

### DARLING-MONTAGUE

By

Katie Heffernan

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 Katie SusAnn Heffernan

Edited by Allison Dickson of AllisonEdits.com

Front cover art by Florence Sorensen of www.designdoohickies.com

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This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Chapter 1

They say that life is what you make it.

But I can't help but feel that a pinch of whatever you want to call it

Fate, destiny, predetermination of some kind

Fits into the equation.

If the most significant events in our lives are laid out ahead

Then how you react to those times

Determines the richness of your life.

***

Knuckles sounded on the screen door when I was up to my elbows in dishwater.

I figured I had forgotten to leave it unlocked while I was on a cleaning spree. It was always so hard to keep up with the chores. Late afternoons were the only time I could make a dent in the dishes just in time for dinner, as well as attempt to file through old newspapers and bills stacked on the table. The old farmhouse showed its age with warping floorboards and feathering wallpaper straight out of the 1950s. Maybe subconsciously I was just trying to cover up its maturation, the piles of clothes, dirty dishes and loose leaves outside disguising the blemishes like Freudian slips.

The knock sounded again.

"Okay! Hold your horses!"

I wiped my sweaty forehead with my plaid sleeve and attempted to rip off the yellow rubber gloves, but suction latched on. It didn't matter. I'd just open the door and let her in and then come right back guess what new species of mold had overtaken the last sauce encrusted bowl. Walking toward the door, I noticed the gray sky out the back window.

By the time I got there, she was pounding on it with her fist. I could only figure it was because it was starting to rain. I grabbed the knob and reached for the bolt only to realize that it was open.

I tilted my head, perplexed, and opened the door.

"Geez, are you ok? The door was already..." I paused when I realized I was looking at an unfamiliar torso rather than my daughter's eyes and I turned my gaze upward.

"...open."

A greasy younger man stood in my doorway. His long brown hair swirled in the wind, at least the part that wasn't matted down with oil. His cheeks were covered in dark tufts which roughened his already depressed appearance. His fleece jacket barely covered a dirty undershirt, smudged with what looked like car oil and spaghetti sauce, and his torn jeans matched his ripped sneakers which were held together with strips of duct tape. Strangely, there was something familiar about him, but exhaustion fogged my memory. Maybe I had passed him in the grocery store.

He looked at me and twitched, clearing his throat. "Excuse me, but I wanted to know if someone lived here."

I frowned, trying not to let the stranger's impression of my house offend me. True, it wasn't brand new, but it wasn't all that dilapidated. Still, it wasn't his question that puzzled me. It was his British accent, which one almost never heard in Wisconsin. My bewilderment must have shown in my expression, because he rushed to correct himself.

"Um, sorry. I meant to ask whether a particular person lives here."

Ah, that made better sense.

"Oh, I get you. Well, I'm sure whoever you're looking for isn't here." I tried to close the door, but he held his hand out to stop it. I cried out in surprise. He wouldn't be forcing his way in if he was harmless.

"Woman, I'm not trying to scare you. I promise. I just need to know..."

I pushed on the door harder to combat his pressure and managed to get it shut just enough to dead-bolt it. "Go away or I'll call the cops!"

"Please! I didn't mean to frighten you!"

His voice began to travel around the corner _. The window_ , I thought and ran to slam it shut and lock it just as he appeared. "I said I'm calling the cops!" I screamed through the glass, darting across the room toward the phone on the coffee table.

"Please! I'm sorry! I'm just trying to find Wendy. Wendy Pan!"

I stopped punching numbers. I knew that name, but why did he? I turned my head to see him panting, with his hands pressed against the glass.

Keeping the phone in hand, I stepped toward the window.

The man pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "No one in town has heard of her. But I received this letter and I think this is the address. I've asked everywhere."

I looked directly into his eyes. "What do you want with her?"

"You know of her?" he exclaimed.

I didn't reply. There was no way any of this could be happening. But when he pulled his hair back with a sigh of relief, I knew it was him. That jaw line was perfectly angled, and those eyes, oh lord those eyes. They were his, but not like I remembered them. There seemed to be highlighting in their hollowing, like the last flickers of a candle in a jack-o-lantern.

