 
The Living Room

A Novel of Life, Death, Love--and Miracles

by Bill Rolfe
Rolfe, Bill

A Novel of Life, Death, Love--and Miracles

eBook ISBN : 978-0-9878778-1-9

Paperback ISBN : 978-0-9878778-0-2

Copyright (C) 2012 by Bill Rolfe

All rights reserved--no part of this book may be produced in any form, or by any means, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review, without permission from the publisher.

Publisher

Living the Dream Publications

Blitzprint Inc.

The Living Room: A Novel of Life, Death, Love--and Miracles

First Edition
Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14
Introduction

Late one night back in July 2002, I fell asleep and had a dream. It was unlike any dream I'd had before, or since. It was like watching an extended movie, and it ended with instructions for me in the rolling credits. I awoke in shock and glanced at the clock next to my bed, only to discover that what had seemed like hours of sleep had only been a few minutes.

I got up, sat at my desk, and spent the rest of the night writing everything down. Never having written anything before, I took the next few weeks to follow the instructions from the dream--and tell the story as a novel.

After a few months of being inspired by the story, but at the same time feeling overwhelmed with the project, I put it away. However, I couldn't forget it.

Now, after more than nine years of struggling with the process and battling against my own self-doubt, I'm ready to share the story. _The Living Room_ was my dream.

_-- Bill Rolfe_
Chapter 1

* * *

The alarm clock sounded needlessly. Daniel was already awake, just as he was every morning at this time. He rolled out of bed and walked across an expanse of plush carpet to the massive bedroom window of his downtown New York high-rise.

As he gazed over the skyline from almost seventy stories up, he had a choice of hundreds of sights: historical landmarks, buildings that were architecturally appealing, even a few adorned with company names displayed for all to acknowledge and admire. But only one of these structures really captured his interest. Modest in comparison to the other giants of the cityscape, this one served as the outer shell for a firm to which he had dedicated his whole adult life.

The building itself didn't outwardly display the names of any of the financial companies that operated within its walls, but for Daniel, that wasn't of any importance. While he was already receiving considerable respect from within the investment community, having his name included on his firm's stationery was still his greatest desire.

He lived alone. Occupying a corner apartment in one of the most coveted buildings in the city, as evidenced by the lengthy waiting list, he possessed one of the most exquisite views money could buy.

Daniel's home was spotless. Weekly visits from a cleaning lady, whom he had honored with her own key, made sure it stayed that way. White walls, black furniture, and colorful paintings made it seem more like a display home than an occupied dwelling. The paintings, which a coworker had talked him into buying, weren't to his taste or of any real interest to him; but he knew they were worth a small fortune, and he had the depleted bank account to prove it.

While entertaining female company was a rare occurrence, Daniel was blessed with natural good looks worthy of a _GQ_ cover. He kept in shape with frequent visits to his favorite gym.

* * *

This day started out with the same routine as on any other day. He didn't need much time to prepare himself after a shower. Then, after straightening his tie in the doorway mirror and whispering a few positive incantations to himself, he headed out the door.

Right on time at 6:00 AM, the elevator was at the top floor waiting for him. The operator, Ronny, as most tenants referred to him--other than the elderly living in the building, who insisted on calling him Ronald--was always there. Daniel figured that Ronny's consistent punctuality was not because it was his job and he was good at it but, rather, for the investment tips that Daniel offered on the ride down.

Ronald (the name on the worn tag pinned to his uniform pocket) was well past the age of retirement. He could have financially settled down years ago, thanks in part to the morning trips on the elevator with Daniel. He just couldn't bear to give up the job that kept him connected to the outside world. Even mindless conversations were more stimulating than the near silence that filled his home. A widower for over fifteen years, with no children, his reason to get up each morning was the belief that people depended on him, and that gave him his life's purpose. As long as he could hold onto his driver's license for the long commute, he would never leave his long-standing post as head elevator operator.

Daniel managed investments for some of the largest companies and wealthiest individuals in the state and beyond. He always took the time to answer questions from the working-class people around him. He was naturally kind hearted, which went a long way toward making him one of the most sought-after brokers in his profession.

As he walked out of the building, the doorman greeted him with a smile. The valet held open the door of his sleek silver BMW. The vehicle was just one of the many outward signs of the success that Daniel had achieved at a young age. He wasn't overly materialistic, though. The sports car, much like the paintings in his apartment, was purchased more for others to appreciate. To him, they were just expensive objects that he felt a certain social obligation to own--instigated by skillful marketing gurus in the commercials and magazines he had flipped through while growing up.

Hidden in his success were the sacrifices he had made in his personal life. Now thirty-four, he had started working as a sorter in the mailroom at the age of nineteen. The entry-level position was given to him without the protocol of an interview by his legal guardian, who was a partner at the firm. Although it was openly known throughout the company how he had gained his initial employment opportunity, no one ever directed a silver-spoon accusation toward him. He earned respect from all of his coworkers, and jealousy from some, for his hard work and self-motivated climb up the ranks. He completed evening courses for licensing and certification and relentlessly prospected to build his own reputation and portfolio of clients.

It was only a short drive from home to the office, barely time for a stop. But, as always, he pulled over to the curb at the end of a block and waited as a boy in his late teens hand-delivered the morning edition of the _New York Times_.

"Here you go, Mr. Clay," the boy said.

"Hey, how many times have I told you it's okay to call me Daniel?" At the same time, he handed the boy enough currency to cover the cost of ten newspapers instead of one.

The boy knew that the familiarity of being on a first-name basis with his customers would be acceptable, but he preferred to show as much respect as he could to the man he owed so much to.

"I got my books over the weekend and my mom asked me where I got the money. Thanks again, Mr. Clay--I mean, Daniel."

"You're welcome, and remember the deal. Once you pass the course, you let me know, and I'll see if I can get you in somewhere at work."

Daniel was serious about trying to help but knew the boy had to help himself first. Passing his high school equivalency exams was a necessary first step.

Daniel had helped others. Never looking for a payback, he found joy in watching others strive for their goals. Although he was a charitable person, it wasn't just about giving a handout, but instead a hand-up. He believed that some people just needed a chance to earn their own opportunities.

The rest of the short commute to work was usually reserved for taking stock of the personal issues or concerns that he tended to neglect. Once at the office, it was all business, and home was simply a place to sleep.

Inside the parking lot, he drove to a stall only a few paces from the elevator and pulled in under the sign that said "Reserved for Daniel Clay." This was a perk he had earned years ago. Without it, he would probably still be jogging or biking to work as he had done in his early days. Then, the nearest available parking was almost the same distance as home. Increasing demand for downtown parking would make it even worse now.

His mind briefly considered an attorney that kept leaving him messages at work--concerning the death of a foreign relative. This person's existence had been unknown to Daniel, and was possibly a piece of history he wouldn't want to revive, so he rarely thought of it.

Was this attorney trying to collect fees of some kind? Was this some new scam being perpetrated on people known to have wealth? He had heard stories of the schemes inflicted on his clients over the years. Regardless, there was nothing more to know this morning than there was last week, so he again relegated the lawyer's calls to the back-burner.

Daniel entered the elevator alone and smiled at each new passenger as the carriage made its slow journey to the twenty-first floor and the offices of Rothschild, Bowman and Duke Investment Corporation.

"Congratulations, Daniel."

"Thanks."

"Way to go, Daniel."

"Thanks, John."

News traveled fast within these walls. Landing another major account always made for news. He took the congratulations from his coworkers in stride and made his way through the spacious hallway toward his secretary's desk.

The ceilings were high, and the lighting on this floor had taken months to perfect. The partners had hired a second consulting firm after the first had failed to produce the desired decor and image. When you stepped off the elevator, you were immediately struck with a sense of comfort, success, and safekeeping. Burgundy colored walls and deeply stained wooden fixtures promoted strength and security. Image was important in any business, and perception was everything.

Nancy had worked for him for eight years now and knew him almost as well as he knew himself. She always greeted him cheerfully.

"Good morning, Daniel. The board is waiting upstairs for you."

"The board?" What did they want? "Any other messages?"

"Yes, that attorney called again regarding your uncle's estate."

"You mean my supposed uncle." Doubt colored his words. "I'm not sure how to help him when I've never heard of the poor man that died."

"I left his number on your desk." Nancy had heard Daniel complain about this matter numerous times in the past weeks and regretted having to relay any more messages from the caller.

He thanked her with another smile and walked into his office. He picked up the note and set it carefully on his phone, shaking his head at this inconvenience creeping into his work life, but still slightly curious about the intent behind the repeated requests for contact.

Daniel's office was well organized and filled with trophies and certificates, but it was noticeably bare of the family portraits or personal memorabilia that featured in many offices. This was his domain. The room housed numerous years' worth of research reports, analysts' recommendations, and personal client information, even down to their usual choice of beverage during appointments. Everything was kept out of sight and organized in the drawers and cabinets. There wasn't anything left out that could distract a person's attention when speaking with him and, more importantly, when he was presenting himself as their best option to invest with.

He checked his tie in the mirror one last time and sauntered out to the elevator, still joking with Nancy: "Hold my calls."

A short ride up three floors gave him no time to guess the meeting's agenda. As he entered the boardroom, eight men and two women were already seated around the table; they were talking in hushed but excited voices. Silence descended immediately at the sight of him. Daniel nervously scoured his memory for any recollection of a scheduled meeting.

Though he wasn't an official member of the board, there was rarely a meeting held without his knowledge. Feeling a little uncertain, he reluctantly lowered his frame into the only chair left at the highly polished table.

The others stood when he was comfortably seated. Daniel stood quickly in confusion and searched the faces around him for a clue to their intentions. In unison, the others applauded.

"Great job, Daniel."

"Good work, Daniel."

The congratulations were quick and spirited, like a surprise celebration, lasting just long enough for him to realize that all this must be about the new account. The board members took their seats, and silence once again pervaded the boardroom.

At the head of the table sat Art Rothschild. He had been in the business for over forty years. His face showed the wrinkles of everyday stress accumulated through dealing with the markets. He was short in stature, maybe five foot six; however, he appeared to grow a little taller when he wanted to make his point in a discussion.

A decade earlier, on the advice of his wife, he had tried shoe inserts to settle any height anxiety he had while climbing the corporate ladder. It was too shallow a concern for him now.

Art was also a little portly, though his figure wasn't overexposed in the loose and aged suits that he wore. They were clean, mostly light in color, pressed, and conservative, but certainly not of any style sold in this generation.

He was the toughest man Daniel knew, but also one of the kindest and most honest. While maturing into adulthood, Daniel had thought of him as family. Art was the last of a generation--old-fashioned in both values and ethics. You could trust him with a secret, or with your life, and he'd expect the same in return.

Art broke the silence. "Daniel, this is the third account we wanted this quarter but didn't think we would get. It doesn't take an investment broker"--he opened his hands to include the others--"to forecast the revenue it will bring to our firm. We've asked you here simply to congratulate you, and thank you for the excellent effort you put into work each day."

"And night," Daniel added with a grin.

The others smiled with him, but Art remained serious.

"Yes, and nights," he agreed quietly.

Art continued, "It's no secret the firm will be adding another partner after the fiscal year. As a group, we are considering you in the selection process."

Daniel tried unsuccessfully to hold back a smile. This was it. Everything he had been working so hard for. It would make him the youngest partner in the firm and would elevate him to another level of success, both in current and future earnings potential.

He surveyed the table in appreciation, looking one by one into each person's eyes, and then turned back to Art.

"I don't know what to say. Thank you."

The promotion was the one thing that drove Daniel the most. Almost a decade of sacrifices, early mornings, late nights, and working most weekends--which kept turning into the next week. Now it might finally be paying off.

"Well, the markets are open and we have people to help. Back to work." Art rose from his chair and turned his back on the dispersing crowd of well-wishers. They each took a turn congratulating Daniel once more on a much-deserved nomination. From the overwhelming positive response, it seemed like his promotion was within reach.

"Daniel!"

Only Art's voice was recognizable above the buzz in the room. His harsh tone sped the exit of everyone else.

"Close the door and have a seat over here." Art pointed to the chairs set away from the table, next to the picture-framed window with its panoramic view of the downtown city core.

After both were seated, a moment of silence passed while Art seemingly searched for the right words.

"I've been in this business for a long time."

Daniel quickly cut him off. "Are you really giving me the 'I've been in the business a long time' speech? Come on, Art. You brought me into this business, taught me everything I know, and now you're going to talk to me like it's my first day again?"

He smirked with confidence but was quickly given a dose of reality.

"Fine, I'll talk to you as if it's your last day in the business," the older man said in a no-nonsense tone.

Daniel just stared. He recognized immediately that Art was humorless about whatever the topic was going to be. Flustered, he stumbled over the simple words, "Wait a minute. What about the partnership and...and the accounts?"

"Stop it, Daniel. I have something serious I want to talk to you about. I just wanted to get your attention."

Daniel took a deep breath and listened attentively.

"What did I tell you when I first brought you into the firm?" Art paused. "Think, Daniel. I gave you three rules for long-term success in this business."

Daniel was puzzled. A lot had happened over the years, and Art was infamous about declaring new rules.

"Work harder than anyone else." Art held up his first finger.

Daniel nodded; he vaguely remembered the three-finger reference that he was about to be re-educated on.

"Help others the way you would help your own family." Art now grasped his first and second finger.

Daniel again nodded in agreement. But he wondered about the value of having this conversation today and where Art was going with it.

"Three?" Art prompted and paused for a response.

He stared at Daniel, as if trying to will him to answer correctly, but the pupil was quiet. Art leaned forward now to gain his full attention and, holding his three fingers together tightly, said, "Make time to be with your own family."

Daniel now understood the intention of Art's discussion. The timing of it caught him off guard, though. He felt awkward and a little offended that it was even being brought up at work. Sure, he had never paid much attention to the third rule, but he had his reasons and didn't feel like it had hampered his success, or the income he had generated for the firm over the years.

"Art, if this is about my personal life, you know how dedicated I am to my work," he objected and began to list the many accomplishments that his superior already knew.

Art shushed him with an impatient wave of his hand and held up his three fingers again, this time right in front of Daniel's face.

"Remember the three rules." He pointed to the finger in the middle. "Helping others over the long term takes support. It takes the other two rules to keep it in place. You can't tell me you're happy with your life when you're not at work. If you were, you wouldn't be here as much as you are. Six, seven days a week--and nights!" he pronounced furiously, referring to the joke Daniel had made at the table only minutes ago.

Daniel now slouched in his chair a little. He had received the message. Art had approached the topic of Daniel's relationship status more subtly in the past--a question or comment made casually when asking about how many place settings they should make for dinner invitations, or when tickets needed to be arranged for the theater. But this was a direct strike.

Daniel was aware that his lack of a partner was a concern to those close to him, and he understood that they only wanted his happiness. He would focus on the issue when he had the time to concentrate more on himself. Previous attempts to address the root cause of his disinterest had proven to be too painful--and too distracting from his career aspirations.

He briefly reminisced about the subject matter he had discussed privately with a therapist many years ago. Those sessions lasted only a few weeks while he heard analysis and opinions that he had already recognized for himself. He initially went for the assistance based on unsolicited remarks--not always delivered in a kind manner--by several women with whom he had attempted to have relationships. Most only lasted a few weeks, and never more than a few months, before he was consistently discarded for his lack of devotion. He recalled the psychiatrist's confirmation of commitment and abandonment issues--which likely connected to the loss of his parents. That was enough for him to suspend the appointments and any relationships for the time being.

"Art, you've been in this business your whole life. You know what it takes to get ahead, and what you have with Linda, I would give the world for."

Art smiled to himself. He knew he wouldn't have the life he had today if it weren't for his wife, Linda. She was as old fashioned as he was and ran the house while raising their family with traditional values. Art was always the first one to announce his gratitude and respect for her at gatherings. More than once, he had repeated his belief that beside every good man stood a great woman.

"I still don't know how she puts up with you." Daniel shook his head and smiled. "But I haven't found one like her yet."

"You haven't made time," Art replied.

Gazing right into Art's eyes, Daniel somewhat reluctantly agreed, "I haven't made time, yet." He knew the topic was a serious one with Art, or it wouldn't have come up, especially at a time that should be celebrated.

Art pushed his point even further: "I'm sitting here telling you as a friend, and as someone who is considering you for a long-term position as partner in the firm, make time. Now, Daniel."

"Are you telling me I have to get married to get ahead in the firm?"

Art glared back, unhappy with the tone in Daniel's voice.

Daniel knew that he had overplayed his hand and wished he'd kept the question to himself.

"You'll get ahead anyway, and I'm not trying to stop you. I'm telling you how to stay ahead," Art finished soberly.

Daniel understood that Art's comments were from the heart and struggled with his inner ego to just end the conversation and retreat to familiar ground in order to recoup. He stood and thanked Art for the concern, and left the room.

He skipped the elevator and headed for the stairs. He needed a moment alone, both to recover from the discussion and to take in the announcement by the board.

* * *

The rest of the day was less than productive by his usual standards, but there was no one around to judge him. The board's gratitude and their announcement was enough to grant anyone a celebratory day. The private chat with Art deserved some self-reflection time.

It was now evening. He sat at his desk, alone in his thoughts, staring into the darkness outside. The office tower was only visible from the street because of the one light still glowing from inside his office.

Inspecting the room, he saw the accomplishments that his office walls boasted. He struggled to remember the many occasions when he had received praise and wondered if any of it was worth remembering. The only photo he had on his desk showed him and Art shaking hands, with family and children gathered around Art. Daniel's side of the picture was glaringly empty. Everyone in the picture always treated him as one of the family but he still felt uncomfortable, as though he were imposing on all of them.

He held up the photo and wished he could change the way he had responded to Art in their earlier exchange. He knew he couldn't take his words back and was comforted a little, knowing that Art would follow one of his own rules: Tomorrow is a new day.

As he packed up to head home, Daniel noticed the note stuck on his phone, reminding him to call the attorney. He wondered if another day really mattered after almost three weeks of neglect. He wasn't purposely avoiding the man, but he had accepted his life without any living family. The news that an uncle he never knew had existed and recently passed on wasn't enough to cause any great concern. He moved the note to the center of his desk for the morning and assured himself that it would be his first call.

He left the office, drove home slowly through the nearly deserted streets, and entered his lavish apartment, alone. Exhausted, he retired to his room and, with light music as his companion, struggled to fall asleep.
Chapter 2

* * *

The alarm clock never sounded. Too restless to sleep, Daniel had turned it off earlier.

His routine trip to work was flawless: a stop for the paper, some reflection on the attorney trying to track him down, and a parking spot awaiting his arrival.

People again congratulated him as he entered the office. This time, it also came from one of the firm's partners, Mr. Bowman. It was as if to say the new position was in the bag. He normally didn't speak much with Daniel, other than at office gatherings or the annual Christmas party. Unlike Art, Peter Bowman had little to do with the daily operations of the firm. He'd been semi-retired for years and restricted his participation to executive meetings and the occasional press release.

Nancy greeted Daniel with a good morning, a bottle of water, and a message that the attorney had already called. This didn't much affect Daniel in any way. His thoughts were still on yesterday's uneasy discussion with Art, and how to heal any resulting flesh wounds. Daniel had enormous respect for his mentor and knew that without his guidance over the past decade, he wouldn't be enjoying the success he had achieved.

He summoned Nancy into his office for a private conversation. She informed him that the word was already around the office and reminded him not to forget the little people when he received his big promotion. Nancy had become a valuable asset to him over the years--not only as a model employee, but also for her ability to gather gossip from the office without spreading any of her own. It gave him that extra edge his colleagues envied.

She was somewhere into her late fifties, although she would never tell and was never really asked. Married and a mother of two strikingly attractive daughters (both young adults now and living out of state), Nancy was extremely professional and secretly thought of Daniel as her own offspring. He sensed her motherly instinct toward him but never mentioned it aloud.

Having an extra set of eyes and ears he could trust in an office this size helped him avoid the pitfalls of office politics. They shared a laugh and Daniel assured her that he was going nowhere without her. He then asked for an honest opinion.

"Do I seem like I'm unhappy with my life?"

The seriousness of his tone made her a little uncomfortable. Without knowing the reason behind the question, Nancy replied, "Daniel, you seem too busy working to be unhappy about anything."

Daniel paused in thought, taking in her words.

"But do you think I'd be happier if I wasn't, you know, alone?"

Nancy now knew where he was headed with the questions. She cared for him as much as any member of her family but didn't want to travel down such a personal road with him and tried to dodge any serious conversation.

"Well, I've been married twice, and there are some mornings I wish I had learned from my first mistake."

She smiled and Daniel let her off the hook, for now, ending the conversation with, "Fair enough."

He studied the picture of himself with Art and his family. Then it hit him. Nancy was thinking what Art was thinking. That was probably what most people in the office were thinking. Deep down, he knew they were all right.

He waited long enough, if not too long, to make a trip upstairs and speak with Art about his manners the day before. He had made it to his feet when Nancy announced over his speakerphone, "Line one. It's the attorney again."

His first thought was to request that a message be taken so he could deal with the guilt of yesterday that had caused him such a restless sleep. However, his mixture of curiosity and frustration with the repeated contact attempts forced him back to his chair to finally take the call.

"Daniel Clay speaking."

"Mr. Clay, it's Martin Stines calling from Stines and Becker. I'm sorry to bother you again, but this matter is nearing a close after several months of pro bono work, and we're trying to clear it from our books."

Mr. Stines spoke swiftly, in part to get all his words heard, but also because of his nervousness on the phone. Though a stranger to Daniel, Martin was well aware of who Daniel was in the business community. Martin had heard stories about Daniel's accomplishments that were only slightly exaggerated at some networking functions.

"Well, how can I help you, Mr. Stines? As I'm sure my secretary informed you before, I've never heard of the man whose estate you are handling."

"I realize that, Mr. Clay, but trust me, he was your uncle. We've done all our due diligence on this end."

Before picking up the phone, Mr. Stines had read from all the notes he had put together. He always needed preparation and practice to make sure that all points would be covered during such conversations, in case he became flustered. He had faults, but his knowledge of them, and honesty with himself, allowed him to function at a reasonably professional level.

"Our research shows he lived in England most of his life. A small firm over there contacted us through the Internet to locate the beneficiaries of his estate in the United States. I'm sorry about the loss of your parents. It must have been a difficult time for you."

