like she had finally come alive and found herself for the first time in her life. Somehow her coat had ended up on the floor, as Rory's strong hands moved over her back restlessly, warming her through, setting her on fire. Her hair was mussed where his fingers had sunk deep into the thick waves, and her eyes had a slumberous, sensual look to them. When he finally stopped kissing her and looked down into them, he was tempted by that look to carry her off to the bedroom, but instead, he put those big paws of his on her shoulders and continued looking, just looking, at her for a while. Neither of them felt capable of speech. The thoughts tumbled, flashed through their eyes, but could not make it to their lips. Rory thought he saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes as the bewilderment caused by their passion began to fade, and it sparked him into movement. Clearing his throat, he gave her shoulders a squeeze. "I...I'll see you later, Janey girl." And he turned and went out to the truck before he could make more of a fool of himself.

# Chapter Four

Jane was restless all Sunday. Her regular household chores couldn't keep her mind off the question—was Rory was the boy from her past in Nova Scotia? _How could I find out?_ she wondered. The facts seemed to match up: Rory was from Nova Scotia, and he had been a musician since childhood.

He was tall, and what her imagination made of his physique under his clothes was a match with her memories of the swimmer of that summer evening.

Of course, he was more muscular than the nineteen-year old had been, but one would expect that change with maturity.

He had black hair and those same amazing night storm sea blue eyes.

And that kiss he'd given her, that amazing kiss. Jane had had a few kisses in her life, but there had only ever been two that had affected her so much. It would be reassuring to know that both had come from the same man. All day, she vacillated.

_It must be him._

_No, it's much too good to possibly be true._

It seemed like too much of a coincidence. To have met him ten years ago and thousands of kilometres away, at a point when she had desperately needed him, and then have him show up now, when she was beginning to feel like she needed someone, didn't seem very likely. It was all too perfectly timed to be believed. Probably a lot of people from Nova Scotia had stormy blue eyes. The boy she remembered had said he planned to go into the family business in Nova Scotia, while here Rory was in the west, very obviously making his own way in the world. _No, it's probably not him,_ she reasoned with her head.

Her head and heart drove her crazy, arguing back and forth inside her.

How could she find out if Rory had been that man all those years ago? She couldn't just come out and ask him. That night the teenage Jane had spent walking and talking to her soul mate was her most cherished, personal memory. She was not ready to lay all that bare, on the chance that she could be wrong. _I wish Gram was here to give me some advice._

Although her grandma had been dead for years now, Jane still missed their cozy chats and her grandma's wisdom. When Jane made decisions, she still considered how Grandma would have looked at the problem, and sometimes pretended to have conversations with her, like they used to have. It was always a great comfort to remember the love and advice of the person who had loved her best.

Jane decided to talk it over with Lanette. Two heads were better than one, and perhaps the other girl would have some ideas.

The kiss they had shared at the end of their date had affected Rory, as well. Something deep inside him, something which had lain dormant for years, moved when he kissed Jane. He found himself thinking of her constantly, from the moment he woke up, through work, until he finally fell asleep at night. He had been struck by a sense of rightness and déjà vu when he had held her in his arms. His body had remembered the way her lean form fit his own, as if they had been created as one. His lips had known the shape of hers without any need for adjustment. Her sensitive blue eyes set off a chord in him, that no other woman had ever struck. He was astonished that his memories of her, ideal as they were, didn't hold a candle to the reality of the woman she had grown into.

"Eh, Rory, you in on this set?" Mike, the flautist, asked as Rory strolled in the door for the usual Sunday afternoon Celtic jam session.

"Nah, not yet, thanks. Got some thinking to do."

Mike's brows shot up and his eyes met his partner's meaningfully. Rory sitting out? It was practically unheard of. Rory's ability with the tin flute and the _bodhran_ drum were legendary among those who knew about Celtic music in these parts. The bar's Sunday afternoon gathering was in large part patrons who had come to the session just to hear Rory play and sing.

"Maybe later?" Clancy pressed him.

"Yeah, in a bit, mate," Rory said to the Australian. Clancy and Rory had met years ago while they'd both been solo backpacking in Southeast Asia, and had been loyal friends ever since. Clancy'd decided to come up to see what Canada was about, about three years ago, and just hadn't gotten around to going home yet. Rory didn't mind giving him a job. He was a good man to have around. But even Clancy couldn't penetrate his thoughts today.

Rory got himself an orange juice from the fridge and pulled up a chair at the side. He let the rolls and swells of the music wash over him as his thoughts churned inside.

He had been delighted to find Jane in his bar that evening of the talent show, thought it was his chance to finally lay her ghost to rest. But instead he had very quickly fallen under her spell again, just as he had all those years ago, and he wanted to know her much better. The way he had felt for the girls he had dated in the last ten years didn't even compare to this.

_If I'd had the choice back then,_ he thought now, _I don't think I'd have ever let her go._

He revived the misty memory of that night over and over again, savouring the details he remembered clearly, and striving to revive more. He could still feel the mists on his face as they swirled around the two of them walking through the streets of the town that night. His nose revived the tangy salt and fish smell when he had found her by the sea, where he had gone for a swim after giving a performance with his Celtic group at the local pub. She had been a vision in blue jeans and a T-shirt, her long hair in a mess, and he had comforted her. He had cherished the perfect, warm, full feeling he'd experienced while she'd been in his arms, ever since, but never found it in another embrace. She had told him about her problems, had shared her life and soul with him, but she had not told him her name. He had kissed her in the morning, and invited her to come see him the next time he played in town. But she had not come.

He remembered that his fragile, nineteen-year old ego had been devastated. Something more than his ego had hurt, but he had denied it, because life had to go on. He wasn't always aware of it, but the bitterness he felt about being so wrong about Jane when he had been so instantly and positively sure that she had been the right one, had coloured his dealings with women ever since. It had been hard for him to take when she had not shown up when she said she would, and in some ways he felt that he had never recovered.

He longed to ask her why she had not come back that night. Being with her made him happy, made him feel alive, and he craved more of it. The ache began to ease when he acknowledged this, but he still felt wary.

He made a decision and he became aware of his surroundings, of the cadences of the Gaelic music that he loved. "Here, Clancy, pass me that drum!"

"Aie!" came up from the listening crowd, and the music went on, with Rory at its heart.

He called her on Monday and arranged to make dinner for her on Wednesday, at her house. His assistant manager, Jill, was surprised when he told her she would be holding down the fort alone for that night.

Jill never doubted that she was well capable of running the bar, but the boss did not take much time off. She nodded approvingly. Maybe the boss was finally getting himself a girl. It was about time. A handsome, intelligent guy like that would be wasted if he never got a chance to be a father.

"Miss Parker, you're writing the same equation over again!" one of her students advised her on Tuesday morning. It was difficult to concentrate on teaching polynomial division when all she really wanted to think about was Rory coming over tomorrow night. She was trying to think up some way to ask him if he was, who she thought he might be, but she had not come up with any good methods yet.

"Why don't you just ask him straight out?" Lanette advised when the two of them went out for lunch.

"I can't, Lanny. What if I'm wrong? I would feel so humiliated. And then it would make it seem like I think he's less than ideal, when, really, I have to say that he is the most exciting and interesting male I have dated in recent memory. I wouldn't want to spoil it over such a trivial thing. Does it really matter if he is the one from the past or not? That dream man of mine, was probably just a regular guy on an incredibly romantic night when my emotions were already overcharged from the trouble with my parents."

"Well, Jane, you're a lot more prosaic than I am. I would have been dying of curiosity, myself. Maybe you could try mentioning a really great band you once saw in your home town, then ask if he knew them, or ever played there. "

"That's not a bad idea, except that I was only fifteen when I left Nova Scotia, not old enough to go to a pub there. So I would not even know the name of a band."

"Guess we'll have to scrap that idea, then. Just have to be on your toes and see if an opportunity turns up." Jane murmured in agreement.

Then Lanette dropped the topic and began to tell Jane about her moving plans.

"But how did you know it was love?" Jane asked her friend.

"I don't know, he was just so beautiful there. His hair was glossy in the sunshine, and his teeth were so shiny, and his eyes sparkled at me..."

Jane laughed. "You make him sound like a shiny penny!"

Lanette thought about that for a moment. "I guess you're right. He does seem to glow. When he's around, he's the first thing I see. In my memories of situations, it's how he looked that I remember the most."

"Maybe you're just attracted to him because he's so sparkly."

"Maybe, but he sure is going to look good in those wedding photos," Lanette remarked happily. "Anyway, you've met him. Didn't he seem shiny to you?"

"No, not especially. I remember other people at that party just as well as I remember Rob. The only way he really stood out in my mind was that he's your fiancé."

"So maybe he is only meant to glow for me. I hope I'm shiny to him, too."

"I'm sure you are, darling. You're lovely. Anyway he wouldn't call you so often if he weren't totally hooked on you."

"I guess you're right," Lanette reflected smugly. She looked like a well-fed cat, totally satisfied and secure in her love. Jane felt a twinge of envy. Would she ever get so lucky herself as to feel that safe and content in a relationship?

"Don't you mind giving up your job here in Brooks?" Jane asked, almost wishing she could cause some discontent in her smug friend.

"Well, I had a good long think about it. I realized that I can live my life without my job, but life would be pretty boring without Rob. Hopefully I'll find another job that I will like as well, in Canmore, but it seems like a secondary consideration. I've been a travel agent for six years now, and the excitement and novelty of travel is nothing compared to how I feel with Rob. So I'll just have to see. Living in Canmore will be almost like living a constant holiday, anyway."

"Well, that's true." Canmore was a mountain town about an hour's drive west of Calgary. It had a booming economy, due to a fantastic location in the playground of the Rockies that helped it tap in on the tourist market. It was the kind of place that people travelled to on the weekends and dreamed of retiring to. _Wouldn't I love to have a man who counted more than my job?_ Jane tried to shelve her wistful feelings after her conversation with Lanette, and buried herself in preparing the next curriculum unit for her grade ten class.

After classes were over on Wednesday, the day Rory was to cook her dinner, Jane found it difficult to settle down to her usual stint of assignment marking and lesson planning. She opted to go for a hard workout at the school gym instead. She couldn't seem to get her mind off Rory, so she might as well work her body! Forcing her muscles to function eased her mind, which was still circling over the issue of how to find out whether Rory was her mysterious Nova Scotian boy.

Afterwards, muscles depleted, she went home and had a long, luxurious shower. She washed her hair with her special expensive shampoo, the one that she saved for special occasions. By the time Rory arrived, groceries and wine bottle in hand, Jane had donned her favourite green dress and had several candles lighting the room with a soft, romantic glow. Her favourite Scottish Tranquillity CD played on the sound system and she had draped herself over her favourite chair with a glass of wine. She was utterly relaxed, so that the peal of the door-bell startled her.

"Come in!" she called, too lazy to get up. But when she saw him, looking fresh in dark jeans and a green sweater under a jean jacket, and smelled him, a combination of shower-clean and aftershave, her energy returned. In full force. Her body knifed upright, as if of its own accord. She moved to stand near him at the door. He passed her a bag of groceries as he took his shoes off.

"Hi!" Jane said.

_Just the way she greeted me on the beach all those years ago_ , he thought. "Hello yourself."

"You shaved your beard," she noticed. "I'm glad. I've always heard that men with beards have something to hide..." her voice trailed off feebly as he continued to devour her with his eyes, and didn't respond. _And, if I might say so, you look much more like that boy of long ago, now...I think it's him._ _It IS him. But he doesn't remember me...does he? He would have said something...how could I ask if he remembers?_ She poked her nose in the grocery bag, not really seeing the contents, but pretending interest to have something to do with herself. She set it on the hall table. When she turned and looked up to his face again, mind blank, she saw he was watching her.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"What?"

"My face. My _naked_ face," he prompted.

Jane flushed. "Yes." She paused. "Quite." She couldn't seem to find any other words, and there was another period of charged silence between them, in which they just stood and stared at each other.

"Well," they said simultaneously. Then they laughed. Then they spoke at the same time.

"Can I..."

"Which w...?"

They laughed again.

"Here," Jane managed to speak first, "let me take your coat."

"Oh. Thanks," he said. As she reached for it where he held it out for her to take, he tugged on the jacket. Caught off guard, she tumbled into his waiting arms. Her startled lips were soundly kissed.

"Mmmm. I've been waiting for that all day."

"Me too," she was surprised to hear herself reply. When had she become so forward? Usually she would not say something like that, especially on a second date. _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ she thought. "It's even nicer without your beard."

"I'm glad you like it."

They laughed again, together. A happy little sort of "I'm glad you're here with me" laugh.

"So, how was your day?" Rory asked as he made his way to the kitchen.

"Distracted," Jane said, honestly, before she could stop herself. She blushed and kept her eyes down, concentrating on pouring him a glass of wine.

_She ducked her head that night in Nova Scotia when she was embarrassed, too._

"I was kind of distracted, too." He matched her honesty with some of his own. "I feel like I have been waiting all day for that kiss."

"Do you want another one?" she asked teasingly. _Gosh, I'm being bold tonight. If only his kisses weren't soooo good I would be better able to resist them. If only I was bold enough to ask him if he remembers that night...maybe I was just one of many, to him._

"I certainly would like another one," he said. And matched his actions to his words, kissing her even more thoroughly this time.

Eventually, they got around to cutting up the vegetables and chicken Rory had brought for a Chinese-style stir-fry with noodles.

"Hey, this is one of my favourite meals. How did you know?" Jane asked.

"I didn't. I just picked one I like, that's easy to cook in someone else's kitchen."

"I'm very impressed with your choice. How spicy is the sauce?"

"Medium, black bean sauce," he replied.

_Wow_ , she thought. _We even like the same kind of food. This must be a match made in heaven._

And then the other voice, the rational one, spoke. _Hold your horses, Sally, it's only the second date_.

_But...I knew him before...You don't know him now. Just wait. There's no hurry._

_Sigh._ Jane was usually a methodical girl who checked out all the angles of a thing before she acted, but she found herself thinking totally out of character. She felt impatient to declare her love for him and have a full-on relationship right off. It was absurd. _But he is so delicious a man, it's no wonder I want to snap him up,_ she argued inside her head.

She replaced the forks and knives she had set on the table with chopsticks, and then refilled her wineglass and went to sit on the couch while Rory cooked. She held her glass up contemplatively in the candlelight, and then switched her gaze to him.

"Where did you learn to stir-fry?" she asked.

"My mom made sure we all knew how to cook. With the family business to run and five kids, she had so much to do that it was handy for us kids to be able to help out with dinner."

_Five kid family and a family business...I knew that already._

"Rory, were you ever..." _No_. She couldn't ask.

"What?" he turned his head quizzically toward her, and found himself admiring how her freshly washed hair fell softly in waves. In the candlelight, she looked like she could be an advertisement for a very fine French wine. Or very elegant chocolates, maybe. Heck, you could put her looking like that on television and probably sell anything.

"Nothing," she said, returning her azure gaze to her wine glass.

Finally, Rory judged the meal to be cooked, and they sat down to eat it.

"That looks like a nice sheepskin rug you have down there. Let's eat on the floor," he suggested.

"Okay," she readily acceded. "I often do that, to tell you the truth."

"This is a lovely home."

"Thanks. It was quite run down when I bought it, but I have enjoyed fixing it up. I've actually done quite a bit of redecorating in it."

"Well, it looks fantastic. A job well done," he complimented her.

"Thanks. There's only one thing I could wish for...a fireplace. I seem to remember that a lot of houses had them back in Nova Scotia, but here on the prairies they're a rare thing."

"No, there's not much firewood around! So you miss Nova Scotia, too?" Rory asked.

"I don't know. I haven't been back there since I left. It's funny really, because I have been travelling to plenty of other places. But there just didn't seem to be any reason to go back since Grandma died." Jane was quiet for a minute. "Do you know, this was one of her favourite meals, too? I used to cook it for her. She liked it because of the pretty colours of the different vegetables." Jane had a sad smile on her face. Rory recognized the expression from that long ago night.

"You were really close to her, weren't you?"

"Yes, she was my best friend. My parents didn't get along very well, and they didn't have time for me. I was lucky to have my grandma around. She always had time for me."

_She was going to her grandma the night I met her,_ Rory remembered. _Maybe now is a good time to ask her about that night?_ He racked his brains to try to find a way to introduce the subject.

"This is good, Rory. My compliments to the chef."

Rory started from his reverie. He had barely noticed what he had been eating. "Why, thank you, little lady," he drawled in a deep, Clint Eastwood-style voice.

Jane giggled at his silly tone. She loved the way he joked around and put on silly accents.

They cleaned up the kitchen companionably after dinner. Rory washed the dishes and entertained Jane with more silly accents and faces, until she was in stitches with laughter. It was all she could do to dry the dishes without dropping them as her sides heaved with mirth.

When the dishes were dry and put away, Rory refilled their wine glasses, finishing the bottle, and they settled down on the sheepskin. Jane sat next to Rory, snuggling under his arm. They gazed for a while at the candlelight, each lost in their thoughts of how to broach the topic that was paramount in both their minds. Neither came up with the words.

"Lay down," Rory said suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Jane asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Lay on your tummy. I'll give you a back massage."

_That could be dangerous,_ thought Jane. She smiled. _Maybe it will be, if I'm lucky. Who am I to turn down a luxury like that?_ Languorously, she stretched out on the rug, hands by her sides.

Rory went to work dissolving the tension stored in her back muscles, although she was already pretty relaxed after all the laughter and happiness of the past few hours.

"Mmmm...you make me feel like a new woman, Magic Man."

"You make me feel like a teenager, so I guess I know what you mean."

_A teenager,_ she thought. _That's good, I think._ Then she tensed a little. _Make him feel like he did when he_ was _a teenager? Or is he just using it generally? Maybe he'll bring that night up._

Rory's magic fingers erased the tension again, until she was soothed and nearly asleep. Then his touch changed, nearly imperceptibly, and her nerve endings began to wake up again. Began to be _very_ awake. Uh oh. Not yet. "Thanks," she said, and quickly sat up.

His mouth intercepted hers as she sat up, and he took her gently back down onto the floor, kissing her as he went. His hand caressed the soft curve of her waist as his mouth caressed hers. Jane felt very, very nice. Too nice. She knew that it had to stop now, or it would be too late.

"Mmmfff. Mmmfff!" she said against his mouth, trying to push at his substantial shoulders with her little hands.

Rory raised his head for a moment, his expression lazily quizzical. "Did you say something?"

"We have to stop, Rory. Otherwise we're going to end up making love." Jane was a little shocked at her own forthrightness.

"Are you disciplining me, teacher? Would it be so bad to make love to me?"

"No, I..." Jane stopped herself abruptly. _I want to make love to you more than anything._

"Mmmm, not yet, eh. Okay, I'll wait. I didn't really plan to get so carried away, myself." He levered himself back to a sitting position, rubbing his head as if to clear it. After a minute, he pulled her to him, to cuddle her under his arm. He passed her her wine glass and took a healthy swig out of his. "Did you ever notice how perfectly we fit together, Jane? You feel so right there, under my arm."

"Oh, you probably say that to all the girls."

"Nope," he said cheerfully. "You're the only one."

"Speaking of only one..." Jane tried to get the question out again, and failed.

"Yes?" he asked hopefully.

"Nothing."

"That's the second time you've done that tonight, Jane. What's on your mind?"

"I'm just...I'm just not ready to tell you, I guess," she said.

"Well, that's fair enough, I suppose. We all need our thinking space sometimes."

They were quiet again for a while, just absorbing the nearness of each other.

Finally Rory spoke. "You know, Jane, there's been something on my mind, too..."

Jane waited with bated breath.

"Years ago, in Nova Scotia, there was a girl I met. She'd come running from her parents' house down to the sea at midnight. Do you remember, Jane?"

"Yes," she whispered.

He laughed out loud. "It's incredible, isn't it? After all this time. Do you know, you're just as nice a girl now, as I remember you being then. For all these years I thought I must have been imagining that angel I met...But tell me one thing; why didn't you come that night I told you I would be playing?"

"You remember why I had run down to the seashore?" Jane asked, finding it hard to be cool about the subject, even after all these years. "My father had been beating my mother." The words had to be forced past her lips.

Rory's hand squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, just as comforting as he had been that night on the pier. "Yes, lass, I remember," his deep voice soothed some of the ache in her soul. "So they didn't let you come to the pub that night?"

"Worse than that, Rory. I wasn't even in the province by then. Social services sent me out here, to live with my aunt. My mother arranged it while she was in the hospital, after my father beat her up. It all happened very quickly. I barely even got to see my grandmother, to say good-bye to her. And she died before I ever got a chance to go back there, you know." Tears were openly running down her face now.

Rory's face was serious and sad. "Oh, you poor lass. You were so close to your grandmother, as I remember. It must have been horrible for you. And there I was, thinking you were just a fickle girl, not interested in me after all."

"Oh, but I was, Rory, I was. I've held you in my memory all these years, you know." _What's making me be so honest tonight? It must be the wine._ "I left you a note at the pub, hoping you would get it. But I didn't know your name, and I guess it never got through. All these years I thought you were the one that wasn't interested. I thought you would have gotten the note, and decided not to write back."