I gestured toward the front door and he smiled like a kid on Christmas before dashing to meet me.

_No. This isn't right,_ I thought as my heart quickened. It was actually beating faster than the previous adrenaline rush toward the phone.

I had to look at this logically. There is always a catch to everything.

I unlocked the dead bolt and slowly opened the door.

He stood there jittering like someone on his fourth cup of espresso.

"I apologize if I frightened you. I need to know, is she here?"

"Is this a joke? Am I being Punk'd?" I said as my voice cracked.

He cocked his head at the question but then shook it. "No, no, no, it's not that."

I poked my head out the door to look for any sign of cameras, but nothing.

Suddenly, thunder rolled and heavy rain began to fall. His long eyelashes swatted at the raindrops. I couldn't believe I was going to say it, but I had to be polite.

"Maybe you would like to come in from the rain?"

Wasting no time, he ducked inside and I closed the door behind him. He surveyed the room, and his scowl telling me he was displeased with the clutter. It was one of those moments when I wished I had taken Carol's advice about keeping a clean house for unexpected visitors.

The man peeled off his suit coat. I wished he would have kept it on, because the stench that filled the room was worse than the high school basketball team's gym bags.

He reached out with coat in hand. I stood still, and then realized that he was handing it to me to put on the coat rack. "Oh, um..." I handled it like it was a dirty diaper, but he didn't seem to care. He had turned from me and kept searching.

"Is she here?"

"How do you know that name?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

"You didn't answer my question."

His persistent entitlement annoyed me, and it put me on the defensive. "You're standing in my house. You answer first."

He paused. "Look, I just need to find her to ask her a question. She sent me this letter years ago, but I think she has the answer to what I'm looking for."

"What is that?"

"Well, it's quite complicated. And if I told you, well, you would think that I was a barking mad tramp." He sighed and sat down on my couch. "Like the rest of the world."

I looked at him like that was indeed true.

He chuckled, as did I. Even though he was pathetic looking, I kept my manners.

"Would you like something to drink? Like coffee?"

"Tea. I haven't had a spot in a week."

I nodded and turned so he couldn't see the disgust in my face at his command. When was the last time that he had expressed some manners?

I walked to the kitchen, and put some water on the stove to boil. I had to stand on a chair to reach the top cabinet. Though I never drank tea, there was probably some left over from Dad. Sure enough, in the furthest corner was a huge box of earl grey, with one lonely bag left in the bottom. I prepared the mugs, his with the tea, mine instant coffee. I was hoping that caffeine would put all this weirdness into focus.

As I brought them out to the living room, I was greeted by that foul smell from across the room. I just tried to breathe through my mouth instead, but then I could taste the compounded sweat and dirt on my tongue.

I handed him his mug. He nodded, and as he was about to sip, he looked up at me. "No lemon?"

"Sorry, but I don't have any. That's not a common thing around this house."

"Well, I can't drink it without a lemon." He scowled again, setting the mug down on the table.

Offended, but still trying to keep my cool, I lifted his mug and slid a coaster under it. He looked at me, as if waiting for me to fix it, but I couldn't do anything. I wasn't going to drive to the supermarket for a single lemon for this ungrateful bum. "I said that I don't have any."

"God, you damn Yanks don't know how to do anything."

I glared. "Excuse me? But you came to my door, scared the crap outta me, and yet I still let you in. I took your coat, and even tried to be polite by making you a 'spot of tea.' Now you won't drink it, and I have not heard one thank you."

I had stood up at this point, glaring over him. He was looking back with wide eyes, probably not expecting my outburst. He leaned farther away on the couch and I noticed he looked a little afraid, and so I backed down.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to be so..."

"It's fine." There was an awkward pause. "But thank you. I wasn't aware of how I was coming across. I do appreciate your kindness. It's the first that has been shown to me in the last couple weeks." He looked down, appearing genuinely guilty. "I didn't mean to take up your time. You said that you knew Wendy Pan."

Like clockwork, the front door opened. At that instant, I was on guard, especially after all that had happened in the last few minutes. But her little yellow raincoat gave her identity away.

"Mommy! I'm home!" she yelled full force. Then she looked over to where I sat with my new guest. "Oh, you're right here."