"Thank you, Mr. Stines." He quickly cut the lawyer off. Rehashing the painful memory of the early loss of his parents wasn't something that he liked to do alone, much less discuss with a stranger.

"Now really, what can I do to help?"

"Well, all we need is a couple of signatures, confirmation of identity, and the house is yours, Mr. Clay."

Daniel paused and made sure he had heard the revelation accurately.

"House?"

"Yes, your uncle's house passes down to you as the sole living beneficiary."

What started a moment ago as a suspected solicitation call was now a two-way conversation, and Daniel's interest was piqued.

"Well, where is it?"

"It's in England."

Daniel was curious now but attempted to remain outwardly uninterested.

"How much is it worth?"

"Well, an appraisal was never done since the property was lien-free, and there were no other debts to be paid through the estate. I could probably arrange one to be done, if you would accept the bill."

Though more involved now in the conversation, Daniel wasn't about to make any financial commitments without doing a little homework of his own.

"Well, maybe later. Do you have any pictures?"

"Yes, I had some sent with the file. If you like, I could supply them with the forms for signature."

"Yes, please. What's your address? I'll come over after lunch to give you whatever you need."

Daniel wrote the address on a notepad. He vaguely recognized the street name. It wasn't an area he would otherwise stop in; it was an area you would find an alternative path around when traveling across the city. He hung up wondering if he should have inquired more about the relation this man had to his family tree, but it was best to ask someone he knew better. Art was the one person on his mind he needed to talk with this morning anyway.

"Nancy, can you check to see if Art's in a meeting?"

"Right away."

Nancy had access to appointment calendars and schedules for all of the firm's board members on her computer, a tool that came in handy on many occasions.

"Sorry, he's out of the office today. Do you want me to put you in his calendar for tomorrow? There are some empty blocks showing in the morning."

"Please, and first thing, if possible."

Daniel knew he could call Art anytime on the cell phone that Art's wife Linda had given him. She insisted that he carry it for emergency reasons. Apparently, it was a highly recommended practice, according to the talk show host Linda watched daily.

Even calling the home at night would have been acceptable. But why bother him on his time when Daniel was the only one of the two most likely to lose another night's sleep over the ordeal? It could wait another day.

Near the day's end, after almost a dozen calls, another rushed lunch at his desk, and two afternoon appointments for portfolio reviews, Nancy jogged his memory and reminded him to stop by the attorney's office. She had seen the notepad on his desk earlier and trusted her instincts that a reminder would be in order.

Alert now, he asked her to call ahead and advise Mr. Stines that he was en route, as though he had left much earlier. He then gave Nancy a few instructions for the morning and headed toward the elevator.

"Oh, Nancy, what did the market close at today?"

"I think it was either up or down from yesterday," Nancy replied jokingly.

This was something she had heard him state numerous times when talking with clients, often trying to settle their nerves with a little humor. It was common for a new client to call the day after a large equity purchase. Investors tended to check the newspaper for the stock prices and compare them to what they had paid only a day before.

Fifty percent of the time it goes up the next day, but these clients would never call. No matter how many times a new client was advised not to track a twenty-year or even five-year investment day by day, it seemed almost human nature to peek. Of course, 50 percent of the time, it would have gone down the next day. As a result, there were always a few clients that forgot the rule and picked up the phone with concerns.

Long-standing clients never made that call, at least not more than once in the beginning.

* * *

Glancing at the sign in front of the law office of Stines and Becker, he shook his head and questioned what he'd gotten himself into. He wondered if a courier or some method of current technology could have been used to handle the signing of such documents.

Outside the office, the streets were scattered with garbage. A neighbor of the building was reorganizing his precious belongings in the shopping cart he had pushed throughout the day. He moved cautiously while gathering more treasures that had been left in garbage bins, by people more fortunate and certainly less concerned about the refund payable on bottles and cans.

Inside the building sat a worn-out, balding man. Pieces of his last meal were still dangling from his unkempt facial hair. He was slightly shorter than Art in stature and had him covered by at least forty pounds. Once he noticed he was no longer alone, he stood and began to brush himself off.

"You must be Mr. Clay," he said as he extended his hand. He had been waiting hours for the late arrival, although he always had some pending court case to keep himself busy. Most of his time, though, was typically spent on case studies from his old school days.

"That's right, and you must be the notorious Mr. Stines."

This frightened Stines. He didn't understand the comment, and Daniel instantly noticed.

"I just mean notorious as in the guy who's been calling me every day for weeks."

The explanation put Mr. Stines at ease. He always assumed he wasn't the type to be well-known, or spoken of, in any circle of the profession. He was correct.

"This is a pretty small office you guys have here, barely room for a Becker."

Mr. Stines agreed but avoided the topic, purposely failing to mention that Becker was actually his wife's maiden name, which he had borrowed in order to make his company sound more professional.

"Well, I won't keep you, Mr. Clay. I just need you to sign these forms, and I'll copy your picture identification. I will have the documents sworn and delivered through the courts this week. Oh and here are the pictures you requested. Looks like a nice old place."

Daniel still acted somewhat uninterested in the whole affair and put them in his pocket without viewing them. Mr. Stines again became a little nervous and avoided eye contact.

"You know, Mr. Clay, as I said on the phone, this was a file that I--I mean, we took on pro bono. Sometimes, we do this kind of work in hopes it will lead to, you know, other work and stuff."

Daniel smiled. "Are you asking for referrals, Mr. Stines?"

The attorney couldn't lift his head. He was too busy struggling to read the small text he had scripted down on the corner of wasted paper. This was a chance to build his business, and the guys in the networking club had been coaching him for a week to get it right. Concern overwhelmed his mind. Did he read it right? Did it come across like they said it would?

He knew Daniel was used to being wined and dined for referrals. Gifts from large corporate attorneys laced with kickbacks and priceless tickets to any sporting event in the big city were things he didn't have, so the old-fashioned approach of simply asking would surely be considered an embarrassment.

"Give me some of your cards, then. I'll see if anyone in the office is in the need of a good attorney."

Mr. Stines was in shock, and his chin quivered just enough to shake the last of the crumbs from its hair. Shaky handed, he tendered over a pile of cards, far more than what would seem normal to anyone previously having had this experience. He struggled to keep his composure and tried to understand how his request had just succeeded, after years of failure. Wait until the guys in the networking group heard about this one!

With that, Daniel thanked Mr. Stines for all his work and teased him again about his unrelenting attempts to contact him.

"Well, if persistence pays in your business, you'll be a wealthy man, Mr. Stines."

Daniel tried to sound comforting to the gentleman, who was dwarfed beside his powerful young frame. He felt sorry for him but didn't spend any time thinking about what he could actually do to help. His mind was consumed with sorting through the events at the office, and adding an inherited house overseas now made him act out of his usual character. Concerned even more about escaping the area, he left the building and headed straight to his car. The business cards that Mr. Stine had handed over with so much hope and optimism ended up thoughtlessly delivered into the garbage bin on the street's curb.
Chapter 3

* * *

Even with the balcony door cracked open slightly for a breeze, there was little street noise due to the elevation of his penthouse apartment. Daniel lay awake, again staring out the window at his office building in the distance. In the evening, the New York skyline made it easy to slip into a trancelike state and ponder the events of the day.

The discussion with Art and comments from Nancy still played in his head. They were the closest he had to a family, and family had a way of giving advice directly, by showing concern.

He envisioned his parents together and happy. It was a long time since he'd seen them, but their faces remained crystal clear in his mind. They were a cheerful family when he was growing up. Even as an only child, there were rarely moments when he was left alone. His mother stayed at home and took care of the house while raising him. His father was a tradesman. He built houses, or at least the foundations they settled on. Long days and sore nights from the back lifting had dominated most of his life, but he always made it home for supper. The three shared their experiences during the meal. It was the best part of the day.

Daniel remembered their love toward each other, their talks about being a family and always being there for each other. "Till death do us part," his parents would always say, while teasing each other during disagreements that never escalated in volume.

Then he remembered the terrible accident and the heavily weighted truck that had demolished their more fragile car. It happened during one of the few times he was alone. At home with Art Rothschild, back then just a family friend, he waited at the window to see their car pull up from the short trip to the store. It never returned.

In his mind, he could still faintly hear the sounds of fire trucks, audible through the large pane of glass that he stared beyond. Art was pacing the home, faster and faster, checking his watch as the time continued to pass. Daniel was sent to his room when the police cruiser arrived at the curb sometime later.

Life changed on that day. It was never the same and never as joyous, regardless of any of the success he had achieved.

Awake from the unpleasant memories, Daniel jumped out of bed and turned on the lights--all of them. This sometimes helped cure sudden loneliness. It worked as before but, this time, only for seconds. Positive thinking and personal state-changing techniques had helped for many years, but he was beyond the need for a band-aid. Maybe they were right. Instinctively, he knew they were, but maybe Art was more accurate about the timing. If not now, then when? And if not when, then maybe never.

Daniel knew he needed to get away from work and learn to balance his life a little more. Having a view of the office from home, though it was a perceived bonus during the purchase phase, really had been a harmful crutch to his work addiction. Taking a week or two off work and remodeling the place wouldn't be enough. He needed something more--a self-intervention into the world anywhere outside of his own, with nothing familiar, nothing scheduled, and a blank timetable.

Suddenly another light came on, this one inside his head. He rushed to the closet for his coat. Reaching into the pocket, he pulled out the pictures that Mr. Stines had given him earlier in the day. He shuffled through them and saw what could be a perfect escape plan to an imperfect palace. One after another, the photographs presented a house of grand scale that had been vigorously overtaken by vines and a lack of care. However, there was a large body of water next to it, and that soothed him. It was cloudy in most of the pictures. They certainly didn't resemble any of the resort-type brochures that he was used to receiving from the local agents who constantly mail-marketed his building.

As he gazed at the peaceful setting in the picture, Daniel suddenly ignored the possible value of the property and began to question how it had come to belong to him. How had he remained so uninterested over the past few weeks, with all the messages concerning the passing of a relative? Even without knowledge of his uncle's existence, and having suspicions of being swindled by some unknown caller, why did he not demand more information? How was he prioritizing the events in his life?

His mind was now running wild with self-assessment, most of it less than complimentary. His usually balanced self-confidence was starting to give way. It was time for a major change. He wasn't going to get any more support than he had right now to make it, so his decision was final.

He turned down the lights and headed back to his room, pictures in hand. The night drifted by slowly, but he managed to get a few hours of sleep.

* * *

There was no time to stop for a paper. He wouldn't read it this morning anyway. Daniel's corner friend wasn't concerned about being stood up. He knew the car would pass his street on occasion, especially well before the sun was visible through the morning fog.

Daniel was first in the office, sitting at his desk with the door closed. He stared more inquisitively at the pictures of the house. How long had the place been vacant? Although spectacular in size, with an attractive heritage-like appearance, it must have been an eye-sore to the neighbors, with all its overgrown hedges and shrubbery. He couldn't see any houses around it, however, at least not in these pictures.

Upon his assistant's arrival, he was quick to catch her. "Nancy, can you confirm my appointment with Art this morning and let me know when he's in?"

"Right away," she replied.

There was really no need to confirm the appointment she had placed in his calendar yesterday, but she could call and ask Susan, Art's assistant, if he had arrived yet.

Within minutes, Art walked through Daniel's door.

"I was going to come up and talk to you this morning," Daniel exclaimed, surprised at Art's drop-in.

"I know. Nancy just called up, and I happened to answer my own phone for once, so I chose to come down. Is this work or personal?"

"Actually both," Daniel said, trying as always to speak on a professional level with Art, at least within this building.

Art closed the door and took a seat.

"I'm taking some time off. Not to get _married_ ," he added, "but to get away from the office for a while."

Art grinned proudly, appreciative of the fact that he had gotten through to him. "So you _do_ still listen to me!"

"Of course I do. I just assume the really good advice comes from Linda."

They laughed, and concerns over their previous chat were washed away instantly.

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to go to England to sell a house I have just inherited, and I need to discuss this with you."

Art already seemed puzzled with the mention of anything being passed down so many years later.

"Did you know I had an uncle? Apparently, he lived in England, but I don't know anything else about him. Did Mom or Dad have a brother I didn't know about?"

"Well, if they did, I never met him either. Linda might know; I'll call and ask."

"Well, at this point, I'm not sure it matters. I guess the poor guy passed on, apparently alone, and left his house to my parents--well, their executor now."

He obviously didn't have to explain to Art how the legal path had served an inheritance down to him.

"Anyway, I'm going to head over there and take a look. Change of scenery, you know."

Art recognized that this was going to be tough for the younger man, no matter how cool he played it. Eight years had gone by without his ever witnessing Daniel plan a holiday. That was a long time for anyone. The time was accessible; he undoubtedly had the financial resources to go anywhere he wanted. He just never elected to escape. Art annually had to kick him out of the building around the holidays and, every Christmas Eve after dinner, lectured him about not returning to the office until _after_ the New Year had commenced.

"How long will you be gone?" he asked sounding more parental than professional.

"A couple of weeks, if it's okay. Of course, I'll have my phone and computer--"

Art cut him off sternly. "Don't you dare bring that _crap_."

This was the closest thing to a curse word in Art's current vocabulary. Daniel often wondered where he came up with some of his other, more common expressions, such as calling people "Wally Birds" when he was annoyed with them, or making his classic reference to "lollygagger" when waiting impatiently for someone's report.

He knew Art had more within him, though; you didn't grow up in the streets of Brooklyn without developing a strong arsenal of expletives. Linda, on the other hand, was raised on a Montana acreage in a wealthy Christian family. Years of her compassionate correction had helped reshape Art's terminology.

"We can hold our own without you for a couple of weeks. You just work on yourself. I'll handle your accounts personally."

Knowing that time away from work wasn't going to be an issue, he had no need to reassure his clients during his absence. Art was his mentor and rarely handled any accounts directly anymore. There was no one better in the building.

"Fine, then. I'll just bring my music and my water," he retorted, shaking a half-empty bottle on his desk.

Art smiled at the bottle. "It appears to be half-full again." With that, Art stood and walked out proudly.

"Nancy, can I see you for a minute please? I need to go over a few things. And can you call the travel agent for me? I need to book a flight to England."

Somewhat shocked, Nancy gathered her notepad and pen and then headed into his office for dictation. Work wouldn't normally call him to destinations that far away. It almost hurt her to suppress a smile, but she didn't want him to see it and misunderstand the reason behind it. She wasn't happy that he was going somewhere and that she wouldn't see him every day--she was just delighted that he was going, for any reason other than work.

Daniel spent the rest of the day making shotgun travel plans and notifying his clients of their interim contact. He made a quick call to Martin Stines, confirming his ownership of the new asset in order to avoid any trespassing issues. The house did belong to him, now that signatures had finally been given to satisfy the legal formalities.

Martin provided the address and basic driving instructions that he had received with the file. He first recommended a stop in the nearest town of Canterbury for more specific directions. As the whereabouts of any house keys were unknown, a locksmith would also be required.

Nancy, helpful as always, provided the flight details, driving directions, car rental locations at the airport, and hotel recommendations in Canterbury. His arrival in London was scheduled to be early in the morning, with plenty of time to select appropriate lodging.

It was all happening too fast, but everyone involved in the bookings recognized that Daniel was in a state of action. He didn't want to spend another day waiting. The equity markets were unpredictable, as always. Any major swings or negative economic news could be enough of a motive for him to talk himself out of the trip. He fled the office before his lights were the last remaining in the view from the street. Change was in the works.

* * *

Packing for such a trip wouldn't normally be that hard for a person. A small suitcase for business travel, usually limited to overnight stays in a nearby state, was the only luggage that took space in the back of his closet. With just a few hours before his departure and only suits and one or two outfits for the gym, he packed light and would pick up the necessary items and clothing once he arrived.

The trip to the airport was uneventful. Traffic was appalling, as always. The cab driver weaved in and out of lanes like a stock car racer, no doubt trying to impress his passenger for a gratuity. Daniel didn't mind and rather enjoyed it. At least he could handle speed on the ground.

At the check-in gate near tragedy almost struck. There was a seat mix-up and he was sure it wasn't Nancy's fault. He always sat in a window seat. The ability to see what was going on outside helped calm his fear of flying. He became more accepting of the fact that his fear had more to do with his lack of control than heights or claustrophobia. He was thankful to switch seats with an attractive woman who relinquished the window seat to him and took the one beside it.

After thanking her repeatedly, he smiled nervously in her direction, and she smiled back. Looking out the window avoided a conversation. He was a polite, courteous, and well-mannered person, but his social skills, while polished in a work environment, were profoundly deficient when conversing with the opposite sex. Most women mistook his silent nature for cockiness, given his pleasant, second-glance appearance.

In reality, he was a nervous wreck in the presence of women. The ability to appear laid-back, humorous, and charming was all within him; however, he always froze in certain moments. This characteristic was long overdue for a change.

Hours passed. They soon neared the end of the long flight. His nerves were calm at this point, assisted by a few drinks and opportunities to discuss scenes from the in-flight movie they had enjoyed. The two spoke comfortably now; his jokes about airplane food, and the irony of supplied sick-bags, seemed to score with every shot.

"So, are you on business or pleasure?" she asked.

"Actually, for me, business is pleasure, but I'm traveling to England to sell a home. How about yourself?"

"Oh, I'm going to meet my family."

She surprised him with the revelation. He hoped that, by family, she was referring to parents, siblings, or anyone else she might have grown up around. A glance at her ring-less finger showed promise, until she noticed the direction of his eyes.

"Oh, I take it off when I fly," she said, wiggling her hand and digits. "My finger swells up and starts to hurt after a while."

She saw the disappointment on his face, although there was never a ploy to deceive him at any point. The conversation was just welcomed. It was a long flight, and he was an attractive man who had started the exchange late in the journey. She hadn't flirted and had no way of knowing that he had spent the first few hours of the flight working up the nerve to break the ice.

How could she have known? He had watched the entire movie like a surgeon trying to dissect the storyline and extrapolate the most interesting points worthy of conversation afterward. Depending on her interests, opinions, and answers to the first pre-selected investigative questions, his ammunition was all mentally mustered. But it was just a wasted effort and another tragic case of over-analysis on his part.

Daniel would look back tomorrow and laugh, maybe even persuade himself into believing that it was a good exercise, stretching the internal elastic for future conquests. For now, though, he merely felt foolish.

"Well, have a wonderful trip," he said politely and motioned to the steward for another drink.
Chapter 4

* * *

Daniel's habit of traveling with only one carry-on piece of luggage was rewarded generously when he was able to walk off the plane and avoid the monstrous crowds standing around the luggage turnstiles. Unfortunately, he bypassed the counters of the more common and reputable car rental agencies. As he walked toward the parking lot, he saw an obviously rundown shack and a sign on its roof that offered "Vehicles for Hire."

The sign itself would normally drive his business away. This time, however, Daniel spotted a red convertible Mustang parked out front. There was no doubt as to which car he would be renting. He pushed through the door and requested it immediately.

Behind the counter sat a man who appeared unfazed that a customer had entered the premises. After years of owning the business that he had grown up running for his parents, he lost himself each day in the two channels he'd managed to get on the tiny television set under the counter.

He failed to lift his head and look at Daniel. "That one's not for rent, sir; I'm sorry."

"Then why is it on a _rental_ lot?" Daniel replied with a little sarcasm.

"Because it brings me to work each day." The man was immersed in the black and white screen under the counter.

"I see. Well, then, give me the best thing you have available."

The thought of missing the next few minutes of his show disappointed the agent, but he created the paperwork necessary to make a car available.

* * *

As Daniel stared at the scenery and the endless road ahead, he began to wonder if the little brown sedan would make the journey safely. When he reached any reasonable speeds, not only did the steering wheel shake violently, but the clutch made a painful grinding sound with every shift into subsequent gears.

After an hour's drive southeast of London, he arrived at his first destination, which Nancy had highlighted on the map: the city of Canterbury, located in Kent. Canterbury was beautiful, with origins dating back prior to the first century. Christian landmarks and well-restored cathedrals lined the city core.

The black smoke that continually appeared with each press of the pedal forced him to cut short any tourist excursions and select lodging quickly. He pulled over next to a small park and carried his single suitcase across the street toward a simple hotel.

It was not the higher class of lodging he would have booked if he had wanted to sightsee or had company to enjoy the scenery with. He wasn't planning on spending much time in this city anyway.

Once he had obtained a room key, he ascended to the third floor loft, dropped his suitcase on the bed, and took a few minutes to refresh himself in the small washroom adjacent to his bed. Then he was back at the check-in counter. He confirmed the basic directions that Mr. Stines had given him to find his inherited house.

The elderly woman was surprised to see him again so soon. Somewhat concerned, she asked, "Is everything all right with your room, sir?"

"Yes, it's fine, thank you," he said as though he had taken a moment to see it, which of course he hadn't. "I was wondering if you could check out this map and tell me how far it is from here to the circle marked on it."

She reached for her glasses, which dangled from a string around her neck, and placed them just low enough on her nose not to slip off. "Looks to be about thirty miles east, then south, towards the White Cliffs of Dover, sir."

She stated this as though it should have been easy to figure out based on a first glance of the map, even by a foreigner. After a second glance, she said she didn't recognize the turnoff shown on the map shortly after leaving the city. "Must be an old service road to the tunnels. There are lots of those out in that area, or for a private residence, a few of those too."

He thanked her for the help and headed out toward his rusted chariot, hoping for enough luck to get it started and keep it running long enough for the trip there and back. Maybe tomorrow he would take the time to search the city for a more acceptable vehicle to use on his ventures.

Leaving the city limits, he noticed a little hardware store on the corner--the last business he saw, and surely the first to visit on his journey back, once he knew how much was needed to fix up the old place. Was the house a total relic? Or had it already been restored, much like the many buildings he had noticed as he passed through town?

His curiosity was piqued. He was glad it would finally be satisfied.

The unmarked turnoff gave way to a peaceful winding road. It was tightly packed with gravel, even though there had been only the one traveler on it for many decades. The road was wide enough for two lanes, carving through the countryside with spectacular views of hillsides and tall grasses blowing in the wind. After fifteen minutes of pilgrimage and fresh air blowing through the car window, he knew he must be close. The smell of moisture in the breeze grew stronger, and his recollection of the pictures showing a body of water close to the home materialized into view.