A surge of happiness filled Rory. _She didn't choose to leave me. It's not her fault she had to stand me up,_ he thought with elation. Then he was filled with sorrow at the lost time and sighed greatly. "What a mess it's been. It makes me wonder what the Fates are about. But now we've found each other again, I think we should make the most of it..."

"What do you have in mind?" What if he only wanted sex from her? She would be devastated.

"Let's not think too far ahead. We'll take it easy, get to know each other. Although it seems like I have known you, been missing you, my whole life."

"I know." A glimmer of hope rose in her breast. Something might finally come good from all the tragedy she'd been through. "Me too."

"Anyway, I don't think I should drive home with this much wine and happiness in me. Can I stay over? I promise no untoward hanky-panky."

A flicker of worry passed through Jane. _What about the gossip? Ah, never mind the gossips,_ she thought, _I'm finally happy. Why shouldn't I shout it from the rooftops? We're not doing anything wrong._ "I guess that would be all right," Jane said, laughing at his silly stern tone on the words "hanky-panky."

"May I sleep next to you, if I promise to be good?"

A frisson of excitement charged through Jane. "Do you really think it's possible?" she asked, breathless.

"I do." His deep voice was reassuring. "I just so want to be close to you, darling." Jane could not resist the temptation.

He nearly lost his resolve to behave when she changed into her flannel nightgown, conservative as it was. She was so lovely! She nearly lost her cool, lying next to his warm, bare chest. Electricity seemed to leap between their bodies.

But they did behave, each sensing that neither wanted to move too fast. There was no hurry, now that they were together again. Deliciously cuddled together, they fell into the most peaceful sleep either of them had slept in a very long time.

_At last, I feel at home_.

# Chapter Five

Jane awoke the next morning to delicious aromas. She shut her eyes tight again, trying to contain the equally delicious feeling that welled up inside. With her eyes still shut, she sniffed appreciatively and identified the smells of coffee, toast, and bacon...it seemed too good to be true!

Rising from the bed, she padded to the bathroom, splashed some water on her face, and stared at herself in the mirror. Her brown hair, thick and shiny as ever, was tousled with sleep, and her cheeks were rosy in her elegant face. She had grown up believing herself to be plain and boring- looking. With adulthood, she had learned to appreciate her fine bone structure, but was still very modest. Others often called her a beauty, but she couldn't see it in herself.

Her eyes, large in her face and rimmed with thick, long lashes, were smiling, and her generous mouth creased to join them. _Rory's in my kitchen!_

Too impatient to shower, Jane drew on her dressing gown and hurried out to the kitchen, almost afraid to believe in her good fortune. She stopped short in the doorway, stunned by the beauty of him. Dressed in just his jeans, Rory stood at the stove, tending to bacon that was sizzling tantalizingly. He turned at the sound of her indrawn breath and smiled broadly, opening his arms wide, with the spatula still in his hand.

Without much thought, Jane crossed the kitchen and moved into his arms, hugging him tightly, unreservedly, deliciously.

"Mmmm," she heard the rumble from deep in his chest. "You give such great hugs."

Leaning back against his arms, firm and strong at her waist, she looked up at him. He leaned down and captured her lips in a soft, warm kiss. He stayed just long enough to warm her all the way down to her toes, and then released her and turned back to the bacon.

"You're making me forget my duties, woman. I'll burn this bacon if you don't cool off."

Jane opened her mouth to reply, but then she saw the twinkle in his eye and punched his tempting bicep instead.

"You even made coffee!" Jane got two cups from the cupboard and poured it out. She turned to the table and saw Rory had already laid it out beautifully. Orange juice in wine glasses waited at the top of her favourite flowered placemats, and an arrangement of dried flowers and grasses were in a vase at the center of the table, tied with an autumny orange ribbon.

Jane turned to Rory. "Where did you..."

"In the field out back. There are plenty of dried weeds there just waiting to be picked. I've always thought it's strange how people pass them by without noticing."

Jane was touched and amazed at his aesthetic eye. The arrangement was very nicely balanced. "And the ribbon?"

He blushed a little. "Well, I filched it from the arrangement on the mantel piece."

She laughed. "Thank you, Rory. You must have been up early." She hugged him again.

"Does it make you feel grateful enough to let me in on what you're wearing to the Hallowe'en dance?" he begged.

"Nope!" Jane replied cheerfully. She and Lanette would meet Rory and Rob at McGillicutty's for the Hallowe'en party, but the women had decided to keep their costumes a secret. "You need to give them a little meesterrrry," Lanette had informed her in some kind of high-falutin' European accent.

"Mmm. Fine." Rory tried to sound grumpy but Jane thought she noticed a twinkle in his eye. "Now, sit down with that coffee, and let me show you what a good cook I am." Jane did as he bade and had a light tomato omelette, toast, and bacon laid before her.

"Rory, this looks like something from a posh restaurant!"

"Well, darling, I have learned a few things by owning a bar and restaurant."

"It shows," Jane admired, with her mouth full of the fluffy, delicately flavoured omelette. The meal was delicious and the scenery even more so, as Rory hadn't bothered to pull on a shirt before coming to the table.

They did the dishes together, and Rory kept her breathless between laughter and excitement, by alternating jokes, caresses, and stolen kisses. She was never quite sure what he was going to do next. Then he pulled on a shirt and his boots to go start their cars while Jane quickly dressed. He came back into the house with rosy cheeks from the low temperature outside, and Jane shivered when he hugged her again. "You're chilly!"

"As I will be for the rest of the day, away from you, my dear," he crooned and nuzzled her neck with his icy nose.

"Oh, Rory!" Jane laughed helplessly as her toes curled when he started to nibble instead of just nuzzling. "I've got to go."

"So you do. Have a good day at work, my lovely."

Jane made it to school only ten minutes before class started. She poured herself a cup of staff room coffee, which was not nearly as delicious as Rory's coffee had been that morning, and took it to her first class. Normally she would not drink or eat in the class room, but lately none of her old rules and habits seemed like very much fun. She was feeling too delicious inside to pay attention to any of them.

After school, catching up on the marking and planning she had been too distracted to do yesterday, Jane wore a secret smile.

Her smile all but vanished when Ms. Schulde loomed in her door. Ms. Schulde was a strong candidate in the contest for the title of Jane's "L. F. P."—Least Favourite Person. The "Ms." that the woman pronounced so firmly in front of her name conjured visions in Jane's mind of a fearful, harassed man fleeing gratefully from her, by divorce. Or perhaps she had never even been married. Who would wed the old battle-axe?

She was built like a tank, and gave the impression of being nearly as wide as she was tall. Her hair was steel grey and cropped much too closely to suit her fleshy jowls. Her wardrobe consisted of long-sleeved, turtle-necked sweaters, and straight, businesslike, mid-calf skirts. Her perpetual taupe-coloured nylons always bagged around her ankles, just above hideous, clog-size sensible shoes. The overall picture resembled a badly wrapped, misshapen potato. The effect of the horrible cut of her clothes was worsened by their colours, which varied between steel grey, dark brown, black, and army green.

It was not just the wardrobe that really turned Jane off. Any person of sweet temperament could be forgiven a bad dress sense. Unfortunately, it seemed that the outward appearance of Ms. Schulde was only a manifestation of the rotten personality underneath. She had a knack for making others miserable.

She loved to note down every action or triviality that ever passed her nosy viewpoint. Then she would mull it over and ferment it in her mind until she could use it as ammunition against some poor victim. Jane sighed with resignation as she realized that she was about to be attacked with some such ammunition, and wondered what terrible sin she had committed, this time.

Ms. Schulde was wearing her best "ingratiating" look, and this worried Jane even more.

"Hello, Jane," she said in a sugary-sweet voice.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Schulde," Jane said politely, trying to convey by her actions that she was very, very busy, though she doubted the old tank would take the hint. Now that she was on her course, she would roll ahead inexorably until she had achieved her devious goal.

"Yes, I could see by your private little smile earlier that you think it is a _very_ good day, don't you?" she was trying to look conspiratorial now, and a knot of dread was building in Jane's stomach. She tried to remind herself that the old biddy couldn't really do her any harm, but the bad feeling persisted nonetheless.

"I'm quite busy, Ms. Schulde...did you have a special reason for coming in this morning?" Jane tried to hurry the other woman along, without expressing the full measure of revulsion she was feeling at the rotten potato-like presence in her classroom.

"Well!" the woman looked put out for a moment, but visibly regrouped herself and turned on her best, sugary-sweet, "ingratiating" tone again. "Well, Jane, you know how we _experienced_ teachers have always tried to advise you younger people...to help you along in this very _difficult_ profession we are all involved in. It is just _so_ important that our children get the _right_ kind of education these days..." here, she paused, steel grey eyebrows raised, waiting for Jane's agreement and acknowledgment of the import of this wise mentor's words. The use of her eyebrows reminded Jane of the cocking of a gun just before it's fired.

Trying to look suitably _grateful_ for the _tremendous_ effort and caring that this very _kind_ and _generous_ soul was putting out for _her_ benefit, all Jane could come up with as a prompt was "Yes, Ms. Schulde?"

"Well, Jane, I guess I will get right to the point." Perhaps the old lady was finally getting the idea that Jane was not as impressed by all the suspense as she should be. "I really don't think it is wise, or appropriate, for you to flaunt your...your _relations_ with that barkeep" she was obviously barely able to repress her shudders of horror at these vile words she was forced to speak in her kindness, "to the whole town. Why, anybody could see for themselves that he _slept_ with you last night, with that totally _disreputable_ truck of his parked right outside your house. If you must live _amorally_ , you need not _advertise_ it to the whole town. Why, _think_ of the ideas you will give the students! As if that type of thing is _acceptable_!" Her face was nearly purple with outrage at all of these _indelicate_ things she was being forced to speak out about, but she still tried to maintain the facade that she was helping Jane by advising her on her own best interests.

_I guess it's better for her to pretend that she's helping me out, than for her to deliver a vicious frontal attack,_ Jane told herself optimistically. She sat silently behind her desk, staring sightlessly at the stack of papers in front of her, and gripping the pen so hard she thought it might break.

_I had a feeling something like this could happen...I should have thought of it and prepared some response._ _But what's the best thing to say now? I don't feel like denying the whole thing, as if my relationship with Rory is something dirty and sordid to cover up._

In fact, it was the most beautiful thing that had happened in her life to date. But she had not _slept_ with Rory in the way that Ms. Schulde was imagining. Indignation made her not tell the other woman that detail, though, because it was none of her damn business. If Jane did choose to _sleep_ with Rory, it was her life, and her decision. This other woman had no authority to tell Jane how to live her life, even if she thought she did.

_How dare you accuse me of anything, you vile old viper?_ Jane wanted to scream at her. Instead, she managed a very tight, controlled, "Thank you for your advice, Ms. Schulde. I will try to take that into consideration in the future. If you don't mind, now, I have quite a stack of work I would like to get through."

"I'll just bet you do, spending your evenings with a _man_ ," she cooed. The woman's pose suggested she would love to become Jane's confidante. Jane looked pointedly back at her papers, and eventually the other woman rolled out of the room.

When the other woman's footsteps faded to nothing down the hallway, Jane stood up and paced the room herself for a few minutes. Her rage and shock were so strong that she could not focus on the papers she'd been working on. She shakily raised her cup for a drink of her coffee, and realized that she had emptied it. She could not really go to the staff room for more, though, because that horrible old woman was probably lying in wait there like some horrible venomous fat old spider in the web she had spun around Jane.

_Is she gossiping about me even now?_ Jane wondered with dread.

After some more pacing, Jane set her jaw firmly and marched down to he staff room with her chin in a decidedly lofty position. _I want some coffee, darn it, and I am not going to let that old potato ruin my life!_ she resolved.

To Jane's relief, Ms. Schulde was not in the staff room, and despite her worries, nobody there shot her any speculative looks. _Is it possible she will keep quiet when I have given her such delicious ammunition?_ Jane wondered.

Pasting a smile on her face, Jane forced herself to join in the conversation for a few minutes, sipping coffee and letting her pulse slow down before she went back to her paperwork. She was alert for any overtones that would mean the other teachers had heard Ms. Schulde's gossip, but there didn't seem to be anything to worry about. _Yet._ Jane realized she would have to devise a defence strategy to deal with the situation. If she wanted to continue seeing Rory, there was going to be some unfavourable gossip.

After thinking about the encounter all day, Jane was reluctant to discuss the topic right away when she saw Lanette later that night.

"You know, Lanette, I have been thinking about what you said, about Rob being shiny to you, and I see what you mean."

"How's that?" Lanette probed.

"I was thinking back on some of the times I have seen Rory, and it is just like you said. He sticks out in my memory more than anything else. It's like all the other details fade, somehow."

"Yes?" Lanette could see that Jane had more to say.

"And, the times when I have seen him when I wasn't expecting to, like that night on the beach when we were teenagers, and when I first saw him at the bar, and even sometimes when I see him after I've been looking away for a while. He kind of glows compared to everything around him. It's really weird, now that I think about it."

"But isn't it wonderful?" Lanette sighed.

"Yes," Jane sighed, too, but there was a sad note in hers. "But I am afraid to let myself believe that I am genuinely head over heels in love with him, as much as I feel that way. What if it's not the right thing? What if something messes up?"

"When it's the right time for you, you'll know. _I_ knew when I realized that all the risks I would be taking—telling him I loved him, moving, giving up everything I have here—were all less scary than the thought of being without him. You'll know it's real when you're ready to take those kind of risks for him. No change in your life will seem as drastic as life without him would be. You'll see."

"I wonder if I will ever be as lucky as you? Maybe I'm getting too old for this love stuff. I just can't help feeling like what has started with Rory will all end soon, in a puff of smoke!"

Lanette giggled. "Just as if some dragon blasted him away? You're always the artist, describing everything with visual images. It must have been a rough day, though..."

Jane grinned. "Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"You always start imagining dragons and monsters when you're feeling low. I've heard this 'puff of smoke' worry before."

"Am I so predictable?"

"'Fraid so!" Lanette teased.

"Well, then, let's get this thoroughly unpredictable Hallowe'en costume on me."

"Now, you're talking," Lanette agreed.

Jane had decided to go in an old belly-dancing costume she had left over in her closet from a course she had taken in university. It was a folkloric costume, that had emerald green and blue fabric covering from shoulders to hips, and a swishy skirt. The fabric was not transparent, but it was clingy, and it showed the lines of her belly quite nicely. Her legs were fleetingly revealed when the leaves of fabric that made up her dress fluttered as she walked. She wore a veil, and heavy kohl around her eyes. Except for a snakelike coil of hair that Lanette had painstakingly arranged on the crown of her head, her hair cascaded down her back to her hips, around which was a belt of jingly gold coins. Gold snakes wound around her bare biceps to complete the ensemble. It was not a revealing costume, but it was all the more sexy for what it did not show of her body.

"I guess this costume isn't very teacherish," Jane commented, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth as she looked in the mirror.

Lanette, in a sparkly silver space invader costume beside her, cocked her head so the antennae drooped to the left and replied, "I wouldn't worry about it too much. The teenagers tend to stick to their own town for Hallowe'en, and I don't think they'll be much interested in the crowd at McGillicutty's tonight. Anyway, most of your students aren't even old enough to get into the bar."

"True." Jane was willing to be convinced.

"Anyway, even if it isn't so teacherish, there is so much more to you, Jane, than just Miss Parker, isn't there? You look glorious."

"I feel good." Jane agreed. "But I've had a problem at school, and now I am wondering if I do have a right to be myself around town." She explained the morning's events to Lanette.

"Gosh!" Lanette said. "That sounds like something out of the time that your grandma was a teacher. It's hard to believe that they're telling you the same things these days. This is the nineties! Don't they read the newspaper? Don't they watch TV?"

"Apparently not," Jane's answer was wry. It felt good to have her friend so staunchly behind her.

"Forget 'em, doll, let's go out and knock 'em dead. Are you ready to go? I'm getting thirsty for that first long, cool beer."

"Then let's be off." Arms linked, the two girls skipped out to Lanette's car, light of heart and ready for a night of fun.

At the bar, Lanette's boyfriend, who had driven down from the mountains, and a group of their friends already had a table and pitchers of beer on the go. Jane enjoyed the rainbow of colours made by everyone's costumes...beside the usual ghosts and witches were fairies, cave people, animal suits, devils, angels, and even a tree.

Jane and Lanette relaxed into the easy camaraderie shared by a group of long-time friends. Rory waved to them from across the room, but Jane understood that he was busy running the bar and would come see her when he had a chance. He looked devastatingly attractive dressed as a sheikh in a voluminous white robe. The blue and gold band on his white headdress emphasized the light in his deep azure eyes. Jane was tempted to go over and give him a hug, but Ms. Schulde's reprimands rung in her ears still and she decided to err on the side of propriety.

"Hey, Jane..." Lanette was demanding suspiciously, "how is it that your costume and Rory's match? Did you tell him about your costume? I thought we were going to keep it a secret."

Jane started. "You're right, we do kind of match...I didn't tell him, Lanny, I swear."

"Pretty strange," her friend insisted. "Can he read your mind now, or what?"

"I don't know." The thought scared Jane.

"By the way, what does Rory think of your paintings?" Lanette asked.

Jane blushed. "I...haven't exactly shown him any yet."

"What?" Lanette shrieked. "Why not, Jane? They're fabulous. Oh.... I get it. You don't trust him." Lanette's tone was condemning her, hurting her. "You've got to let in some time, Jane, past that wall of yours."

"I know." Jane's face was miserable, accepting the truth of her friend's remarks. "But that's easier said than done, Lanette. I am just so afraid of being hurt again..."

"Like everyone in your life has hurt you," Lanette finished for her. "Well, Jane, I understand where you're coming from, but it's time to bite the bullet and get over your childhood." Lanette went on ruthlessly. "No pain, no gain. Don't wait too long." She turned her back, and Jane excused herself to the washroom, as she felt tears threatening.

_Why shouldn't I cry?_ she asked herself, staring in the mirror. _Why don't I cry?_ She didn't, though she almost wished she could. _Rome wasn't built in a day,_ she defended herself. _On the other hand, maybe Lanette's right. Maybe it is time to share my hopes about my art with Rory. He might even be able to help me out with the business side of it, since he has certainly done well for himself here._

_But what if he doesn't like my paintings? What if he thinks I am an amateur?_

Through long practice with containing her emotions, Jane allowed herself some time to think, then resolved to have a good time, to have some fun, and let events take their course.

The conversation when she returned to the table was undemanding and inconsequential, and Jane relaxed into the evening. She danced with several of her old high school buddies, and didn't even worry when Jamie, whom she'd known since tenth grade and never felt romantic about at all, pretended to leer at her.

"Nice costume, babe," he drawled, ogling at her ridiculously from behind a cartoonish bandit mask while they danced.

"Sure, Jamie, you can look, but no touching!"

Jamie sighed dramatically. "Ah, Jane, you always were turning me down. Still breaking my heart even now you're the strait-laced school teacher." The words could have been alarming, but Jane knew he didn't mean a one of them. She just laughed and was glad that her costume had a full enough skirt so that it didn't restrict her when Jamie spun her out into a fast twirl. As Jamie launched her into the spin, she noticed Rory dancing with Nelda right beside them. _Oops_. Had he heard their playful exchange?

Back at the table, Lanette caught her attention.

"Look over there," she hissed. "It's that sick old Waverty fellow. Isn't he a member of the school board this year?"

A nod from Jane confirmed Lanette's hypothesis.

"Well, Janey, he was watching you like a hawk when you were dancing with Jamie.... and I didn't like the look in his eye. You'd better watch out! I think he's up to no good."

Just as Lanette finished speaking, the pompous subject of their discussion rose from his table and came towards them. Affecting a jovial tone of voice, he demanded of Jane, "would you like to dance, my dear? You look very fetching this evening."

Jane's skin crawled and her stomach turned. Rumours around town were that this man liked to use his position as a school authority to get people into trouble. Jane knew she might regret defying him later, but she couldn't bring herself to let her body get that close to him.

Lanette answered for her while she was still trying to formulate a politically correct reply.

"I don't think she'd better dance right now, Mr. Waverty. She turned her ankle quite badly during that last dance, didn't you see? That's why Jamie brought her back to sit down. She really does need a rest." Lanette was firm, and the glint in her eye was defensive.

"Hrmph." Waverty opened his mouth and glared at Lanette, and then turned to Jane. "My dear, that is really terrible. Perhaps we should have a doctor look at it for you." His eyes told her that he didn't plan to let her get away with rejecting him.

"No, no, thank you Mr. Waverty, I'll be fine if I just rest it, I think," _Lanny, what have you gotten me into?_ Jane wondered.

Rory chose that moment to arrive at Jane's table. Standing imposingly behind Mr. Waverty, he demanded, "Is there a problem here?"

With the prospect of another man to argue with, Waverty turned quickly from bully to coward and backed immediately off. "No, no, I was just greeting Miss Parker, here," he explained, and scurried off.

"Whew. Good timing, Rory," Lanette congratulated, and Jane felt a twinge of jealousy at the warm smile that passed between the two.

"Well, I figured it was my turn to monopolize Jane for a while," Rory said.

"Sounds like a good time for us to dance, Lanette," Rob said, and dragged her off to the dance floor. Rory sat down in the chair beside Jane.