I stood up and attended to her, taking her school bag and slipping her rain jacket off her back. "Wipe your feet, honey." She was my little mini-me. All of her genes had come from me: the dishwater blonde hair, the heart-shaped face, and even the beautiful long fingernails. Only one characteristic was borrowed: her ocean blue eyes, a far cry from my pale yellow hazels.

She crinkled her nose with distaste. "What's that smell? I hope that's not dinner!"

I had forgotten it briefly until she mentioned it. Maybe she borrowed her manners from the other contributor too.

"Who is he?" She pointed.

I pushed her hand down. "It's not polite to point," I scolded. "He's just a... man. A..." I looked around the room for an answer, my eyes landing on the opened yellow pages. "...plumber. He won't be here very long."

"Is the shower broken again? I thought you fixed it with the silver thing."

"It doesn't matter, Wendy. Take your backpack upstairs. I'll call you when dinner is ready."

She gave an obvious confused stare at me and then at the 'plumber', but then skipped her way through the house.

I gave a shy look to my guest, his eyes confused and shocked.

"That is Wendy? It can't be! She's not more than 5 years old!"

"She is six, actually."

He stood and shook his head as he paced. "But this has to be the house. I spent my last pence getting here!" He fidgeted into his pants pocket, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, pinching out a single one with his lips while he fidgeted for his lighter.

"Ah-hem!"

He looked at me puzzled.

"Oh, here... thank you again." He reached out the pack to offer me a cigarette.

"Um, no. You can't smoke in here."

"Why the hell not? Tis the free country, isn't it?"

"One, it's my house, two, the house may go up in flames, and three, my daughter is here." I yanked the cigarette out of his mouth, opened the door, and threw it outside.

"If you insist on polluting your lungs, you must go outside."

"You could have just said that instead of wasting my fag."

"Well, now you know."

"Please," he said with a whine. "I'm really sorry. I've just had a bleedin' hard week. I lost everything and I had some glaikit idea that maybe I could find something here." He sighed, simultaneously falling into the couch again.

I saw the sincerity in face, and all I could do was take pity. It was obvious that he was tired, and had traveled so far.

"What exactly did you want?"

"It doesn't matter now. It's over."

I hesitated. I couldn't stand the thought of having someone in pain even as rude as he was.

"Look, the six year old is not Wendy. Well, her name _is_ Wendy, but not _the_ Wendy." A slight crack in my voice startled him, almost like a short electric shock.

"Wendy Pan is not a real person. That was a name I used to sign in my letters to..."

"You're Wendy? Blimey! Woman, you're throwing me back and forth. I'm going to get whiplash from you." I glared, he got the idea. "Sorry... continue."

"As I said, I used that name to sign my letters to you."

"Do you know who I am?"

_Of course._ I thought. "It took me a second. I haven't seen a picture of you in quite a while, and no offense, but you look like you haven't showered in days."

"Well, more like one week." He chuckled, and then his face saddened as his eyes traced the floor. His expression seemed to recall the last week and it was obviously not a good one.

Maybe it was the pathetic way he held his head down, but I could feel pain with him. I could sympathize with bad luck and misfortune.

"Are you staying in town?"

"No, um, I'm really not staying anywhere. Like I said, I spent my last tad of brass getting here and I'm stuck." He didn't even look up; I could tell that begging was a very uncommon form of communication to him. If he only realized that he didn't have to try so hard.

"Do you want to use my shower?" It sped out of my mouth before I knew what I was asking. He looked up, a brief sparkle in his eyes. "It's not the greatest and it's well water, but it should do the job."

He nodded.

I shifted my weight. "It's down the hall and to the left. There are towels in the closet." I looked around him. "Do you have anything with you? Like a bag?"

He shook his head. "Only the clothes on my back."

"I'll see if I can find you something." As I began to walk away, he reached for my arm and stopped me.

"Thank you." His haunted eyes told me that he didn't deserve this kindness, but there was a glimmer of hope in them that I couldn't turn away.

"You're welcome, Daniel. Now go get clean and I will see if I can scrounge together some things for you."