In the distance, he could see the marvelous house at the end of the dusty road. Daniel quickly reached into his pocket for the pictures to see if they matched his destination. Holding up one picture, he was certain that this was the right place and wondered how such a road could have been maintained so well, acting only as a five-mile driveway for a single residence. The unknown relative must have spent years packing and plowing it, only for himself.

Daniel pulled up near the front stairs, shut off the fatigued little engine, and sat in the car for a moment. He paused and imagined what it might once have been like to see someone emerge from the door, having heard a visitor arrive. It was clear that there hadn't been anyone around for a long time. Growing vines had overtaken the exterior.

After getting out of the ramshackle car and staring at the front door for a few minutes, he shifted his attention to the top rear corner of the house. There appeared to be a large sitting room, surrounded by glass walls, overlooking the Channel. The house was built on the edge of a steep cliff. This room protruded out from the house but appeared to be part of the original construction.

He realized that he had no key to the front door. Bringing a locksmith, as recommended by Mr. Stines, was a detail lost in his eagerness to arrive here. He walked the perimeter to see if there was a way to gain entrance. At the back of the house was a glorious view of the water. The glass room faced toward it. There was a pathway, aided by natural corrosion in the cliff, that appeared to lead down to the water's edge. Though not a swimmer, he thought that a private beach could help escalate the offers, once he put the house on the market.

To his surprise, the door at the back of the house was unlocked. He hoped this was simply an oversight on the part of the last one to leave and not the sign of a subsequent break-in. After shouting a few hellos with no response, Daniel walked inside and headed straight toward the stairs near the front door. He passed through a kitchen that appeared to have been cleaned spotless by someone, or some company, that the estate had surely hired. Only the counters were covered with a thick layer of dust. He made his first mental note for the hardware store: a broom, dustpan, and cleaning towels.

The stairwell began to the right of the front entrance and followed straight up the wall to the top floor. There was a thick wooden banister with sculptured spindles that Daniel tested a few times with a firm grip, just to see if any of them were in need of repair. After the last step, he found himself staring down a hallway darkened with well-aged wood. He failed to notice the need to repair some damage on the walls because he was drawn to the light at the end of the hallway. Two other rooms were closer, their doors shut.

Once inside the room at the end of the hall, he was overcome with its warmth and the view of the skyline and water below. Along with the beach, this view should be worth something in the sale of the house.

There stood a wall almost totally made of glass with a small balcony outside. Daniel walked outside through the glass door that led there. Facing the water, he immediately felt at peace and took in several deep breaths of the rich, moist air.

After a few moments, he began to inspect the windowsills and balcony railing. His ability to relax and enjoy a moment needed more repair than the sagging house but, as with his fear of flying, he was aware of this flaw and planned to work on it at the same time as the new project.

Daniel journeyed through the whole house, one room at a time, checking door handles and hinges and other minor items that he could fix himself. He kept a paper list of the growing requirements that he needed to shop for back in town.

Once he had carefully examined the place, it was time to head back. Other than its need for some cosmetic repairs to the inside, the house was entirely livable. Running water and electricity still flowed throughout the home. Once he had gathered enough supplies and food, there would be no need to commute back to the city every day. After returned in the morning, he could stay here.

He enjoyed the scenery alongside the road as he found his way back to the city.

* * *

At the hardware store, resident stares meant Daniel was an obvious visitor. It was apparent in the face behind the counter as he spoke his first words.

"Hello there. I'm shopping for a few items for my house."

The man replied, "You came all the way to England to get pieces for your home?"

They both laughed.

"No, I live in America, but I am selling a home here."

"I see, well show me what you need." He reached out and grabbed the list dangling from Daniel's fingers.

He surveyed it and began circulating the store to find the items on the list.

The two made small talk, and Daniel tried to learn about the area, places to shop, where to eat, and recreational activities. It had been forever since Daniel had taken a holiday. He wanted to schedule relaxation days, as he knew that he could easily overlook this priority.

After paying for his goods, Daniel asked, "Can you recommend a good realtor in town?"

"A good one? No, but my wife is a realtor. What place are you selling?"

"It's about twenty minutes down this road and sits on the hill next to the water."

"The old Walker house? That nut died over a year ago. I was wondering when that place would be for sale, and you are going to fix it up with these?" he asked, holding the bag out toward Daniel.

"Well, just a few items to get started. I was hoping to have a realtor appraise it before I spend a lot of time on it."

"Well, my wife is back in town the day after tomorrow. I can ask her to come out there and meet with you, if you like."

"That would be great, Mr.--?"

"Lipton," he replied. "Yes, like the tea." His expression told Daniel to keep any jokes to himself.

"That would be great, Mr. Lipton. Just have her come out to the house. I'll be there waiting." He left, holding the bag up to announce that he'd be working until she arrived.

* * *

Back at the hotel, he sat in his room for an hour. It was still early in the day, and there was no rush to return to his new project. "But time wasted is still time wasted," he told himself. He repacked his minimal suitcase and checked out permanently, assuring the elderly attendant that the hotel was very nice, but his circumstances had changed.

He spotted a grocery store at the end of the street where he could stock up on basic food supplies. He purchased enough bread, milk, snacks, and peanut butter to get by for a few days.

Although the same distance as before, the drive seemed shorter. Now knowing what to expect from the peaceful journey, he easily spotted the turnoff this time, and the long road to the house was more enjoyable.

Entering again through the unlocked backdoor, he placed the hardware bag and groceries on the kitchen counter then eyed the place over again with more attention. During his first visit, he had failed to notice the door and stairs leading down to a basement.

The stairs led to a dark cellar with a low ceiling. The person, or people, contracted to clean the residence after his uncle's passing used it to store personal items. It was a small room, with the cement floor swept and a dozen or so boxes piled neatly in one corner.

In another corner sat a rusty old tool bench, which was indeed a treasure to find, since Mr. Lipton, while busy shopping his store aisles for Daniel, had forgotten to ask about the instruments needed to install and repair items. Fortunately, another trip to town could be avoided due to the discovery of bench drawers full of well-used wrenches, pliers, chisels, and various other tools to maintain the old residence.

Daniel grabbed a few basic tools that he was able to recognize and headed back upstairs to begin whatever patch-up work his ability would allow for. He started at the front entrance of the house and hammered in the odd nail protruding from the floor. He then twisted on faucets before quickly realizing that there was more work than he had anticipated. He was not the handyman he had hoped he would be.

By late afternoon, he was working half-clothed and, once again, used the hammer to fix stairs leading up to the top floor of the house. It was tiring and his attention swayed for just a moment.

With one hefty swing, he caught his other hand with the metal mallet. The pain was excruciating. He ran up to the room of light to do a better survey of the damage. He squirmed and wrapped his hand painfully with the shirt that was tucked into his waist. The amount of blood made it too unbearable to examine. It would be necessary to travel back to town for medical help.

The once pleasant winding road now became a nightmare as he tried to steer and change gears with one good hand. The convertible he had wanted to rent would have come with an automatic transmission and spared him the extra pain.

Nearing the city, he recognized a road sign pointing to the local hospital, which was just a short drive further. Parking, though limited, was available right in front. Once inside, he stood in a room filled with people calmly waiting for attention.

Holding his arm up to the check-in counter like an old torch, he exposed the now blood-red shirt that wrapped his hand. He expected that proper attention would surely be timely. But as he waited among the small crowd, there seemed to be no one available and, after an hour, Daniel was agitated. He walked back to the counter to complain and rudely question the woman behind it. It wasn't in his character, but the pain was worsening. His patience was wearing thin.

Several minutes of heated discussions got him nowhere with the gatekeeper behind the counter. Just then, a nurse abruptly appeared from behind him and interrupted them.

"It will be another long night. Is there anyone for me?"

Daniel remarked quite rudely, "Well, take your pick, lady; there's plenty to go around."

Only then did he turn to find himself not only embarrassed by the comment, but also by his appearance and behavior in the presence of such a beautiful woman.

"Well, you see, Mr. America," she said sarcastically, "I am what they call in your country a pediatric nurse. That means I am a nurse for children. However, since you seem capable of acting like a child, why don't you come with me and we'll examine it."

Daniel would have dropped his head with shame if he could have taken his eyes off her. She was stunning, though not the runway-model type he was used to seeing his wealthy clients parade around back in New York. Most of them were blond haired and surgically enhanced to draw the necessary attention to their shallow figures.

The woman standing in front of him was a natural beauty. She was a few inches shorter than him, with a petite frame and dark hair tied up under her white nurse's hat. She wore thin-lensed glasses to help her eyes over the long shifts and, with her soft-toned skin, required very little makeup.

He followed her behind the curtain. Unwrapping his injured hand, he tried to explain the hammering disaster, but she seemed uninterested, staring at his fingers as they appeared from under the shirt.

He had to turn away. She grabbed his wrist, moved the hand around and announced, "Right then, we'll have to amputate."

Missing the humor completely, Daniel jumped back, his mouth wide open, waiting for the words to come out.

"That's what I thought. No sense of humor in you Americans. You need a stitch. Maybe two."

"How do you know I'm American? I could be...Canadian, you know?"

"No," she replied, "I've seen those Canadians on the telly. They knock each other's teeth out and still finish the game." She stared pointedly at the minor wound to Daniel's hand.

This more than slightly embarrassed him. He tried to recuperate and assemble some kind of self-respect during the next few minutes while she tended to him. He played down the pain and talked a little about his work and life back home, and his reason for coming to England. He described how the whole hammering accident had come about, attempting to score some sympathy points for being the novice handyman who had tackled the project alone.

It was difficult to read Claire's interest level in his stories. She only nodded politely and remained solely focused on the stitching. He hoped he was generating some curiosity from her.

She was a quiet person. She spent most of her time around children, only speaking with adults when it was required, mostly comforting parents as part of the job. Her life was simple outside of the hospital: living alone and sleeping or reading during the rare hours off from shift work.

"All done, Mr. America," she announced after several minutes of mending and conversation had passed. "Well, good luck with your house. Might I suggest one of those rubber mallets next time?"

Daniel surveyed his hand with approval. "Well, Claire, is it?" he nervously asked, inspecting her name tag. "Thanks and, again, sorry about being rude before. Could I make it up to you sometime? Maybe coffee or dinner, you know, while I'm in town."

He felt much less anxious than with the woman next to him in-flight. He enjoyed the bravery that she inspired with her gentle demeanor.

"Well, how long are you in town, Mr. America?"

"Please call me Daniel."

"Well, how long are you in town, Mr. Daniel?"

"No, just Daniel and, well, it could be a while. There's a lot more hammering to do, and I only have the one hand now."

It was a cheap ploy for sympathy and failed miserably.

"Listen, Daniel, I'd love to go out and maybe show you around, but when I'm not working, I'm working. The children here are my life."

"I can relate," Daniel agreed.

"Oh, you have kids?"

This was the first sign of personal interest from Claire and it caught him by pleasant surprise.

"No, no, I just understand having a love for your work."

A moment of silence finally broke when Claire suggested that he could maybe take her for coffee or possibly out to see the house one night during the week.

"I know someone who might be in the market for a home," she stated, as if she had been instructed to keep her eyes open for a place.

There was no such person, and Claire surprised herself by making the suggestion. Something about him made her comfortable enough to break out of the cautious shell she lived in. She figured that she would have plenty of time to rethink the whole idea if anything ever did develop.

Enough was said. They both felt comfortable breaking apart. His hand was now clean and bandaged. But the blood pumped harder through both of their bodies as they each entertained anxious thoughts of what could happen in the near future.
Chapter 5

* * *

With flowers in hand, and now able to have the seat of his liking, Daniel chose to stand in the once-packed room of the injured and scan for the beauty he had come to know only as Claire. She appeared from behind a curtain, holding a small child, smiling nose to nose with her. She set the child on the ground and walked in Daniel's direction, unaware of his presence.

From his perspective, the whole action took place in slow motion. Claire's angel-like kindness radiated from her body. Her gentle nature was honest and gleamed from within. She was a favorite with her patients, and every nurse in the ward secretly longed to be more like her.

She finally spotted Daniel, checked her watch, and inquired with concern, "Is everything all right with your hand?"

"Yes, great, thanks," he affirmed, raising it for her. "You did a wonderful job."

She stared at him with a different expression now, noticing the flowers he was holding in his good hand. "Daniel, when I said one night during the week, I didn't mean it was to be tonight."

He quickly realized how silly it was coming straight back with flowers for an unconfirmed date that had been set only hours ago. He stumbled awkwardly over his excuse for showing up out of the blue. "Well, I just wanted to thank you, and I..."

She rescued him effortlessly from his embarrassment. "Well, have a seat, Mr. America. I'm off now anyway, so I'll get my things."

She left him standing in the waiting room long enough to take a seat, but he wasn't about to sit, in case it appeared too nonchalant. He stood, solid and energized, trying to avoid eye contact with the administrator behind the counter, to whom he had been rude earlier in the day.

Claire gathered her belongings from a small locker in the staff room and whispered aloud to herself, questioning the whole event and her actions in instigating such an evening. Trying to calm her nerves, she reassured herself that things would be fine. Sure, he was a handsome and kind-looking man, but also a complete stranger from another country. She mentioned the date to a coworker standing nearby. To avoid any embarrassment, she downplayed its significance and intentionally held back the details of its inception. She asked the other nurse to call her cell phone in an hour's time in case she needed an excuse to cut the evening short.

Returning to Daniel, she nervously said, "So coffee, then? That was the plan, I think."

"Well, I thought just a quick drive out to the place first, so you could see it for yourself," he replied, recalling her earlier comment that she knew someone in the market for a house. "Then how about a bite to eat?"

Claire was anxious now. It had been years since she had ventured out on a real date. She always assumed there would be more time to prepare, mentally at least. She felt some security as her coworker followed her out and discreetly signaled approval of his appearance. With a hand gesture to her ear, Claire confirmed the plan for the other woman to place a safety call to her cell phone.

"All right, let's go, then," she said with confidence, although the whole adventure was not the norm in her lifestyle.

Daniel handed her the flowers, while apologizing again for his earlier rudeness. Then he excused the means of transportation that he was offering her, explaining it as a mix-up at the rental agency that would quickly be resolved. He was completely unaware that Claire's vehicle, purchased on a budget and only for transportation to and from work, was almost identical.

"I assure you, it's not as bad as it seems," he joked. "Well, it may be actually, but I promise it will get us there and back."

For Daniel, the drive to the house was more beautiful than before, mostly due to the company he was sharing it with. Claire tried to stay calm. She was a smart woman, and this kind of whimsical behavior was unlike her normal cautiousness; but there was something about him that put her at ease.

The drive was peaceful and ended too soon as the small talk became more relaxed.

"This is it!"

"I love that room!" Claire focused directly on the windowed room overlooking the water. It was the first thing that others would notice too, once they came upon the property.

"Yeah, that's a great room and, hopefully, a good selling feature." They both acted as if this were important, though neither were actually thinking that far ahead at the moment.

"Come on, I'll show you around inside."

As they passed through the doorway, Daniel hastily pointed out the most interesting parts of the main floor and headed straight for the stairs. Claire didn't object. Her curiosity about the room she had seen from outside was growing by the second.

She noticed the bloodstains on the stairs where the hammering incident had taken place.

"Your handy work, I see," she joked.

"Yes, but there wasn't enough to paint the whole place." He smiled back, thrilled that her nerves were relaxed enough to allow for humor.

At the top of the stairwell, he let her walk ahead, to better soak up the full energy of the room. It was silent and glowing as the setting sun gleamed through the glass walls. He quietly allowed her to watch it disappear slowly into the water in the distance. The moon was already shining bright from the other side and kept a glow in the room.

"Makes you feel alive, doesn't it?" Daniel said.

With a slight pause, she replied, "Yes. It certainly does." As always, her mind was on work. She appeared lost in thought while taking in the pleasurable view.

Shaking herself back from her deep thoughts, Claire blurted out the first thing that came to her mind: "You have to make this your bedroom!"

An awkward pause by Daniel sparked her to continue, "I mean, this really should be your bedroom. It would be a nice place to wake up each day, and feel alive, as you say."

Daniel agreed, even though he knew he would continue to sleep downstairs where his things were already set up. Though the morning sun would be a pleasant alarm, the pain of moving his few belongings with one hand outweighed all the benefits at that particular moment.

Suddenly embarrassed for her to see his true meager sleeping arrangements, he suggested, "Well, I haven't eaten all day. There appeared to be a good restaurant next to the hardware store in town. May I take you for dinner?"

"That would be fine, thank you," Claire absently agreed and perused the room one last time. The wheels in her mind were spinning with ideas.

* * *

They were halfway through the bottle of wine and had finished the meal long ago. They continued to laugh at each other's stories of failed relationships and grade school tales.

"Well, this was nice, Daniel, but I should get some sleep. My shift starts at six, and I like to be there early before the kids wake up."

"An early riser too, I see. Are you always there before they wake up?" he asked casually.

She sipped her wine and responded carefully, "No. Sometimes they don't wake up at all." Her answer sounded more direct than she had meant it. Even so, the pain showed a little, and Daniel got a glimpse of the strength needed to undertake Claire's chosen profession.

With that, they left the table. During a silent drive to her house, traffic directions served as most of the conversation. Daniel offered to bring her back to her car at the hospital, but she enjoyed riding her bike to work on occasional mornings. She just wanted to go home.

It was a small place that she had once shared with her mother, whom she had cared for until her services at home were no longer needed.

"Well, this is it," she said as the car stopped. "Thank you for supper."

"No, thank _you_. It's the least I could do after all you've done." Daniel waved his bandaged hand. Her glance said the scratch was hardly worthy of the two stitches.

"Well, I hope everything works out for you," she said while exiting the vehicle.

"Wait! Uh, Claire..." He struggled to speak.

She assumed it would be another invitation.

"So, do you know someone that might be interested in the place?"

This was not the question he wanted to ask, and Claire knew it. With her work starting in only a few hours, she moved things along. "Tell you what, I'll ask around. If I find someone that might be interested, I will let you know."

This pleased Daniel somewhat, but as she walked away, he realized his newly acquired residence lacked a phone. "I'll let you know as soon as I have a number you can reach me at."

"Don't worry; I know where to find you now."

Claire's steps were light as she turned toward the house, and Daniel was just as happy on the drive home. He knew she felt the same way as he did. He could tell and, for tonight, that was all he could hope for.

He retired to bed wondering if it was worth the painful effort to move his things upstairs, including the inherited old bed frame, so he could wake up in the room as Claire had recommended. Exhausted, he chose to comfortably collapse in the room he had set up for now. He fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

A knock on the door awoke him. A thin fellow in a gray and grubby jumpsuit introduced himself as Avery. He informed Daniel that the house now had a phone line connected to it. Somewhat caught off guard, Daniel asked how he knew to come to the house.

"I'm a friend of Claire's," he explained soberly. "I owed her a favor, actually a few favors. She cared for my daughter before..." He didn't need to say anything else. The pain in his eyes revealed the outcome.

"Well, thank you, Avery. I guess, now, I just need to purchase a phone."

Avery raised his finger, limped back to his truck without a word, and returned with a used telephone in hand. "Here, you can have this one. I have a bunch I pick up along the way, perks of the job and all."

A feeble grin came over Avery's face, despite the grief he was radiating--grief as old and permanent as the grease stains on his rough hands.

"Well, thanks again," Daniel responded with gratitude, while also feeling honest concern for the man. "Please tell Claire thanks too."

They both knew Daniel would thank her himself, but it was one of those things that would feel awkward if left unsaid.

Avery smiled weakly again, this time showing all six of his decaying teeth. It was obvious by his personal care and odor that he spent most of his time in his truck. Daniel assumed, correctly, that he had slept in it last night too.

He spent the next few hours doing more hammering and cleaning; then there was another knock at the door. It was a bit late in the day, which made him a little concerned. "I hope that's the cable guy."

Opening the door, Daniel was surprised at who stood before him.

"Hello, Daniel." Claire was no longer just an attractive nurse. She was dressed in street clothes this time and was indeed a beautiful woman. Her hair was let down, curled slightly, and it glowed in the afternoon light, brushing gently against her back.

"Thanks for the phone line. One day, you'll have to tell me my number," he joked and invited her in.

Claire didn't find herself nearly as attractive as Daniel's wide-eyed stares suggested. The reason behind the impromptu visit made her feel more nervous than she otherwise should.

"So did you find me a buyer?"

"Well, no, but that's what I wanted to talk to you about." She rushed her words, anxious to explain the reason for her visit.

Daniel sensed her uncomfortable demeanor and led her upstairs to the room, guessing correctly that it would ease the tension in her slim shoulders.

"So?" he inquired after a moment of silence.

She lost herself in the view outside the window. Not knowing how to verbalize her request, she still felt compelled to try, despite her reluctance. It had taken her all day to work up the courage to make this trip.

"Well, I have an idea I was hoping to run by you."

"Claire, you don't have to be shy about anything. I mean, we have shared a meal together." His humor helped break the tension and coaxed a smile to her face.

"Well, I sort of have a request. I know it is a strange one, but I couldn't help but think of it ever since I was here last night."

"Anything. I still owe you for the second stitch, remember?" He continued to try and lighten the awkwardness.

She adjusted her glasses and turned her gaze back to Daniel.

"I'm not sure how long you're going to be here, but I was wondering if I could arrange it with the hospital, that..."

Daniel wanted to say, "Out with it--you will get anything you ask for."

"Well, I was wondering if I could bring one of my patients to stay in this room."

Daniel appeared unfazed. "You mean to hang out here? Of course, you guys can hang out here all you want!"

Claire knew she was a long way from the favor that she needed him to grant and slowly tried to explain the context for the request.

"Daniel, all my patients are children."

"I know, Claire. You teased me about that when we met at the hospital. I genuinely like children." Daniel had adored children since the day he had met Claire.

"Daniel, all of my patients are _terminal_ children."

This created a longer pause as she tried to gauge his reaction. "And I agree with what you said last night," she added and turned back to the window, eager to gain confidence from the view. "This room makes one feel alive. I was hoping the children might feel that way. Especially in their final days."

Daniel had just realized the seriousness of the request. He searched frantically for words but could only stare at the back of her head.

"Listen, Daniel," she begged, turning back to him, "please don't think you have to say yes. I know this is terrible to ask this of you. It was a stupid idea, anyway, and we just only met, and I will understand if it makes you uncomfortable or hampers your plans in any way."