"What's this about Jamie being so enamoured of you?" he demanded.

"Oh, you heard that, did you?" Jane felt secure and smug. By the teasing, mock-hurt tone of Rory's voice, she could tell this wasn't a real argument.

"I certainly did, and you're lucky I didn't punch his lights out!"

"Rory!" Jane's voice was shocked.

"What? You weren't trying to cause us to fight? I could swear you were prompting him to say those sweet nothings out loud for me to hear."

"Maybe I was flirting a little...just to get even with you dancing with Nelda before me!"

"Hey, she asked me, not the other way around!"

"Fair enough." Jane conceded. "Rory...there's something we've got to talk about."

"Mmmm...?"

"I think we have a problem."

"What's that, Janey girl?"

"You know that old lecher that you scared off for me, the one who asked me to dance?" When Rory nodded, she continued.

"Well, he's going to create gossip. That guy always does. I've already been warned by one of the other teachers...the school board does not like teachers to have a visual social life, and it appears this bar is quite notorious. I think I could be getting into some trouble at school."

"Are you serious? You're in trouble with your boss because you've got a relationship with me?"

"It's not just you, it's the bar. You told me yourself that the Bassano Hotel hasn't always been the most savoury place."

"I know, but I didn't expect anything like this." Rory made a gesture as if to push a hand through his hair, then remembered his costume, and stopped himself.

"Let's dance. I've got to think," he suggested, and soon they were out on the dance floor.

They danced dance after dance, fast songs, slow songs, and more fast songs. Jane loved the way they moved so well together, but giggled at Rory's costume.

"Your robe swirls more elegantly than my skirt!"

"What, don't you think I'm manly enough?" he asked, in a tone that suggested he knew she thought nothing of the sort. Rory was a great dance leader, so that she always knew almost instinctively which of the complicated two-step maneuvers he planned to make. _This is really fun_ , Jane thought. _This is what I have been missing._ During the fast songs, she admired Rory's quick thinking and moves. During the slow songs, she was aware of his warmth, of the breadth of his shoulders, and, she imagined, of the soul behind his eyes.

After a particularly romantic slow song, Rory murmured in her ear, "Come upstairs, Jane. I want to take that veil off for a minute and kiss you properly...You're driving me crazy."

Jane didn't need very much urging. She was craving the taste of Rory's lips so much that her lips felt on fire when she thought of it. She nodded, agreeing to go along with his suggestion. The floor was packed with gyrating, fast-stepping pirates, goblins, and witches, and Jane turned to get out of the way. But before she had a chance to take even one step, she was swept off her feet and over Rory's shoulder. She screamed in surprise, but Rory was already striding across the bar towards the staircase to the second floor.

"Rory," Jane laughed breathlessly, "you can't do this. My reputation will be ruined. Don't you remember what we just talking about?!"

"I'm a sheikh. I'm expected to do this kind of thing with my woman. Anyway, might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb."

"Oh." Secretly, Jane was thrilled to be carried around like a helpless female, and she couldn't bring herself to care as much as she probably should that they were making a display of themselves. It was Hallowe'en, after all. Surely the other merry-makers in the bar would understand? Jane convinced herself that they would.

She had barely finished that thought when they reached the second floor landing. "Rory, you should put me down, you'll hurt your back." As she said this, she noticed that he was barely breathing hard. She remembered her farmer cousin's exclamation when they had once seen a gymnast pick a girl up on one hand at the Grandstand Show of the Calgary Stampede—"that's two bags of grain worth of weight he's got there!" Jane considered this as Rory carried her, and marvelled that he didn't seem to mind her weight at all. He seemed to be as strong as his size suggested.

"Nonsense," Rory retorted, obviously enjoying himself. He rounded the landing on the second floor and began the flight of stairs up to the third floor.

"Well, umm...your shoulder is digging into my hip," she admitted.

He put her down instantly. "Sorry, sugar. Does it need kissing better?" He leered suggestively.

"No," she protested, laughing. But an image of him doing just that leapt into her mind and she was burning up all of a sudden.

"Come on," he took her hand and pulled her up the next flight. "I'm ready to talk a bit, and I want that kiss where we won't be disturbed."

He opened one of the bed and breakfast rooms that wasn't rented out for the night yet, and pulled her in quickly. He hammed up the sneaky act, looking both ways very obviously and pulling the door shut behind him.

"I'll sell the bar," he said bluntly, when they were inside. "Do you think that would satisfy your bosses?"

Jane gasped.

"I've been thinking of it anyway," he said almost casually. "It's not as fun as it used to be."

_You would do that for me?_ Jane was at a complete loss for words. _Why didn't I think of something like that? For that matter, I could change careers, too. If I had Rory beside me, maybe I could try to do something with my art._

"Jane?" Rory was watching her intently. _I can't tell him yet, I need to think._

"Oh, Rory, that's a very generous offer...if you're sure."

He looked deep into her eyes. "I'm sure, Janey."

_Does he love me?_

The butterflies were so intense in Jane's tummy that she thought she might faint. Too shy, all of a sudden, to look at Rory, she perused the room. It was decorated very nicely in shades of rose—old-fashioned rose striped silk wallpaper on the wall, and deeper rose curtains and bedspread on the four poster. Her sandals sunk so deep in the pile rug that she could feel it tickle her toes. Her gaze swung back to the bed, and then quickly away from it, to Rory. He was watching her.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes, it's lovely. Did you decorate it?"

"Restored it, mostly. It's not much different from the way I found it, except for new curtains and wallpaper, of course."

Usually, Jane would have been very interested in the restorations, but at the moment, it was all too much to take in. She felt herself moving towards him, without having commanded her body to do so. "Please, Rory," she heard herself beg, "just kiss me."

Rory reached out, looked deep into her eyes, mesmerizing her. He took both her hands with his, and the linking of their fingers generated electricity that zinged straight to Jane's core. "Your wish is my command, princess," sounded deep from within him.

Slowly, slowly, he drew her hands up to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. The warmth of his mouth was delicious. He released her hands and lifted the veil from her face, untying the lace that held it on beneath her hair. He paused again there, and as if his fingers couldn't help themselves, they threaded themselves through her heavy locks.

Jane sighed at the delicious sensation of his hands lifting her hair from her back and the gentle tugging on her scalp. The veil whispered to the floor in a duet with her sigh, and her eyes fluttered closed. They snapped open again and she moaned as she felt Rory's warm mouth on her throat. He kissed slowly along the cords of her neck, and up to her ear, and finally, what she had been waiting for, he kissed her mouth.

Her hands came up from her sides to hang on to his shoulders as her world tilted with his kiss. She couldn't feel her legs anymore but she knew they must be on the ground. As if Rory, too, was feeling weak at the knees, he broke the kiss for a moment so they could move to the bed. Jane felt a certain solidity return to her world with the mattress at her back, but it disappeared again as she felt Rory's hands, hot and steady, at her ankles, undoing the buckles on her sandals and sliding them from her feet. Cradling her feet in his warm strong hands, he swung them gently up so she was lying flat on the bed, and stood there, looking at her. She blushed under the power of his gaze.

"You," he said softly. "You, Jane, are so beautiful to me." And there was none of his usual joking in his tone. The sweet emotion welled up in Jane too strongly, and she felt like crying. Her throat was too thick to answer him.

Impatiently, he tossed aside his Arab headdress and unbuckled his own sandals. As he came down to lay beside her, Jane was delighted that he was wearing the Arab dress instead of his usual jeans. She could feel the lines of his body beside her as she never had before. His arousal was starkly obvious where it pressed against her, and she began to ache inside. She felt an urgency to touch it, but it was beyond her power to rush this so much.

His arms came around her and he kissed her again, sweetly, deeply, and Jane returned his kiss with everything she had. So much more than her body was involved in this. The kiss was a channel for a fusing of their souls and minds in a way that Jane had only ever dreamed about before. She wished it could never end, at the same time she wished for more. She had never felt closer to any being.

Until now, that kiss on the night when she was fifteen had been the peak of her existence. But this was so much more than even that had been. She had matured into a woman, and into this kiss she put all that she was, all her hopes and all her worries, all her joys and all her sorrows. She let her barriers fall away, as she realized that she truly trusted this man.

She ran her hands along Rory's sides and reveled in the feel of his muscles there. His body was the only solid thing in her world.

She felt his hands at her waist, undoing the coin belt. She realized it had been pressing into their bellies, and she hastened to help him undo it, not breaking the kiss. They finally removed it and it followed the veil onto the floor, unheeded.

Rory broke the kiss and sat back to examine her costume. His face was flushed and his hair was mussed where she must have run her fingers through it. "Your breasts are so beautiful...I want to taste them. But how do I get to them?" he asked, bewildered by her exotic attire.

Wordlessly, Jane undid the button on the bottom of her body suit underneath her skirt, but Rory's hands stilled hers before she got any farther. "Let me," he said huskily. He stood by the side of the bed and pulled her up to stand beside him, and then, slowly, exquisitely, he kissed her neck again, and then her arms as he slid her snake armlets off one by one. He set them carefully on the bedside table, and his very precision aroused Jane all the more. He paused.

"Jane, I never meant for this to happen. I only planned to kiss you, really. That's why I came up here instead of taking you to my place."

"I know," Jane said, and the complete trust in her eyes made his heart swell. "But I don't want us to stop, either. I can't care right now about what anyone else thinks. This feels so right, Rory." She whispered, "This is the way it's meant to be."

Jane, herself, saw the trust and appreciation mirrored in him, and knew that she had found the safety that Lanette had. She knew in that moment that this was her one true love, and the thought did not scare her as she had thought it would. She felt only an overwhelming joy and a deep contentment. It was all too much for contemplation.

Rory, as if he read her mind, did not press further at that moment. Instead, he gathered her in his arms and held her close for a moment. The emotion seemed to flow between their bodies as they embraced, his head resting atop hers.

"Rory, do you hear that?"

But instead of answering, Rory altered their embrace and led her in a waltz around the room.

"I guess we've been approved by Elle," Rory said as the waltz music faded away and they glided to stop.

"I guess so," replied Jane, but the import of it was too great to grasp, too much to discuss, on top of all the emotion she had already experienced in the last half hour.

Rather than speak, Rory claimed her lips again, and it did not take long for their passion to flare. Impatient now, he quickly undid her wraparound skirt and it drifted to the floor. He kissed up the middle of her tummy as he inched up the tight, shimmery top. Finally he pulled it over her head, and then he laid her back on the bed and his lips descended to her breasts. Body writhing at the pleasure he was giving her, her hands came to his shoulders, and she moaned a dissatisfied mew as she encountered his Arab cloak. "Take it off," she whispered. "Please."

He hesitated but a moment before backing away from her and pulling it swiftly over his head. She caught her breath. All he wore underneath was a pair of white briefs, but his body needed no other adornment.

"You're like a Greek statue," she breathed.

He chuckled. "Warmer, I hope."

"Oh yes. Muuuch warrrmer..." she agreed as he came down to rest full against her, his arousal pressing against her femininity. Raising himself on his elbows, he bent to press light kisses on her mouth, her cheeks, and, as her eyes fluttered closed, on her eyelids.

"Oh, God, Jane. I don't know what to do next. You're so special to me, I don't want to mess it up."

"You could never mess it up with me, Rory." And he saw the trust in her eyes and he knew that it was true. Gently, he lay beside her, watching her reactions as he caressed her body—her breasts, her stomach, and lower. A fire started in her eyes, and her hands reached out to touch him likewise. He groaned as she touched his arousal, and the sound vibrated inside of her and made her damp. He moved to kiss her belly again and was just reaching for the edges of her panties, when a noise grated against Jane's consciousness. It came again, and it penetrated their loving fog.

"Rory! Rory!" Nelda was screeching his name up and down the hallway.

"Don't go," Jane implored. _The way she seems to feel about me, she is probably interrupting on purpose,_ Jane thought uncharitably.

"I guess he's not up here, boys. We'll just have to take a message from Nova Scotia," they could hear her yelling back down the staircase.

"Wait!" Rory yelled, even as he leapt from the bed. He ran to the door and yanked it open, yelling, "Nelda! What is it?"

She came back to the top of the stairs, and her eyebrows raised at the sight of Rory clad only in his white briefs. "Your folks from home are on the line. It's an emergency."

"Oh God." Rory picked up his robe from the floor and donned it with the same swift motion he had removed it. He ran from the room and Jane heard his bare footsteps down the stairs before she even had time to blink.

"So, you're the boss' new squeeze, eh?" Nelda stated snidely. Rory had left the door open in his haste, and the waitress apparently had taken it as an invitation to visit Jane. Nelda was, predictably, dressed as a French maid. "You know he's only using you to make his buddy happy, eh?"

"What do you mean?" Jane's mind, cloudy with passion, was slow to process what the other woman was saying.

"He's just getting revenge on you...from that night you stood him up a long time ago. Sleeping with you to get you out of his system."

Jane was shocked. _How does Nelda know about that? Did he discuss me with her?_

"Yeah." Nelda had smugness written all over her face. "I heard him talking to Clancy, planning it all out...he'd make you love him, then leave you. Just like you did to him."

Nelda didn't wait to hear Jane's answer. She had got her shot at Jane. Having accomplished her goal, she flounced away, not even shutting the door.

Disbelieving of the events of the last two minutes, Jane realized she would have to close the door herself, before anyone else came to witness her state of near-nudity. Numbly she managed to put her clothes back on, though the hormones still racing through her blood, paired with the shock of the interruption, made her hands shake. _Rory's not really like that, is he?_ Jane's new trust in him quivered as she pondered Nelda's words. But in the end, her new love, her trust in Rory, held fast and she decided that Nelda must have been lying. After all, she had done it often enough when she was in high school. But didn't all lies have some element of truth at their base?

Her thoughts gradually cleared and she realized the ramifications of Nelda's discovering Rory and Jane that way. The girl had been vindictive when she was Jane's student, and there was little doubt that she would still be the same. Jane knew that Nelda would spread word near and far of what she had seen. _This is much worse than old Ms. Schulde's discovery of Rory's truck in front of my house._ Jane's reputation was slipping away as fast as a toboggan down a fresh, snowy slope.

As Jane was contemplating this horror, Rory strode back in. He looked purposeful, though haggard somehow.

"What's wrong?" Jane asked

"That was my brother. Apparently my father has had a heart attack."

"Oh, no!" Jane breathed.

"Nelda's phoning the airport for me right now...I want to take the first plane out."

_Oh my God, it's happening,_ Jane thought in panic. _No, no, Nelda was lying. Rory wouldn't make up something so terrible._

"I'll give you a ride to the airport," she said.

"Will you?" Rory looked at her with appreciation in his eyes, and a remnant of the love and passion they had shared. "Come on to my room, I've got to throw some clothes in a pack. And get out of this thing."

They hurried down to his room, and Jane watched as he flew around the room and gathered some clothes for the trip.

"Rory...I hate to have to ask you right now, but Nelda..."

"Will gossip like a fish wife and destroy your reputation? I know. I already talked to her, and told her that if I hear of our little incident from anyone, I would hold her responsible. I threatened her with the loss of her job."

Jane breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you." She marvelled that any man could have been so quick to realize a catty, feminine situation so quickly. It was especially amazing that he had thought of it just after learning about his dad's state.

_You see,_ she reassured herself, _Rory's a smart guy. And so thoughtful of me. He wouldn't have told Nelda what she said he did...So how did he know about that night on the beach?_

_She heard the guys talking, that's all._

_So he really did say that stuff about revenge, then?_

Jane squashed down her doubts. Now was not the right time to bother Rory with Nelda's pettiness again, when he had already taken steps to prevent her gossiping. She longed to ask him about Nelda's other accusation, but decided to leave it. _She must be lying,_ Jane thought. _Rory's passion, his caring, they're real._

"How bad is your dad?"

"I don't know. They had just taken him to the hospital when Patrick called. I guess at least the fact that he made it to the hospital is a good sign."

"I hope so." Even though Jane didn't know Rory's dad at all, she felt his grief with him, and she wished there were something she could do.

The phone rang while Rory was in the bathroom, gathering his toiletries.

"Hello?" Jane answered it, wondering if it was Rory's family calling back with news.

"Oh, it's you," Nelda's snide voice was on the line. "Tell Rory I got him on the 2 am flight out of Calgary. Remind him to pick up his credit card at the bar before he leaves...Before he leaves _you_ , just like he said he would." And she hung up with a click, not even giving Jane a chance to respond. Jane shrugged and replaced the receiver. _Is his dad really sick?_ she wondered. _Is it all a ruse?_

Rory was quiet on the way to the airport, probably worried about his dad. Jane was feeling awed, sorrowful, wonderful...and she couldn't find the words to tell him any of it, so she was about as quiet as him. The doubts that Nelda had put in her mind rattled around in her head, spoiling the wonderful feelings she had felt so recently with Rory. The country music played softly on the radio, and Jane comforted herself with driving down the long, straight highway in the dark in the middle of the prairie, and absorbing Rory's presence. She reached out to take his hand, and he held it. _He's not faking!_ she told herself fiercely, wishing desperately that she believed it.

The ninety minute journey was soon over. She dropped Rory off at the terminal to pick up his ticket, and then put the car in the parkade. She met him back in the building and they sat in the food fair, drinking coffee. The pressure of his warm hand on hers was a comfort.

When the time came to enter the boarding area, he picked up her hand where he held it and kissed it. Looking deep into her eyes, he sighed. "I'm sorry to be leaving like this, Jane. It's not fair to you."

"Just go. Don't worry about me. I just hope your dad is okay." Jane soothed. _I hope you're telling me the truth._

"God, you're a treasure, lady," he said, and then he swung up his duffel bag, kissed her a long, sweet kiss good-bye, and moved away to line up for boarding. Jane stood, watching him go, and a tear rolled down her face. Noticing the looks she was getting from the other inhabitants of the departures lounge, she looked down and realized she was still dressed as a belly dancer. She laughed a pathetic little laugh, then she slowly made her way back to her car and drove back to Brooks.

# Chapter Six

"Miss Parker, I would like to see you in my office during your spare period before lunch," Mr. Wiggers commanded first thing Monday morning. Jane's heart sank.

She had missed Rory over the weekend, but he had telephoned her and after their conversation, she felt loved. Her emotions felt purer and sweeter than they ever had before. She finally felt like she had a clear plan for life. In fact, she didn't have any plans at all these days, but plans seemed irrelevant.

_Rory must love me,_ sang over and over inside her, and she hugged herself in delight. Everything would work out, so everything was bearable...Rory's absence, the weather, which had turned nasty, and the stack of homework she had had to do for school. She felt like a whole new woman. But a bout with her principal was still something she would prefer to do without.

Lanette had gone with Rob back to Canmore after the Hallowe'en dance, and Jane had used her spare time up on the weekend painting some funny, cartoonish pictures on a Hallowe'en theme. She didn't consider them particularly brilliant, artistically speaking, but she thought they might make nice illustrations to a children's book. She laughed a little inside, when she found herself imagining her own children someday enjoying the pictures, and marvelled that she could feel so content about life. A short time ago it had all been turmoil. _All this happiness because of Rory,_ she thought, and cherished the feeling.

At times, she wondered at the tale Nelda had told her. Was it true? Was Rory just planning revenge? Was his departure more scheduled than it seemed? _It does seem awfully lucky, the way he was able to get on a flight so immediately,_ she thought, despising the insidious doubt that filled her.

The principal's curt command upon her arrival at school brought her down from her cloud quickly. _What does the odious little man want now?_ Jane asked herself as she took herself off to her first class.

Teaching was often wonderful when she was in a fine mood, and the morning's math period followed that pattern. No amount of misbehavior could get on her nerves. This first period was her nonacademic senior math class, and they were her least enthusiastic group. They didn't have their homework done. Miss Parker said, "That's okay, I'll give you some extra time to work on it." They didn't work very hard on it, and they didn't score very high when they marked it as a class, but through it all Miss Parker kept her smile. Today, she could not bring herself to scold the ones who had not brought pencils, had not brought paper, or refused to take notes. She just ignored or dealt with all of these little problems and carried on with the lesson. When Billy McGuire wouldn't stop tickling Anne Tinder from behind, she cheerfully kicked him out. Nothing could burst her bubble of happiness.

With the exception, perhaps, of one of Mr. Wiggers' lectures.

"Ah, Miss Parker. Come in," he commanded from his throne-like position behind his desk, when Jane arrived at his office door during her prep period.

"I have heard some very disturbing facts about your weekend, Miss Parker, and I feel that I should discuss them with you," Mr. Wiggers intoned sonorously, his bushy salt and pepper eyebrows raised to emphasize his point. _The gossip mill has certainly worked quickly this time,_ Jane thought.

Most of the staff and students called him "Mr. Wiggles," because he had a habit of wiggling those terrible brows whenever he wanted to intimidate a person, or emphasize one of his "gems of wisdom," as he liked to call the advice he gave his staff. A few of the brow hairs had actually grown long enough to be more accurately described as antennae, and when Mr. Wiggers began to get emphatic, the antennae waved. If he didn't have such authoritative power, people would probably laugh in his face about it. As it was, no-one could afford to get on the wrong side of this stuffy old man. He held the lives of students and the jobs of staff in the palm of his hand. He knew it, and he was not about to let anyone forget it. And Miss Parker could not afford to forget it now. The union might prevent him from firing her, but Jane knew that this awful little man could—and would—make her life miserable if he thought she was acting "deviant."