***

Was this really happening? Was Daniel Lawrence really in my house? My little old farmhouse in this po-dunk little town in the country side of Wisconsin? I must be dreaming. That was my only explanation. At least it would make for a good story to tell Jenny when I woke up, for this surely had to be a dream.

I opened the creaky bedroom door. I hadn't been in this room for years; frankly there was no need to go into it. It was Dad's room, and nothing had changed visually, except for the added paleness to the antiques. The air was stale, redolent of dust and moth balls. I didn't like being in here and it felt as if my presence in it was unwelcomed as well. I walked to the wooden dresser, trying not to let my eyes wander to the faded pictures in frames and old notes stuck in the mirror.

Unfortunately, my eyes lit upon the family portrait. Not more than eight years old, I stood inbetween Mom and Dad with a forced gap-toothed grin on my face. You could tell from the awkwardness of our stances that it was a lie: the smiles and the unity.

I let out a sigh of disgust and returned to my pursuit. Inside the drawers, I made an effort to find something that was at least partially in fashion of wearable. Dad never had a sense of style, but even plain normal clothes could show age.

In the midst of my task, there came a thundering scream from the bathroom. "What the bloody hell!" The cussing continued and I went into rescue mode.

I rushed down the hall and swung the bathroom door open, greeted by the spritz of water to my face. _Damn showerhead_ , I thought. It was very old, and with all the minerals in the pipes, it would occasionally go into a spastic mode, shooting water in every direction. The streams came at full force from the head as well as the connecting joints along with a high-pitched squeal. It was worse than any water park. It was in need of a full replacement, but until I could gather the money, but I just learned to keep a wrench and a mop in the bathroom.

I grabbed the silver wretch from the back of the toilet and flung open the shower curtain. I swung the tool several times, hitting the pipes as hard as I could. On the last hit, the flow of the stream turned to normal again.

"There you go." Then I gasped. I never before worried about coming in here, because I rarely had company. But now there was Daniel Lawrence, former teen idol, standing naked in my tub.

I flung myself around and managed a shaky, "Sorry" before I fled.

Chapter 2

"Wendy!" I yelled up the stairs. "Come and eat!"

I could hear her little footsteps make their way down the steps, fumbling mid-flight.

"Are you okay?" I yelled.

"Yeah," came the small voice through the doorway. I threw a heaping of tuna noodle casserole onto a plate and set it down in front of her.

"How many times have I told you? Don't run down the stairs. They are warped and it's not safe." She ignored me as she crawled into her chair.

A door squeaked opened down the hallway. Humidity and rosey scents escaped into the house. Heavy footsteps came toward the kitchen.

Daniel Lawrence came around the corner, looking down at his vintage clothing. I could see that he was trying to hold back a look of disgust with all of his might. "Trousers are a bit large."

"Sorry, they were all I could find." I had trouble making eye contact with him after seeing him naked in the shower. It was bad enough that my stint in the bathroom prevented me from focusing on the recipe for dinner, as I had to redo it, twice. The first time I added baking soda instead of salt, the second time, I dropped the bowl on the floor, tuna mixture splattering all over the wooden floors.

I motioned toward the chair beside Wendy. "Have a seat, Daniel." He did just that, carefully adjusting his weight into the creaky old chair.

"Do plumbers try out all the showers that they fix?" Wendy asked while stuffing her mouth with a forkful of casserole. In true child fashion, she was direct in questions.

He just stared at the youngster, unable to move his lips.

"Wendy, don't talk with your mouth full of food," I said. She still waited patiently for his answer while I prepared a plate for Daniel.

"No," he started. "But quite honestly I think your mum understands the plumbing and a spanner better than I do."

I placed the warm dish down in front of him. Well, it was more of a drop in reaction to his statement. The image of his bare glistening body flashed before my eyes.

Not noticing my clumsy placement, he examined the food, prodding at it with his fork. "What is this?"

"Tuna noodle casserole," I replied, pushing away the idea of a naked celebrity in my tub. This was one of the few dishes I could make easily. Or remake, as the case demonstrated.

"It's edible?"

"Yes." I plunked a glass of milk by his dish and tried to ignore his condescension.

Wendy looked at him. "Make sure you eat all the broccoli, otherwise you don't get dessert. Tonight we have Swirly Pops!"