He noticed her eyes filled with tears as she struggled to hold back the emotions associated with the entire topic.

"I'm sorry that I even--"

Daniel interrupted her, "Listen, Claire, if you think it will help the children, then, yes, they can stay here."

As kind a person as he was, this wasn't the type of good deed he would have agreed to with any stranger, but he felt that it wasn't within her nature to take advantage of the situation. She wouldn't have asked if it wasn't of great importance. He also learned, right then, that he couldn't say no to her. His feelings were too strong.

She couldn't contain her excitement. "Thank you, oh thank you, Daniel. I promise it will only be one child at a time, and there will always be someone here with them, either myself or Brenda, the nurse I work with."

Daniel wondered how she could continue to speak without breaking for air.

In a somewhat joking mood, she assured him, "And I will help you finish the place the way you want, so you have three good hands instead of one." She chuckled as she wiped the tears of joy from her eyes.

Though caught off guard by her request, Daniel responded to the joy she exuded, recognizing also that there would now be plenty of time that they could spend together.
Chapter 6

* * *

"Hello, Nancy." Daniel spoke slowly into the phone.

"Daniel! Where are you? Are you home already?"

"No, I'm still in England. Just settling in, actually. There's a little more work needed on the old place than I'd expected. Any news I should hear about?"

"Not really. Mr. Rothschild has been in and out for files, but he's got things under control, and enjoying it, I might say."

"Yeah, he's been off the field for a long time, but he still has more game than any of us." They shared a laugh.

In his day, Art had been the best in the business. He could have charged his clients three times the normal commission and they still would have stayed with him. Even though he had a waiting list of people wanting to use his services, he still charged just the industry standard, in keeping with his honest and fair belief system.

"Could you put me through to him, please, Nancy; and take this number off the call display for emergencies. I'll call you soon with an update."

"Right away, Daniel. Good luck with the house, and just call if you need me to do anything."

"Rothschild." Art always answered with his last name, as if it were the only one in the book.

"Art, it's Daniel."

"Well, Daniel Clay, if you're downstairs, you're fired," he exclaimed only half-jokingly.

"No, no, I'm still in England. How's everything going?"

"Fine. You shouldn't need to ask," Art said, somewhat disturbed at the idea it might be of any concern.

"Great. Listen, Art, this house needs a little more work and a market appraisal before listing. I could be here a couple of weeks, unless you need me back sooner."

Right then, Art knew there was more to Daniel's extended absence request than dealings with a property. Art was too smart a man, and knew his protege too well, to think for a second that some old house would keep him a day longer than it had to.

"Daniel, you listen to me. Your clients are happy, and they are yours again when you return. I have other things to keep me busy when that day comes. Until then, you stay as long as you need to take care of that...house."

Daniel recognized from Art's tone that he wasn't falling for the house excuse. "Thanks, Art. You're too good to me. I left my number with Nancy in case of an emergency, and I'll give you a call when I'm on my way home."

They both hung up. For the first time in his career, Daniel had something other than work taking priority in both his schedule and mind.

After his phone call, he swept the main floor and dusted out cupboards in the kitchen; however, his mind was really fixated on his dinner date a few nights before.

A knock at the door interrupted his cleaning and he rushed to answer with anticipation. This time, he opened it to find Claire standing in her nurse's uniform, with a well-suited gentleman at her side. Daniel froze for a second, only to thaw upon hearing her words: "Daniel, this is my superior, Dr. Abrams."

This came as a relief, squashing his concern that the man might be someone more personal, with an emotional attachment.

"Welcome, Dr. Abrams." As they walked in, Claire grabbed Daniel's arm and winked at him.

This was the first physical contact he'd had with her, and it numbed his entire side. She asked approval to show the doctor the glass-encased room, even though she was already heading for the stairs.

Daniel could see the doctor was here as a favor and wasn't really interested in the whole proposal. He had a blank expression on his face, but it was obvious he was an intelligent man. He had facial hair well groomed into a thin beard and mustache. Its grayness added to his air of being well schooled. Slightly taller than Daniel, he was easily capable of intimidating most people with whom he came into contact.

Now up in the room, Dr. Abrams looked out the window, seemingly unimpressed, and asked questions of Claire that Daniel couldn't understand.

"What about the echo machine?"

"Right here, Doctor." Claire pointed to some outlets in the wall.

He rudely asked about three or four more medical devices before he turned to Daniel. "Who is this man?"

Before he could answer, Claire jumped in to defend Daniel. "This is Daniel Clay. He is from New York and has graciously offered us the use of this room temporarily, at no cost to the hospital.

"But you're not a doctor, are you _Mr_. Clay?"

"No, Doctor, Daniel is a..." She paused self-consciously.

Daniel wasn't sure if he had informed her of his profession or if she had simply forgotten what he did for a living. A few weeks ago, this would have been devastating to him; now it didn't faze him.

"Dr. Abrams, I'm an investment advisor," he said with pride, though feeling a little uncomfortable with his casual attire. "And, yes, I would like to offer this room to the hospital for Claire's use. I will pay to prepare it with any outlets and additions you require."

This shocked Claire. This wasn't part of the request, but she pretended as though it had always been understood.

"I'd like to sleep on it," he said and walked back toward the stairs.

Claire touched Daniel's arm again, this time to assure him that she would be calling soon to thank him for the help. They left as fast as they had come, and Daniel returned to work, wondering if he was getting in over his head. However, there was no time commitment required on his part, and having company around the house would make it a more enjoyable undertaking, especially if it meant more time with Claire.

He worked through the day, taking breaks from time to time and checking the phone to make sure a dial tone was still audible. He was disappointed that there was no call from Claire before he retired for the night, but he reassured himself that it was only a late shift or work emergency that kept her from making contact.

* * *

Two cars--driven by Claire and Brenda--pulled up to the house; both vehicles were filled with supplies. Daniel had been up for hours, still fixing up his sleeping space in hopes of sharing it in the near future.

"I take it you have the go-ahead!" he shouted from the doorstep across the driveway.

"We do! Daniel, this is Brenda. She will be working here with the children during the day, and I'll be taking the night shifts." She came close to him and whispered, "If that's okay with you."

Her glance assured him that the work on his bedroom would not be without rewards.

"That sounds good to me. Let me give you ladies a hand."

Daniel helped unpack the weighted-down cars and insisted on carrying the heavier objects up the stairs. Brenda was quiet, rarely acknowledging him during the several trips up and down as they passed one another. They made eye contact only once when he nearly dropped a box. It was filled only with towels and bedsheets and hardly warranted the stern glance.

She was Claire's close coworker but was dissimilar in every way except for her care of children. She was much older, nearing retirement, and had no time for casual conversation or discussions of any kind while working. Her little white nurse's hat was part of her wardrobe, regardless of whether she was on duty or not. It helped hide her thinning gray hair, and she found it preferable to any curly wig suggested at her salon.

By early evening, the room was finished; Brenda re-cleaned it before she headed outside toward her car. She came across as unhappy and not particularly concerned about anything going on around her.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Claire, and you too, Daniel."

They both responded with their good-byes.

Once they were alone, Daniel turned to Claire. "Tomorrow?" he questioned with a little concern in his voice.

"Well, that's what I was hoping to talk to you about tonight," Claire spoke and became as nervous as she had been earlier.

"Listen, Daniel, I want you to know that you can stop me anytime. Right now, if you choose, and I will completely understand. This has been my doing, and I maybe shouldn't have dragged you in. I wouldn't have if I didn't think it would help the children a little." Guilt showed on her face as she struggled for the appropriate apologies.

"Claire, I guess I just don't totally understand the benefits of them coming here yet."

Sitting on the foot of the bed, she motioned for him to join her, knowing that the conversation was required but would be difficult.

"I thought these kids were really sick. I guess I'm just a little curious how this room can help them."

Claire stared at the floor, then into his eyes, and took his hand, "Do you understand what I really do for these children?"

"Yes, you are a nurse. You take care of them and try to make them better," he replied, as though defining her job to a classroom.

"No, Daniel. I'm a nurse for terminally ill children. My job is to make them comfortable while they pass on."

Daniel surveyed the equipment just delivered in a completely new manner. He now realized that the room wasn't meant to help anyone get better, but to comfort them before death. He left the room immediately, went quickly downstairs, and out onto the front porch.

After allowing him a moment of solitude, Claire walked up behind him. "I can still call the whole thing off. It's not too late, really."

"Why here, though? There must be better equipment, or drugs or doctors and stuff, at the hospital?"

"Equipment for what, Daniel? There is nothing we can do for these children."

Claire took his hand. "I want to show you something." She walked him to her car.

A quiet drive was just what Daniel needed to allow all of his thoughts to digest. He didn't ask where they were going, trusting that Claire had a purpose for the unscheduled journey back to town.

When they arrived at the familiar location, his nerves tightened in anticipation of what he might have been brought here to see. As they walked through the hospital, their hands were locked tight. Daniel glanced into every room they passed until they came upon one that was empty. Claire entered it first and opened the blinds to the small hazy windows; then she asked Daniel to have a seat on the bed.

"Look around this room, Daniel."

He did but seemed unimpressed and missed Claire's point.

"Now, see out the window." Daniel noticed a few empty spaces in the parking lot and a man dumping the trash.

"This is how most of the children in here spend their last day. Seeing this room and outside this window."

There was a moment of silence while Daniel tried to register his thoughts.

"I want these kids to feel alive. For once in their horrible pain, I want them to feel alive. The way they could in your room."

Her message was received. His eyes told her that he now understood. It was all right to proceed with the plan.

"But I have to tell you, Daniel, it isn't easy to watch this process. You have to be strong for the children, so they don't fear anything themselves. If it becomes too much, you have to tell me and we can stop the visits. Promise me, okay?"

"Yes, as long as you are there with me, I think I will be all right."

She touched his face and smiled tenderly. They moved closer toward each other, their lips eager, but they were interrupted by a patient being wheeled into the room.

"Hello, Claire," one of the nurses said.

She responded gracefully, instantly catching herself from her unexpected behavior within the hospital walls. She took Daniel by the hand and quickly returned to the car for the drive back to the house.

Once they arrived, she thanked him again and told him to call her at work if he had any problems. Brenda's words came back to him like a flash. "Right, so you won't be here tomorrow?"

"Not during the day. But Brenda will come and bring Jennifer. She's six and has a form of incurable cancer. She hasn't been well this week, which is why we were rushing to get the room done. I'm sorry to move so fast, Daniel."

"No, no, I'm ready. So I'll see you tomorrow night?"

"Yes." She smiled.

"And you'll be staying the night?"

"Yes. Jennifer and I will sleep right upstairs if you need anything," she added, holding back a smile.

"I see. Well then, see you tomorrow night."

He left her in the car and headed inside. In need of some reflection to recap the day's events, he skipped dinner, brushed his teeth, and went straight to bed.

* * *

He woke early and jumped into the outside chores. The hot sun rose and warmed the air. Working in the front yard, he could see dust from the roadway leading to his house. He felt his stomach tighten but was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was Mrs. Lipton, the realtor, wife of the hardware store owner. He had forgotten that they had loosely arranged her visit days ago.

She climbed out of the light pink Cadillac she used as a traveling office and straightened her oversized floral dress. She was a heavyset woman but reconciled to her size, and she dressed flamboyantly with bright colors and large hats.

After a brief introduction, she got right to the point. It soon became apparent from her manners that she hadn't sold anything for a while and didn't really care if she did. She reminded him of an old teacher from high school. It was obvious that she hadn't been happy in a while; and she seemed more interested in maintaining the ashes on the end of her cigarette than engaging in conversation.

"So, what do you want for it?" She readied her notepad.

"Well, I'm not sure yet. Where could I get an appraisal?"

This seemed to confuse Mrs. Lipton and, at the same time, irritate her.

"My husband tells me to drive out here because you want to sell the place. So do you?"

"Yes, but..."

"Well, I can't sell it if you don't tell me what you want for it!" She shook her head as if she were educating a child.

"I understand, ma'am." This irritated her more. "But I want to know what it's worth before I try to price it. Doesn't that sound like a smart thing to do?"

Now she was offended.

"Well, Mr. Clay, when you're finished smartening up, here is my card." She turned and waddled back to her car.

Daniel wanted to stop her, maybe even apologize, but it was too late. He hadn't noticed Brenda pulling up to the house. He couldn't see anyone sitting in the passenger seat. He took a deep breath and hoped for the possibility that she was alone. But she wasn't. After exiting the car, she walked around to the passenger side and opened the door to the rear seats.

"Jennifer, we're here, sweetheart."

There she was, lying down in the back. The little girl sat up; she was as pale as a ghost and unbelievably frail in her pretty red dress. It draped over her like it was three sizes too big, although it used to fit just right. Brenda walked past Daniel to help support the little girl as she took halting steps toward the house. Brenda nodded at him, trying hard to be a well-mannered guest.

"Hello, Daniel. Claire says hi."

Daniel smiled back and tried to be casual about the arrival of his house guest. He wasn't nearly as comfortable as he appeared and stayed out of the way unless called upon for any assistance. He spent most of the sunlit hours tinkering on the exterior just to avoid going back into the house.

When the sun began to set, he paced in the kitchen, waiting for his support to come home from work. He listened curiously to the music Brenda had put on upstairs and no longer wondered why the old record player was included with the equipment. It was almost classical, a slow and simple melody played only by a soothing flute.

He could also hear Brenda speaking with the little girl. It was as though there were nothing wrong with her. They talked about boys, television, and then dolls. Not once did Brenda introduce the topic of her health. Daniel just listened and waited.

Finally, a sound he recognized pierced his anxious thoughts. A car entered the driveway, and he rushed to assure himself it was his savior. Claire walked toward the house and Daniel tried to greet her outside the doorway, but she was in a hurry and brushed passed him. "Hi, sweetheart, just give me a sec, I'm running late for Brenda."

Daniel wasn't sure whether to be upset with her for rushing past him, or delighted at being called sweetheart. A minute passed, and Brenda came down the stairs.

"Good night, Daniel, I'll see you in the morning." She walked straight out to her car.

Claire called out, "Daniel, come up here for a second!"

He felt insecure but hiked slowly up the stairs and peeked into the room.

"This is Jennifer. She wanted to say hello before bedtime."

"Hello, Daniel. Thank you for letting me stay over this week."

The little girl was frail but managed to speak with a little effort.

"Oh, you're welcome, Jennifer. Sorry I didn't come up earlier. I was busy in the yard."

Daniel wasn't sure how to cover his absence, but the little girl appeared comforted.

"I'll be right down. Have you eaten yet?" Claire inquired.

"I was just making"--he suddenly realized how much time had passed--"burning us something to eat. I'll be in the kitchen." He turned for the stairs.

"Good night, Daniel," Jennifer whispered, stopping him in his tracks.

"Good night, Jennifer." He returned an honest smile and then rushed down to the kitchen.

After a valiant attempt at a good meal, Daniel and Claire shared a few words about the day. He was still uncertain about the sleeping arrangement. "Well, I'm pretty beat--I guess it's bedtime."

Claire smiled and said, "I know Jennifer; she's sitting there waiting for me to come up and talk so she can sleep."

Seeing some disappointment in Daniel's face, she leaned into him for an embrace. She touched his back and shoulders like she didn't want to let go. He got lost in the moment and let her go without saying a word. She smiled, kissed his cheek, and walked upstairs.

Daniel smiled and retired to his sleeping quarters, now twice the room it once was. While dozing off to sleep, he heard something. It sounded like giggling. Two little girls giggling--except that one of them was a woman. The vent next to his bed brought down all of the conversation from the room upstairs. He snickered a little to himself when he discovered the topic of discussion. They were talking about him. Jennifer said he's cute and that Claire should marry him and make babies.

After a few minutes of eavesdropping, Daniel slipped into a dreamworld more peaceful than he had experienced in years.
Chapter 7

* * *

Daniel awoke to hear footsteps in the kitchen and decided to surprise his new sweetheart with a hug from behind. He quietly crept up to the doorway, turned the corner, and lunged at her.

Brenda wasn't too sure what to think, as Claire had actually left for work an hour ago. She seemed unimpressed over the mix-up. It was an awkward moment for both of them, so Daniel retreated to his room to recover from his embarrassment.

About an hour into his workday, Daniel was outside again when he noticed the dust cloud on the road. He at first figured that another joyous visit from Mrs. Lipton was upon him. He felt panicked when he saw that it was an ambulance.

It wasn't traveling in any hurry. There were no lights or a siren wailing away. But there was still reason for concern. As he walked back toward the door, Brenda came out.

"There's an ambulance coming to the house."

"Yes. I called them," she said calmly.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Daniel. Everything is fine." She stared off in the distance and tried to keep Daniel from entering the house. "But Jennifer is gone."

"You mean she's...But she just got here." His voice weakened.

"I'm sorry, Daniel, but we never know when. Don't worry; I'll take care of everything."

Brenda met the ambulance, and Daniel hurried for the phone in the hallway.

"Yes, is Claire there, please?" Fortunately she was near the counter and fully aware of the reason for his call.

"Claire, it's me. Jennifer..." He paused but didn't need to finish his sentence.

"I'm sorry, Daniel. She's no longer in any pain and in a better place now. Go for a walk and let Brenda handle everything. I'm sorry, but I have to rush back to someone. I'll be over as soon as I'm off, okay?"

"Yeah, of course. Um...okay. I'll be okay," he tried to reassure himself.

Claire wanted to spend more time talking to him, but it wasn't a good day in the ward either. Daniel could hear others calling for her in the background.

He hung up the phone and awkwardly wandered through the kitchen then around to his room. He felt a slight ringing in his ears. Everything seemed more present. There was tightness in his stomach, and he was uncomfortable remaining in the house. He took Claire's advice and went outside. Removing himself from the house and allowing the caregivers to routinely handle what he could not fully comprehend was his best option.

Claire arrived long before dark this time. She made a point of it, to make up for her tardiness the day before with Brenda and to speak with Daniel about the day's events. They talked about Jennifer's death and the feelings he endured from the experience. Claire had no easy answers to soften the pain and confusion.

"How do you do this every day?" he begged, attempting to alleviate his anguish.

"I just do, and move on to try and help the next child. I think that's why I work so much sometimes." She stared into the distance. "Maybe I'm afraid to stop and take it all in."

After a moment's pause, she grabbed his hand. "You know, I've been thinking about you all day."

"Really?"

"Yes, and I thought it would be nice if we took a walk down to the water."

They went outside for some fresh air and a reprieve from their somber discussion. Descending the naturally carved-out pathway to the water's edge, they joked with each other about nothing of importance, trying to lift each other's spirits. To a spectator, they would have appeared as a couple that had been together all their lives. To each other, it started to feel as though they could be, from this night forward.

They slipped off their shoes and stepped into the cold water, playfully kicking and splashing it at each other. They agreed to a momentary truce and shared the sunset, which felt warm against their faces. Their bodies warmed as they edged closer together.

Claire turned to Daniel. "I guess, under better circumstances, being alone tonight wouldn't be such a bad thing."

Then it happened--their first kiss.

Their lips slid passionately across each other's and both struggled to stay on their feet. Their hands locked together tightly and neither wanted to stop long enough to move onto dry land despite the freezing water. They broke apart only to look into each other's eyes and then climbed hand in hand back to the house.

Standing next to the bed, they struggled to pull away from each other's lips. Their words were unspoken but they understood their mutual feelings. Claire undressed Daniel, and his clothes dropped to the floor. Daniel slid the straps of the summer dress over her shoulders, and it fell gently to her feet. After a moment, they fell to the bed in a passionate embrace. With so much pent-up longing now released, they made love into the night. Then they slept in each other's arms.

* * *

The bed beside him was empty, but Daniel awoke with a full heart. A note rested on the pillow from Claire: "Thank you for a wonderful evening, and I'll see you tonight."

He heard no other sounds in the house and was thankful to be alone. Avoiding a trip up the stairs, he executed his chores on the main floor. He could finally see progress, although there was still work to be done. Daniel focused on simpler repairs: cupboard door hinges that needed tightening or lubrication to stop the eerie squeaking when opened, and a cutting board that needed realignment to slide back fully into the kitchen counter.

By early afternoon, the sound of a car pulling up to the house reminded him of his fears. This time, there was not one visitor, but two. He recognized Brenda's car but not the second. It was a family member who had followed behind her, in a rusted, old, decrepit car. As they exited their vehicles, Daniel opened the door to reluctantly welcome them.

Brenda started the introductions. "Good day, Daniel. These are the Hendersons. Steven has come to stay with us."

Daniel wiped his hands on a rag he carried in his back pocket and forced a smile with which to greet the approaching family. The parents appeared to be aged well beyond their years. He could sympathize with the reason. Their daughter helped Steven from the car. He was frail but happy to be with her. Hand in hand, they entered the house and Brenda directed them upstairs.

"Thank you very much for your kindness in allowing Steven to stay here," his mother said. Her husband appeared too shy to comment and just nodded.

"You're welcome. Please come in." These were the only words Daniel could manage.

Reaching for his keys, he informed Brenda that he would be going into town to purchase more materials for the house.

Driving, he struggled to gather inner strength and tried to think of how to spend the next few hours before he could return home. His discomfort with the house guests was more manageable with Claire at his side.

After walking around the town and purchasing a few items, he traveled the road slowly home. It was dark by the time he turned into the driveway. He had left no chance of beating Claire to the house.

He entered quietly and, heading toward the bedroom, heard the sound of water running into a sink. Claire was washing her face before bed.

He called out to her, "So how was your day?"

He startled her, catching her in a private moment. She quickly wiped her face with the towel. "Good, dear. How was yours? Did you get everything from town?"

Daniel immediately noticed the redness in her eyes and traces of tears she was washing from her face. He felt her pain, seeing the visible effect of her work for the first time.

He pretended he hadn't noticed.

"Oh, the day was good, and I just had a few things to grab for the house."

After a moment of silence, Daniel glanced up toward the top floor and asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Oh yes, Steven is asleep now. His family just left. They're very nice people."

In the kitchen over tea, they discussed the house, repairs, paint, and everything that would keep them off the topic that was really on their mind. Daniel could tell it was a long day for Claire, so he suggested they turn in early. Claire entered the bedroom with Daniel close behind. They dimmed the lights and sank into much-needed sleep.