"Is it true that you went to the Bassano Hotel for a Hallowe'en dance, dressed in skimpy clothing?"

"The Bassano Hotel doesn't exist, anymore, Mr. Wiggers."

"What? Oh, it has a new owner. Whatever the new name of it is. Don't be smart with me, young lady. Answer the question."

_Whether Rory does sell the bar or not in the future won't help me right now,_ Jane realized. She almost smirked as she hugged the secret to her. _But it sure is nice to think about it._

"I guess that depends on how you define skimpy, Mr. Wiggers. Certainly I did not think that it was indecent or I would not have been wearing it," Jane replied evenly. _And I am a professional, and you shouldn't be questioning my judgment._ She felt attacked, but she had been expecting it, and had taken the time to emotionally arm herself for the coming battle.

The principal continued as though she hadn't spoken, raising his brows higher with every new point. "And not only were you in skimpy clothing, but you allowed a man to throw you over his shoulder and carry you around, bare legs showing, like some shameless hussy?"

"Mr. Wiggers!"

"And, furthermore, you were seen to be drinking beer by members of the parents' association. You refused to dance with a school board member, and made up some lie about your ankle being sore when in fact you were seen dancing before and after he asked you? Well, what have you got to say for yourself, Miss Parker? Not only being rude to a board member, but lying to him, as well?"

It was clear that he didn't have any interest in what she had to say for herself, because he took a deep breath and barreled on to his next point.

"I have checked around, and it seems that you have been spending quite a lot of time at the Bassano Hotel lately." His eyebrows were back up again, daring her to reply, to deny the accusations.

_How totally unprofessional,_ Jane thought. _He's been gossiping about me behind my back! He could at least get the name of McGillicutty's right._ Wisely, however, she said only, as meekly as she could manage, "I...may have, Mr. Wiggers." _What concern it is of yours?_ she wanted to add, but didn't.

"You are aware, Miss Parker of the reputation that that...establishment...has, aren't you, Miss Parker?" The way he kept pushing his eyebrows at her and frowning sternly, while using her name over and over again, was really getting on Miss Parker's nerves.

"What reputation would that be, Mr. Wiggers?" Jane was trying to hold onto her diplomacy, but this meeting was making her feel very hostile. She was sure that her "offenses" did not deserve this treatment. Probably the main reason for the big crackdown was her failure to dance with that lecherous old school board member. Honestly! Some of these men were stuck in the last century, when it was socially allowable to make sex objects of women! She had more intelligence than both the principal and the "venerable" school board member together, but because she had breasts, they expected her to bow under to their bullying.

"Well!" Mr. Wiggers spluttered. "It's just not the type of place that the community expects to see its teachers associated with." Mr. Wiggers' face was taking on a definite reddish hue. _As if I am a possession of the community and the school board, with no will of my own. What about school board members? It's perfectly all right for them to be seen in such "evil" places, I suppose._

"And why is that, Mr. Wiggers?" Jane felt like pushing the point.

"Teachers are supposed to be upstanding citizens, role models for students, Miss Parker. When we hired you on, we believed that you were morally upstanding, and that you would be a decorous individual who would act very respectfully in the school and the community. Surely you understand that?" If it was possible, the eyebrows had raised yet another notch.

_Just what exactly are you accusing me of?_ This was just getting to be too much. Jane was having difficulty reining in her temper, but she realized that a fight with her principal was certainly not a good method for maintaining genial relations at work. Certainly, the adults she was forced to deal with were the worst part of her job. Students could always be handled. But parents and administrators were another matter entirely. Biting her tongue for a minute, Miss Parker put on the most compliant face she could manage, and forced out, "What, exactly, is it that you are asking of me, Mr. Wiggers?"

"In view of the fact, that you are a single, unmarried, female teacher, and that you are expected to be able to control and discipline students of all backgrounds in this school, and deal with parents, I expect you to maintain the absolute highest moral standard. This includes not going to establishments that encourage...drinking...and...other immoral behaviours." Jane considered the possibility that he might choke on the mere thought of all the heinous immorality of the situation, and despite her inner anger, watched him with interest from behind her poker-like visage. "I am sure you understand me?"

"Yes, perfectly, Mr. Wiggers. Will that be all, sir?" Jane hoped that the sarcasm oozing through her blood was not dripping out on her tongue.

"Yes, Miss Parker, that will be all. I hope we will not have occasion to speak about this matter again?" The eyebrows were raised high, waving at her in inquiry.

"So do I, Mr. Wiggles, so do I," Jane muttered under her breath, as she tried to stroll as nonchalantly as possible back to her own office. It was difficult to walk normally rather than stomp furiously to let all her fuming energy go out her feet. But she knew that schools were small communities, and a show of rage was not likely to impress anyone.

Jane could hardly wait until the day was over and she could vent all her feelings to her best friend. When she had finished her diatribe over the telephone, Lanette said mildly, "I just think you should be glad that he didn't mention the night Rory stayed over and left his truck outside your house."

"Oh..." that gave Jane pause for a moment. "I always thought Ms. Schulde would be the sort to go scampering to the boss with that kind of thing...but it seems she hasn't. Maybe she actually is a nice lady under all that."

"Or, maybe she's holding it back for blackmail," Lanny suggested wryly. "Don't go trusting her too much, you never can tell. It's probably only a matter of time until that little fact comes out, too. You'd better be prepared for it. It does not exactly sound as if Wiggers is willing to drop the matter entirely. He will probably be keeping an eagle eye on you for a while."

"Yeah, you're right," Jane said miserably. "You know, I might be beginning to understand what you said about taking risks. As much as all this seems like my career might be going down the tubes because of vicious gossip, none of it is worth ending my relationship with Rory. Even if they do end up unfairly slaughtering me, I don't care as much as I used to."

"Yes, now that you mention it, you have always been very careful with your reputation in this town," Lanette agreed.

"It's so unfair. It's as if anything would be acceptable if I was an old married woman, but it's not acceptable for a single woman to have a relationship, even if it might lead up to marriage."

"I know..." Lanette started to speak, but Jane wasn't finished her rant yet.

"It's as if he doesn't even consider the quality of my teaching when he judges me! It doesn't matter how many years I have dedicated there, or how well liked I am by the students. I know the students imagine that teachers live in the closet when we're not in school, but you would hope the administrators could be a little more enlightened."

"Well, don't hold your breath, honey." Lanette advised. "It's been this way ever since teaching began, and I don't think it's going to change this year...would you like to come open a travel agency with me in Canmore? I could use a partner. I appreciate your intelligence, and I'll show you the ropes!"

"Actually, Lanny...Rory said he'd sell the bar."

"Sell the bar? What does that mean? What will he do?"

"I don't know. We haven't talked too much about it yet. But he must want to be with me, Lanny, if he's willing to do that."

"I'd say so," her friend agreed.

"Who knows what we'll do? But I think we'll do it together. School isn't as much fun as it used to be, now that people are climbing all over me about my reputation. I don't know if it's possible to just fix everything by selling the bar."

"You're right. Hey! Maybe you could travel the world, showing your art. I'm sure he'd help you...if you ever get around to telling him about it."

"Oh, Lanny."

"Oh, Jane," her friend mocked. "Seriously. When are you ever going to let him past that emotional wall you've built? You've got to start to trust him some time."

The girls chatted for a few more minutes, and then hung up. Jane took a long, hot shower, letting the water ease the ache in her back that had sunk in there from the stress of the day. She donned her cuddly terry robe, made a pot of tea, and lit some candles. Then she wandered around the house that she had made beautiful with her own two hands.

It had been a nice house when she had bought it, but a little run down. Now it was a glowing example of good housekeeping and good decoration. _Maybe it's time to start that Bed and Breakfast I've always dreamed of,_ she mused.

"Rory, have you reached Jane on the telephone yet?" his mother asked him when he came in after chopping some firewood for his parents' winter supply.

"No, mom, I have been trying all week but there's no answer."

"Is she out with someone else?" his mother asked, trying to worry him.

"No, mom, she's not that kind of girl," Rory replied with complete confidence. "She has probably been working overtime at school. Or she might be over at her friend Lanette's house...maybe I should try her there."

"Could you do it after we go to the hospital?" suggested Gwen. "I'd like to go see your father before the visiting hours are up. Can we just eat a quick supper and then be off?"

"Fine, mom. Just let me get washed up."

Rory had been correct when he guessed what Jane had been up to. Happy though she was about her relationship with Rory, after the Hallowe'en dance, as time dragged on and Rory was still away, Jane missed him dreadfully. Rather than stay at home and fret, she poured her energy into her school work, and got quite a lot done. Lanette had been a darling, making her supper each night. The two girls talked a lot, and the more Jane compared notes with her friend, the surer she was that Rory was the one man for her. But when she was alone, she wasn't so sure. Her old insecurities came back to her, and she was sure she'd made the whole dream up.

"Why don't you call him?" Lanette asked her as Jane complained yet again of missing Rory.

"I want him to be the one to call me. If he doesn't call me, then I guess he doesn't want to talk to me," Jane insisted.

"Jane! You're so stubborn. You're the most accomplished career woman I know, so cool and contained when you're doing your job. But when it comes to Rory, you get into a total tizzy! You are such a contradiction," Lanette shook her head comically. "So cool and composed as the competent Miss Parker, and you totally fall apart when your emotions get a little bit involved. I can see you sneaking back inside your turtle shell!"

Jane sighed melodramatically. "You are merciless!" She raised her wrist to her forehead in an old-fashioned pose of despair. "But you seem to be right, Lanette. I do have trouble thinking straight lately."

Lanette began listing off the evidence. "First there was the night you met him...I have never seen you so blank-minded. Then you made a spectacle of yourselves on Hallowe'en..."

Jane drifted away with a dreamy look on her face, confirming her friend's accusations.

Lanette continued. "And think about it, Jane: you've been getting home late this week. With the time difference, he is in bed by then. Maybe he has been calling you, but you haven't been at home to answer."

"Maybe you're right. I'll go home right now." Jane decided. "Maybe I can get some painting done."

"Fine, you do that," Lanette agreed. "I have some phone calls I should return for work...people that are tough to contact during the day."

Jane felt like having a shower when she arrived home, but decided to delay it in case Rory called. _How stupid could I be?_ she thought. _Forgetting about the time difference like that. Maybe he has been calling me here, and I've been missing him, being over at Lanette's place so much._

The time seemed to drag by. Jane picked up her sketch pad, but did not feel particularly inspired. She sketched a little, and the shapes that came to her mind were mountains. But they came out much too grey and dark, forbidding and brooding. _Well, they are an accurate reflection of my mood,_ she admitted wryly to herself. But she was not satisfied with them.

She turned aside from her painting, and picked up the silver flute that her grandmother had given her the summer she was twelve. Music had been another asylum for Jane in her lonely, displaced teenage years. She loved to play, and allowed her emotions to reign in the notes and tones of the songs. She selected one of her more difficult favourites and emptied her mind as she concentrated on the fast fingering the sixteenth-note triplets required. After exhausting her fingers, she turned to a Mozart Adagio. It was a sad, deep song. She drew every bit of her sadness out of her soul and poured it into the song, playing it over and over and over again. Lanette had once called it the "sad clown song," and the description was apt. _Well, it's better than_ actually _crying,_ she defended herself.

Finally, it was bed time. _Accounting for the time difference, Rory must have been abed ages ago_ , Jane thought. Unhappily, she showered and lay down on her bed. She felt tears on her face as she lay there, trying to sleep, and thought how silly she was to have let herself get hurt over a man again. They never seemed to live up to her expectations. _Oh, Janey girl, Janey girl, why did you believe again?_ _Didn't you know you would just get hurt?_ she remonstrated herself morosely as slumber finally claimed her.

Rory stomped the snow off of his boots exhaustedly after garaging his parents' truck. There had been a snowstorm during the return journey, and driving had taken all his concentration.

His father was improving in hospital, but it still hurt to see him restricted to the hospital bed. Watching his mother, hurting for his father, hurt him just as much. _How I'd love to hear Janey's voice right now_ , he thought wearily, and dialled Lanette's number. _Is she thinking about me, talking about me, over at Lanette's each night?_ _Jane can give me so much peace...I wish I could get a hold of her._

Lanette's phone rang busy both times Rory called. _Could she really be out with someone else?_ He feel asleep before he could make a third attempt.

Jane was despondent the next day at work. Finally, at lunch time, tired of hanging her head, she made a decision. _I'll call him. Maybe Lanny's right, maybe it has been my fault he hasn't been in touch...but, oh, I wish he would have cared enough to call..._ During her prep period after lunch she made her way down to the office and the staff phone booth. She hesitated for a moment when she realized she would have to sign the long-distance call in, and would likely be questioned nosily by Mrs. Winters, the secretary. _Oh, well, they're probably gossiping anyway. I might as well do something interesting enough to gossip about._ Jane thought resignedly.

First she had to call directory assistance in Nova Scotia to get Rory's parents' number. At last she sat down and dialled his home, butterflies in her stomach. _Am I doing the right thing?_ she asked herself over and over again. _Maybe he hasn't called because he doesn't feel like talking..._ then the phone was ringing, and was answered.

"Hello? McGillicutty residence." Rory's beloved voice came on the line. "Hello?" he said again, when Jane couldn't speak right away. _Lanette's right,_ she thought, _I do have a hard time thinking around Rory. Why am I so shy?_

"Hello?" Rory said on the line a third time.

"Who is it?" said a soft feminine voice in the background, and Jane felt a stab of jealousy.

"I don't know, mom, some nut," she heard Rory reply, and then hang up.

Jane stared at the telephone receiver disbelievingly. _He hung up on me!_ she realized. She called him right back.

"Hello?"

"Rory, it's me."

"Janey?" came Rory's confused voice. "Jane, I've been trying to get hold of..."Who were you expecting to call?" She felt punchy.

"Well, I do have a few friends here..." Jane thought she heard a defensive note creeping into Rory's voice. _Naturally, he's sliding back into his life there. His family, his old friends. I should have expected it._

Jane felt a twinge of jealousy, but determinedly stamped it down. She sighed, and counted to three. "I'm sorry, Rory. How have you been?"

"Well, Dad's recovering from the operation pretty well, but mom and I have been going back and forth to the hospital a lot. I haven't had time to do much else."

"Is he okay?"

"His heart attack was pretty serious," Rory admitted. "He is not very excited about having to go on a new diet, but Mom will help him through it. He really was letting himself get run down, spending so much time worrying over the store. Maybe this attack was a blessing in disguise, forcing him to slow down before he really killed himself."

"I'm just glad he lived through it." Jane knew that Rory's family was important to him. He had told her that he went back home every chance he could get, Christmases, weddings, everything. "So, when do you think you'll be coming back out here?" Jane asked, trying to sound like it wasn't the most important issue in her world at the moment.

"Oh, not for a while, Janey...with all of us kids away and with lives of our own, we never realized how bad the situation was getting here. I think I had better stay on and see what I can do about the store. Dad is certainly in no shape to run it, and Mom is busy with worrying over Dad."

Jane felt small that she wanted Rory back for herself. "Of course." It was obvious that the need for him was greater there. "Well, I'll talk to you later, Rory, I had better get to class, I think that's the bell," she lied hurriedly.

"Sure. Thanks for calling, Jane." Jane thought his voice sounded far too polite to be caring.

"Well, Lanette," Jane couldn't wait to tell her friend after work. "I called him, and now I just feel worse." She related the conversation she had had with Rory. "He was just so damn polite!"

"Hmmm," her friend reflected. "True, but you have to admit that he does have a lot on his mind right now...his father almost died."

"I know, but..."

"Just keep calling him occasionally, Janey. You be the one to be there for him. He'll appreciate it."

Jane took her friend at her word and tried to be strong. She kept at her school work, and tried to keep at her art. Her paintings continued to be gloomy, so she stopped that for a while, and picked up her flute more. As Christmas drew near, she organized an ensemble of high school students and their instruments to play Christmas in the town's shopping mall. This project took up plenty of time, and left her little energy to be lonely with.

But her conversations on the telephone with Rory continued to be unsatisfactory. He seemed to have slipped easily into life there, and it seemed to Jane that he would never come back to Alberta. He was full of talk about the business.

Jane barely had time to get a word in edgewise, and didn't have much to reply. He asked how school was, and his voice was warm, although Jane thought it sounded a trifle forced. She tried to sound enthusiastic and up-beat when describing her Christmas ensemble project and the latest results from her class, but knew that she sounded stilted, too. _What's happening to us?_ she wondered, and grew gloomier. _He said he'd sell the bar for me, but I guess the same isn't true of his family...they are much more important to him than I am. I wonder if he ever is going to come back?_

"I've tried to be strong, Lanette, but all he talks about is the store, and his friends there. He's making music again with his family and it seems like he's having so much fun...despite working hard at fixing the situation at the store. I guess all of our dreams of him loving me were just wishful thinking. He hasn't said a single romantic thing in weeks."

"Maybe he is just distracted with everything that is going on. He wouldn't still be talking to you if he didn't care, right?"

"He could be just being polite. Anyway, maybe I should give up. I don't think he's ever coming back." Jane insisted.

Lanette shook her head. "He doesn't seem like the kind of man to me that would bother with things that didn't matter to him." The two girls were silent as they mulled over this, trying to decide.

"You know," Lanette finally said, "it seems that he is getting all wrapped up in business just like his dad did before his heart attack. If you really want to win him, maybe you should remind him that you could fit into his life anywhere. You would move back there for him, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would. I think I would rather be there than here." Jane replied fervently.

"Well, then, why don't you go visit him over the Christmas holidays? If that doesn't straighten your relationship out, then nothing will. It will show him that you're willing to make a sacrifice for him."

"I don't know if it's such a good idea to throw myself in his lap like that..."

"Don't be so insecure. It's a great idea. Lord knows you have enough money saved up. I think you should go."

So it was decided.

"Hi Rory," Jane said the night after she bought her plane ticket. Her voice was shy again, but she didn't think Rory would notice.

"Hey, Jane, what's up?"

"Oh, not much. You know, I was realizing, now that you're not here, Mr. Wiggers and Ms. Schulde don't have much to get on my case about...I think they're missing you too." Rory gave a forced-sounding laugh. "Well, anyway," Jane rushed on, "Ms. Schulde keeps asking me when you're coming back."

Rory sounded defensive. "Jane, you know I can't come back right now. They need me down here."

_Damn_ , Jane thought, _now I've wrecked things again...why is it we never seem to have nice conversations anymore?_

"I know, Rory, I wasn't trying to imply..."

She started again. "I, er, I was wondering if you would like me to visit for Christmas?"

Rory was silent on the other end of the line. "Well, sure, Jane, I guess you can come if you want to. Just let me know your plane arrival date so I can pick you up at the airport." To Jane, he sounded stiff and formal.

This conversation had taken all the nerve out of Jane. "Okay. Well...goodnight." She quickly rang off. And phoned Lanette.

"I'm not so sure this was such a good idea, Lanny. He didn't sound so happy."

"Nonsense," insisted her friend cheerfully, optimistically. "He was probably just surprised. Besides, that was a discounted ticket we got you, so you'll have to use it, anyway. No refunds!"

It seemed the matter was decided.

Jane was initially pleased when Rory called her a couple of days later. But he didn't have much to say about her upcoming visit. Instead, he seemed full of what he'd done the night before.

"Cassie came up from Halifax this weekend."

"Oh, yes?" Jane tried to sound pleasantly interested while her heart was tearing out.

"Yeah," Rory was still oozing enthusiasm. "It was marvellous to see her again. We played in the pub together and it was just like old times...except that she is attracting more men than ever. I guess they just can't resist her sexy eyes and long dark curling hair," he laughed devilishly and Jane felt a knife twisting in her heart.

Her "Mm-hm?" was a little weak, but Rory didn't seem to notice, enthusiastic in the telling of his story.

"A couple of lovesick looking guys came up to sing love ballads, giving her puppy dog eyes all the while, but she just laughs them off. That's my Cassie!"

Jane felt sick. "I can't wait for you to meet her, Jane. And you've got to hear her play. She's a dream with the tambour flute."

_So now even my music isn't good enough,_ Jane moped. _As accomplished as I might be on my classical silver flute, it will never be a traditional Irish instrument to fit in with Rory's music._ So swamped was she in depression and inferiority that after Rory hung up, oblivious to the pain he had caused her, she didn't draw, didn't call Lanette, didn't even pick up her own flute to play a sad song.

_Have I lost him for good?_ Jane wondered.

Lanette, buddy that she was, dropped by her place a little later in the evening. "You didn't phone tonight. What's up?" She noted Jane's tear-stained face, but didn't comment.

_Oh, Lanette, you know me so well._ Jane related her earlier phone call with Rory.

Lanette was quiet for a while, wondering if she'd been wrong about this guy, after all. But then she remembered the way Rory had looked at Jane when the two were together, and was pretty sure she wasn't. "Maybe it's not what it seems like," she encouraged Jane. Maybe this Cassie is a cousin or something."

"Or maybe he's trying to give me a hint."

"I don't know Jane, it's hard to tell. That man of yours is harder to read than most."