He looked at me, "Can I have whatever she just said?"

I shook my head. "Um, no."

She giggled. "Silly, you have to eat the veggies. No exceptions! Even if mommy doesn't eat hers she doesn't get dessert. But she always does..."

I finished her statement. "That's because I want to stay strong. You want to be strong, right honey?"

She showed off her guns. "Yup! Like you!" She flexed her little biceps and continued to shove the food in her face after she smiled at me.

Daniel's face was perplexed into stone.

We all sat in silence to finish our meal. Well, at least Wendy and I did.

She stood up from the table. "Can I go watch cartoons now?"

"For a little bit, and then homework, you need to practice for your spelling test this week. Now that you are in the high achiever class, we want to get a good head start." She rolled her blue eyes as she ran off to the living room.

Daniel continued to poke at the tuna concoction more. The way he played with the food reminded me of how Wendy would try to persuade me into making something else, like Mac & Cheese.

"It's not going to kill you. I promise." He didn't note my smirk.

"I'll pass."

It was a little upsetting.

"You mustn't be hungry then." I took the plate away. "I would have thought that you hadn't eaten in days."

"I haven't. But you get used to it after a whilst. I think I went several weeks without eating once."

I scraped the leftovers into a Tupperware bin for lunch tomorrow. "That's horrible! Now why would you do that?"

He sipped the warm milk in front of him. "Film. I needed to lose five stone before they would let me on the set."

They wouldn't let Daniel Lawrence on a film because he was fat? I could never remember a movie or candid photo of him looking anything other than lean and muscular. It would be understandable if I were denied anything in Hollywood because of my lack of a negative number waist, but not him. I was fairly normal, not the perfect status of health but I did what I could to get through the day. I'd throw my icky blonde hair in a ponytail when it didn't cooperate, and throw on a clean shirt and mom jeans to run errands. I blended in well with my surroundings.

I remembered obsessing over my weight in high school, only in hindsight seeing how beautiful I actually was. But that was the past. Now, I had more important things to think about besides myself.

"That's sad," I finally said.

"Yea, but it's the business. Like I said, you get used to it."

I gave a sigh as I placed the dirty plate in the sink and sat down at the table next to him. His wet hair draped along the sides of his clean face as he just stared into the tabletop. It was time for the obvious question, and he knew I was going to ask it.

"Well, why are you here, Daniel Lawrence?"

He stared at the half empty glass of warm milk in front of him. Every so often, he would swirl the glass, creating a vortex that sunk him deeper into his deliberation.

Finally, he reached into his pocket to pull out the envelope and remove the single sheet inside. It was weathered and crumpled now, splotched with dark brown spots along the edges.

"Dear Daniel Lawrence," he read. "Thank you for helping me to feel something. Love, Wendy Pan."

He put it down and looked at me, delving his almond eyes through the distance between us.

"I'm here because of one sentence. That's why."

I sat in silence for a moment, trying to make sense of it all. "I don't understand."

"It's a really long story, but I found this letter and I was shocked by the solidarity of the sentence. Only that." His voice was stunned and confused. "It didn't make any sense. I made this Wendy Pan feel something and yet this is all she writes? Other fan letters went on for pages explaining fantasies and what not, but she only wrote one sentence? Why? How could one sentence have more force behind it than any fan fiction novel?"

I stared. "You came all the way here to judge my writing skills?"

He shook his head. "No no, you don't get it. Do you not understand the hell I've been through the last few months?"

"Sorry, but I don't know your life story Daniel. I've got my own to tend to."

He gasped.

"You see, it occurred to me, maybe this Wendy could tell me what she was feeling. For whatever reason, maybe that simplicity would hold the key to getting me back on top of the world." He gave a cynical, crooked grin that lifted only one side of his face.

"And because of that idea, I felt there was hope for the first time in a very long time. That little tad of hope salvaged my spontaneous nature, and so I sold everything I had left at the flat at the car boot sale. I do mean everything: furniture, toilet paper, my guitar, whatever I could get a pound for." He searched my face for sympathy and gratitude.