* * *

By morning, the last few days had seemed like a lifetime ago. Daniel wondered if he could get used to this caregiving lifestyle. Claire suggested that they meet for lunch in town. He jumped at the opportunity to get away from the house and to avoid a long day without her. They agreed to meet at the diner where they had shared their first meal together.

Daniel wasn't too concerned about the quality of the work in his chores. His mind was on Claire. He wondered if they should talk more seriously about their new relationship, or if it was too soon to bring the subject up. He would test the waters first to see if the opportunity might arise, but he wouldn't push it. After completing a few odd jobs, he showered and headed for town to meet his date.

Lunch helped Daniel learn even more about his newfound love--her passion for helping others, life growing up in a small community, and being an only child. She spoke candidly.

"Would you ever consider moving? I mean, there are lots of children in New York that could use your help." While he asked casually, she recognized the seriousness in his voice.

"New York. That's a long way from home for me."

The door was open but he waited until another day to continue such a discussion.

He returned home after lunch, enjoying the scenery and the meeting with Claire. But joy was precious and didn't seem to last long for him these days. Passing him in the opposite direction down his long and bending driveway was an ambulance, then a car he recognized from the day before. At first he sped up, but there was no rush to get home. Brenda was leaving as he pulled up to the house.

"I saw the ambulance."

She nodded her head. "Have a good evening," she said then marched to her car and drove away.

He wondered where her strength was kept, or if she had just given up caring after so many years. He called Claire and was assured once again that the patient had gone to a better place. She offered to make him supper when she returned, but he refused. He would have her dinner ready when she arrived.

"I can't wait to be there," she replied.

He hoped the time would pass quickly. He searched for small jobs to avoid the room before her arrival. Downstairs was already clean and only required a few more minor repairs and some fresh paint.

He spent the next few hours tidying the unused second-level rooms, sweeping and taking things to the basement, such as desk lamps left on the floor and some old clothing that hung in the inset closets. After several trips up and down the stairs, he was drawn to the glass room by a curiosity he found hard to resist. Brenda had kept it well. He stared out the windows at the sunlit waves, trying to steal a moment of peace. He sat on the bed and closed his eyes, letting the light warm his face and thoughts. He then realized that Claire would return soon and he hadn't prepared dinner as promised.

The finishing touches were on the table when Claire's car entered the driveway. He rushed to light the candles in hopes of instigating a romantic evening. As he opened the door with a flourish, he was thrilled to see Claire but noticeably shaken by her companion.

Holding her hand stood a little girl with a teddy bear and big smile. She was unlike the other visitors. This girl appeared healthy. Daniel struggled with his initial thoughts and wondered if Claire had a family that she had never mentioned.

"Please come in," he welcomed them, speaking downward toward the girl.

"Daniel, I would like you to meet Isabelle."

"Well hello, Isabelle. I hope you are joining us for dinner this evening."

She gestured her approval to Claire who instructed her to wash up and join them in the kitchen.

This left them with a moment for her to explain. "I'm sorry dear--this just came up."

His hope of this being a healthy visitor was shattered.

"But she doesn't seem sick."

"Isabelle's been in and out of the hospital for years. I've watched her grow up there. She has a heart condition that deteriorates with age, and a donor hasn't been matched yet."

"I'm hungry. Can someone read to me?" Isabelle announced as she appeared from the washroom.

"Then let's eat." Claire grabbed Daniel's hand and led him to the kitchen.

The three enjoyed a dinner and conversation about the house, the city's buildings, and Isabelle's favorite ice cream flavors. She was a talkative child. There was no shyness in her demeanor. She asked a lot of questions and keenly requested opinions from her companions during discussions.

"Well, it's getting late. Let's go see your room, sweetheart."

Claire took her upstairs while Daniel retired to his room. He listened again through the vent as Claire read one of the many books the little girl had brought with her. He was almost asleep when Claire climbed into the bed. She curled up tight, and their tired bodies easily found the strength to join for another night.
Chapter 8

* * *

"Are you getting up now?" Isabelle stood at the foot of the bed with a book in hand. Morning had arrived.

"Can somebody read this one to me?" she begged with her darling eyes. She never had to put on an act. Her natural beauty and innocent charm urged people to spoil her.

"Go back to your room, dear, and I'll come read it to you," Claire said.

As she began to sit up, she turned to Daniel. "Oh, I'm going to be working from home for a couple of days, if that's okay with you?" she said, knowing approval wasn't necessary.

The announcement made it easier for both of them to get up from such a pleasurable night of companionship.

The trio enjoyed each other's stories and company. Isabelle took naps throughout the day, leaving Claire an opportunity to help Daniel with work around the house. It gave Daniel a chance to learn more about the little girl.

"She sure seems to like it when people read to her."

"She loves stories. I think she'd read a whole library if she could."

"Isn't she old enough to read?"

"She is old enough, but no one ever taught her how." This was a cruel reminder of what was expected of her life.

"Are her parents coming to visit?"

"She doesn't really have any. She was left at an orphanage when she was an infant. I think her birth-mom was quite young and a single parent. She probably felt overwhelmed with all the health issues and thought it was best."

"So, does she have foster parents?"

"No. She remains a child of the queen. The good news is that they pay all the bills. She has spent the last three years at the hospital. We send her back to the orphanage from time to time to interact with other children. But after a couple of days, she needs rest and we bring her back."

A frustrated little voice broke the moment of silence. "Are you coming to read this _today_ , Claire?" Isabelle shouted down from the top stair.

Claire smiled and rolled her eyes at Daniel. "I'm coming, Little Miss Impatient."

* * *

A few days went by and regular routines began to form. The mornings always began with reading a story to Isabelle. Claire would help Daniel with minor repairs around the house. In the evening after supper, Claire would read another story to Isabelle. Claire had known her longer than any other patient, and their bond was strong. The three shared all their meal times together and often sat on the front porch during the day, eating sandwiches and taking in the afternoon sun. Isabelle would often request an _extra_ story be read during the day and frequently carried a spare book around with her just in case the appeal was granted.

She was a great listener and never interrupted the performance. Even if she had heard the story a hundred times before, she always lay back with her eyes closed, imagining that she was one of the characters in the book.

By the end of the week, they almost responded to each other as a young family. Daniel offered to take his two ladies out to dinner on a date.

Isabelle spoke openly to Daniel during supper about her family and then asked, "Where do your parents live? In the United States?"

"Actually, they live in heaven," he replied without much feeling in his words.

"Well, then they're in a good place. If you're good, you'll get to be with them again one day." Her words were far too mature for a child of her age.

He wasn't sure how to respond and smiled at Claire in appreciation for introducing the little girl into his life.

"I may never see my real parents again, but I have people who take care of me like parents at the hospital." She finished her sentence and immediately turned to Claire with a smile.

Daniel and Claire surprised Isabelle on the ride home with a trip to the ice cream shop for her favorite treat. While traveling the winding road home and enjoying the dessert, Isabelle asked, "Daniel, can you read me a story tonight?"

This made Daniel feel both flattered and uncomfortable, but Claire squeezed his hand to assure him that he was capable of performing the task.

They arrived back at the house and Isabelle rushed to her room to pick out a special story and to get ready for Daniel's first reading. Claire was downstairs in bed awaiting him and discovered what he had failed to mention in the past--sounds carried through the vent. The nervousness was apparent in his voice, but Isabelle would never recognize it.

Claire listened with a gentle smile and fell asleep long before Isabelle did.

After his audience fell asleep peacefully, Daniel left the room quietly and sat alone in the kitchen, absorbing the evening and imagining what a life with Claire and a family would be like. He discovered Isabelle's teddy still at the table from a previous meal and took it back to the room. Once it was returned under her arm, he scanned the night and hoped to himself that she was strong enough to stay in this world for a long time to come.

* * *

Claire woke him in the morning with a kiss and thanked him for the date the night before. She had to return to the hospital, but Brenda would arrive soon.

He went back to sleep briefly but was awoken again later, this time by Brenda's music and voice in the vent. It was time to get ready for the day. Brenda passed him with a morning greeting and asked if she could borrow his kitchen sink to wash some belongings.

"Of course you can," he offered a neighborly grin.

He failed to notice Isabelle creep up behind him, "Are you going to read to me today?"

Before he could answer, Brenda intervened. "Isabelle, I just finished a story for you. I told you, one after lunch, but until then, you need to get some rest."

Daniel interjected, "That's okay. I need a good story this morning anyway. You go upstairs and climb into bed. I'll be up in a minute, but I get to pick the story this time."

This twist from the norm excited little Isabelle and she rushed up to the room.

"Brenda, I just wanted to say that I have a lot of respect for the things you do for these children."

Brenda quickly shrugged off the compliment. "It's my job."

Daniel knew she took a lot of pride in it and accepted that she might not want to have this discussion. "Well, I just wanted to say that, and if you need anything else here, please let me know. Oh and what's with that flute music you're always listening to?"

There wasn't time to answer before Isabelle ordered him upstairs once again. "Daniel, hurry, I'm in bed and you can pick the story!"

They both smiled, and Brenda gestured at him as if to say, "She's all yours."

"Well, maybe we can talk about the music and stuff later," he said then slowly began the trek upstairs.

"Okay, my dear," he said as he entered the room. He sat next to her and shuffled through a pile of books to find one he hadn't already heard through the vent.

"Aha! This one is good." He began to read.

After the first few sentences, he was amused with the story and glanced at Isabelle to see her reaction. She did not respond and he felt apprehension rising from deep inside him. "Did I put you to sleep already, my dear?"

"Isabelle?"

Daniel dropped the book. The sound was sure to wake her but, of course, it didn't. He reached for her and shook her arm, but there was no response.

"Brenda!" he called then repeated it in a scream.

"I'll be right there."

"Now!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

She could recognize the distress in his voice, dropped her glass in the sink, and rushed up the stairs. Daniel was already slowly backing out of the room.

Brenda shook the little girl and hooked up the monitor next to the bed. Daniel wasn't a doctor but could understand the flat line streaming across the screen.

Brenda stared into his eyes. Not a word was said. Isabelle was no longer there.

He left the room in shock, and as he descended the stairs, he gripped the railing tight to keep himself from falling. Halfway down, he noticed the teddy bear she had left by accident while rushing up the stairs. Once his feet met the main floor, he lost all composure.

Like a tornado, he inflicted destruction on the house he had spent so much time repairing. He threw furniture and overturned tables, breaking glass all around him. He heaved anything within reach from the place where it had once stood.

He picked up the phone but heard Brenda's voice on the line from upstairs. She was well rehearsed for such an occasion and was already following protocol.

He dropped the phone to the floor and reached for his keys. He raced out the door and into his car then left the driveway in a cloud of dust. Overwhelmed with emotion, he struggled to see the road through his tears.

While driving, he could almost hear little Isabelle's voice. His mind kept replaying past events, envisioning her constant requests for company and recalling the week they had spent together and their night out on the town.

Almost in town now, he encountered the one vehicle he wished he'd never see again. Driving slowly, and without lights, the ambulance was a stark reminder that there was no need for the driver to rush. Daniel screamed and beat his open hands on the steering wheel as they passed one another.

He pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and was too shaken to even remove the keys from the ignition. He stumbled inside and searched for Claire. She had been alerted by Brenda and was on her way to the entrance to await his arrival. When they met up with each other, she gestured her sorrow to him, but his eyes were too cloudy to see. He barely made it across the entrance floor before his legs began to fail. His head fell to her shoulder, and she was left to support his weight.

Claire led him to a vacant space down the hall and pulled the curtain closed for privacy. Barely able to speak, he begged her, "No more. Please, Claire, no more."

She felt terrible for him and even worse about bringing the pain of her occupation into his life, wishing now that she had never introduced the idea.

"No more," she assured him, taking him into her arms for comfort. Her other patients would have to wait for the next hour, as she was needed by the one person she wanted to care for the most.

No more words were spoken; there was nothing that needed to be said. They curled up on the metal-framed bed and both wept until the white pillow cases became damp with their tears.
Chapter 9

* * *

Daniel didn't move much from his bed, and the house still showed the wounds inflicted from his rampage, now days ago. Depression drained his body of any desire to resume his repair projects or to maintain himself.

When Claire arrived home from work, she joined him in the bed and announced, "I've taken the week off."

Claire hadn't taken any holidays since her mother's passing almost three years ago.

"I thought we could spend some time together. Maybe finish the house so you could sell it." She made the offer generously but also hoped to gain some insight during this time about his future plans.

He was grateful to know he would have her company full time for the next little while.

"We can start tomorrow but, for tonight, let's just rest up." She took his arm and wrapped it around herself. She fell asleep while he stayed awake, afraid of what haunting vision his dreams would bring.

The morning started with coffee at the kitchen table--an area of the house that was unharmed in the destructive episode. Throughout the day, Daniel did short spurts of cleanup when his energy allowed. He picked up the overturned furniture and rearranged it slightly, trying to induce a mood change in the house.

After the second day, things returned to normal, at least as he remembered normal. The house was clean, glass was swept up and disposed of, and the room upstairs was shut. All that was left to do was the painting outside, and both Claire and Daniel welcomed a few days of fresh air.

The warm sun and the water view gradually healed his heart, as well as the secondary wounds to their developing relationship. The experiences they had shared since their blessed meeting would, they both hoped, help to forge a lasting bond. After a few days without any interference from the outside world, they were able to become the focus of each other's attention.

They were able to laugh again, while spattering paint on each other playfully in the process. After another long day, Claire appeared from the house with a picnic basket and suggested dinner outside near the water.

They enjoyed the meal with some wine, and the conversation steered toward her work. She had to return to it soon. Claire asked about his plans to do the same.

"I will have to go home soon." He stared at his plate, unable to look at her. This spoiled the meal and the moment together. Neither wanted that day to come.

"But I've been thinking," he said with a serious tone. "I've been thinking about my job and my life, the gifts I have, and my selfishness in protecting them."

Unsure of the direction in which he was headed, she listened attentively.

"I think we should open the room again." Daniel was now able to see into her eyes.

This was an unexpected announcement, and it shocked Claire.

"You shouldn't do that, Daniel. It causes too much pain for you."

"Yes, but I recover from my pain. The children don't. I would like to try again, for the ones who need it."

Claire touched his face and thanked him for the offer. Without further discussion, she would let him sleep on it. She crawled up closer to him and, before returning to the house for the night, they watched the sun set peacefully.

* * *

By morning, the topic was still on her mind. She wondered if the offer was heartfelt or even fair to Daniel, or if they were just words in a moment of peacefulness. Claire wasn't even sure what she wanted it to be.

Within a few minutes of waking, Daniel inquired, "Will Brenda be coming over today?"

Still concerned with his state, she inquired, "Are you sure this is something you want to do, Daniel? Please don't do this just for me."

"I'm not doing it for either of us, Claire. I'm doing it for the children and their families."

She readied herself to go to work and her mind wrestled with concerns over his decision. She headed toward the door and didn't dare leave without a kiss.

"I'll see you later tonight," she said. "The place looks great."

Daniel spent the entire morning upstairs in the room, dusting it and cleaning the windows almost obsessively. He even took a moment to reposition the bed for the best possible view. Then he went back downstairs to take care of some business.

"Hello, Nancy."

"Daniel! Are you home?" Nancy blurted with pure enthusiasm.

"No, not yet, but soon. I may have a buyer lined up and should know more by the end of next week. Is there any chance I've caught Art in the office today?"

Nancy saw Art sitting at Daniel's desk. He appeared a little flustered but quickly sat up when he noticed he was being watched.

"He's right here. I'll put you through."

Art had almost had enough of the job he had once loved to spend his entire day at. Even though he was becoming fatigued from the stress, he would never outwardly display such emotion to Daniel.

"Hello, Art."

"Daniel, you're calling from England, I hope."

"Yes I am, but I will be coming home soon," he assured his mentor.

"Well, whenever you're ready. Things here are just fine, of course, and I've got your accounts under control."

Daniel could hear a little desperation in his voice but didn't dare point it out.

"Art, I just want to thank you for--"

Art interrupted, "Hey, hey, don't start thanking me yet. Just do what needs to be done and come home when you're finished. I'll turn the reins back over when you get here."

The sound of a car distracted Daniel from the conversation.

"I've got to go. I think my realtor is pulling up." He knew this wasn't the case, but part of him wished it were.

"Keep in touch, Daniel."

A loud backfire scared Daniel as he hung up the phone. He rushed to the window to see an old car that was lucky to have made the trip up the road. A couple and their son occupied the front seat. They sat in the car and talked amongst themselves.

Daniel walked out to greet them. "Hello. My name is Daniel, and this is my house."

They each appeared too nervous to speak, mostly from the instructions given at the hospital. "Brenda told us to wait out here until she arrives."

Daniel smiled at them to try and comfort their fears. "Nonsense. Come on inside." He reached for the door handle but was stopped in his tracks.

"Don't!" the man screamed from the driver's seat.

The command caught Daniel off guard and rattled him.

"Sorry, that door's barely hanging on. Please let me get it."

The man emerged from his side of the vehicle and ran around to show Daniel the trick to opening such a fragile piece of the frame. He stepped back to allow his wife and son to exit.

"This is my wife, Judy; our son, Matthew; and I'm Roy."

"Well hello, Judy, and hello, Matthew. Please come inside. I'm sure Brenda will be along any minute." Daniel was quick to notice a large lump on the boy's neck.

They entered the house and Daniel gave them a tour suited for royalty. Matthew walked around the house with a tiny car model in hand, driving it over every piece of furniture he could see and coughing gently every few minutes.

"Okay, Matthew, enough please. He loves cars," his mother apologized.

Daniel made a mental note. "It's all right. Why don't I show you the upstairs now?"

They made their way up the dark stained staircase and were taken, as were all others, by the light and life of the room. Matthew quickly leaped onto the bed.

"Can I stay here?" he asked between excited coughs.

"Yes, this is _your_ room," Daniel said.

"Cooooool," the boy whispered to himself and played with his car across the sheets.

"Hello?" Brenda rushed up the stairs for her patient. She seemed somewhat surprised by Daniel's relaxed demeanor and tried to take over the conversation.

"Well, I see you've met Mr. Clay. This will be your room, Matthew."

The excitement regarding the news had already been spent, and the child rolled his eyes. Daniel excused himself and walked downstairs to fix lunch, leaving the work to the nurse.

When Claire arrived home, it was obvious she had something other than work on her mind. After some small talk in the kitchen, it was time to satisfy her curiosity. "Well, I guess the house is about ready for the market?"

"Yes, I guess it's almost there. I should probably call my realtor tomorrow."

Claire wanted to avoid an emotional scene, but the thought had weighed on her all day. "How long do you think it will take to sell?" She wondered if she even wanted the response.

"I guess as long as I want it to take," he said with a grin.

He received a smile back and a long kiss from the woman who had fallen in love with him.

They spent the night in the kitchen, talking and playing games, interrupted from time to time by Matthew racing his car around the house.

"Can you be a little late to work tomorrow?" Daniel asked.

"I could make a call or two," Claire replied jokingly, knowing she could take the whole day if she chose to.

"Good. I have an idea for some fun around here. I'll be gone in the morning for a bit, but I will come back for you two by 10:00 AM."

The revelation made Claire curious about what he was planning, as well as about his willingness to spend time with the boy. They checked on Matthew together. He slept peacefully with his model at his side, so they retired to their room for a night's sleep.

* * *

Claire woke to the sound of Daniel getting ready to leave. She went to the phone and dialed her work, "Yes, Brenda, don't worry about making the trip today. I'll be spending the whole day here." She winked at Daniel.

With that, he waved and gestured upstairs to remind her to prepare Matthew. About an hour later, the nurse and her patient sat restlessly in the kitchen. The sound of a horn broke the silence. Claire headed for the door, but Matthew raced her with his car. He won and opened the door.

Matthew stepped back in shock and his toy fell harmlessly to the ground. His wide smile reflected the glow of the sun and, for a moment, it was as though every clock in the house had come to a halt. He just stared in awe at the red convertible Mustang, as if it were Santa's sleigh.

Claire was shocked too and curious about where Daniel had gotten the car. He had exchanged it at the rental agency, but the cost to purchase it would forever remain a humble secret.

"Come on, you two, what are you waiting for?" he said from behind the wheel, his smile as wide as the young boy's.

Matthew looked to Claire for permission. Once it was received, he rushed to the car and inspected every inch of the dashboard. He took only a moment to ask, "Daniel, is this yours?"

"It is now." Daniel smiled back at Matthew and then at Claire.

She climbed in without a word and closed the door.

Daniel put his arm around Matthew's shoulders and took Claire's hand.

It was a marvelous day, with the sun shining only slightly brighter than the child's face. They drove slowly and safely, allowing for Matthew to crawl about inspecting all of the interior details. Once in town, they cruised the main street. Daniel was first to notice the sign and pulled over.

It was a toy store, and he asked his passengers to join him inside. Matthew knew the store well but had yet to make a purchase there. An allowance wasn't a luxury he was able to enjoy at home.

The owner grimaced at the boy as if frustrated by another return, but he quickly realized that he wasn't traveling with his parents this time and gained a new respect for his customers.

"Any one you want, kiddo," Daniel offered.

Again Matthew asked Claire for approval. She shrugged her shoulders and grinned; the search was on.

"Daniel--" Claire began, but he interrupted.

"It's okay, dear. This is fun for me too."

She didn't say anything and was pleased to see him happy.

Matthew scoured the shelves for the car of his choice. Daniel spotted one similar to the silver machine sitting in his reserved spot back in New York. "What about this one?"

"Nah. Dad says the parts for those are too expensive."

"Your dad's a smart man," Daniel agreed with a smile to Claire. They shared a quick kiss and awaited the verdict.

"This one!" The boy held up a replica of the convertible they had arrived in.

"Are you sure?" Daniel was even more pleased with his purchase now.

"Yeah. I've always wanted a convertible that runs. Dad's got an old car in the yard that we made into a convertible, but it doesn't have a motor," he explained with a slight cough.

Daniel tried to imagine what else the steel pile would be missing. "Okay then, bring it to the counter."

While paying, he noticed some sticks with windmill-like spinners on the top. "And three of these, please," he requested as he took them from the jar.

They were back on the road, this time driving around and holding their windmills to the breeze. Daniel noticed that Matthew, who was in the backseat, had lost his windmill to the strong rush of air. He handed Matthew his and watched the boy's face quickly return to an electric smile.

Halfway up the road to the house, Daniel pulled the car over to the side. "Come on up here, buddy." He slapped the seat between his legs.