"There's something else I haven't told you yet..."

"What?"

"The night Rory left...Nelda told me that she had overheard Rory and Clancy talking about getting revenge on me, that Rory was just playing with me, and he left on purpose."

Lanette gasped. "No...no, Jane, that can't be true. I could swear that guy loved you. I saw it in his eyes. Why would he want to do that to you?"

"Well, I guess he thinks that I did it to him."

"But you've told him differently. He couldn't still be thinking that."

"He hated me for fourteen years, Lanette."

"Hate is akin to love. He loved you for fourteen years. He never married another, did he?"

"Oh, I guess not. I don't know. What should I do?" Jane asked, but Lanette knew it was an almost rhetorical question. Jane had decided she was going to Nova Scotia, so go she would. Once she made up her mind about things like that, she tended to keep the same course. Occasionally Lanny thought she was a little like a bull dog that way, but in general it was a good trait.

"I guess you'll just have to brazen it out. Wait and see what happens, I guess. I know you are longing to see Nova Scotia again, Rory or not. You may as well go."

"Yeah." Jane gave a weak little laugh. "I suppose I'll just sit around moping about him all holiday if I don't go anyway. Even if I end up getting hurt when I go it will be better than not knowing."

"You're right. Now, let's change the topic. What's for dinner? I'm hungry."

The girls spent a quiet evening, talking about Lanette's moving plans, about her idea to open her own stable to breed and train horses. They made and ate supper together, and Lanette's happiness did much to cheer Jane into a positive frame of mind about Rory. If Lanette was to be allowed a perfect romance, then surely Jane could win one, too?

# Chapter Seven

"Are you going to take your paint set out to Nova Scotia with you, Jane?" Lanette asked her as she helped her pack.

"No..."

"Whyever not?" her friend demanded.

"You know I don't like sharing these things with strangers, Lanny."

"Strangers! They're about to be your in-laws!"

"We don't know that. He hasn't said anything about marriage yet. Before he left...I thought we might have something. But maybe we don't. I don't feel easy about this trip. And my paints are not something I can easily hide away," Jane insisted.

"You need something to do during the quiet hours. You won't be with Rory all the time, if he's busy running the store."

"Oh." This was a new thought for Jane. "I suppose you're right."

"Why don't you take your flute with you? You can make some nice Christmas music in your room. Though I really don't understand why you're so secretive, Jane. So talented, yet so sneaky."

"I'm not sneaky!" Jane retorted.

"Well, whatever you call it. Take something artistic with you. You'll go nuts without it, I know you well enough for that."

"Fine. I will." Jane said, and tossed her little flute case into her backpack.

Lanette disappeared into the living room, then came back with some Christmas music in her hand. "Take these too!" she ordered.

"Fine!" Jane shouted back. Both girls dissolved into laughter, rolling together onto the bed. They messed up the clothes Jane had laid there and had to refold them together. But they laughed all the while, so it was okay. Jane went to the airport light of heart. Lanette dropped her off there on her way to Canmore, where she would spend the Christmas with Rob.

"Are you flying out to be with your family?" Jane asked the lady beside her, thinking that some small talk might take her mind off her worries about visiting Rory.

The woman laughed sourly. "I guess you could say that. I'm going out to be with my mother, because my ex-husband and his darling new wife have my daughter this Christmas." Her words came out in a bitter torrent.

"Oh, yes, I had known him since I was fifteen and it seemed like so much Fate...so I married him, and had his child, and followed him out to Alberta. It didn't take very long for my bubble to burst, though. My perfect love was soon a perfect jerk. Let me tell ya, honey. When you've got a secure place in your world, never let a man take you away from it. I was stranded out here and had to start out all over, without the family and friends I had back home. So many times I rued the day I ever thought I was in love..." Jane quickly realized that there was no point in replying. The woman's words continued, eventually becoming mutterings. Jane just tuned the other woman out. _So much for that escape route from these thoughts!_

In the enclosed environment of the airplane, all of her doubts became concentrated as she had time to sit and think over them. Airplanes always seemed to focus her, so she was twice of conscious of life and everything it meant to her than she usually was.

Usually on an airplane, she was heading for a new and exciting travel experience. She always studied up beforehand and by the time she was on the airplane, she was eager to get to her new destination.

Now the situation was so much different. She was going back to her home town, somewhere that she hadn't been for fourteen years. There were so many memories there.

Jane's mind drifted to bittersweet memories of her grandmother, who had been Jane's best friend until she had been sent away. Jane had written twice a week for years, and had been devastated on learning that her dear friend had died.

Jane cherished the pain that thinking of her grandma and their old times together brought. At least it kept her mind off her worries about Rory for a while. Was she doing the right thing by flying out and trying to cling to their relationship? Was this relationship really different, and more, than relationships she had had before? Maybe she was only imagining herself in love, believing this one was special because she wanted to believe in a teenager's dream. Was she only convincing herself that it was so by wishing it into existence? Had Rory really wanted her to come, or had he only agreed out of kindness? Had he really believed he escaped back there, getting his revenge on her by leaving her alone again in Alberta?

What about this Cassandra? Jane didn't know if she was feeling strong enough to face up to that fear, either. Cassie was obviously much more beautiful than Jane, and she played a Celtic instrument. Jane felt utterly inadequate by comparison.

To Jane's tortured mind, the luggage seemed to take forever. Her backpack was the second last piece out of the carrier, and it seemed like an omen that she shouldn't be here. Her worry was tempered with her eagerness to see Rory again, feel his arms around her and taste his sweet kiss. She hefted her pack with practiced ease over her shoulder and her step was light as she neared the moment she had been waiting six weeks for...seeing his face again. She had imagined innumerable times on the ride over how his face would shine eagerly into hers, how she would see his eyes, searching for her in the disembarking crowd, and wave to him. He would smile his special smile, that one that melted her heart, and sweep her up into his arms. And kiss her. Oh, and kiss her. All this went through her mind as she let the crowd carry her along the endless passageway to the receiving door. It was too short. It was too long. It would be wonderful. But what if it wasn't? And then she was there, passing through the arrival gates of the Halifax airport.

But Rory wasn't there. Where was he? Her eyes roved the arrivals lounge, restless, eager to see him waiting for her. Surely she was important enough for him to be waiting at the gate? But apparently she wasn't. Because he wasn't there. Not in the front row of waiting families, not in the second row. Her disappointment was complete. He had failed her. It wasn't the perfect romance it was supposed to be. Another bad omen. The roller coaster Jane's emotions were on rolled to the bottom of the hill again.

Finally, after searching three bays of waiting-room chairs, she found him. He stood up as he saw her approach, hands dangling, big and somehow useless at his sides. She stopped for a moment, not sure how to approach him. Then he stepped forward, and so did she. They met in the middle and he enveloped her in his big, special bear hug. Jane tried to dispel the feelings of disappointment of a moment earlier, tried to gain back the feelings of magic that she could feel with Rory and no-one else. But the magic didn't come. And, much to her disappointment, he didn't kiss her there.

"Come on, my car's at the meter and I think it's nearly out."

Oh, that's romantic, Jane thought sarcastically. Where was her knight in shining armor? Nothing was turning out the way it was supposed to. This was her one true love, wasn't it? She had thought so, anyway. Had she been wrong? Preoccupied with her thoughts, desperate to find the happiness she thought she was destined to feel at this moment, Jane didn't really answer Rory, just followed him out to the car.

"My parents are very eager to meet you," Rory said enthusiastically, as they waited for the car to warm up.

_Oh no, I have to meet them already?_ "We can't just go to dinner somewhere first, alone?" _I desperately need this time to figure out what's going on with us. I feel so weird. I'm so unsettled. Why can't you see that? Why don't you pick up on these nervous vibrations I'm giving off? Are you totally out of touch with me? I must have been wrong about us. We're not meant to be together after all. How am I going to last two weeks? I wish I could just turn around and go home, I shouldn't be here. Oh God, Oh God. What if they don't like me? How will I fit in? His family's so big. I don't know anything about families. I've never had one. What do I do now? He has to take me to dinner. Please, please say yes, Rory._

"No, we can't, really. My parents really want to meet you."

Rory was continuing. "I think you'll have a couple of days until the whole crew converges on you. You'll soon learn that our house is quite noisy, with all us kids and grandkids and add-ons about."

_I'm an add-on._

Jane stared a little blankly, a little panicked, out the window as the anonymous street lights of Halifax flashed by in the darkness. The only thing to do, it seemed, was go on. Never mind if she should be here, she was here. Things would get better again. They had to.

Resolutely, Miss Parker put on her best administrator's face. She had got through lots of bad situations before. She could do it again. It couldn't be any more difficult than facing a class of reluctant seventeen-year-olds every day.

"We're here." Although her mind had been worrying, Jane had been avidly drinking in the scenery of her home province. After Rory had picked her up in Halifax, which was a lot bigger than Jane remembered it, they had passed through farmland dotted with farm houses and barns, and then into the forest.

Now, as she looked up, Jane gasped in spite of herself. "What a lovely house!" There was a large open porch along the front, decked out in red, green, and blue Christmas lights. Christmas lights were blazing on two big spruce trees in the yard, and a big decorated tree with presents under it was visible through the window.

"You grew up here?" she demanded of Rory.

His first genuine smile since he had picked her up showed on his face. "Sure did."

"Wow." In her amazement, Jane nearly forgot her nervousness, but not quite. "It sure is a far cry from what my parents' house was." For a moment Jane forgot that Rory had seen the house she had lived in as a teen. He was the only person alive in her life right now, who had.

"Yes, but that doesn't matter." Rory handed her out of the car and took her suitcase and day pack, so she didn't even have the action of carrying them to distract her from the ordeal ahead. Brazenly, Jane put on her biggest, sweetest smile, and started up the walk.

"I'm afraid, Rory. What if they don't like me?"

"They'll like you just fine, girl. You're with me!"

Before Jane could worry anymore, the front door burst open, and a huge smile of welcome was aimed Jane's way by a big man that Jane assumed had to be Rory's dad.

"Come in, come in, get out of the cold. It's not a night for a conversation on the doorstep!" and as Jane stepped through the porch and into the entryway, she was enveloped in a hug. A big, strong, genuinely-happy-to-see-you hug. Astonished, Jane hugged back. It felt good! She had never expected a welcome like this!

As Jane emerged from Rory's dad's hug, his mom was there, giving her a Christmas bear, and hugging her too. Smiling approval on her. She introduced herself as Gwen. She was lovely woman who didn't look nearly old enough to be Rory's mother.

"We're so happy you're here. We've heard so much about you."

Jane felt at home immediately with Rory's parents, and was easily absorbed into the household. Ironically, this separated her more than ever from Rory. With the constant presence of others, they never got together alone to have the talk that Jane felt she needed.

During the days before the rest of the family arrived, Jane got to know Rory's mom, Gwen, very well. Rory and his dad spent hours at the store together, and Jane was left with Gwen. They baked, and drank tea, and talked a lot. The two women quickly developed a close relationship, and it helped Jane survive. Somehow everything with Rory seemed so awkward. The closeness they had shared in Alberta was covered with tension.

Jane did play her flute to herself in her room, as Lanette had suggested she do, in the quiet moments when it seemed that everyone else was busy and no-one would notice her. On the afternoon of Jane's third day there, however, when the men left for the store again after lunch, Gwen asked her if she would play in the living room.

"Oh. No. I—I can't," Jane stammered, red-faced.

"Whyever not?" Gwen asked, mystified.

"Well, I'm not very good." Jane admitted.

"Well, that will be perfect then, because I would like to practice my harp this afternoon, and I'm not very good on that either. Come on, it will be fun."

Thus Jane was persuaded to bring out her flute, and the two ladies spent a hilarious, yet moving afternoon making Christmas music together. Before they even started to warm up their instruments, Gwen brought out two glasses of ruby-red wine.

"Warms up the throat, you know. _Très éssentiel_ ," Gwen teased.

"Yes, I hear all the professionals in Vienna do that these days," Jane rejoined with a regal tilt to her nose and an elevated tone.

They set up candles to prepare for when the sunlight went away, and stoked the fire. When the atmosphere was just perfect, and their throats were warm from drinking the full-bodied wine, they began to play. They were in sync right from the start, and were able to match each others' tone and follow the rhythm perfectly. (In fact, they each had been too modest in saying that they weren't very good.) The melodies to many Christmas carols are simple, and Jane was able to read the melody line from Gwen's sheet music by standing near Gwen's shoulder. Gwen acted as conductor by nodding her head to start, and good listening skills, on both their parts, did the rest.

That's how Rory and Rory Senior found their girls when they came home from the shop—arranged in front of the fire, making beautiful music together. The women were so intent on each other and the sound that they did not notice the men standing at the room's entrance, watching the picture they made. Jane was dressed in a long, warm green winter dress that she had bought herself the day before on a shopping trip with Gwen in the next town, and her hair hung loose down her back to her hips. The glow from the firelight reflected on her face made her seem very soft and innocent, and Rory's heart tugged for all he would lose if he couldn't convince her to stay. Gwen, seated at the harp, was also in a long winter dress, but it was off-white with a red sash. Her face was a study of joy and peace in the firelight. Rory Senior reflected on his joy at all the years he had had with this beautiful woman, and whispered to his son, "If yours turns out to be half as good as mine has been, you'll be the happiest man on earth with her. Don't let her go, son."

At Rory Senior's whisper, the two girls looked up, startled from their reverie. Jane faltered. Making music bared her soul, and while she had adjusted to this with Gwen, she was not ready to share with the two new arrivals. Disturbed, she crossed the room quickly and turned on the overhead light, instantly destroying the harmony and serenity of a minute ago.

Gwen's blinking eyes met Rory Senior's, eyebrows raised. Her glance slid to Rory Junior's. Before a word was spoken, Rory moved to where Jane still stood by the light switch, turned it off again, and hugged her. Neither he nor his parents understood her sudden agitation, but he sensed her need to be told she wasn't doing something wrong. He passed her flute to his father and carried her to the couch, where he sat and cuddled her. Rory's parents faded from the room into the kitchen, and noises of dinner preparation could soon be heard.

"What's the matter, Janey?" Rory murmured into Jane's ear when it seemed that some of the tension had left her body.

Jane was quiet for a few minutes, cherishing the feel of him close to her, despite her sharp emotions, then replied, "I never play that way when other people are around, never let myself get that wrapped up in the music when someone else can see. When I was still young here in Nova Scotia and my grandma first gave me that flute, my parents used to yell at me for making too much noise when I played it. I still always feel a little guilty when someone catches me playing and I'm not expecting it."

"We're sorry, Janey, we didn't know it would affect you like that or we would have given you some warning. We all are so used to sharing our music, it's second nature to perform for each other or listen."

Jane nodded, noticing that he used "we" and "you" language. It seemed to be proof that he didn't consider her a part of the family, and her heart broke a little more. Her usual mask out of place because of the music, a few tears slipped down her face before she could stop them. _I guess Lanette was wrong. This plan of showing him how I fit in his life here is never going to work. Who am I trying to kid? I don't know anything about being a normal member of a family, as much as they seem to treat me like a sister here._ Jane's feelings of inferiority, bred into her in childhood and never really absent in her, swelled to the forefront of her mind.

Rory was mystified. _She's a lovely flautist, what is she crying about?_ His big, capable hands felt useless as he stroked her hair down her back, unsure what to do about her sadness.

_My flute's not even Irish. I can't even join with the rest of the clan. It's the wrong kind of music. I'm the wrong kind of girl. I can't even deal with the family situation without doing something wrong._ More tears fell down her face. She couldn't seem to stop them.

Rory stopped them. At a total loss for something to do, he kissed her. It was beautiful. Her face was hot from crying and her salty tears were like the most expensive love potion to him. With her composure cracked, she responded completely, without reserve, and he knew the strongest urge to make love to her.

_He'll know! He'll know that I love him. And then he'll go away and I will lose him forever. Oh, I can't make him guilty. I have to stop._ Jane willed her hands to push him away, but they wouldn't obey her mind.

_Oh, I can't stop, I can't make myself cold._ Emotions swinging again, Jane wished she could just allow herself get lost in his delicious embrace. His lips on hers and his arms around her were the closest thing to heaven she had ever known. But she couldn't do that, couldn't let herself go when she knew that she wasn't the right one for him. He didn't really want to love her. Awkwardly, doing the only thing she could to stop from pouring all her emotions on his conscience, Jane tore her mouth from his and leapt out of his arms. Well, she tried to leap. Actually she did a little hop and kind of fell onto the floor. Picking herself up, shaking, she all but ran over to the fire where the two ladies had sat so happily all afternoon.

She stood there, shaking, staring into the flames and wishing Rory would move, go away, go to the kitchen or something. She must not let him find out her true feelings. He would be so embarrassed. If he was feeling guilty over her love he would never let her remain his friend.

Much to her relief and disappointment, Rory did leave her alone. After sitting for a few minutes where she had left him, thinking, _what's going on? Our kisses are so perfect and she doesn't seem to want them,_ he gave up, rose from the couch, and joined his parents in the kitchen.

By the time supper was due, Jane had herself back under control again. She felt guilty about not helping with the cooking, but she had needed the time alone, and she vowed to herself to make up for it when it was time to do the dishes. The other three at the table seemed to have decided to ignore the little incident, and the conversation was fairly normal. There was talk of the store, of the dance coming up, the weather, and sundry other normal things. Jane was invited and welcomed into the conversation but not pushed. It was as if they sensed her need for a little space.

Rory's siblings descended on the house on the twenty-third of December, and settled in easily. The big house seemed full, but happily so. The hallways rang with laughter and love from the rooftops to the smallest corners. She might have been Rory's left arm, she felt so accepted. Even when he was nowhere near her, they all treated her as if she really belonged. It was a new and somewhat unsettling experience for Jane. She was surrounded by familial love, and it was so much more steady and welcoming than the love she shared with her students. It had no reservations or outside restrictions, and she wished that she could remain in the bosom of this family forever.

Rory's sister, Maggie, was as kind as Gwen herself, and Jane enjoyed herself as the three of them, along with Sammy, a sister-in-law, prepared dinner in the kitchen. The eggnog glasses were full, as they had been all afternoon, and the atmosphere was quite merry.

The only tense moment Jane had all afternoon was when the topic of babies came up. Gwen was teasing Maggie and Sammy about all the diapers they had to get through in the years ahead, and then they turned on Jane.

"What about you, Jane? How many little ones are you and Rory planning on having?" Sammy asked, her large brown eyes fastened innocently on Jane's face. Sammy had lovely auburn hair that fell in ringlets past her shoulders, and it was dusted with flour just now from the Yorkshire puddings she had been mixing.

_He hasn't even asked me to marry him yet,_ Jane thought. _Who knows if he ever will get around to it? He hasn't exactly been lover of the year since I arrived._ She tried to change the subject. "You have flour in your hair, Sammy."

Sammy turned a little to try to look at her hair, then brushed it with a careless hand. "Oh, well, that's nothing out of the ordinary these days. I have gotten pretty used to being messy, with the kids around all the time. So, when are you going to start?"

Maggie was watching Jane's face, too. "Maybe we ought to lay off her, eh, Sammy? We're embarrassing Jane."

Jane felt a rush of gratitude towards Maggie, and that showed in her face too. The other three women laughed. "Ah well, all in good time. Isn't that right, Jane?" Gwen said.

"Yes, all in good time," Jane murmured with relief.

"Rory never was one to be rushed. Always thinks things out, that's our Rory. Hope you're a patient girl, Jane."

"Well, I'll try." _Is that why he's been so quiet? He's thinking things out? Weren't the seven weeks we were apart enough time to think? Maybe he's just changed his mind. Not that we had any commitment before, anyway._ Luckily there was a commotion at the door, some action to stop Jane's thoughts from weighing her down again.

She heard a chorus of cheers and hellos from the men, who had been downstairs playing some billiards.

The ladies dusted off their hands and hastened to the front room. Jane flushed a deep red when she saw Rory hugging a female with long dark hair. From Jane's angle, all she could see was the ripples of hair that fell to the woman's waist, but she felt certain that her face would be equally as lovely as her hair. Jane's overwhelming emotion was a desire to race over and pull Rory away from her, and then rip the woman into small pieces. But of course she just stood beside Sammy, glad that all the attention was focused on the new woman. No-one seemed to be witnessing Jane's crumpled composure.

After an eternity, Rory finished his hug and turned to face the women who had entered the room. "Jane," he said, with tones of pride and affection, "I'd like you to meet Cassie."

Jane's jealousy amplified. So this was Cassie! The wonderful girl that attracted all the men when she and Rory played together in the pub. Jane wanted to scratch her eyes out more than ever.

"It's nice to meet you, Jane," Cassie was saying in a low, attractive voice.

"It's...nice to meet you too," Jane lied. "Rory told me such wonderful things about you." That much at least was true, much as she hated it.

"Did he?" the other woman laughed as she slanted a teasing look up at the tall dark man beside her. "I can just imagine."

Jane really wished that Rory would remove his arm from around the beautiful girl. They looked so perfect together, standing there, obviously with a deep bond between them and a casual acceptance of the rightness of that bond.

"Your usual room is waiting for you, Cassandra," Gwen said.