"I used _every last pence,_ " he stretched his words. "Every piece of cash I had to get a plane ticket to Chicago, and then walked and hitchhiked on the motorway north. And here I am, flung over the Atlantic ocean on a quest." He let out an exhausted release of air, as if that breath was supposed to magically make something click.

"Seems like you went through a lot of trouble just to get here," I said. "But why would you have to sell anything? You're a celebrity!"

"I really don't want to get into it right now." He offered the paper in his hand, and I realized that those dark brown spots had been thriving blood cells at some point. "So, please, if you are this 'Wendy Pan', can you tell me what it was you felt?"

I took the letter from his hand, reading the single sentence over and over. I remembered this letter very distinctly, but never in a million years did I expect that it was going to be the one to come back to haunt me.

"I'm sorry Daniel, but I must have written you hundreds of letters throughout my teen years. I don't think I can remember what was going through my mind this day."

"Please try." His face was a pained portrait of begging.

I was reluctant to fess up. It would be harder for him to hear than anything else I could come up with. I had already lied about the number of letters I had written: there was only this one, and I never thought he'd read it out of the sea of fan mail he was receiving at the time.

I hated this letter. Each time I read the single sentence, my heart would drop, but shame and rage heated my inner core. This phrase was based on a silly and stupid moment in my life, one that I didn't care to relive. It would be better to get this over with, like ripping off a bandage.

So I let whatever words were on my tongue fall.

"Well, you were a really good actor, and your characters really made me feel normal in some ways." I grasped for more words. "I've never really had a stable home or anything, and to get away from reality was a blessing that I would take whenever I got it. You provided me with characters who were capable of love."

He waited for a continuation. Disappointment rushed over his face when he saw that I was finished. "That's it?"

I glared. "What else do you want?"

"I dunno. I was hoping for something a little less... what's the right word? Like, fanatic."

_What were you expecting?_ I thought. _Jesus? Aristotle? Jerry Springer's final thought?_

"I'm sorry that I'm not as prophetic as you hoped, but I can only give you that." I handed him back the note.

He huffed as he threw his hands in the air. "I came all the way from London for nothing."

I tried to make a joke. "You could have called or something first. It would have been cheaper."

He did not laugh. He simply stood up from the kitchen table and walked out the back door.

I hesitated to follow him. Did he want to be alone? Did he need company? I searched my brain for an answer. I had only known Daniel in a personal sense for less than a couple hours, so it was hard to determine his character. Part of me reached back to my adolescence, remembering the smiling young man that draped my walls in BOP and Tiger Beat logos. His potential was endless, and his status in the eyes of any teenage girl (or even the older ladies for that matter) was divine. He seemed like a happy-go-lucky kind of guy then, on top of the world with his flawless smile. Nothing like the man who was fuming around the house, demanding answers I didn't have.

Daniel Lawrence what the hell happened to you?

I could relate to the lemons given to me, even hurled in the most bitter of moments.

But how could I look past everything? He was the core reason I let myself get to where I was. I was young, naive, and overall just dumb when I believed in happy endings like in his movies. I fell in so called love with my high school sweetheart, got knocked up, and became a single parent. But I had accepted my fate a long time ago, I was stuck in limbo due to my own selfish reasons, and I had paid the price ever since.

What was I going to do? He was a celebrity, emphasis on the "was". I hadn't seen him on any magazine covers since his divorce, at least a year ago. He slowly faded into the back pages like a drop of water, slowly evaporating from leaves.

Now he only had the clothes on his back.

But his VIP status didn't give him a free ride to stay here. Wendy and I were barely getting by on my measly cashier paycheck. It was kind enough of me not to complain of his forty-five minute shower, which used up all the hot water.

I devised my plan, and I tried to keep it as simple as possible. I couldn't do much else for him besides the shower and the hot meal he thought he was too good to eat. I could hand him a twenty from the savings pickle jar. It was my emergency stash, and I rarely dipped into it. Then I could send him on his way or give him a ride somewhere.

The more I tried to work it out, the less simple this idea became.

_He's not my problem._ I briefly hated myself.

"Wendy?" I peeked into the living room. My daughter's blue eyes glimpsed away from the television momentarily. "I'm going to be outside if you need me."

"Ok." She turned to face the TV again.