Approval from Claire catapulted the boy over the seat and into Daniel's lap. The final leg of the journey was finished in tandem, with Matthew at the wheel, and Daniel controlling the pedals. It was a shame to be home again, but both adults were conscious of the need for the boy's rest. His coughing deepened. Matthew took to his bed with his own convertible at his side, and Daniel headed to the kitchen. He humorously dodged the inquisitive questions from Claire about their new transportation.

"Where did you get the car?" she queried.

"At the rental agency."

"That's a rental car?"

"No, I don't think I'll ever rent it out," he said with a wink.

She smiled and shook her head. "You're one of a kind, Mr. America."

* * *

Matthew's family visited daily, and Daniel felt like he was becoming an extension of them.

After a few days, Mrs. Lipton made an unannounced visit. Daniel had left her a message but hadn't bothered to follow up.

"I received your message. Have you decided to list the place now?" She was amazed at the improved condition of the house. Her interest now grew with thought of her commission.

"Well, yes." Daniel showed her to the other room, away from Claire who was noticeably saddened by the visit.

"Listen, Mrs. Lipton, I don't want to waste your time. The house is for sale, but I am in no rush. Let me know what you can get, and we'll discuss it then."

Mrs. Lipton was somewhat confused with the proposal. "So it's for sale depending on what offers I can find?"

"That's right."

"I'll be in touch then." She turned to leave, not sure how to proceed with her part of the agreement.

Daniel re-entered the kitchen and could feel the pain Claire tried to hide in her face. "She doesn't think there's much of a market right now, but she's going to keep in touch."

This only slightly comforted her. She was aware that eventually the house would be sold and Daniel would return to New York.

That evening, much louder coughing than before awakened them. Claire rushed upstairs with a juice mixture to sooth Matthew's throat. Daniel was worried and wished he could help.

Claire returned to bed, noticeably shaken; she rolled away to herself and fell asleep, leaving Daniel to listen alone.

* * *

In the morning, the coughing remained constant. Brenda was at Matthew's side and called his parents to spend the day. Throughout the house there was a feeling of helplessness and concern over what seemed a pending certainty.

Claire arrived home early again but with a visitor. Dr. Abrams accompanied her to the room. Daniel tried to listen from the kitchen, but curiosity about the conversation details compelled him to make the trek upstairs.

In a room filled with well-wishers, the doctor examined the boy. He touched him mechanically and didn't crack a smile to comfort the child's whimpers. "Just drink the juice with these drops, Matthew. It will help your throat."

He motioned for the parents to join Brenda and him on the stairs for a private discussion. Claire sat on the bed to block the boy's view. "Maybe tomorrow we can go for another ride in the car," she suggested, hoping for a smile.

"Definitely," Daniel agreed. "I have to go into town and could use some company."

Just then the boy's parents returned to the room with teary eyes. "Guess what, Matthew? Brenda said your dad and I can stay here with you tonight."

The news was interesting to Matthew, but it felt like a punch in the stomach for Daniel and Claire. The door closed downstairs. Dr. Abrams had left without saying good-bye.

By late evening, the boy's throat was hoarse and signs of swelling were evident around his neck. All of the guests remained in the room. Daniel stood near the doorway to the balcony in case he was unable to control his despair and needed to excuse himself.

He was amazed with the parents' composure and listened to the father talking to his son, assuring him that everything was going to be okay.

Daniel wondered where the father's strength came from and hoped to one day be half the man that this one was. Claire walked gently over to Daniel and whispered to him, "I'm going to bed now. I think we should give them some time alone."

Daniel nodded in agreement and suggested that he'd meet her downstairs soon.

"We'll be right downstairs if you need more juice or anything," she said to the parents.

The mother acknowledged her with a smile but felt little comfort in the offer.

"I'll be right down, dear," Daniel mumbled. He went through the door to take a moment on the balcony and gather his strength. He wanted to say something kind to Matthew but didn't want the boy to hear the weakness in his voice.

While outside, he simply stared into the sky, hoping to catch his breath and realize the best words to leave the boy with. Tears flowed, and he bowed his head in his arms.

When his face lifted again to the sky, he spoke softly. He quickly focused on the brightest star he could find. He hadn't prayed since his parents' death and struggled for the appropriate words. He prayed for strength and a miracle and expressed the guilt he had felt since Isabelle's passing.

"Please, God, help this boy, and take from me as you wish. I've had too many blessings for myself, and I won't tell anyone what you've done."

Daniel's head once again dropped to his hands as he wept. He continued to repeat the prayer until it became an unending, unspoken mantra from deep inside his body. He was caught up in the moment alone and, while wiping his cheeks, he failed to notice what seemed like a twinkle in the night sky.

Gathering his composure, he entered the room and walked to the bedside. "Hang in there, buddy. We're going for a drive to town tomorrow."

Matthew opened his eyes and smiled with all his strength for Daniel.

As Daniel took his arm, Matthew's eyes appeared to roll back, although only for a moment, and his smile suddenly grew stronger.

Daniel left the room and arrived at his own bedside to find Claire asleep. He wiped the drying tears from her face and turned down the lights.
Chapter 10

* * *

Daniel and Claire were awakened and both surprised by discussions coming through the vent from upstairs. It was Matthew's voice: "Do you want to come for a drive with us today, Dad?"

"Well, sure. That's quite a car Mr. Clay has."

"You can call him Daniel, Dad. Everyone else does."

Daniel rushed up the stairs with Claire close behind.

"Good morning, everybody." It was obvious that the parents hadn't slept much. Matthew, however, was in much better spirits. His cheeks were flushed and the swelling around his neck from the night before was noticeably absent. He sat up smiling and showed no strain in his voice when he spoke.

"I'll put on some tea," offered Claire. She excused herself from the room and went downstairs. Once there, she picked up the phone to call Dr. Abrams.

Daniel assured Matthew they would be taking the drive this morning and extended the offer to both parents. The toy store might be a second stop on the journey today; the first would be the hospital for an examination.

Daniel came downstairs and whispered his intentions about the drive to Claire while she spoke on the phone.

"Yes, Doctor. We will bring him there. I think you should see him right away."

Careful not to cause any alarm or show premature excitement over Matthew's appearance, the couple swiftly got themselves ready for the trip. They asked the family to join them in the bright red, topless chariot.

At the hospital, the doctor began a simple examination but quickly reached for instruments he could use for a more detailed analysis. The adults waited in the lobby, refusing to speculate with false hope.

Dr. Abrams returned and addressed the eagerly waiting participants. "It's obviously too soon to hypothesize anything. I don't want _any_ of you to get your hopes up, but I'm ordering some more tests. Actual signs of remission would take weeks or even months to show. It may just be the drops in his juice and the extra rest. I'll share my opinion after the results, but for now, I'd like to keep him here for observation."

Claire held hands with both parents and repeated the doctor's explanation and remarks in more detail and in a language they could understand.

Daniel had understood him fine and stepped back from the conversation. He sat in the corner of the room and stared at the few pictures on the wall. He had been in this room a few times now but never had the time or interest to notice the wall ornaments before.

One picture was a child's painting of the moon shining brightly over water. It reminded him of his own view at the house. He thought about his moment on the porch last night, praying alone.

Once Claire had finished reassuring the parents that their boy was in good hands with Dr. Abrams, and that her colleague Brenda would be sitting with Matthew throughout the day for company, they joined Daniel for a ride back to the house to get their own transportation.

They accepted the invitation for a brief visit and cup of tea inside around the kitchen table.

"He did seem good this morning, didn't he?" Hope tinged the father's voice, as he took his wife's hand.

"Do you think it's just the drops in his juice?"

"They're meant to soothe his throat, so I'm not sure," Claire replied. "I think it's best to just wait for the doctor's assessment after the tests are run."

Claire wanted to be optimistic, but she'd been in the hospital for years now. She had seen all the good and bad days of her patients, commonly alternating without any identifiable cause.

"What do you think, Mr. Clay?" the father asked more out of conversation, assuming correctly that Daniel wasn't in the medical profession.

"I really don't know. But he did seem to be really good, didn't he?"

They finished their tea and excused themselves from the table. Hope and concern rode with them now as they drove their own vehicle back to the hospital to wait for answers. They lived day by day, a compulsory method of survival with the cards they were dealt.

Claire took Daniel by the hand and led him back to the table for further discussion. She was focused on the parents and now wanted to make sure that his questions were addressed.

"Well, that was quite a morning. Is this how things go at the hospital some days? It's nice to know there are some good days for you, too," Daniel remarked.

Claire just smiled. There hadn't been too many good days over the years. She had learned to take joy in caring for the children, not in the results. It was time to have a more personal conversation, about herself.

"Do you believe in miracles, Daniel?"

"You mean like remission? I've heard of it before, but I can't say I understand it medically, or have had anyone close to me experience it."

"Well, it can't always be explained, and it's usually expected that the condition will return at some point in the future. One just never knows." This wasn't the subject she had attempted to initiate, but it would be easier to discuss without questions.

"There is something I want to tell you, Daniel, about me, and it's one of the reasons I chose pediatrics for a career." She stood and walked to the counter for the kettle and poured them both another cup, before returning to her seat to continue.

"When I was younger, before I was even old enough to think about marriage and family, I was diagnosed with a condition called endometriosis. It's not all that rare in women, really, and I remember thinking at first that it was just menstrual pains, and they would just be a once-in-a-while type of thing. I had a minor surgery to remove a growth, which helped relieve some of the more intense pains."

Daniel listened and understood her words but could mostly only hear his own heart beating through his eardrum. He anticipated worse news to follow.

After sipping her tea, she continued, "Anyway, I became interested in medicine after the whole ordeal. At first, it was because the physical pains made me want to find a cure for myself."

She cracked a smile, thinking of her innocence and idealism in those days. The smile left quickly. "But I decided on caring for children, after the doctor told me my condition would most likely keep me from having any of my own."

Daniel watched as she tapped her finger on the cup, as if waiting for his rejection. For Claire, her condition was something that stuck out like a sharp tack in her mind when she thought about potential life partners. It made her feel less desirable to men. Who would want her, knowing up front that a family wasn't in their future?

Daniel's main concern was her health. His impulse now was to comfort her, as her sorrow was painfully apparent in her face.

"I believe in miracles, Daniel. I've had to since the moment the doctor gave me that news. It may be my only hope for a family one day."

Daniel slid his chair around the table, right next to her, facing her. He didn't care about the disclosure in the way she had feared. He was thinking about her, this moment in time only, and didn't have to say much to demonstrate that to her. He put his palms on either side of her face and stared straight into her eyes for an extended pause so that she could understand his feelings: "I believe in miracles too."

He pressed his lips to hers even more passionately than he had done when they had kissed for the first time.

* * *

The next day, Claire brought and heated broth soup. Sitting in the kitchen, the couple discussed unimportant details about the yard and ideas for possible landscaping that they could manage together. The ringing of the phone interrupted them.

Daniel sprang from his chair. "Yes, hello?"

"She's right here." He handed Claire the phone and stood by closely, having recognized the man's voice.

"This is Claire. Yes, Doctor. I see. Thank you for the call, Doctor. I'll see you tomorrow." She hung up the phone.

"He's going home tomorrow. Dr. Abrams said he can't explain it yet, but all the tests came back showing healthy cells."

Daniel embraced her then gazed over her shoulder at the staircase leading upward and the light that shone down the hallway. It was bright but peaceful. His mind wandered for a moment--to the room, the child, and the prayer.

* * *

The loud commotion outside during dinner the next evening sounded like a backfire. Daniel knew who it was. Matthew and his parents had come for his things and to thank Claire and Daniel for the care.

Matthew had improved a lot. The lump on his neck had totally disappeared.

"We won't keep you," the father said. "We just wanted to thank you in person for all your care given to our son."

Daniel took the boy for another visit to his Mustang, while Claire escorted the parents upstairs to pick up his things from the room.

"I'm putting my model on my bedroom windowsill, so I can pretend I'm driving in the wind when it's open," Matthew said proudly.

For amusement, Daniel offered the driver seat to him and reached into the glove box for some paperwork.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to give your parents a hand."

He met the father coming down the stairs. "Can I talk to you for a second? I just need you to sign here." He pointed to the documents in his hand.

Mistaking the paperwork for an invoice, Matthew's father was puzzled, then embarrassed. "I'm sorry Mr. Clay; I understood that the hospital was paying all of the charges."

Daniel quickly realized the misunderstanding. "No, no, I mean, yes, there is no cost to you. I just need a signature here."

Matthew's father had never read a contract before and, still feeling caught off guard, signed without a glance.

"And there you go, sir." Daniel handed him the key chain.

"What's this about?"

"You're going to need those. To drive home your convertible."

Claire and Judy entered the room at that moment and everyone but Daniel appeared confused.

"Oh, Mr. Clay, I can't--"

Daniel interrupted, "Yes, you can. I've seen you drive already," he joked, patting the father on the shoulder. "I can't take it back to the States, and I would really like Matthew to have it one day."

Judy recognized that her husband was in pleasant shock. She hugged Daniel, then her shaking husband.

"We can't thank either of you enough."

Claire and Daniel watched as the three drove off, with Matthew in the middle holding his windmill. She couldn't think of any words to express to him what she saw in such a generous gesture. But she would show him later when the opportunity would surely present itself.

They retired inside and Claire prepared another meal, while Daniel headed upstairs for a final cleaning of the room. He sat on the bed to stare out the glass into the sky. He replayed the prayer and the wishes he had made. He smiled at himself in the faint reflection off the glass and headed down to join Claire for a wonderful night alone.

* * *

The next day when Claire was at work, he sat on a stool outside, doing some touch-up painting to the trim around the windows. It was a little colder this morning, but he dressed as though it were another scorcher. His sense of temperature was quickly lost in the overwhelming fumes of the paint, which were so thick he could almost taste them.

He came inside for a nap on the couch. His dreams of the children made him wonder if he could have done something to help the others, or if the recent event was just his imagination covering for a true miracle of the human body and medicine.

When Claire arrived home and put on some music, she took him from the couch to the center of the room. They danced slowly. It was playful but also romantic. They discussed the colder weather, her workday, and his labor on the house.

The next song was a little faster and they sped up their steps in comical fashion. Daniel was never much of a dancer. Claire's experience in ballet didn't show much in her attempts to keep up with his high-kicking antics. They laughed and teased each other about their coordination, until Daniel sneezed and struggled to catch his breath, wishing now that he had worn heavier clothing while outside. Lucky for him, there was a nurse in the house.

"Sounds like the beginning of a cold, my dear. Why don't you lie down in bed, and I'll make you some tea."

"No, I'm fine. I just need to sweat it out," he said with a wink and swept her up in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom.

* * *

By morning, a fever had struck. Claire offered to spend the day at home with him.

"Don't worry, I'm just working inside today," he assured her.

The phone rang and Claire offered to get it, allowing him to stay in bed.

"Hello, Mr. Clay's residence." She spoke as a formal and aged butler would, while smiling toward him in bed.

"Oh, good morning, Brenda. I was just heading in. I see. Well Daniel's a little sick. Yes, I understand, let me..." She wondered how to ask.

"I'm fine. Tell them to come on out."

"Yes, that's fine then, Brenda. Come on over, and I'll see you tonight. Oh and could you bring some syrup for me? Little Danny's got a cold."

She hung up and walked over to his side, sitting as close as she could. Taking his once damaged hand and kissing his tiny scar, she was overcome with her love for him.

"I'm so glad you're bad with a hammer." She left him with a kiss and headed out the door to work.

Alone and free to succumb to his fever, Daniel felt his forehead. It wasn't as hot to the touch as he had expected, but his whole body was sweltering from within. He ran a cool bath and hoped it would offset his discomfort.

He sat in the bath and dreamed about his good fortune in meeting Claire. He laughed inside about her hammering comment and wishing it hadn't taken such an embarrassing and painful incident to bring about their chance encounter. Nonetheless, he was grateful and allowed himself to fantasize about their introduction while he let the cool water soothe him.

The door opened and he heard voices as someone entered the house.

"Hello?" he cried out from the tub.

"Yes, Daniel. It's Brenda, and I've got a friend with me."

He knew without question this was more than a friend. He would have company upstairs for the night.

Once dressed, he headed for the kitchen to make some breakfast.

Brenda entered the room. "I brought David over with me. His parents will be stopping by tomorrow, if that's okay."

"Of course, it's great." He coughed slightly.

"He asked to meet you. He says he's never met an American before but heard your accent is quite funny."

Daniel never thought of himself as having an accent and, between coughs, suggested, "Well, as you can see, I have a bit of a cold. I wouldn't want to..."

He realized as he spoke that passing on a cold at this point was probably an irrelevant concern.

"Right, maybe I'll just go up to say hello and amuse him with my accent," he said sarcastically.

The climb up the stairs was difficult. His achy body strained and he tried to suppress his worsening cough.

"Hello, David. I'm Daniel."

The boy responded as if he were the one that should be in the bed.

"Your voice isn't that funny."

"I'm sorry. I could try another one?" He attempted a laugh. Then he coughed louder, choosing to sit across the room out of consideration.

"Are you sick too?"

"Yes, I have a cold."

"Well, that won't kill you," the boy said with a blank look in his eyes.

Silence.

Daniel sat up, reminding himself that, yes, of course he would recover. "So do you like cars?" he asked the boy.

"Not really. I'm too young to drive one, and I probably never will." He had a calm understanding of his destiny.

"I see. Well, what kind of things do you like?"

"I don't know."

"Do you like riding your bicycle?" Daniel noticed a helmet with stickers on it next to the bed.

"No," David responded, somewhat puzzled, and then realized the object of Daniel's attention.

"I have to wear that when I'm not in bed."

"I see," Daniel answered, noting the pain on his face from the embarrassment he'd surely felt from the teasing of other children. "Well, I think it's a cool helmet. I'm just going to make something to eat. Do you want anything?"

"No thanks. I need to get some rest," the boy continued to speak as if wise beyond his age.

"Okay, well get some rest, and I'll come up and chat with you later, and I'll bring a funnier voice next time."

The boy, unimpressed, rolled over to sleep.

In the kitchen, Daniel tried to learn a little more about his new housemate from Brenda. "I noticed a helmet next to the bed. Does he have a concussion?"

"No, David has a tumor. It's inoperable and taking over his brain. He gets faint sometimes and just doesn't need any bumps to the head. Is it all right if I have some toast?" She changed the subject robotically.

"Yes, of course, as much as you want." He wondered if he could now accept this kind of news and continue to eat and discuss topics so nonchalantly.

He gathered some snacks and headed to bed, coughing louder, which gained some attention from Brenda.

"I put some syrup next to the bed for you."

"Thanks, Brenda," he said after clearing his throat.

He was asleep when Claire arrived home. She went in to talk with David. She had known him for some time and her attachment to him was more than she wished for. They chatted for over an hour about their day and caught up on the latest medical news from one another. David read medical journals in hopes of finding a cure for himself. Exhausted from her day, and weary of Daniel's cold, she fell asleep in the chair.

Daniel woke late in the evening and was concerned to find his bed half-empty. He labored up the stairs, struggling to keep his cough at a muted volume so as not to wake the boy. He discovered her asleep, holding the medical book she had obviously been reading to him. As he smiled, he unwillingly let out an unexpected cough, waking the two from their sleep.

"Daniel, what are you...what time is it?" she said, coming to her senses.

"I'm sorry, dear, and to you, David. I just came up to see if you were here."

David was unimpressed. He also showed his protectiveness over Claire. "Well, we are both here and were both sleeping, until now."

"I'm sorry. I'll let you get back to sleep."

"I'm coming to bed too. I'll be right down," Claire responded.

Claire gathered up her things, and David asked, "Do you share a bed with him?"

The question caught her off guard, but amused her at the same time.

"Go back to sleep, David."

He rolled over and returned to sleep, his face showing signs of resentment.

Downstairs, she climbed into the bed and took Daniel's hand, while allowing a distance between them because of his coughing, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I guess I fell asleep reading. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. It'll get better. I'm not too sure our guest likes me very much, though."

Claire smiled. "I've known David for about a year. Brenda says he's a little jealous over me."

"Well, he should be jealous." Daniel coughed uncontrollably into his hand. "Just not tonight, I guess," he added.

She turned out the light and they both struggled to sleep amidst the sounds his chest was making.

* * *

David's parents arrived in the morning. They were quite pleased with the surroundings but wished he were home with them, just the same. He didn't feel well today and complained of a high fever. They spent a few hours at his side and prepared to leave in order to give him time to rest.

Daniel sat alone in the kitchen reading the paper and was interrupted by the footsteps coming downstairs.

"Mr. Clay?" the mother said.

"Yes, come on in," Daniel invited her.

"We just wanted to thank you for allowing David to stay."

"Please have a seat."

Both of David's parents sat, at first just to be polite, but they ended up taking an hour to let out all they were keeping inside. Daniel learned about the rest of their family-- David's older brother and the sister two years younger--and the hole in their lives from not having David at home much anymore.

Daniel listened attentively and asked questions about their beliefs and experiences, trying to understand what it must feel like to manage life under such circumstances. They were brave and also scared, not thinking too far ahead with any plans.

After they left, he took to his bed to rest his body and throat, which were both tender after the visit and conversation. In bed, he could hear the boy moaning through the vent. David's fever almost reached through the walls, calling out for relief. Daniel readied himself for a trip up the stairs. Though concerned about his own illness, he wanted to check on David to see if he could help in any way.

He found the boy covered in sweat, his eyes almost swollen shut with the fever. Daniel quickly masked his cough and pulled a chair up near to the bed. He tried to speak to David but Brenda interrupted him.

"Daniel," she ordered in her loudest whisper, "back to bed, and let him sleep! You both need rest."

"He's burning up."

"I know. I'm going to give him a shot in a minute that will help; now down you go."

"All right, let me just say good night." He was hinting for a moment of privacy.

Brenda left the room and retired to the kitchen to prepare the medication for David.

Outside the window, Daniel noticed the sun falling behind the waterline. The sky was just dark enough to display a few of the brighter stars. As before, he focused on the brightest one. "Hang in there, buddy. Brenda is coming back with something to help your fever."

He checked over his shoulder to ensure that the two of them were alone and then took David's hand. Turning his gaze toward the window, he placed his other hand on the boy's forehead. Closing his eyes now, he prayed to himself.