_Great. This girl has no problems fitting into the family, like I do. She obviously belongs here. I already know she can make beautiful music with Rory, he's told me so in his letters. And she's got a past with him. It's a wonder that he didn't say no to me when I volunteered to come visit. With a creature like that around, who needs me?_ Abruptly, uncomfortable with the crowded family room, Jane turned and went back into the kitchen. Furiously, she continued chopping vegetables for a salad. She was glad that everybody stayed to visit the new arrival, because a few angry, hopeless tears fell onto the cutting block.

_If Rory cared, wouldn't he come into the kitchen? He probably didn't even see me leave, now that_ Cassie is _here._ Agitatedly, Jane swiped a hand at her face, mopping the tears, and continued chopping.

It was bound to happen. Vision blurred, Jane chopped her finger. It wasn't a deep cut, but it did bleed quite a bit. Helplessly, too downhearted to care, Jane sank down at one of the chairs at the kitchen table. She grabbed a napkin to stop the blood from dripping on the floor. Then, exhausted all of a sudden, she got up and used a washcloth to clean up the blood that had fallen on the cutting block. Her tears stopped as she slipped from anger into despair. If Rory preferred the other girl, there wasn't much that she, Jane, could do about it.

Gwen and Maggie came toodling back into the kitchen and saw Jane's bloody finger. "Jane! What did you do? Mags, go get the first aid kit!" Gwen was businesslike as she took Jane's hand and sat her back down at the table.

"I just grazed it chopping some vegetables," Jane said, her voice weaker than she would have liked. "I'll be fine, really." She firmed up her voice, using her long practice as a schoolteacher to carry her through the situation.

"Well, you should be more careful the next time. The vegetables would have waited." Gwen's eyes searched Jane's and saw the evidence of tears left there. "What's the matter? Why were you crying?"

"It...it doesn't matter," Jane said, gritting her teeth to try to keep from bursting into tears again.

Maggie came back with the first aid kit, and Gwen dropped the subject.

Jane barely endured dinner, because it seemed to Jane's tortured mind that all the conversation revolved around the vivacious and accomplished Cassie. Everything Cassie said was a thorn in Jane's heart—there were stories of times they had played music together—and it seemed that everybody in the family had played with Cassie. She was a veritable music goddess, to hear Rory tell it. There were stories of childhood adventures, and even talk of Rory's future plans for the store, which he had obviously discussed in far greater detail with Cassie than he had with Jane. _Well, why not? He obviously has a past with her. What I've had with him seems like nothing compared to all the fun times he has had with her._

Finally dinner was over and Jane offered to do the dishes. She was glad to escape to the kitchen. But Rory came to help her, instead of the girls as Jane had expected.

"Mom tells me you were crying earlier. Do you want to tell me what that was all about?" he asked in a casual tone as they were standing side by side, he with the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up and his arms in sudsy water, and she waiting with a dish towel.

Jane was silent for a time. _Why weren't you the one to notice?_ she wanted to scream at him. _Because you were busy with Cassie, that's why._ Rory was looking down, concentrating on scrubbing the pot, but when she didn't answer, he turned his head and looked at her, his deep blue eyes trying to see into her soul. Finally she choked out an answer.

"I'm just wishing I hadn't invited myself here, that's all. It's obvious I don't belong here. You should have said no when I asked. This was all Lanette's dumb idea anyway." Jane was mumbling down onto the dish towel. Rory took it from her and dried his hands, then he brought them up to cup her face, to force her to look at him. She had a childish urge to close her eyes, as mortified with embarrassment as she was, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. He would just wait until she opened them.

"What's brought all this on?" he asked gently.

"I should think that was obvious," Jane retorted sarcastically.

"No, it's not. Are you angry that I didn't spend enough time with you today?"

That made Jane angry. "No. Do you think I am so childish? I understand that you want to talk to your brothers when you don't get much of a chance to see them."

"Then what is it, Jane?" He seemed genuinely befuddled.

She spun away from him, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer. "It's..." she stopped. She could not put her feelings into words. _It's so obvious_ , she thought. _How can he not get it?_

"It's..." Rory repeated her, prompting. He had followed her to the corner of the kitchen and she felt boxed in.

"I can't say it, Rory, I just can't!" she burst out as she turned around to look at him.

"Well, maybe I can do something to make you feel more communicative," he said softly, and reached for her. She knew then that he planned to kiss her, but for a moment her heart and body conspired to betray her mind and she melted into his arms. At the touch of his warm, electric lips on hers, though, she managed to find the strength to break away. "How dare you kiss me with Cassie in the other room!" she burst out.

"Cassie? What do you mean?"

"You know. Cassie! The beautiful woman you make music with and have childhood memories with and have been falling all over yourself to pay attention to since she got here! That Cassie!"

Ashamed in the first place that she had let her emotions loose, Jane was even more embarrassed when Rory started laughing. "Jane, honey, Cassie is my sister."

Jane didn't sleep a whole lot. Somehow, even though everything was right on the surface, everything was wrong, too. Underneath, something in Jane was screaming. She and Rory still hadn't _really_ talked. Although they smiled, and talked about Christmas and his family and Nova Scotia and school back in Alberta, it was all on a superficial level. The conversation never went towards the future. Jane wondered if there had been any truth to what Nelda said, if Rory had been just playing with her. _Or maybe he's changed his mind_ , she thought.

Jane felt like she was waiting, waiting, waiting. Time was slipping away, and so, it felt, was her opportunity to capture the chance at a relationship with Rory. She wanted to start a deeper conversation with Rory about the future, but she could not find the courage, and didn't know how. _I'm inside my turtle shell, Lanette would say._ _Oh, I wish I knew how to get out._

_Maybe he has decided doesn't want me romantically, anymore._ The way they interacted now, except for the kissing, was much more as friends than as lovers. Everything seemed okay, but there was never any mention of the future, and that made everything wrong. Jane's nerves were drawn to a screaming tautness.

_Even if I could start a fight with him, it would be better than this terrible waiting, this not knowing. But with the whole family in the house, how could I possibly? They're such sweet people. Anyway, Rory hasn't really done anything wrong, anything to scream at him about. I love him, I know that now. But is it too late? How can I love him so much, and not be able to talk to him. It's not fair. Why doesn't he_ talk _to me?_

Rory at home in Nova Scotia was different than Rory in Alberta, where he was the happy-go-lucky barkeep. Here he was more serious, a deeper person somehow. Obviously, he was worried about his dad, and about the store, and maybe this wasn't the best time for her to be visiting, but that didn't seem to be all of it.

During the long, lonely nights, she was racked with despair and longing, but she didn't know how to open her door and go to Rory's. Her heart and her soul begged her feet to go, but propriety and all her girlish insecurities kept her from it.

She relived Hallowe'en night over and over again, that time when Rory had made love to her so exquisitely. Even though they had been interrupted before anything physically irreversible had happened, something emotionally irreversible had occurred in Jane. The perfection of the closeness of their bodies, even without knowing that final union, had been the final piece of the puzzle. Then, she had known that she was meant to be with him, and only him.

_How do I get that back?_

# Chapter Eight

Rory finally took her to see the hardware store on Christmas eve, after closing time. Jane was naturally curious to see where he had spent all of his time, but hadn't wanted to push. Happily, he suggested the tour himself, to give Jane a break from the crowd of relatives that had arrived at the house.

It was not big, but everything a person could want or need to run a household was crammed into it. They did the grand tour, from the tiny little office and the aisles of the shop, and finally, to the big, dusty, nearly empty warehouse.

"There's a little apartment with a bed and a kitchenette at the back, too," Rory said. "My great-grand-dad put it in so he could hole up here in the bad weather...that was when he still rode a horse to work, so the long ride home was dangerous in really bad weather." _I'd better not show you there or I would ravish you on the spot,_ he thought to himself. He let his gaze rest on her face as a ray of sun played on her skin. How he loved the curve of her cheek, that soft bow of her lips...his heart ached with hope that he'd get to see that sunbeam just that way a hundred times, a hundred thousand times, more. But he knew he had to leave the choice to her. She'd been successful on her own for so long...Jane nodded, marvelling at the age of the building and of Rory's family tradition here. "This place has been around since your great-grandfather?" she asked in wonder.

"Yes. I actually think our family was involved in the supply business for the ships before that for a few generations, but this building only goes back to the late 1800s."

"It's older than Alberta, anyway!" Jane remarked.

Rory considered that for a moment. "Hmm. Good point."

The whole building was solidly constructed out of logs. The shop partition had large plate glass storefront windows, and the warehouse had large doors that could slide open to accommodate freight trucks. The actual building was quite near the waterfront, and although it was not in the best of repair, the picturesque log structure, with its old painted "McGillicutty and Sons, Ltd." sign along the front face of the building, did not look out of place among the trendier shops along the water, which were beginning to cater to a tourist trade. The street now boasted gift shops beside the fish shops. The old blacksmith's shop had been turned into an artistic glass-blowing factory and gallery.

"In the beginning, the business was mostly in providing the logging and fishing industries, although there has always been some trade in household goods, too." Rory saw that Jane was paying rapt attention, and continued.

"Dad has been having trouble, lately, though. People travel more these days, and for the big items, a lot of people go to the big new superstore in Halifax. We can't compete with their prices or selection. We can order things in, of course, but people seem to prefer being able to go to the city and instantly see and get what they want. Dad still gets a lot of the small item sales, like picture hangers and duct tape, screws, and so on, but the business is really in trouble."

"No wonder he had a heart attack. I can just imagine the amount of stress he is going through, imagining that he is going to lose the business that has been in his family for so long now."

"Yes, and it's starting to show. The books are not up to date, and when I first came here in November, the store itself was quite out of order. I have done a lot of tidying up since then. It's amazing, all the stuff dad has in here. I am sure some of it is from great-grandad's time. Unfortunately, I'm not sure if all of it is salable. Here, take a look at these," Rory said as he pulled something out of a box. "Thirty-five old-fashioned kerosene ship's lanterns. Nobody uses kerosene anymore, they've all gone electric."

"You could probably sell them in Halifax or Toronto, at an antique market or something."

"Well, they're not exactly old enough to be antique, and it's hardly worth the trip to sell thirty-five lanterns!"

"I guess not," Jane admitted. "It's too bad McGillicutty's has such western decor. These would be neat for lighting a bar or a cafe or something. You could have taken them back there."

"Actually...I have been meaning to talk to you about that, Jane." Rory was very serious now. His eyes weren't looking at her anymore, they were wandering around the room, looking at the high beams, the wooden walls, the packing crates. "I wasn't really planning on going back to Alberta, not to live, anyway. I would like to move back here..."

Jane felt as if her heart had suddenly turned into a lead weight, and the muscles of her chest were not going to be strong enough to hold it in place. Rory was still talking and she struggled to make her ears function.

"...doctor says it would be better for him to slow down after his heart attack, and he and mom are thinking of retiring. He's asked me if I am ready to take over the store, now, and, really, I always knew I would someday. What do you think?" His tone was casual. He had suddenly noticed a shelf that needed straightening and he was rearranging some boxes of screws on it, lining them up in order. _Say yes say yes say yes,_ he prayed.

Jane felt like the axe was falling. Nelda hadn't been lying, after all. Rory had left her, and did not plan to come back. _What am I supposed to think? Are you asking me for a friendly opinion? You're telling me that you want to live your life thousands of kilometres away from me and you want me to give dispassionate advice?_ Forcing herself, she achieved an even friend-giving-a-friend advice voice, and replied, "Well, Rory, if that's what you want, then I am very happy for you, I guess. Of course I'll miss you."

Jane was out of breath. She tried to hold her best friend-giving-a-friend advice face, too. It was costing her a great deal of effort. But if she couldn't have Rory as a husband, as her lover for all time, she still did not want to lose him. She knew her soul had been entwined with his since that kiss by the sea so long ago, and she could never risk breaking that connection again. Even if she had to be merely his long distance friend, it would be better than losing him altogether. Pouring out all her hopeless love for him would only embarrass him, and it would be a long time before they could again become as close as they were now. Better to just shrug the pain off now and deal with mending herself when she returned to her lonely "home" in Alberta.

_She's still planning on returning to Alberta? I guess if that's what she wants I won't be able to change her mind._ "I was hoping..." he forced himself to stop. _No, don't try to change her mind. She has as much right to a career as you do. She's a great teacher. Who are you to take her away from that?_ he demanded of himself.

"What?" Jane asked, raising her head from her twisting hands, showing him a face that was a bland, unemotional mask.

_She really doesn't care_ , he thought when he saw how uncaring her face was. "Nothing."

"Well, then, should we get back to the house? I promised to help your mom with some baking this afternoon."

"Sure." They got up and began walking out to the car. _There must be some way to make her want to stay, man! You can't give up this easy._ He paused, just before the shop door, and said, sadly "I love you, Jane."

For a moment her heart zinged with joy, but it was soon quashed. _But not enough to stay with me._ "I'll always hold you in a special place in my heart, too, Rory," she said, making it sound final, as though it didn't matter to her that the man she'd hoped to spend her whole life with was telling her that he was leaving her.

_So, she has decided. She definitely will not stay._ Trying not to show how his big heart was breaking, all his hopes, he said, "Well, I guess that's that, then."

And the subject was closed.

Oddly, that disastrous conversation broke their earlier restraint with each other. Each, loving the other, yet believing themselves unwanted, seemed determined to build up as many happy memories as possible. They touched each other often, and the electric fire still passed between them. Rory still kissed her goodnight each night, and the power and the passion of their kisses were as potent as they had been ever since the first one, fourteen years ago. But those small incidents seemed isolated from their verbal contact with each other. Rory never mentioned their conversation again, and Jane lost all hope that he might have wished to change his mind.

_What if I offered to stay?_ She wondered. But no, she wouldn't force herself on him. Talk of love was lovely, but he hadn't asked her to stay.

On New Year's Eve the whole crowd went to the community hall for a dance. Rory, Patrick, Darby, Cassie, Maggie, and their parents, were hired on as the band.

As a group, they had a wonderful musical togetherness. No one person was ever out to prove that they were more talented than the others, so they were able to blend all the instruments and voices to perfection. Occasionally there was a solo section for one instrument or another, and that was the time the musicians really took to "strut their stuff."

Gwen and Cassie did a wonderful Irish duet with the harp and tambour flute, and Jane remembered the jealousy she had felt over Rory's raving about her wonderful playing and beauty that attracted all the men. After getting to know her, Jane could only join the crowd of admirers. Maggie, and indeed all of Rory's family, were lovely people. It had probably never even crossed Rory's mind that Jane would get jealous, when he had praised Cassie. Here, surrounded by these people, it was hard to remember all the bitter and horrible emotions that existed in the world.

Jane was feeling one terrible emotion tonight though, and that was despair. It was nearly her departure date and it seemed that nothing had turned out the way she had hoped it would with Rory. So much for her silly dreams that he would ask her to marry him! It was obvious that he had everything he needed here.

Maggie danced with her husband for a few songs on stage, that wonderful, energetic Irish step dancing that required perfect synchronicity between partners. Jane laughed when Sammy suggested that Jane ought to try it.

"No thanks! My knees would never handle it!"

"Well, you can expect lots of this kind of stuff at your wedding! Ours was just crazy. It was here in this community hall and the whole community came, as well as all of his relatives and all of mine. What a party! Of course we hired on some extra musicians. I wasn't about to have my new husband having to spend the whole evening on stage!"

_Wedding...I don't think that particular party is going to happen for me in this community hall._ Jane thought to herself. But she smiled at Sammy and said, "Yes, they are quite the family, aren't they?"

"They sure are. And Mama Gwen is so good for helping out with the children. She often offers to baby-sit so Darby and I can have "a romantic night of our own to do a bit of canoodlin'" as she calls it. I could not imagine a better mother-in-law."

"No," said Jane, "neither could I," and she was glad that Sammy's attention was on the dancers, because she couldn't help letting a tear roll down her face. _I guess I'd better stop drinking this champagne, it's making me too emotional._ Or was it the knowledge that in a few more days she will have lost forever her chances at romance with Rory? Maybe it was the surfeit of passionate Irish music. Listening to it tended to make one think about the deeper meanings of life.

She was glad when the family took a break and someone put on a rock and roll song. She and Sammy took the kids and went up to 'dance'. Little Kerry, with the McGillicutty black hair and blue eyes, was so cute as she hopped and waved her arms in an attempt to imitate the adults' smoother moves. Her movements pulled Jane's heartstrings and made her wish for one of her own. _Hmmm, the change in music hasn't lightened my mood any. Still dwelling on what will never be,_ she mocked herself, to try to stop the river of tears that threatened to boil over.

The rock song ended and an Elvis love ballad oozed from the speakers. Jane was escorting Sammy and the children back to their seats, head down to help toddling Kerry, when she bumped into a solid wall of muscle. Fire leapt in her veins as she looked up into Rory's questioning blue eyes. Without saying anything, he waited until Sammy was settled with the children, took Jane's hand, and led her back to the dance floor.

He didn't let go of her hand until he had looped it intimately behind his neck. Her fingertips caressed his nape, and of their own volition threaded a lock of his hair through her fingers. Rory's big, working-man's arms came around her slender frame and she felt completely swallowed up in his presence. She barely repressed a groan at how warm and strong and good he felt. She wished she could stay this way forever. She wished their relationship were just beginning, instead of in its death throes at it seemed to be. She wished she could have his blue-eyed, black-haired, beautiful babies and celebrate every New Year at this community hall with all these warm, caring people who accepted her so easily.

The song ended and another began. Jane lost herself to the magic of being in Rory's arms, and the music really didn't matter anymore. She gave herself over to her senses, but then the thoughts forced themselves through, useless, wasted thoughts of what could never be.

Rory only regarded her as a good friend. A sexy good friend, probably, but not worth more to him than this place, than his family and community here that he had come back to after too many years away. And who could blame him? If Jane had a family like this she wouldn't want to give them up, either.

If only Rory didn't equate a relationship with her, with having to live in Alberta. He didn't have to lose his family to be with her. Nova Scotia was in her heart, too. Although her childhood had been rougher than his, Jane still felt attached to Nova Scotia in a way she never had been, and probably never would be, to the endless yellow prairies of Alberta. _If he loved me, he would ask me to move here,_ she thought. No way would she be the one to ask him, to force herself on him for a lifetime, as she felt she had forced herself on him and his family for the vacation.

_But he's not going to ask_ , she told herself. She reflected on life in Alberta, how her job there was nothing compared to the fulfillment she sensed she could have here, if Rory was her husband and they had a family. The inconveniences and annoyances that used to be a small trade-off compared to the joy of teaching were becoming harder and harder to take. Jane knew that, even without Rory, she would have to change her career at the end of June.

Her thoughts returned to her bed and breakfast idea. Her house was lovely, and she only slept in one of the four bedrooms. It was beautifully decorated and furnished with handmade quilts, candles, and paintings. The pine kitchen furniture and the coffee table had been made in the wood shop at school. Jane was proud of her house. It was beautiful, it was artistic, it was a showplace that should be shared.

Jane felt Rory's hand move to caress her neck, and the tears rolled harder down her face when she realized how she was trying to convince herself that she loved what she had there, anywhere as much as she would love being here.

But living in Alberta was beginning to remind Jane of the Easter trip she had taken to Mexico alone. She was so used to having Lanette to share the new places and people with. Travelling alone had been empty somehow. She had still seen the beauty and wonder of the ruins before her, but the experience was flat without discussing it. Her life back in Alberta, would be the same. All her experiences would be meaningless and empty without her love beside her.

Her house was beautiful to look at, but the beauty was empty and meaningless without people, too. Since there didn't seem to be the possibility of her having a family to live there anytime soon, maybe sharing with others by turning it into a bed and breakfast would be the best thing.

So lost in her thoughts was she that she didn't even realize the music had changed, until Rory pulled her off the floor. The music had changed back to rock and fast dancing. Apparently Rory was no more in the mood for making merry than she was.

"Come on, Jane, let's get out of this place. I need to be with you."

A thrill rushed through Jane. _Does he mean what I think he does? Does he finally want to make love to me?_

_Or does he just want to talk? Probably just talk._

_I don't think I can take any more of his talking without showing him how I really feel. It would be safer to stay here._

"But it's not midnight yet. We can't leave. Besides, the band isn't finished yet."

"There are seven of us. They'll do fine without me." He didn't give her any more time to question him, just put his arm around her and herded her for the coat check. On their way, they passed his brother Patrick, and Rory nodded at him and said, "Hey, man, we gonna split, you aright wi' dat?" and Patrick laughed at the funny accent.

"Sure thing, home boy. You know I'ma gonna cover fo you."

With this remarkable exchange ringing in her ears, Jane found herself bundled up in her coat and into Rory's car in no time. He started the car, turned up the defrost on the windows, and while Jane was still bemused with the suddenness of their departure, he turned to her and kissed her. Their passion, which had been just below the surface, flared quickly. His warm mouth was even more erotic when it contrasted with their cold skin and the cold air. His cold nose brushed her cheek, and normally it might have made Jane laugh. Right now, the sensation only added to her passion. Rory's hands were cold, too, when he brought them up to cup her head, digging his fingers deep into the hair at her nape. Both his hands and their noses were warm by the time the car was, and they were both breathing unsteadily.