I walked slowly through the kitchen and out the back door. My eyes wandered and came upon him sitting on the old wooden bench in the yard. His hunched back faced me, and I carefully approached as not to startle him.

His dark hands held his face in grief, a single swirl lifted from the cigarette clenched between his fingers. He was mumbling to himself, all I could catch was blasphemy. "Stupid! Idiot!"

"Daniel?" I said softly. My attempt earlier to make my presence known had obviously failed, as his body jerked. He frantically wiped his eyes and turned to me, pretending that this was his normal reaction. But I could see the scarlet circling, his swollen eyes like a target. His attempts to hide his crying were feeble.

But in that fragility, I saw beauty. As much as I would have advised anyone else to 'let it be', I found myself rebelling against my own guidance. He wasn't the god-like figure I remembered from my youthful years. He was mortal and in pain, and he needed somebody to lean on.

Even in his greatest roles, his tears were perfect droplets that rarely brought redness to his face, but this was reality. No makeup, no second takes.

I couldn't stand by and watch him suffer when I knew I could help. He didn't deserve a dime of my pity, but I deserved redemption of some kind for myself. I'd spent years blaming this man for my decisions, when the choices were all mine. Now, all the wiser, I knew no on-screen love moment could be reality.

"Yes?"

"Are you ok?"

He laughed, but hysteria burned on its edges.

I searched for words. I knew he wouldn't beg for anything, so I would lead him on. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He just stared at the ground.

I wasn't going to play games by waiting for an answer.

"I'll go put some new sheets on the bed."

I turned to walk back toward the house to do my deed, but a hand on my wrist stopped me. I had a case of déjà vu.

I turned to look at his eyes, but his wandered across the grassy sand. "Look, I'm not good with any of this..."

I could feel the tension on his breath, and my stomach squirmed with his. I didn't like the feeling.

"Shh." I quieted him. It seemed to be enough as the silence ached on. "Come on inside and I'll make you a peanut butter sandwich."

He flicked the cigarette to the ground, and burrowed the ashes into the grains of sand. He stood and followed me into the kitchen.

Daniel sat at the kitchen table, same spot as before. I gathered my ingredients and worked at the counter. I made two sandwiches, one for him, and one for Wendy's lunch tomorrow. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.

He didn't say a word.

Chapter 3

After Daniel went to bed, I had to talk to someone outside of this situation. Of course I called Jenny, my best friend.

"Ha! Are you for real? Did Hallmark create a new April Fool's Day or something?" she asked through the phone line.

"No Jenny. If they did, the joke is on me this time. I'm serious. Daniel Lawrence is in my house!" I didn't say it as an excited hormone driven teenage girl would, but instead as a confused and worried adult with a brand new man-baby on her hands.

"So what is he doing there?"

"It's complicated," I replied. But I proceeded to explain to Jenny the previous events of the evening. Even though the words dropped from my own mouth, I was flabbergasted that every syllable was truth.

"I'm so coming over right now."

"No! Besides, he's asleep. He has had a very long day."

"Where is he sleeping?" She seemed hardly able to contain the need to squeal.

"Dad's room." I hadn't said Dad's name out loud in a long time, the words felt flat and rusted on my lips. Obviously Daniel wasn't thrilled with the dusty room, but he tried to keep his mumbling to a minimum after I changed the yellow sheets.

"Really? You didn't give him your bed?"

I shrugged as if she were in front of me. "Well, it looks like he might be here a while."

"That's not what I meant, Abby. Why didn't you offer him a _side_ of your bed?" Typical Jenny. Everything came down to sex. She may have been a young mother like me, but she didn't let it slow her down. At home or work, she wore provocative clothes that highlighted her thin frame. She would reapply her clown makeup after every one meal. Even during her shifts, she would find ways to lose her blouse buttons and roll her skirt.

After my Wendy was born, I took a more conservative route in my looks, not because I didn't want to look like a "sex kitten" as Jenny called it, but rather I didn't see the need. I wasn't actively looking for a mate, so I focused on making money to buy diapers and baby clothes. Wendy grew so fast and needed new clothes so often that I just stuck to simple shirts and jeans from the thrift store when I wasn't in my work uniform.