"Please, Lord, he is too young to suffer this way. Take from me as you wish to help this boy and heal his pain. Heal him and the secret will be kept with me."

Again and again, like a rehearsed mantra, he prayed for the boy's relief from pain and spoke of gratitude for his own fortunes.

"Okay, Daniel, off to bed." Brenda reappeared with the proper dosage. "Claire will be home soon."

He wished them both a good night and retired slowly to his room, his cough now coming more frequently.
Chapter 11

* * *

As the sun rose, Daniel woke up with a worsening fever. Through the vent, he could hear Claire talking to David upstairs and wondered how he had missed her coming in last night.

Downstairs checking on her other patient, Claire asked, "How are you feeling this morning, sweetheart?"

"I didn't even hear you come in last night, I'm sorry."

"Oh, think nothing of it. I could see you were lucky to be asleep with that fever. I'm making you a special tea to bring it down, and I'm staying home today. Brenda had some things to take care of in town."

They spent the morning together talking in bed about her family and the years of home care she had given her mother. Claire had no regrets, but it was obvious the responsibility had taken its toll on her.

Daniel had never witnessed his parents growing old, becoming sick, or needing assistance. He recounted the accident in which they had perished and how his life had changed from that day forward.

In the late afternoon, David called for Claire. She rushed up to see him. He was fine but showed a degree of jealousy over her time with Daniel.

"Can you please stay up here for a little while? It's just a cold. You know he'll be better in a few days."

"Of course, I will stay. Let me get a cloth for your head, and we'll go through that chapter in the new journal you wanted to hear about."

"I don't need a cloth today. Let's just get to reading."

"Well, can I get you anything? How does your head feel?"

"It's great, actually, but I'm bored, and the only thing giving me a headache is all that coughing downstairs."

Claire smiled as his protectiveness shone through the words. She picked up the medical journal and read aloud the paragraphs on tumor treatments and the latest radical therapies. David listened intently, as if every word were important to his own future. Claire tutored him chapter after chapter; case study findings and opinions from all over the globe were of interest to them both.

David was fixated on his nurse. He not only enjoyed her readings for the education, but also for the time alone with her. She was his angel and his first crush. He only wished that, in her presence, he were a man. Her every hand gesture, lip movement, and animated body motion electrified him. He often thought ahead to when the next opportunity to spend time with her would present itself.

* * *

The next morning, Daniel's nurse woke him from a peaceful rest. But the one who sat beside him holding a thermometer was Brenda.

"I sure hope that's for under my tongue," he joked, hoping for a laugh.

"Of course it is, Daniel. I wouldn't want to see your good side."

Brenda took his temperature and shook her head in frustration with the noise that was taking place upstairs.

"My goodness," she said, observing the ceiling.

When Daniel tried to inquire what was going on, her irritation was diverted toward him. "Don't speak! And hold still."

He waited until she finished attending to the thermometer and asked again, "What's going on up there? Is everything okay?"

"He's having one of his tantrums. There is a lot of anger in that young man."

"What is he upset about?"

"The world, mostly. Today he's upset because Claire's not here. He's feeling better, though, so I've called his parents to come and take him home."

"Is it safe for him to go home?" Daniel remembered that he had not come here to heal.

"Hey, Brenda, can I ask you something?"

"You can ask," she replied in a tone that said an answer shouldn't be expected.

"Why do you like this flute music so much?" he referred to the record that she played every day that she was in charge.

"I guess it just reminds me of the past."

"Why? Did you know the person on the record?"

Brenda stayed silent, hoping to avoid the conversation.

"Is it you playing?"

"Your temperature is still quite high. I'll get you a new cloth." She tried to avoid the subject.

"Brenda, I don't mean to pry, but is that you playing on the record?"

"What if it is?" She was defensive. "You don't seem to care much for it anyways."

"No, I was just teasing you about it. Actually, it's really good, I'm starting to get used to it. So do you play professionally?"

Brenda paused before her admission. "I did at one time, but it was a long time ago."

She fidgeted with the cloth in her hands. It was obvious that she had never shared this secret with anyone before.

"Hearing about my life isn't going to help your cold any, Daniel." She stood to get him a new cloth.

"No, but it helps me know you better. And I'd like to."

She felt the sincerity in his voice, so Brenda sat at the edge of the bed again to explain.

She relived the events as if they had happened the day before. "It was a long time ago. I had played the flute since I was about seven or eight. After my schooling was complete, I got married and wanted to start a family. I started playing for small gatherings to help out at home, so we could afford a child.

"I was offered the chance to go traveling with an orchestra for a year." She smiled in remembrance. "But it was then that I became pregnant with our first and only son, Gregory Jr.

"Anyway, my son was born quite premature and he lived only a week short of seeing his first birthday." The painful memories were now apparent on her face.

"I spent the entire year in that hospital, and every night, I would bring my instrument out and play for him. I guess I hoped it would help him in some way, but it didn't."

Daniel reached for her hand to comfort her.

"Nothing could have helped my son with the body he was born into." She paused in reflection.

"But, those nurses, they tried everything. They helped me more than anyone to get through it. I admired them, and I wanted to be like them. So I packed away my flute, went to nursing school, and here I am today."

"Well, I'm glad you're here, and I'm sure your music helped more than you know." Daniel squeezed her hand.

"So, do you still have your flute?" he asked.

"Oh probably, packed away somewhere."

She thanked him for listening and felt an unfamiliar calmness about sharing a story that she had always assumed would be kept to herself.

* * *

Later in the day, David's parents arrived to take him home. While they thanked Brenda for her care, David escaped the room to say a few words to Daniel while he lay in bed. This was the first time that Daniel saw him in his helmet. He tried to sit up straight to converse.

"Thank you for letting me stay here. I'm sorry about all the noise I made. Sometimes I get mad."

"Don't worry about it. Sometimes I get mad too. You're welcome to come back anytime and visit." He coughed loudly into his hands and struggled to maintain his posture, half-upright in the bed.

"Thanks." David turned to leave the room but couldn't. He could only make it to the doorway before he stopped again and, without gazing back, politely requested, "Take care of her. She helps a lot of people. She deserves to be taken care of."

"I will. I promise I'll take care of her every day, the best I can."

Reluctantly accepting that it would never be him in Daniel's place, the boy nodded and left the room. Daniel was left to ponder over his luck in finding such a jewel.

Once Claire returned home, they had a long talk about her day and then about how he was feeling physically. They wouldn't be having any more visitors unless he was feeling up to it. She also informed him that she would take him with her to work in the morning to run some tests, to make sure he didn't have pneumonia.

She tucked him in and stretched out on the couch on the other side of the room. She was exhausted but couldn't sleep. Rest and relaxation came from staring at him, wondering in return how she was so fortunate to have met her mate.

* * *

By mid-morning, Daniel was sitting in a hospital room behind a curtain. Between coughs, he tried to make jokes about the robe he was wearing with nothing underneath. The humor was lost on the nurses. They had heard everything in the book over the years, but Claire protected his ego and smiled at the humor.

Dr. Abrams arrived and greeted Daniel with an almost forced grin. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Daniel." No one bothered to correct the faux pas.

"Can I see you for a minute, Claire?"

"Wait, wait, I'm not one of the children here--I think it's okay to talk in front of me."

With that, Dr. Abrams spoke as if Daniel were not even in the room. "I'm ruling out pneumonia at this point, but I'm quite concerned about the blood cell counts."

Claire stared awkwardly at Daniel as she pried more information from the doctor.

"Could he just be worn down from the cold?"

"Well, that's what concerns me. There is no appearance of mucus in the chest or throat, which would indicate this as a cold, and other than coughing and tiredness, he has no symptoms. There is, however, an irregular amount of white blood cells in the esophagus region."

"From all the coughing, perhaps," Claire suggested.

The doctor, now a little uncomfortable, continued: "That wouldn't cause the results shown in the tests. I'm going to run a few more and need a biopsy done. So you'll be staying with us for a day or so, Mr. Daniel." With that, he left the room.

Daniel was stunned and couldn't comprehend all that had just taken place. He watched Claire for any response.

"Don't worry, dear, I'll work a double and be here with you all night. I'm sure he's just ruling everything out. He's _very_ thorough. Let me get you some water."

As she left from behind the curtain, the concern showed on her face. She rushed to catch up with the doctor to inquire further.

Daniel sat restlessly and thought back to when it all had started--with his painting outside the house. He had flashbacks, first of the cold weather and then of the paint fumes. He wondered if he had inhaled too much or had an allergic reaction.

When Claire returned, he suggested, "I think I know what it is!"

She seemed less concerned with his diagnosis than with the one she had just received from the doctor.

"I thought I had caught a cold from the weather, but I bet it's a reaction to, or poisoning from, the paint fumes. They were so strong, I could almost taste them."

He could see in her face that this wasn't the likely cause, and that something more serious might be at hand.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot your water. I'll be right back." She kissed him gently and left him alone again to scrutinize recent occurrences.

He was pretty sure the paint was the culprit. It was certainly the easiest conclusion for him to accept.

* * *

That evening, while awake in his room, he tried to ignore the voice of concern replaying in his head and listened instead to the endless voices of others in the ward. He wondered what it must be like to work in such a place, and how much worse to live in one, especially for a child. Claire had pulled a few strings and had him placed on her ward for observation.

He shared a room with Ryan, a young boy whose parents visited regularly. He seemed quite ill. While everyone was introducing themselves, Daniel discovered that the boy suffered from what his father described as "shakes that could kill him."

Daniel wouldn't pry with questions and waited to learn more from Claire.

He thought back briefly to Isabelle, but the memory was still too painful. But then there was Matthew--his experience had been much happier. Daniel had enjoyed the trip in the car, their talks at the house, and all the smiles on Matthew's face, smiles that wouldn't have existed if he had been stuck in this place. Then his fond memories began to change. Those earlier moments of joy had been marred by Matthew's constant coughing. Not unlike his own now.

He thought back to his moment alone on the porch and what he had said in his prayer and the site of the lump on little Matthew's neck.

He froze for an instant then rushed to the bathroom to use the mirror. Tearing the gown from around his neck, he examined himself, touching and straining to see any irregularities. But everything appeared normal. After a few minutes, he returned to his bed and again went over all that had transpired that evening with Matthew. He remembered the exact words and promises he had made in his prayer--that God might take from him, and that he would not share the secret of such a miracle. His contemplations kept him up most of the night, but he didn't share them with Claire.

By early morning, he had undergone a few more tests, including an x-ray and biopsy. Dr. Abrams gave the okay to return home and promised to call him as soon as the results were in.

While getting ready to leave, Daniel asked Claire about his roommate, Ryan. She explained that he had a condition with his spinal cord that triggered seizures. He had to wear a specially molded body cast for walking, travel, and just about every activity short of lying in bed. Daniel probed for more, but she was not interested in discussing the subject. She was concerned about him.

"Well, how long has he been here? Is it serious?"

Claire stopped packing his things and took a breath to recover her professional demeanor. "He's been in and out a few times. Due to the fragile structure of his spine, a strong enough seizure could render him paralyzed, or worse."

Having spent only one night in the depressing hospital room, he understood now more than ever the difference the room at home could make for a person.

"Can he travel safely?"

Claire realized the direction Daniel was steering the conversation.

"No, sweetheart, no more right now. We have to get you better first."

"What for? I wouldn't be the one taking care of him, and he may not have time to wait."

"Let's just get you home, and I'll talk to his family," she said without actually intending to.

As she left the room ahead of him, he stayed back. "Hey, Ryan, how would you like to get out of this place for a couple of days?" This drew the boy's interest away from the upside-down book he was pretending to read.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Claire's going to talk to your parents today about it, so I'll see you soon, buddy."

Claire heard the conversation from outside the doorway and realized that she now had to talk to the parents, instead of trying to convince Daniel otherwise once they were at home.

The ride home was quiet. She thought about the sudden uncertain future. Daniel pondered the recent past. Could it be possible? And should he share with Claire what might have happened? Or was it just a crazy theory brought on by exhaustion and medication? He elected to keep the promise made in the prayer.

Back home, he was exhausted and headed straight for his room.

"There's no one here tonight; why don't you sleep upstairs?"

This stopped Daniel cold in his tracks. He turned to her wide-eyed. "Do you think it's that serious?"

"No, I just meant that the view might be nice after a night in the hospital."

He nodded and let her off the hook with a tired grin.

"Are you sleeping downstairs?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then I like the view better down here." He winked and continued toward his own bed.

It was a quiet evening. Both Daniel and Claire were consumed with concern and self-reflection. Neither was interested in communicating tonight.

* * *

Sunrise reminded Daniel to ask Claire about talking to Ryan's parents. She agreed and offered to send Brenda over to check on him.

"No, I'll be fine, but having Ryan around would be good company."

Once she left, he headed for the bathroom to brush his teeth. Halfway there, it happened. He was hit with a pain like a hammer to the temple and gripped his head, struggling to see. He fell to the floor and, though dizzy, never lost total consciousness. He was left staring up at the ceiling and wondering what had happened. He glimpsed back at the bed and his trail to the bathroom, curious if he had stood up too fast, or hit something he was unaware of that blocked the short path. He was able to rise again, slowly this time, and made it to the washroom.

In front of the mirror, he struggled to regain visual focus. He inspected his head for marks and cringed in pain with every touch to the forehead. This type of pain was unfamiliar to him, though he had been victim to colds and migraines before.

While inspecting his head, his eyes locked in on the mirror, and he began to open his shirt. Shock set in as he discovered his worst symptom so far. A small lump on the side of his neck became more noticeable after each blink.

His first instinct was to cry out, "Claire!" Then he remembered she had left. He went for the phone.

"Hello, is that Brenda? Is Claire there yet?"

"No, I'm sorry, Daniel, she's due in anytime. Would you like me to give her a message?"

There was silence. Daniel was hit again, not with pain this time, but with another flashback. He envisioned the first time he saw Matthew getting out of his parents' car, and the noticeable lump on the side of his throat, not unlike the one he now possessed.

He also remembered that David was much better when he left than when he had arrived, that his headaches disappeared the morning after he had touched David's head during his prayer.

"Is there a message?" Brenda asked him again.

"No, just tell her I said hello, and I'll be here when she gets home."

His message made no sense, but he had lost his senses temporarily. Hanging up the phone, he returned to his bed in shock over his abnormal discovery.

Most of his day was spent in self-debate about telling Claire what he had done, the things he had said, and what he believed might now have materialized in him.

He needed a familiar voice and reached for the phone.

"Hi, Nancy, it's Daniel."

"Well hello. I was beginning to worry about you."

Daniel chuckled slightly at the irony of her comment.

"Did you sell the place?"

"Not yet. But I've got a realtor working on it, and I may just leave it in her hands."

"You don't sound very good. Is everything okay?"

There was a long pause as he thought of what to say, but he didn't want to alarm anyone back home. "Yeah, I've got a cold, a real bad one. As soon as it's better, I'm flying home."

"Is there anything I can do for you from here?" She could sense fear in him. She hadn't heard it in any of their conversations before.

"No, I'll be fine in a couple of days, hopefully. Just tell Art that I called, and I'll be home soon."

"Will do. Take care of yourself, Daniel. We're all looking forward to seeing you again."

After another pause, he responded, "I'm excited about coming home. I'll see you soon."

He hung up and concern engulfed him once again. He retired back to bed and waited for his nurse to arrive.

He awoke in the early evening to the sound of traffic arriving and rushed the best he could to better his appearance and wait by the door. Through the window, he could see Claire step from her vehicle and walk around it, toward the back of the ambulance. It was the one equipped vehicle that he had become conditioned to dreading, but this time it brought good news.

As the ambulance doors opened, he could see Ryan on a stretcher in the back, grinning from ear to ear. The thought of visiting with Daniel again was just as exciting to Ryan as it was to his host, who walked out to welcome him. "Hey there, buddy. I'm glad you could make it!"

Claire seemed surprised, and unimpressed, that he had come outside to greet them.

"Daniel, you should be resting. It's cold out here. Come on back inside, and you two can visit upstairs."

Daniel returned to the doorway but waited for his company to be lifted in and taken up to his new room. He followed close behind, chatting with the child as though they were old friends. The company helped distract him from his mysterious ailment and the promise of secrecy that he had made in prayer.

Ryan was moved from the stretcher to the bed and his body cast was removed for comfort. He instantly stared out the transparent walls at the setting sun and thanked Claire for arranging the stay with his parents.

"You're welcome, Ryan. I promised them you were going to get your rest while you were here. So you two can get reacquainted _quickly_ for tonight, please, but let's make the visiting start tomorrow, okay?"

"For sure," Daniel agreed. "The view is a little better than at the ward, wouldn't you say, kiddo?"

"Definitely."

They kept it short to appease the overseeing nurse. Daniel promised to come up and see him first thing in the morning. He left Claire to prepare her patient for bed and returned to his own for the night.
Chapter 12

* * *

Claire awoke to the sounds of laughing and intermittent coughing that journeyed down through the vent. She was pleased to hear the joy in their voices but still concerned about Daniel's well-being. She would have preferred to find him resting next to her.

As the morning matured, the two new friends upstairs chatted about sports and the different kinds of football in the two countries. They joked back and forth, and laughter seemed to be the best medicine they'd had in a while.

Claire arrived with the juice they had both requested. "Okay, you two, I think it's time for a break. You could both use some rest."

Daniel turned his head to respond. "Do we have to?" he whined, sounding younger than the boy.

He turned back to see sheer terror on Ryan's face and noticed his legs twitching rapidly, followed next by his arms. Then his face sunk into a blank stare as he lost control of his body.

"Claire!" Daniel shouted, but she was already at his side.

She had seen this before and quickly responded by holding the boy's head and reaching in for his tongue. "Try to hold his legs steady but don't twist them."

"I don't want to hurt him!" He reached for the boy's legs.

"You won't. We just have to try to keep him from hurting himself."

She put more of her weight on his upper torso, trying to relax the shaking, and whispered in his ear. "It's okay. Just relax, just relax, you're going to be fine, Ryan."

Medically, she knew that he couldn't hear her, but the additional effort helped to calm her whenever such an episode happened.

After a few terrifying minutes, the shaking stopped. Ryan was alert but too tired to engage in any conversation. His nurse sat at his bedside and allowed him to recover his energy.

Daniel sat in the corner of the room, still horrified at the whole ordeal. Leaning forward in his chair, he held his head in his hands, staring through his fingers.

Claire repeatedly brushed Ryan's hair back with her hand. She was doing her job with the same attention as always but wondered how well she could continue to care for anyone, with all the concerns that lingered around her new love.

Daniel didn't need another reminder that it was best to return to his room for rest. He descended the stairs slowly, one by one, in order to avoid another fainting spell. Ryan was in good hands now, and he felt it was best to just stay out of the way.

That evening while they were in bed together, Claire reached for Daniel's hand. He gripped hers and then lifted it to his lips for a kiss. He rolled over to face her. "So, what did the doctor say about my condition?"

"He said we'll know more tomorrow, so let's talk about it then, okay?" She was fragile and unable to converse with him about the subject after such an emotional day. They kissed and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Daniel dreamt about the day, the events leading to his illness, and Ryan's face and body during his seizure. He awoke in fear, wondering if he shouldn't be sitting upstairs to watch over the boy. Just in case, regardless of the alarm device that was set up to alert them to another episode. He stared at the ceiling as his flashbacks continued--now about his own life.

He thought about his friends in the office, the family he'd lost, and his good fortune to have Art as a friend and mentor. He knew Art would give anything to help him. He was just that kind of a person. Daniel always wished to be more like him.

His own words of prayer replayed in his head. Was he letting Ryan down by not giving him the same chance as the other two boys?

He stared at Claire for an hour, watching her sleep and kissing her forehead gently. She was usually a light sleeper, but on this night, she didn't hear him leave the bed or wake to the sounds of footsteps traveling up the creaky stairs.

When he entered the room, there was a glow from the moon that spread like a calming blanket over the boy. Even though Ryan was resting quietly, Daniel couldn't forget the horrible scene from earlier in the day. He walked quietly past the bed and out onto the balcony, searching for his star. He found it almost immediately, in the same place as before, still the brightest one in the sky.

He took a deep breath and folded his hands together in prayer. "I don't know what you have in store for me, but I can't stand by and watch what's in this boy's future."

He paused and then recited his prayer as before--over and over, again and again.

"Lord, please help this boy, and take from me as you wish. I won't tell anyone what you've done."

Before his eyes could open to witness it, he once again missed a twinkle from the star's glow. He returned slowly inside to check on Ryan.

He wondered how the boy's fragile little body would survive the violent attacks. Daniel himself could barely stand due to the frailty of his own body but knew he had to act now. He put his hand on the boy's forehead and closed his eyes. For an instant, the room brightened with the moonlight, gleaming as if it shone directly from the ceiling. A strong shock stiffened Daniel's body and pushed him backwards to the floor. He was knocked unconscious and unable to wake on his own.

The crashing sound of his collapse woke Ryan. "Hello? Claire! Help!" He could see Daniel's body lying on the floor motionless.

The noise through the floor had already awakened her and she was on her way up the stairs. Turning on the light, she saw Daniel on the floor, now shaking lightly. He was ice cold to the touch and she reached for an extra blanket to cover him.

In an alarmed state, she tried to assure Ryan, "Don't worry, he will be okay!" She went quickly for the phone.

* * *

Daniel woke to find himself surrounded by familiar voices, but his eyes weren't focused enough to recognize any of the figures at his bedside. "Claire, Claire!"

"Yes, I'm here, sweetheart. You're in the hospital, and Dr. Abrams is here too."

She dimmed the light over his bed to allow him to focus more clearly.

"Do you remember going upstairs? You were so worn down, you must have fainted. Was Ryan calling for me and I didn't hear? I'm so sorry."

"No, no, I had to go up." Daniel remembered his promise of secrecy and paused. "I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I couldn't sleep."

"Dr. Abrams has a few things he wants to talk to us about later but, for now, just get some rest." She pulled the bedsheets up higher on his chest to keep him from getting cold.

"Well, I'm up now, so let's have it, Doctor," he requested.

The doctor couldn't remember another time he had struggled to present his diagnosis to anyone.

"Mr. Clay," he began--he had been corrected in private about his earlier mistake with the patient's name. "It is very difficult to tell at this point. I've never seen such a progressive case of disease, so we're going to do a few more tests just to make sure."

"Well, what is it? Just give it to me straight."