Decisively, Rory fastened her seat belt for her, straightened in his seat and fastened his own, and put the car into gear. Jane wrestled with herself, emotions and thoughts all in a jumble. _What is Rory thinking? Feeling? What does all this mean? Am I just a convenient woman now that he's feeling lusty? Would he make love to someone else this New Year's if I wasn't here?_ Before she had anything straight in her head, Rory pulled up and parked beside McGillicutty and Sons, Ltd. He turned the car off and was around at her side opening her door before she even had her seat belt undone. He picked her up in his arms, oblivious to her startled squeak of protest. Closing the car door with his hip, he strode up the walk with her as if she were a bag of feathers. He set her on her feet while he unlocked the door, but kept his arm around her. As soon as he had the door open, he swept her up again and strode through the store to the apartment at the back.

Jane didn't know how to feel. She was halfway between laughing and panicking, demanding that he let her go. It was obvious that he planned to make love to her. _Well, why not? Maybe he'll give me his baby. Anyway, I'll never forgive myself if I leave him and never find out how this electric fire feels when we really, truly, make love._ Jane knew that she was powerless to resist, even if she could only have him for this one night.

Rory took her back to the little apartment that he had neglected to show her before, and Jane looked around with interest at the log walls, wood stove, and old-fashioned sink.

Rory was a man with a mission, in a hurry. Deftly he removed their bulky winter coats and his own shirt. He reached for her buttons and began undoing them. They went all the way down the bodice of her dress, and when he had three undone, he groaned and carried her to the bed. He lay her down and finished the unbuttoning with kisses and attention to the flesh he was revealing. _It feels so good,_ thought Jane, and then tried to turn her thoughts off, lest she remember something that would mar her enjoyment. Neither of them had spoken words since they had left the hall, and neither of them were about to. Moans and sighs were plenty to accompany the music of their bodies. Jane needed this fierce coupling as much as Rory seemed to, didn't care about the consequences.

There was nothing hesitant in their motions. Jane writhed and moaned as Rory finished unbuttoning her dress, and her hands helped him slide it down her legs. She undid her bra before he had a chance to, and moaned again as his mouth went to her breasts. There was nothing gentle about him now, and she didn't want him to be. Her greatest frustration was that her arms couldn't reach his pants to take them off. Restlessly, her hands roamed his back and shoulder muscles, squeezing and caressing. Then he moved lower, so his back was out of her reach, and she had no will to resist the power of his mouth as he removed her panties and suckled there, in her most intimate place. She felt desperate, urgent, to have him inside of her, and her hands urged him up to cover her. Their hands fumbled at his belt buckle and slid his pants away, down his legs. Neither could wait to take them all the way off.

At the first touch of his body against her soft femininity, she gasped. Then he was inside her, as she had wanted him for so long, and they were moving, urgently, together.

Jane thought she would explode and float away off the earth. His mouth came down, hard, against hers, and it completed the feeling that they were only one being. She clung to him, riding out the storm, bucking and tossing like a rowboat in a storm. And then, the world did explode, and all was calm.

Jane became aware of his weight on her, warm, large, protective. She never wanted him to move.

He did, of course. Rolled off her, one hand over his eyes, away from her. "Are you all right?" he asked gruffly.

Jane didn't know what to say. "You could have asked that a half hour ago." Why was her tone so cold, so angry? What was making her so disagreeable? Wasn't this what she had wanted all along? But was it proof that he loved her, or just lust? Would they be able to continue as friends now anyway? Maybe it was worth the risk of telling him how she really felt. But she couldn't.

"Lord! I can't help myself around you...I didn't mean to...I wanted to...you'll let me know if you're pregnant, won't you?" Before Jane could regroup her thoughts and say something to ease the harsh words she hadn't meant, Rory was apologizing.

_He didn't mean for this to happen. He doesn't want to be close in this way. He thinks it was all an accident._ Jane forced herself to be nonchalant. It was quite a feat of acting, because it was the furthest emotion from her right now.

"That's alright, Rory. We both wanted it. You're a sexy guy, it's New Year's. We can be adults about this. It's no big deal. Look," Jane forced out a laugh, "it's just after midnight! I guess that beats the traditional kiss all to heck!"

_No big deal? Like hell, Jane,_ Rory thought. _It's the biggest deal that I've ever known._

_Maybe it is no big deal for her,_ he argued with himself. _I always knew she was cold. Why didn't I talk to her first, find out what she felt?_

_You're a big boy, Rory. You've been wrong before. Deal with it._

"Yeah, Jane, I guess it does." Rory's face was closed when Jane finally found the nerve to look at him. For a minute their eyes held, and Jane wanted to shove away the false cheerfulness and collapse in his arms. But his face was stern, and the gap between them was too wide. After a moment, they turned away, and Jane reached for her dress off the floor, where it had landed totally unheeded just moments before. Rory turned to don his clothes, too, and they made their way more or less in silence back to the car, which was still warm from their arrival.

Jane was so intent on disguising her own emotions, that she did not see Rory's bleak expression. _Well, he's got nothing to say, I guess. Okay, I can play the game that way, too._

Rory slanted Jane a look as he opened her car door for her. She didn't even have a hair out of place. She could probably walk into a classroom and teach math without a problem right now. _I guess I was wrong about her,_ he thought. _Again_. _I thought she cared for me more than that._

Jane's professional life at high school had taught her how to maintain her composure under very stressful situations. She had lots of practice at it too, and by now she had a reputation around the school for never losing her cool. But this was by far the hardest situation she had ever been in. She had never wanted so badly to give in to her emotions.

They were silent on the drive back to the big house. Jane's heart was breaking but she concentrated all her energy on not allowing her composure to crack. The house was dark when they returned. Nobody was home yet. Jane dashed in as Rory opened the front door, to get out of the cold. She quietly mumbled to Rory that she was going to bed, not meeting his eyes, and he mumbled something back. She was successful at keeping the mask in place until she was in her night dress and in bed. Then she cried her heart out. She couldn't even sob. The tears that she had kept inside all night rolled silently onto her pillow like a river of disappearing hope.

When she woke up in the morning and went down for breakfast, her Miss Parker mask was back in place. She was amazed at how energetic the family was after partying so late last night. She had still been awake when she heard them come trooping in at a quarter past three. Now they were all up and as cheery as ever. The children were even energetic. In this friendly atmosphere it was relatively easy to put on a happy face and lose herself in the crowd. She tried not to think about the crushing unhappiness that weighed at her soul.

They had a big breakfast of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and sliced fruit, washed down with endless cups of coffee as everybody stayed around the big table talking of New Year's Resolutions. Gwen and Rory Senior, laughing, resolved to learn how to act like "retired people." Sammy resolved to be the perfect mom. Darby, the carpenter, resolved to make some baby furniture. Rory resolved to make the hardware store profitable again, and this triggered Jane's despair at their fast-coming separation, so that when it was her turn to tell her resolution, her mind was astray and she couldn't think of one. She said, eventually, "I resolve to do something new with my life." Which really, she had resolved last night while she had been dancing with Rory. _Ideally_ , she thought to herself, _if I could have my fondest wish, I would move here and marry Rory._ _But that option doesn't seem to be open, so I will have to try something else to get out of the rut my life is in._

After breakfast, Jane and the other ladies washed up. The men went outside to chop and stack some more wood for the fireplace. Jane thought she was doing pretty well at keeping up a happy face. Once or twice Gwen and Maggie gave her sharp looks, but they didn't say anything.

The men came in from outside, stomping the snow off their boots and smiling with winter cheer, and Darby announced, "the pond is perfect for skating, after we shovel the snow off. Let's have a skating party."

There were general cheers and nods of agreement all around, and it seemed to Jane that she was the only one who had any reservations towards this plan. "I'll stay home and look after the babies," she offered.

"Oh, no, Jane, I wouldn't hear of it, They will all be out there, anyway!" Gwen countered. "I was looking forward to a nap this afternoon, myself, after last night." Jane doubted anything was further from the truth. Gwen looked as if she had enough energy for two women. "You take my skates and have a good time. It's lucky we have the same size feet!"

"Yeah, come on, Jane, when was the last time you got to go skating in Nova Scotia?" Maggie asked her.

"Never, actually." Jane admitted. _There was never enough money for skates, or anything else for me, after my dear old dad bought his whiskey_ , she thought, but she didn't say that. She was aware that she was receiving incredulous glances from all around.

"A Canadian who doesn't skate? Why, that's preposterous!" Cassie said.

"We'll soon fix that. Rory's a great skater. What could be more romantic than teaching your girl how to skate, eh, Rory?" Patrick was nudging him with an elbow.

Rory and Jane looked at each other, and Rory grinned. Maybe Jane was the only one who thought it looked forced. "Sure, I'll teach you to skate, Jane."

It was too much. Jane forced herself to grin back. "No, thank you everybody, but I have got a headache. I am just going to lie down quietly for a while." She congratulated herself on a plausible excuse. "Anyway, my airplane out is tomorrow, so I'd like to organize my things."

Everyone looked shocked. "Tomorrow...?" Gwen asked. "We had no idea your plane was leaving so soon..."

_Yes, luckily for me_ , Jane thought. Nobody had ever asked her when her return flight was, and she was thankful for that now. Rory knew, of course, but after last night, she didn't think he would blow the whistle on her.

"Couldn't you stay a little longer?" Gwen was asking now. "Change your flight?"

"No, not possible. The ticket my friend got me was a discounted one, and no changes are allowed." Which was actually true. So Jane would need to hope she could get herself on another flight by telephone, while everyone was out of the house. _If not, I'll lie, make up a flight time, and just wait in the airport until I get on a flight stand-by,_ she resolved.

As soon as the family was out of the house, Jane picked up the phone, and discovered that there had indeed been a cancellation, so a place was available on a flight leaving that afternoon. If Jane hurried, she could make it to the airport in time. She agreed to take the flight and gave her credit card number to the agent, looking over her shoulder all the while, but nobody came back in. _Rory's probably glad to see me go,_ she thought. Jane called the taxi company to the nearest town and asked them to come for her. It would be hideously expensive, asking a taxi to come this far into the country, but the idea of Rory or Gwen driving her to the airport was terrifying. Jane knew she would never maintain her composure that long.

She scrawled a note to the family.

_Oops! I misread my plane ticket! My flight is actually today. I am sorry to leave so abruptly but I had to make my plane. Thank you for a lovely Christmas visit._

_Jane_

Not nearly the gratitude she would have liked to show them, Jane acknowledged. But it would have to do. She wiped the tear off that had fallen on the corner of the writing paper and hoped they wouldn't notice its mark.

It was awful to leave so rudely, but on the other hand, she was glad that the skating pond was to the back of the property, so it was unlikely anyone would witness her escape.

# Chapter Nine

Jane poured her heart into her paintings for the remainder of the school holiday. The images that came from her paintbrush were darker and rougher around the edges than her usual work, but satisfying to her soul nonetheless. She painted day and night for nearly a week. Lanette wouldn't have been expecting her return, and Jane didn't phone her to tell her any different. At any rate, she expected that her friend would still be in Canmore with Rob.

She painted everything: every room in her house, bowls of fruit, pictures from her imagination. By the end of the week, she had made a decision. She felt so strongly about it, that she couldn't even wait until school was back in session to act.

So when Lanette returned to Brooks, Jane had some real news to tell her.

"So?" Lanette asked right away on the phone. "How was it? Are you engaged? Is he coming back?"

"No, Lanette. Nothing with Rory worked out. He's staying down there, and I'm going to make things turn out fine for me here. Would you like to come over? I don't want to talk over the phone."

"All right. Should I bring the cappuccino maker?"

"No, a bottle of red wine. Maybe two."

"This must be serious," Lanette muttered to herself as she hung up the phone. The venerable Miss Parker rarely over-imbibed.

Soon the two of them were ensconced comfortably on the matching settees in Jane's cozy living room, with a platter of cheese and crackers on the coffee table, wine glasses on hand, and a candle burning.

Jane started to speak, oddly enough, on the topic of the candle. "You know, it really is no substitute for a real fireplace."

Lanette was lost. "What has a candle got to do with a fireplace?"

"Well, Rory's parents had a great roaring fireplace. It's no big deal when you're surrounded by forest everywhere. But here on the prairies, there's no source of fire wood, so hardly anybody has a fire place. It's sad, really."

"I guess so," Lanette commented dubiously. "It's never seemed like that big a deal to me."

"No?" Jane looked abruptly up from her contemplation of the candle's flame to look at her friend.

Lanette sensed that somehow the whole candle issue was an introduction to a bigger issue. She itched to ask how the holiday was, but she knew better than to push. Jane would tell her in her own good time.

"You know how we always go a little crazy when we're on vacation together?"

"Yeah, we have had some good times, haven't we?" Lanette agreed.

"Well, I want to be that way all the time. Why is it that I am a fun person when I am on holiday, and then I feel like I must change my personality for "real life" when the holiday is over? When we're abroad, I don't let any opportunity go by. We reach out and taste everything, and take risks, and do exactly what we want to do. But when I'm at home, I suddenly turn into this stodgy old teacher person who always follows the rules for the sake of her job. You know Lanette, I'm tired of being a stodgy old frightened teacher person. I want to be a whole, risk-taking exciting person."

Lanette merely nodded, eyes wide. She could see there was more to come, so she didn't bother to comment.

"Visiting Rory's family made me realize that I have been living my life in a very fearful way. When I was visiting in Nova Scotia, the McGillicuttys really pulled me out of my shell. It was scary at first, but it felt good."

"I don't really understand what you mean," Lanette looked a little perplexed.

"Well, Brooks is a very warm place. People take care of each other, and the close knit community sort of wraps around and protects people like a cocoon. I certainly needed that when I first came. After all, I had just lost my parents, my home, everything. But now I think it is time to make myself become a butterfly. It's hard to break away from all the comfort and safety I have felt here, but I think it's time. Even if I can't have Rory, my way of thinking is changed. I can't go back to what I was before."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Well, Lanette, I have done something drastic."

Lanette waited through Jane's dramatic pause.

"I gave old Mr. Wiggles my notice today. I really have burned my bridges. There's no going back now."

Lanette gave a squeal of joy. "Jane! It's about time. So are you going to pursue your art now?"

"Yep, and I am going to start a bed and breakfast." Jane enthusiastically told her friend of her plans for adapting the house to the small business enterprise.

"There's no chance for Rory, then?" Lanette finally had to ask, since Jane seemed to be skirting the issue entirely.

"No," Jane began to sob in spite of herself, and Lanette moved to give her a sisterly hug. "I wanted so much to be with him, forever. It's almost like I've got nothing left. The only thing I can do is make some drastic changes. It's time to take risks I've never taken before. You were right about love, about it making a person able to take risks. I learned a lot over the holiday about that. But I guess I'm not going to get a chance to take risks for Rory. He just...he just wasn't asking me to. I guess what Nelda said, about him looking for revenge, must have been true."

Lanette held her friend as she talked on, and cried out her sorrow. When Jane had cried herself out, they talked more about her plans for the future. There was nothing to do, but move on.

Over the next two months Jane worked hard on improving the house after school. She also volunteered to coach the volleyball team, so she was kept very busy.

During an early morning at work, Ms. Schulde popped her head in the door. "Miss Parker, how are you?"

Jane had somewhat revised her opinion of Ms. Schulde since she realized that the story of Rory's truck being in front of Jane's house never had gotten out into the general gossip. Although she was still revolted by the woman, she felt somehow indebted to her for keeping her secret.

"I'm all right, I guess, Ms. Schulde. How are you?"

"Oh, same as ever. Now I was wondering whatever happened to that young man you were seeing? I haven't seen him around town lately, and you seem always to be alone. It didn't cause a quarrel between you when I suggested you be discreet, did it?"

Jane felt touched. "No, no, Ms. Schulde. Nothing like that. His dad had a heart attack and he went back to the Maritimes to help out with the family business."

"Did he now? And why didn't you go with him?"

"Well, I did visit him, at Christmas..."

"Why didn't you stay?"

"Ms. Schulde, I would have, but he didn't ask me to." Jane wished she could make up a nice, happily-ever-after story to have this conversation over with, but she didn't dare make up something that would be proven untrue in the future.

"Well. Did you ask him? I thought you modern women went in for that."

"No, I didn't ask him."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, dear. I saw how happy you were and I was hoping you had found your soul mate. Yes, that's really too bad."

_Enough already! You're making me want to cry._ Jane was noticing a vicious streak again...she seemed to be enjoying turning the knife in Jane's heart. She withdrew into her Miss Parker facade again and gave a businesslike answer.

"Don't feel too bad for me, Ms. S. We modern women have plenty of other things to do with our lives."

"Yes, I know...I just didn't think you were that type. Well, have a nice day, dear." Having got her information, she rolled back out of the room, leaving her usual musty scent behind for a few minutes.

Jane shook her head. _I suppose she's right, in a way. I don't really feel like the career type._ She felt the tears welling up in her eyes, but firmly told herself to stop it. _You've still got plenty going for you. A house, a promising art career, and your self worth. Buck up._

Jane turned the earth over and breathed deeply of the fresh spring smell of it. She was planting flower seeds in the front garden of her house yard. It was a Saturday morning and Lanette was coming along the sidewalk, obviously out for a stroll in the sunny weather. _Really, she is probably checking up on me,_ Jane thought. _She's worried that I will be moping over Rory again._ It was true that Jane had spent some time crying over the loss of her romance with Rory. Surely that was to be expected. But she had been keeping very busy with plans for her new goals, and keeping her mind and body occupied helped to keep her from dwelling too much on the "could-have-beens."

"Hi Jane!" Lanette greeted her cheerfully. "Started working on the outside, have you?" Over the last three months, since her decision to choose a new path for her life, Jane had devoted her spare time to making sure the house was absolutely ship-shape. She had decided to try running a bed and breakfast. Lanette had been delighted to see her friend taking charge of her life, and had even helped Jane refinish the last upstairs bedroom. Both women were excited about the project.

"Yes, I want the house to look as beautiful and welcoming as possible, so people will want to stay."

At first, Jane had wanted to start up a full cafe and restaurant, but that would have required more capital than she had at the ready. She wanted to branch out into something new, but she did not want to sink too deep into debt until she was sure she could handle the business side of things. A bed and breakfast operation, with her three spare rooms, seemed like a good place to start.

"I wonder how much clientele you'll be able to round up?" Lanette questioned now.

"Well, Brooks is not exactly on the tourist trail, but it does get busy during hunting season. I was thinking of trying to market a 'total relaxation' weekend" to locals and people from Calgary, to get clients during the rest of the year."

"Oh, yeah?" this was the first Lanette had heard of this brain wave.

"You know that lady in town that does massage therapy?" at Lanette's nod, Jane continued, "Well, I was talking to her yesterday...I'm thinking of making up a package including a massage session with her, candles, bath salts and oils available for long hot baths in the big bathroom, terry towel robes..."

"Are you going to have New Age relaxation music in the bedrooms, too?" Lanette asked.

"Are you teasing? Well, even so, that's not a bad idea," Jane mused. "Anything and everything for a pampered, relaxing weekend."

"You'll have to look up a relaxing dinner menu, too."

"Hmm...not a bad idea. This is fun, eh? Starting up a new business, creating something people will enjoy."

"Yes, you're doing a great job of it. I'm going to miss you when I leave."

"Are you sure you really want to get married, Lanny?" Jane's eyes and voice held a note of pleading, and a tear came to each girl's eye.

"Yes, Jane, I do. It's time. I'm sorry I won't be so close to you any more, but I have to go. I love him, you know." Both girls were quiet for a time, Jane continuing to work in the soil, and Lanette sitting quietly beside her.

"I think the flower bed is going to look lovely, Jane, and your house is always beautifully kept. I'm sure you'll attract plenty of visitors."

"Oh, well, thank you. I hope you're right."

When school finished in June, she planned to turn her front porch into a small gallery, and begin to show some of her paintings and sketches for sale. It seemed worth a try. She had made some photocopies of the sketches at school and sent them to some publishers, but she had not heard anything back from any of them yet. Photocopies were probably too unprofessional.

"Have you heard anything back on your sketches that you sent out yet?" Lanette asked now.

"No, and it's been six weeks."

"You know what I was thinking, you need an agent or something."

"Good idea," Jane said wryly. "However, how do you propose I find such a person in Brooks? This place is not exactly teeming with clients for an art agent."

"No, but look at the bigger picture. We're not all that far away from Calgary. Why don't you try there?"

"I guess it's an idea. I must have lived so long in this small town that I have forgotten there is anywhere else!"

"What about Nova Scotia?" Lanny asked impulsively, then bit her tongue.

"Oops. Sorry, Jane, I didn't mean to bring that up again," she apologized as Jane's face darkened.

Lanette seemed genuinely distressed that she had upset Jane, so Jane felt obliged to cheer the other girl up.

"Don't worry about it. Hey, I was about to take a break from this gardening anyway. Let's go in for a cup of tea, and you can tell me if you agree with the pictures I chose for the first run on the porch."

"Oh, I do like them," Lanette exclaimed as she perused the dozen sketches Jane had laid out on the table. "I love the expression on that horse's face," she laughed, pointing to a sketch Jane had done of some Christmas carolers on a horse and sleigh. The horse was looking very proud to be pulling the valuable load, ears perked up and stepping high.

"Do you know, though, these would sell a lot better if they were properly framed."

"Well, I've thought of that, but I checked with the gallery here in town and it costs quite a bit to frame each one. It nearly wipes out any profit I would get."

"Could you raise the cost of them, then?"

"No, I don't think they're worth that much. It is not as if I'm famous."

"Not yet, anyway. Which doubles my point about an agent. Maybe we can find a cheaper framer, too, while we're in Calgary."

"I know they have a lot of housing framers there, with so many people moving west lately," Jane suggested, slanting a teasing look at her friend.

Lanette groaned. "Ouch. Please, if you love me at all, spare me the puns," she pleaded. "On the other hand, we could try to pick you up a framer for a boyfriend. You have been single for four months now. When are you going to get back on the circuit?" she asked carelessly.

"Not yet," Jane said quietly, and her tone was sufficiently ominous to cause Lanette to drop the subject instantly, realizing she had gaffed yet again. Obviously Jane was still a long way from being over Rory. But Lanette didn't really regret asking. Jane talked about him so infrequently, that Lanette never really knew how her girlfriend was feeling about that. Sometimes she had to poke the surface a little to check progress.

"I heard that Rory's back in Alberta, working on selling McGillicutty's," Lanette dropped the information in a casual tone and watched her friend's reaction.

Jane's body jerked. "Oh."

"Oh? Oh? Is that all you have to say?" her friend demanded.

"I don't expect he'll drop by to see me, anyway, Lanette. He hasn't called, after all. He's probably glad I left early, without causing him more embarrassment."

"Maybe _you_ should be the one to go see him, Jane. Isn't it worth a try?"

"I don't think so, Lanette. But I will think about it, okay?" The two women were silent for a while. "We can't all be as happy as you, Lanette. Maybe I just wasn't meant to be with Rory."

"Well, Jane, I don't think you should give up so easily." There was a silence between the two friends for a few minutes. "Anyway, I had better get back. Housecleaning, you know."

"Yes," Jane agreed. "I'd like to get that gardening finished before lunch."

"Well, have fun making the place beautiful. I can't wait to see it when all the flowers come up!"

"Thanks, I'll do my best. Say 'hi' to Rob for me when he calls," Jane replied, laughing at her friend's slight blush. "Is he still shiny to you?"

"The very sky gets brighter when I hear his voice on the telephone."

Jane laughed as her friend strode away, then sobered as she wished a certain someone would phone her and brighten her sky. But it seemed like that was not the way her life was meant to happen, much as she had hoped and wished it were so.

_On the bright side,_ she reminded herself, _my relationship with Rory has changed the direction of my life for the better. Maybe I was just meant to meet him again because Fate wanted to give me a kick-start with my art._ She sighed, wishing she knew her future, and hoping that the future would make up for the pain of her present without Rory.

Was there something better in her future, after all? It didn't seem possible. Even after four months, Jane had trouble imagining herself happy without Rory. A tear slipped down her face and plopped on her hand where she held the trowel. When she saw the tear, she straightened her spine and put on her Miss Parker demeanor. Even if there was nobody around to see her, having a weeping fit would not accomplish anything. Resolutely, she finished planting the seeds along the front row, more businesslike than she had been before.

She finished and packed her tools and the empty seed packet back in her gardening box. She was walking up the sidewalk towards the front door when she heard her name called from the sidewalk in a dear, familiar voice.

Slowly, in disbelief, she turned around.

The sun glinted off his hair like a halo. His eyes, deep, sea blue, shone across the distance between them and reached her soul. His teeth, exposed as he said something, shone fluorescent in his face. She blinked, slowly, keeping her eyes closed for a second. When she opened her eyes, he was still there.

Jane shook her head. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, 'Hello, Jane, how are you?'" the rich cadences of his voice echoed off her spine, and she straightened it in an attempt to stop her insides from turning to mush.

"Hi, Miss Parker!" a student yelled as he zoomed by on his bicycle.

"Let's go inside," Jane said, hurriedly. "I'd rather not be gossiped about all over again. I got enough of that while we were dating." Her tone made it seem as though the events she spoke of were far away in the past, and she was proud of herself for keeping the emotions out of her voice. She supposed forty gallons of tears was a small price to pay to be the composed woman she sounded like now.

As they entered the front door, Rory said, "Wow. I thought you had a beautiful house before, but now it's a showplace. You've really fixed it up."

"Yes, I'm..." she didn't feel like telling him. "Are you staying for a minute? Would you like a beer? Oh. I don't have any beer. I have wine though. Would you like some wine?"

"It's eleven o'clock in the morning, Jane."

"Oh. Coffee. You'd like some coffee?"

"No, not really. But if you want some go ahead."

"Well, what can I get you then?" For some reason, Miss Parker was all flustered again. _Why is it that he can always do this to me? I'm usually so level-headed._ _Why is he here? Maybe I_ should _make some coffee, to give me time to get my wits back._

"You."

"What?"

"I would like some of _you._ On a platter, in a cup, in a gown, however I can have you."

"Oh." _He wants sex. He came here for sex. Well, don't I want it too? Haven't I been dreaming about it since New Year's? What could it hurt?_

Neither of them could seem to find any words. They stood in the entry, awkwardly.

"Jane, let's sit down for a minute." Rory said.

"Okay." Jane's brain was a little snapped. She hadn't been expecting Rory, and she couldn't seem to think of how to act. _I'll just follow his lead, that ought to be safe enough._

Rory sat Jane on the couch and she looked at him expectantly. _I think she needs a minute,_ he thought. _I think I need a minute. I've forgotten what I was going to say._ "You know, on second thought, I think I will have a cup of coffee, please, after all."

"Okay," she agreed peppily, and wandered back to the kitchen, looking over her shoulder in an attempt to toss him a flirtatious gaze.

_So, he did come to see me,_ she thought. _And all I feel is happy. I wonder what I should do to make him want to stay? I wonder how long it will take him to sell his bar? I wonder why it suddenly seems like he doesn't want to make love, when he said he did? It must be because I'm so dirty. Darn, I don't want to turn him off at a time like this._ She was aware that her thoughts were incoherent, but helpless to make her mind think straight. She struggled to come up with a plan while she was making the coffee.

_What's taking her so long?_ he thought. _How long does it take to make coffee? How will I ask her? What should I say? Maybe I should try to make some small talk first. I hope she wants me. Of course she wants me. Come on, McGillicutty, don't lose your nerve now._ He wanted to take the ring out of his pocket to make sure it was still there, but he couldn't risk her coming back in and seeing it. _Timing is everything. At least that's what they said in business college. It must work with women, too. She sure is acting funny, though. It's throwing everything right off. I had it all practiced up. I'll just pretend she's a regular girl, one of the waitresses from the bar or something. I never have trouble finding words around them. Finally, she's back._

Rory took the coffee from Jane's hand and it slopped a little when their hands touched.

"Don't worry, don't worry," Jane said, and wiped it off the hardwood floor with the toe of her sock. She stared blankly at the floor, suddenly afraid to look up. _I can't walk away calmly like I did in Nova Scotia. I've got a second chance so I'd better use it. Lanette would say so._

"So, you were going to tell me about why you've fixed up the house?" Rory asked. He struggled for the words to say what he meant. _Maybe I should have asked for a little Dutch courage in my coffee._

"Oh. Well...Um." Jane seemed reluctant to tell him, and he started to get suspicious. _Another man? Already? I thought she felt more for me than that. What if I'm wrong about her feelings for me?_ _Maybe I shouldn't ask her._

"Have you got another boyfriend, Jane?"

"No, no. Nothing like that." Suddenly, Jane moved from where she was perching on the armchair, to sit beside him on the settee. _Why is she looking at me that way?_

She snuggled over closer to him, put her arms around him, and kissed him. At first, his lips were still, surprised, but then he began to respond. Something inside her melted as she felt his lips begin to move and dance with hers. She grew more passionate and tried to get closer to him, rubbing against him and then even putting a leg over his. Unfortunately, that overbalanced the settee, and over they went.

Luckily, neither of them were hurt, but Jane's face turned a furious shade of scarlet as Rory gaped at her in disbelief.

"What are you on about, Jane?" he demanded, from his ignominious position on the floor.

"Er..." Jane struggled to get up, off of him, but he held her close. She looked back to his face.

"What do you mean? You're the one who's being weird. You said just a moment ago that you wanted me. I'm just trying to cooperate." She ended almost on a shout, she was so frustrated. "I mean, look, you're aroused..." here, very forwardly, she put her hand down to illustrate her point. "Aren't you?" she said uncertainly, discovering that he wasn't all that hard, after all.

"Well, you were a minute ago, because I felt it!" Her hand groped around a minute more and ran into the box. "Oh, or maybe it was just this. What is it, anyway?"

Rory's back was beginning to ache from being trapped between the overturned settee and the crazy woman on top of him. He decided it was his turn to change the subject. "Could we get up now, please?"

"Oh, yes. Of course."

Rory sighed. This was going nothing at all like he planned it. Oh well, that was the way Jane seemed to be—throwing curves at him sometimes. At least he would never be bored. _But I guess I'd better get around to proposing before she injures me!_

Jane heard his sigh and cocked her head. "What's the matter?"

"Jane, when I said I wanted you I wasn't talking about sex."

"Oh." She seemed sad. "Well, what else could you imagine I'd be good for? Do you need some help selling the bar?"

Rory stared at her. _I guess there is only one way to do this._ Taking Jane's hand, he sat her on the righted settee. When he had her sitting, he knelt in front of her, and reached into his pocket.

"Ooohhhhhhhhh," she gasped as he opened it. Butterflies began in her stomach. Her vision clouded.

"Will you marry me, Jane?"

At his words, her eyes snapped up from the contents of the box to his face. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst. "Nelda said you were after revenge. That you were just tricking me."

"What?" Rory blinked, remembered. "She heard that?"

"So it's true?"

"No, Jane...oh. At first, I had been angry at you for so long, so hurt...Clancy and I were talking about it one night...but I was just letting off steam. I didn't mean it."

Jane considered this. _At least he's being honest,_ she thought. "I thought you wanted to stay in Nova Scotia and run your dad's business."

"I do. But can't you join me there?"

Jane broke into a smile. Everything was clear in her head, at last. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

# Epilogue

Jane folded her arms comfortably over her protruding belly as she sat on a stool behind the bar beside Gwen.

"The new place looks pretty good, doesn't it?" she asked her mother-in-law with a smile.

"It's amazing that someone didn't think of this sooner. You and Rory have worked wonders."

"I'm just glad Rory's so good with the books!" Jane laughed. "I might have been a math teacher, but now that I have a free rein to work with my art, I don't miss the numbers and equations at all!"

"Well, you're a multi-talented girl. The way you've been running the gallery and cafe, I could swear you've been at it all your life. People come in and ask me where we found you!"

Jane smiled. "Well, I guess I have been thinking and dreaming about doing something like this, for a long time. It all seemed easy."

"Well," her mother-in-law assured her, "Rory Senior and I are really proud of you. It was smart to aim at the tourist market, to change the stock. Ours had always been a family business, reliant on the locals for our livelihood. I guess it took someone from outside the family to change that pattern when it stopped working."

"Don't give me all the credit. Reconfiguring the store's stock was Rory's idea. I just wanted the cafe and B & B."

"Whatever. It works, and I'm grateful. I'm just glad to be retiring."

"Well, semi-retiring!" Jane laughed. Gwen and Rory Senior had been a huge help during the renovations, and now Gwen did much of the cooking and baking for the cafe.

"Ah, we enjoy it. You know that. It's so good to see life breathed into this place again. But I think now that the renovations are done, I might haul my husband off travelling."

"Gwen! That's a great idea!" Jane exclaimed warmly. "But don't go away for too long. I'd miss you."

"I wouldn't want to fall too far behind on my flute lessons, anyway." Gwen insisted.

_Another thing I will never be able to believe_ , Jane marvelled. Now that Jane knew that she was securely part of the family, she could even handle sharing and being teased about her music. She had discovered ways to adapt her silver flute to some of the Irish music. Even better, Gwen was teaching Jane to play the harp. In turn, Jane taught Gwen her flute. She truly thought that life could not be better.

"How's Mommy doing?" Rory slipped up behind her and slid an arm around her expanding tummy, making her feel warm and cherished.

"Mommy's just fine, and having a great time watching her business blossom." Jane gazed contentedly at the cafe space they had created from part of the warehouse. The walls and beams glowed a sunny yellow colour, accented by tartan covers on the chairs and tables. Rory senior had suggested the tartan of the ancient Irish McGillicutty clan, and it looked lovely. Old ship lanterns that Rory had found under the dust in the warehouse found excellent use as atmosphere lighting, and added a distinct character of their own.

Jane, who had been given the final say on anything concerning the cafe, had plans to install a fireplace in one corner, when finances allowed it. The cargo doors could be opened during the summer to create a lovely patio area, or kept closed in inclement weather. The ambiance was charming both ways.

"I just had an e-mail from my friend in Canmore...he wondered if we might be interested in exchanging with him for a short time over the summer—we could run their business, and they could run ours. What do you think? Would you like a chance to visit Lanette?"

Jane turned abruptly and looked into Rory's eyes. "Are you serious?" At his confirming nod, she replied, "That would be wonderful. But could you really trade businesses so easily?"

"Yep, I'd trust those two with anything...my business, my life. Besides, we have really similar enterprises, and, it would only be for a short time."

"That would be marvellous!" Jane hugged him, and then turned in his embrace again to hug this new happiness to her, while she watched customers in their cafe.

"Looks like there is some interest in that wagon sketch you put up yesterday," Rory commented.

Jane looked across the room, and, indeed, there was a couple looking at the sketch. Cassandra had carefully photographed Jane's entire collection of sketches that she had made in Alberta. Publishers were now considering some of them for inclusion in a book of cowboy poetry. The western culture was becoming popular in the States, and even internationally, and Jane hoped she could get in on the growing market.

Now that she had a lasting record of the sketches, she was just as happy to sell them to appreciative tourists, and began to sketch Nova Scotian subjects. The problem of expensive framing costs had been solved by Rory's brother Darby, who was a talented carpenter. He made beautiful frames for Jane's sketches. The ample space on the warehouse walls made a wonderful gallery. The sketches added decoration for the cafe.

Jane had found everything she could possibly need back in Nova Scotia. She felt comfortable with her new family at a deep, spiritual level that she had never found with her cowboy relatives out west, and certainly not in her childhood with her natural parents. Here, she shared herself without fear, and she could not stop believing how right she felt.

Renovating the warehouse space into a cafe had taught her how to really work with her family, and the work had brought them all closer together. Darby had helped with the few structural repairs that needed to be done, and Maggie and Gwen had helped Jane sew up the table and seat covers. Cassandra had photographed the place and had written up an article for the official tourist brochure.

Jane had never realized the power a good family could have. She even had sisters-in-law, now, to share her pregnancy and maternity with.

Realizing Rory still had his arm around her belly, Jane turned to kiss the side of his neck. "Have I mentioned how lucky I am to be with you?" she murmured in his ear.

"I don't think you could feel half as lucky as I do to be with you," he replied, and turned her so that he could look deep into her eyes. From the tender expression on Rory's face, Jane knew that he meant those words down to his toes, and she would never be lonely again.

The End

# Also by Christa Bedwin

### Lanette of the Land

Lanette was raised with a rancher's love of the land and animals. She's tough, she's stubborn, and she's not afraid of hard work. Her horses and her prairie home mean the world to her.

Rob has always believed the great expanses of Canadian beauty are a giant playground. Lanette thinks he's a mountain playboy, but what she hasn't realized is that there's more to him than meets the eye.

Lanette's not easy to lasso, but Rob is not the kind of guy to give up without a good fight!

...

Lanette answered the phone in her usual upbeat voice. "Good morning, Yellowfield Travel..."

"Hello, this is Rob Langevin, of Blue & White Tours in Canmore. Could I speak with the manager, please?"

Lanette felt the deep attractive rumbles in the man's voice echo all the way to her stomach, and felt faint for a moment. _What an odd physical reaction,_ she thought. She conducted much of her business over the telephone and had become particularly sensitive to the variations and tones in clients' telephone voices, but she had never had an overheated reaction like this.

"Hello?"

Lanette cleared her throat and shook her head in an effort to focus her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, the owner is out of the office just now. Is there any way I might help you?"

... _Help you with anything...?_ Lanette's face suffused with heat as her distracted mind wandered to conjuring ways she might "help" the sexy-sounding man. _I never blush. Sure, Jane says I'm 'precocious' about my men, but thinking this way after a few sentences out of the man's mouth is a bit much for even me! He's probably sixty, fat, and married._

Somehow her body didn't think so. Images of a virile, flashing-eyed, muscle bound hunk flashed through her mind, and she almost snorted with laughter on the phone. Then she nearly sighed. That's why they were called fantasies, she reminded herself. Thoughts like that, however arrived at, seldom panned out in reality. Her concentration was drawn back to the man's words.

"Perhaps you can help. I'm looking to give away a promotional adventure tour to one of your agents, as a way of familiarizing you with our services."

"Oh! Are you guiding it, as well?" Determined to dispel her fantasy, Lanette let tact fall by the wayside. _That ought to settle the question of how old and/or fat he is..._

"I am guiding one of the tours, in fact...but we're holding four different adventures for tourism professionals."

"Our office probably would be interested in your company, Mr...." Lanette glanced down to the scratch pad where she'd automatically noted his name at the beginning of the call, "Langevin. Brooks has got plenty of young people looking for adventure holidays on their time off."

"Would you like to take the particulars of the tours and have the owner get back to me later?" he offered.

Lanette did a quick calculation in her head. She was fairly certain that neither her boss nor his wife, Alice, would mind if she signed herself up for the tour. Well into their middle age, they were a comfortable couple and not inclined towards 'adventure tours'. "We can probably settle the details right now, Mr. Langevin."

"Please, call me Rob."

Again that frisson down her spine pooled somewhere warmly in her middle as Lanette's body reacted to his voice.

"All right."

"You do realize that some level of fitness is required? You haven't even asked what sort of adventure is entailed."

"Well, if you're a tour company out of Canmore, I am guessing we'll either be hiking, skiing, kayaking, rafting, horseback riding..." Lanette chewed on her hair as she thought of another alternative.

The man laughed and she felt her stomach respond again.

"You do know your business, don't you? We are offering a choice of paragliding, rock climbing, horseback riding, and white-water rafting, for this promotion. But you're correct, we do offer the other services you mentioned."

She chewed her lip for a moment and then decided she might as well go for the gusto. "Which tour are you leading?"

There was no hint of surprise in his voice as he replied, "I'll be along on the hiking/rock-climbing tour, from..."

"Sure."

"Pardon me?"

"Sign me up on that one."

He paused for a second, but didn't comment on her hasty decision. "All right...I'll just need some particulars, then. Name?"

"Lanette Scott. Spell that L-a-n-e-t-t-e S-c-o-t-t."

"Okay. Company name and address?"

"Yellowfield Travel, 453 Main Street, Brooks, Alberta, T1R 1D3."

"Your position in the company?"

"Travel Agent."

"Number of agents in the company?"

"Three."

"Height?"

"Six feet." Lanette was surprised when he didn't comment on her height, as nearly everyone did.

"Weight?"

"One hundred seventy-five pounds."

"Are you sure you're fit enough to take on a four-day trek?"

Oh. Her weight, he commented on. "I'm a ranch girl, Mr. Langevin. I can assure you my weight is composed of toned muscle, not fat."

There was a pregnant pause and Lanette wished she hadn't come across sounding so aggressive and proud. Eventually, he just cleared his throat and continued.

"Eye colour?"

"Green."

"Hair colour?"

"Brunette." As Lanette answered that last one, she found herself wondering, _what's that got to do with a hiking tour?_

"Plans for next Saturday?"

"I'm attending a conference in Calgary...Is that the date of the tour?" Lanette's voice dropped with disappointment.

"No..." he seemed to hesitate. "Is that the Travel Alberta conference that you'll be attending?"

"Yes, it is," Lanette, a busy woman more of action than of words, might normally be impatient with all this rambling chatter on the telephone, but she found herself semi-hypnotized by the smooth, deep timbre of the man's voice, and in no hurry for the conversation to end. _Rob's voice_ , she thought, trying his name in her mind, and finding she liked it, that the smooth round syllable matched the deep masculine sounds she heard on the telephone line.

"Perhaps I'll see you there. I'm attending the same one."

"Maybe...it's a pretty big conference, though. There will be lots of different sections."

There was a pause, and Lanette, absurdly, wished he would ask to meet her. "Ah well," Lanette thought she heard him sigh, "We'll see. Anyway, I'll send you the brochure along with the release papers for the trip. If you can sign them and get them back to me quickly, I would appreciate it."

"All right," Lanette agreed. There was a pause. _I suppose I should get off the phone,_ she thought.

"Thank you," he said.

"No, thank _you_ ," she insisted, but her normal teasing, flirty tone sounded forced. _Nerves,_ she realized, as she noted the clench in her stomach. An unusual reaction, for her. There was another pause, as if neither could think of anything more to say, but were reluctant to hang up.

"Good-bye, then," he said, at last, and Lanette imagined, hoped, that he sounded reluctant.

"Good-bye. Have a nice day." she replied, and already missed him, as she hung up the phone.

...