"It looks as though you may have cancer, Mr. Clay."

Time in the room stood still at this point. Daniel could faintly hear the doctor talking about biopsies and throat cancer, as well as swelling on his brain. The details were unimportant. His medical knowledge wasn't sufficient to comprehend all of them. He could only take the news and stare blankly at the doctor, fearful of engaging Claire, in case his composure was lost.

"How long do I have to stay in here?" He now understood more than ever the coldness that could be felt within the hospital walls.

"I'd like to keep you until I can fully determine your diagnosis."

"I think I'd rather be at home--at least there's a view there." He tried, unsuccessfully, for a smile from Claire.

"As soon as the tests are done, we'll go home and move you to the room upstairs, for the view," she responded.

"What about Ryan?"

Claire looked at the doctor, then again at Daniel. "Ryan's not there anymore."

"You mean...? Did I hurt him?"

"No, no. He's just with his parents now."

"Kind of a miracle, actually," the doctor interjected. "He just stood up and walked out without his brace, probably in shock from the ordeal. I'm still running tests."

* * *

With Brenda's help, Claire moved some of Daniel's belongings upstairs and removed all the unnecessary medical equipment. The room was as it had always been, just as beautiful, but more decorated with a cozy ambience and less institutional.

It was protocol for the ambulance to make delivery of a destabilized patient to their home. When Daniel arrived, he was thankful and apologetic for the efforts of his nurse.

"You shouldn't have done all this. Thank you. It's amazing."

He crawled straight into bed, attempting not to expose how close he was to falling down. Growing physically weaker, he was mentally exhausted with concerns about his illness and how he might have developed it.

Claire was also in need of rest. She was working double shifts to be with him and had only slept an hour at a time during her breaks. She made him comfortable first as a patient then took to his side in bed as a partner. They both enjoyed an evening of much-needed sleep.

For the next couple of days, they talked and enjoyed plenty of rest. Claire took time off again, and Brenda stopped by a few times with household supplies. On the third night, she appeared with ulterior motives. Through the front door, she could see Claire sobbing in the kitchen. Brenda said she would take a turn upstairs to check on Daniel, allowing the younger nurse to take an emotional breather. Claire agreed and sat at the table, sipping her tea.

Brenda trekked up the stairs purposefully, taking one step at a time, carrying what appeared to be a black medical bag. Once she entered the room, she sat at Daniel's side quietly, so as not to disturb his peaceful state. She laid the bag at her feet and reached in it to organize her surprise.

It had been almost forty years since she had used the instrument, but she played it almost every day in her mind. Seated next to Daniel, she woke him gently. He was too frail to speak but able to recognize his visitor and acknowledge her with a smile. After a few deep breaths, she closed her eyes and, with only a slight pause, began to perform.

Daniel was her first audience since the son she had lost. She played beautifully with slow and extended notes, exuding a melodic passion. The sound of the flute echoed throughout the entire house and soothed everyone within its walls. The large rooms and high ceilings held the music and cherished it as if it were being played in the finest opera house.

Claire sat in the kitchen with her cup held tightly between her two palms. Her eyes remained closed, and the tears stopped while she absorbed the healing sounds from upstairs.

Daniel kept his eyes closed too. His body stretched out flat then relaxed in a meditative position, head back and arms to his side, palms up. The music infused his soul as he returned to sleep.

Brenda removed the instrument from her lips and placed it back in its case. "Thank you for listening, Daniel--tonight and before, when I spoke about my life."

After descending the stairs as smoothly as she had played, she reached the bottom and went through to the kitchen to find Claire, now leaning against the counter. They smiled at one another, and no words were necessary. Brenda turned and left the house to return home.

* * *

Though most of the test results were in, they were not conclusive, and Claire did not give Daniel the updates that she had received by phone. She could see how fast he was deteriorating. In her own medical experience, she had never seen such a rapid degeneration.

Their conversations grew shorter, as neither could bear the thought of the future. Time and health had passed too quickly to discuss anything but the present and what could be done to lessen each other's pain.

Claire struggled with the thought of having him moved back to the hospital. His shallow breathing and delicate gestures troubled her. He was peaceful, though, as he stared out at the sky. She didn't realize that he was searching for a certain star, to make his peace with before he could sleep.

His only other struggle was whether to discuss what had really happened, in hopes it could bring some comfort to her, but he remembered his promise and closed his eyes to fall asleep.

It was impossible to care for him as just a patient, but she tried to ease his fever with a cold cloth and kept the lights down low for his eyes. His coughing had almost ceased now, as his breathing was simply too weak to initiate any irritation.

After a quiet moment at his side, she kissed his nose and tried desperately not to drop a tear on his face. She headed for the balcony to cry alone and leave him in peace.

Standing in the night, weeping brokenly, she recalled the first time they met. She was grateful and only wished that it had been earlier in their lives and they could have had more time together. She remembered his pain in losing Isabelle and his joy in spending time with Matthew.

She slid down to the balcony floor and, with her back supported by the outer glass surface, sat facing up to the sky. Then she closed her eyes and bowed her head into her hands. After catching her breath, she spoke out loud in prayer.

"I have spent the better part of my life caring for people and will spend the rest of my living days doing so. But I can't do it alone. I love this man with all my heart, and I plead for you to free him from disease and leave him with me to care for. Please, Lord. Amen."

The star that Daniel always found was unfamiliar to Claire. It faded slowly into the darkness of the sky, without a flicker. Back over her shoulder through the window, she stared at his frail features. She could also see her own reflection in the glass and wiped away the tracks of tears that ran down her cheeks.

Returning to the room to join him at his bedside, she touched the cloth on his forehead to make sure it was just right. He was too deep in his fevered dreamworld to feel her wet lips touching his. After kissing him, she crawled into her side of the bed and fell asleep.

* * *

His restlessness awoke her. She couldn't believe it was morning already.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, not expecting an encouraging response.

"Well, it's been a while since I woke up in this state," he teased, looking under the sheets. "I guess all this rest is giving me some strength back."

Claire playfully slapped his arm, appreciating his wit. "Seriously, Daniel, how do you feel right now?"

"I feel pretty good, actually. Still tired but not as warm. I think I could eat something."

His voice sounded much stronger than it had for the past couple of days. His eyes showed more life behind them.

"There's not much food here, unfortunately, but are you okay to travel? Dr. Abrams wanted to see us again this week. We could go just for a quick bite and visit."

"Ah, hospital food. Yeah, I guess it won't hurt me."

Claire was pleasantly surprised at his mood and glad to hear that his humor remained intact.

Their banter was lively on the drive to breakfast. Claire was alert to his noticeably absent cough. She looked over at him often. In the passenger seat, he studied the landscape and every detail as they maneuvered the roads. He was not like the ill figure she had been witnessing before. Nevertheless, she drove eagerly, anxious to arrive at the hospital as quickly as possible.

Daniel required no help to rise from her humble transportation. He got out first and walked around to take her inside by the hand. He still appeared a little delicate, but there was strength in his posture that she hadn't seen for a week.

"You just have a seat and relax. I'll fetch us some food and let the doctor know we're here."

Food was the last thing on her mind. She raced down the hallway to find her superior. Daniel sat in the bed and stared out the window, wondering what would become of him, and when he could return to his own bed.

"Daniel? Are you okay?"

He turned to see a boy in the doorway, a most pleasant surprise. Ryan stood with his parents, holding a bag packed with his belongings.

"Hey, buddy, how are you?" His voice still a little weak.

Ryan moved closer to Daniel. "Are you going to be okay? I heard you got sick."

Daniel took a long pause to check him out, barely believing his strength in stature. There was no body cast, and he watched as the boy confidently set the bag down next to him.

"Yeah, I'm going to be just fine. You know how it is. I'm just in for a few more tests, and then I'm headed back home." He tried to comfort his noticeably concerned friend.

"Well, I'm glad I got to see you again. I wanted to say thanks."

"Hey, no problem. You can come out and stay anytime."

Ryan lowered his gaze to the floor for an almost eerie pause before facing Daniel, "No. I mean thanks. For _everything_ you did."

A moment went by. Their gazes locked on each other with a silent understanding connecting them. Daniel wondered how the boy knew, or if he was still drained and confused. He didn't ask any questions and smiled.

Bending down, Ryan picked up his bag to show off the newfound strength in his back. He smiled and left the room to rejoin his parents.

Daniel didn't have much time to ponder the reunion before Claire and the doctor entered the room. She had given Dr. Abrams a hopeful update on Daniel's condition this morning, but the doctor wanted to see it with his own eyes.

"Good morning, Doctor! What's the special? Will you be taking my order today?"

The two ignored Daniel's humor, and the doctor began a series of visual inspections. He then used two fingers from each hand to press around into Daniel's neck and throat. Dr. Abrams was the first one to point out how much the lump appeared to have subsided.

He seemed more puzzled each time he touched his patient. Claire stared at his face in both concern and amusement.

"I'm ordering a whole new series of tests. I want A to Z on this one. I'm sorry, Mr. Clay, but I need you to hold off on food for a couple of hours."

Daniel was disappointed but easily comforted by a smile from his nurse. He didn't pay much attention to the conversation but could feel hope underlying it.

It was a long day filled with a progression of tests, each one leading to a request for another by the doctor. Finally, he said, "Mr. Clay, I'm sorry, but I need to keep you here until tomorrow. There is something going on that I have no answers for yet."

Another night in the hospital would be frustrating for him, as he was now feeling better. He was able to converse with Claire and share more feelings, both verbally and physically. She was too afraid of disappointment to discuss his health but enjoyed at least talking about what they would be doing together in the future, regardless of the amount of time it would last.

He approached the difficult subject he had left back in the restaurant during their previous date: "You remember before, when I talked about New York? This is a beautiful place, Claire, and I know there are a lot of people you help here, but there are a lot of people in New York too. Just think about it. You know I have to return as soon as I can now, but I know I can't go without you."

It was only a night ago that she had thought this opportunity for her life had passed. She had no intention of letting it slip away now.

"So, what about the house?"

He gripped her hands tightly and kissed both of them.

"I'm not selling it anymore."

He had made plans for it in his mind only moments before the conversation began.
Chapter 13

* * *

The couple shared a room in her ward and an evening of adolescent-intended board games that a local gift store had generously donated to the hospital. They sat eating their breakfast together after another good evening of rest and impatiently awaited the arrival of Dr. Abrams.

He came into the room with a sober expression that stopped Claire from enjoying the meal. Daniel didn't appear to notice. Dr. Abrams approached Claire and glanced at Daniel expressionlessly.

Claire took the medical charts from her superior's hand and read through the test results. Daniel tried to read her easier-to-comprehend facial expressions.

At first she appeared confused but then grinned slightly while flipping the pages, causing her patient to intervene.

"Well, what does it say?"

"They're normal! Well, not normal, but in range. Are you sure about this?"

The once-confident doctor appeared totally lost in self-doubt. "I'm not sure of anything anymore."

"Should we run them again?" she suggested.

"It's already been ordered. Mr. Clay, I'm not sure what to tell you. We're going to need a little more blood and some samples, but you can go home afterwards, if you're more comfortable there, to wait for the results."

This pleased Daniel and his facial expression communicated his feelings to Claire.

"So, what's going on with that house of yours?" the doctor asked.

Daniel stared back, fearful that his secret had been discovered or revealed by another patient.

"What do you mean?" he replied cautiously.

"I mean, if it's for sale, my sister is a realtor and maybe she can help."

Daniel felt relief flow through his entire body. His secret was still safe. He nodded to the doctor as he left. To Claire he announced, "I just want to go home and _really_ share the bed together."

She smiled with approval but continued to reread the charts.

* * *

It was a celebratory drive back to the house. The unscheduled testing had taken longer than expected. It was getting late but was still light enough for them to enjoy a walk to the water before dinner.

They stood together side by side with their toes nearing the water's edge, staring out just feet from where they had shared their first kiss.

"I want to come back with you," she whispered.

"I wasn't leaving without you."

Emotional fatigue hit them both at once and they turned to hold each other up, trying also to hold themselves together. Their foreheads pressed together and painless tears of bliss ran down their cheeks. They embraced for a few minutes and then walked back to the house, supporting each other for the short journey. They skipped dinner. Being together in bed was all that they both hungered for, and they collapsed in unison on the sheets.

Their hands wandered unrestricted across each other until the two bodies became one again. There was no sense of time, no recognition of insecurities, and no concern about performance. It was passion in its purest form, shared physically by two people in love, and not duplicated often enough in most relationships.

Depleted of energy, they both rolled to one side. Claire nestled her back into his chest. As he wrapped his arms around her physique, they serenely descended into dreamless sleep.

* * *

They were both up before a full sunrise and sat talking in the kitchen about the mutual decision to return to New York together. They had managed to get just enough sleep to start the planning process. Daniel assured her that he would use his many resources to help ease what would otherwise be an overwhelming task of relocation.

"Can you call Dr. Abrams and ask him if we could meet his sister at the hospital this week?"

"I'm sure she'd come to the house," Claire replied.

"Yeah, but I'd rather meet with her there. That way I can thank him for everything."

Daniel felt guilty over abandoning Mrs. Lipton as his realtor but would stop by the hardware store on his next trip to town to explain the change in circumstances, and leave her a generous compensation for her time.

Meanwhile, Claire made numerous pages of notes and checklists for the things that needed to be done before she could imagine herself on a plane crossing the globe. Daniel helped shorten the lists with the reassurance that they would make a few trips back to manage the whole endeavor. This settled her nerves.

After a long session of planning with Claire, he picked up the phone.

"Hello, Nancy!"

"Daniel! Are you home?" Her voice emitted excitement.

"Not yet, but that's what I'm calling for. Could I get you to do me a favor?"

"That's what I'm here for. What do you need?"

"Could you make the flight arrangements for me? Just give me a couple of days to clean things up around here, and give me a call back with the flight details."

"Of course. First class with a window?" she confirmed, already making the note in the organizer on her desk.

"Yeah, the window seat and the one next to it."

Possibly misled by a bad connection, she asked him to repeat his instruction. "Sorry, Daniel, did you say you wanted two seats?"

"Yes, please, and tell Art thanks."

Daniel hung up and walked into the bedroom to find Claire sitting on the bed.

"Nancy's going to make the arrangements and call me back. Is everything okay?"

She expressed her feelings without a word, taking his face in her hands and kissing him deeply.

* * *

Nancy was puzzled as she hung up, but it only took a moment to register. She grinned and picked up the phone to make the necessary bookings.

"Was that Daniel?" Art shouted as he walked out from behind a badly cluttered desk. He had tried his best to keep Daniel's accounts in order, but after his move upstairs, he left behind the skills he'd once had.

"Yes, Mr. Rothschild. He'll be back by the end of the week. I'm just booking the flight now."

This seemed to comfort him a little. He walked back toward the mess he now had to clean up before Daniel's return.

"Oh and he's booked two seats. I guess he's bringing _somebody_ back with him." She proceeded with her arrangements.

Art turned to make sure he had heard her correctly. She peeked up at him with a smile to confirm.

He walked into the office, trying to mask his delight with sternness, and closed the door. Once alone, his satisfaction showed. He stood rocking back and forth and put his hands in his pockets, proud of his pupil and of himself for giving such good advice.

* * *

The house Claire lived in, inherited from her mother, was cleaned out after a few days of hard work and favors that she had called in from many co-workers--who were all willing to help and proud to have Claire as their friend. She had very few belongings other than the most common furniture, most of which would be stored in Brenda's basement.

Claire could return soon to clean up the rest and allow herself some time to decide what to do with the property. Selling it didn't sit well with her and renting it was always an option, but there was no urgency. The item ranked low on the redrafted checklist she carried in her purse.

They arrived at the hospital to give Brenda her spare key and meet with Dr. Abrams' sister, who was running a little late.

"She should be here any minute. How are you feeling?" The doctor was still awestruck by Daniel's recovery.

"I feel great. Thanks for everything, Doctor."

Dr. Abrams acknowledged the appreciation but couldn't take responsibility for something he didn't understand.

"Sorry I'm late." This woman's demeanor and attire appeared more professional than Mrs. Lipton's eccentric personality and outfits.

"I'll leave you guys to talk. All the best, Mr. Clay. Take good care of our Claire." The doctor smiled at her for the first time since they had been working together.

"Actually, this will just take a second, and it may require you to be present," Daniel announced before the doctor could make his exit.

Everyone in the room was confused by Daniel's comment, including Brenda, who had also been about to leave.

"I'm not selling the house. Instead, I'd like to sign it over to the hospital."

Claire audibly gasped for breath and took his arm. In shock, she struggled to breathe normally.

"It's just my way of saying thanks. You can keep the room open for the children, or sell it and put the money into this place. Whatever you want to do, it's your call. Just tell me where to sign," he added to the realtor.

Brenda realized quickly that Claire had been given no prior idea that this was part of the relocation plan. They smiled at each other, and then Brenda showed real emotion publicly for the first time. She straightened her uniform as if in the presence of royalty.

"You're a real gentleman, Daniel." She held back a tear and respectfully left the room.

"Are you sure about this, Mr. Clay?" the doctor inquired.

"Yes, it's what I want to do."

Trying to cover his amazement, the doctor said, "Let's go to my office so I can check what measures are necessary for this to take place."

As they all left the room together, Claire held on tightly to Daniel's arm.
Chapter 14

* * *

In her seat on the plane, Claire rested her head on Daniel's shoulder and slept in comfort for most of the trip. He noticed that the passenger he had flown beside not so long ago was seated a few rows back. She was with her family now and caught him in a glance. They both smiled, and she quickly returned to conversation with one of her children.

He was overflowing with happiness and disbelief at all that had transpired since he had sat next to her. He kissed Claire's forehead then stared out the window, wondering what he had done to deserve all that he had now.

* * *

The first few days at home for Daniel were more like a tourist trip for Claire as he escorted her around the great city. He made brief visits to his office for appointments to reacquaint himself with his clients. Early afternoon visits to the museums, evening plays and performances, and late suppers in New York's finest restaurants made up the rest of the time.

Back in town for a couple of weeks and driving to their first office party together, Claire was nervous about the formality of the event, although she had met most of his coworkers already.

"I just have to make a quick stop and then we're off to dance the night away," he promised with a smile.

She watched him walk around the front of the vehicle and blew a kiss through the windshield.

It was past regular business hours, but Daniel knew somebody would still be here.

"Mr. Stines!" he called out.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in," the elderly lawyer said as he cleaned around his desk. He recognized Daniel immediately.

Daniel sat down and spoke, interrupting the shuffling of paper into neater piles. "Do you remember me?"

"Of course, Mr. Clay. Did everything work out okay with your house in England?"

Daniel took a moment, grinning to himself. "Well, I guess it's hard to forget a guy when he comes in here and acts like a jerk the way I did."

Mr. Stines was taken aback. "No, you're a busy man--"

Daniel interrupted him. "You helped me out for nothing. And I took some cards when you asked for referrals."

Seemingly more nervous now, Martin explained, "Oh but, Mr. Clay, I wasn't expecting--"

Daniel cut him off again and confessed. "When I walked out last time, I threw them in the garbage."

A moment of silence passed while Martin digested the admission and tried to understand why Daniel had come back to speak with him now.

"Mr. Stines, I want to apologize for throwing them away, and for the attitude I had when you were just trying to help me and professionally grow your business."

"Well, thank you. I'm not sure what to say." He was obviously uncomfortable.

Daniel rose to leave. "I have some client estate planning coming up later in the month. Is it okay if I call you to have some work done?"

This announcement roused Mr. Stines from his stunned state. "Of course. Let me know if I can be of any help," he stammered but managed to get the words out.

"Great. Oh and I'm on my way to a party with the firm right now. How about giving me a few more cards? I'll pass them around for you this time. I promise."

"That would be"--he couldn't find the words or the cards as he riffled through his desk drawers--"great, Mr. Clay. Thank you."

He found the cards and handed some to Daniel. His expression of amazement and excitement was for the possible new business that might make his years of hard work finally pay off.

"I'll call you in a couple of weeks then. Have a good night. Oh and, Mr. Stines, you better call your partner, Becker. It's getting late. She's probably got dinner on the table by now."

Daniel proudly smiled at the results of his homework. He let Mr. Stines know it was nothing to be concerned about in their future association.

"Whose place is that, sweetheart?" Claire asked when he got back to the car. She was happy to see him return safely after she'd gotten a view of the neighborhood while waiting anxiously for him.

Daniel put the cards in his shirt pocket. "That's my new attorney. So, are you ready to go dancing?"

* * *

The couple entered the hall that was rented for the occasion but were caught off guard with the exploding round of applause. Everyone had arrived hours before. Claire knew what was planned and had successfully kept the secret from him.

Daniel was flabbergasted. "What's going on here? What's this all about?"

Art appeared from the middle of the crowd and walked toward a very befuddled Daniel.

"Surprise!" was all he managed to say, holding his palms up. Then he motioned to the crowd to separate down the middle, which they did while maintaining their applause.

Behind them was a sign, similar to the one he was used to seeing every morning when he arrived at the office. Only now it had been altered:

_Rothschild, Bowman, Duke, and Clay_.

He couldn't believe it and had to read it again slowly to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on his mind. Even years of visualization and belief in himself hadn't prepared him for the emotion of seeing his name this way. He shook his head with a grin, beaming from within, and reached for Art's outstretched hand.

"Thank you, Art."

"Hey, you earned it. The vote was unanimous."

Daniel looked at Claire and back again at Art. "Thank you, for everything."

They shared the moment together before Art walked away to get the evening's schedule underway.

One by one, coworkers came up to give their congratulations, best wishes, and a few one-liners about parking spots and perks that could be shared by the new partner.

The party shifted into full swing with the band playing after Art's signal. Daniel held Claire's hand tightly for support, taking a break for a kiss.

"So did you know about this? How did you?"

"Nancy called me last week, and I promised not to say anything,"

They kissed a few more times and Daniel observed the room filled with friends and well-wishers. He nodded at Art who was standing next to the bar with his wife Linda.

"I have another surprise for you tonight if you think you can handle it," Claire ventured.

"Oh yeah, well, after this I'm ready for anything."

Claire took him by the hand and kissed his palm. She slowly slid it down and placed it flat on her stomach.

"Surprise," she whispered.

Unprepared, the excitement numbed his entire body.

"You mean...?"

She nodded back.

They kissed again and held each other tight.
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