I grunted at her previous comment, and she got my drift. She asked, "What are you going to do with him now?"

"Well, that's part of the reason I'm calling. Do you think he could work tomorrow at the store?" There was an instant pause on the line.

Jenny's family had owned the local grocery store, Koper's Market, for generations. Her father still worked at the store but he considered himself retired on most days. Jenny worked full time there, mainly as the head manager. She was the entire human resources department, in charge of everything from payroll to work schedules.

"Why in the hell would Daniel Lawrence need to work at my little shop?"

"Please Jenny. He's really in a bad place right now. I don't know what else to do."

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone line. "Well, if this is serious, I guess he can help in the meat department. That young Frankston boy quit a few days ago without warning. I can't pay him much Abby, but he could help Jerry Potter by weighing and putting out the fresh meat." Jerry was the meat house manager at our grocery store. I have known Jerry since we were in grade school and he, like me, never got out of this town. "That's all I really have available Abby."

"No, that will be perfect Jenny. I really appreciate it. Oh, and please don't tell anyone who he really is. I wouldn't be surprised if they figured it out, but I think it would be better if he could lay low."

"Gawd! That is going to be such torture not to tell everyone that Daniel Lawrence is working for me! Not that they would believe me anyway." She sighed.

I smiled, my good deeds for the day complete. "Thank you so much Jenny. It's my day for carpool tomorrow, so I'll drop off Daniel when I pick up Jessica for school."

Chapter 4

After dropping off the carpool at school, I returned to Koper's to find that Daniel was missing. Not only that, but I was instructed by Jenny's father that I needed to go down to the police station to pick up my friend.

I'd never been inside the police station before, except when I was a kid on a field trip. It was a simple set up, mostly white and pale walls. A red-haired receptionist sat behind the desk in a burgundy polo shirt, picking at the imperfections in her nails. I tried to hide my face, though it was a useless gesture. The few people inside the building all knew me.

"Hi Abby." There was a slight hit of sarcasm in her voice. I usually only saw Dorothy when she was in Koper's buying her weekly supply of bananas to make homemade banana bread to deliver to the senior housing center in Kenosha. These were definitely different circumstances.

"Hi Dorothy." I smiled through my embarrassment. "So, uh, do you know what happened exactly?"

Caged yelling came from somewhere in the back of the building. Dorothy rolled her eyes.

"Let me get Ron for you. Actually, why don't you just come back to his office." She gestured toward the door.

Ron was the police chief of this little country haven, and he knew my father from back when they were kids. He always took pity on me. He was kind of like the cool uncle I never had, slipping me ten dollar bills when I wasn't looking and taking Wendy and me out to eat occasionally. In my wilder days, he would let me slide through the cracks when he busted the underage drinking parties. But that was our little secret, one of the perks of knowing the cops.

Dorothy led me to his door and let me in.

Ron was sitting at this desk, writing. The black uniform did little to slim his growing paunch. The only thing defying his age was the hair on his head, which was still black as the day I met him, although I would never formally point out the thinning crown area.

He looked up, and smiled.

"Abby!" He rose from his thin metal desk to give me a hug. "I'm so glad to see you. I wish it were under better circumstances."

I sighed. "What happened?"

"Well, the short of it, he punched Jerry Potter in the face."

My jaw dropped as my eyes popped. "Daniel punched Jerry in the face?! Why?!"

"Can't get the straight story out of him. He keeps going into a tirade and I can't understand what he is saying with that accent. The only thing I could make out was your name. I threatened to put him in a cell, but that didn't work. It only made him angrier."

The faded yelling in the background was back.

"Is that him?!"

"Yea, I was hoping he would wear himself out, but so far he just keeps yelling."

"Did Jerry say anything?"

"He didn't really want to talk about it, plus the first concern was getting him to the hospital. Last I heard, his nose was broken."

_Oh great_ , I thought. Just what I needed, Jerry's broken nose hanging over my head. It was bad enough that I never returned his affections toward me, but now I was going to have to find a way around work without seeing him, even more than normal.

"So what are you going to do with Daniel?"

"Luckily for him, Jerry said that he wasn't going to press charges, some misunderstanding or something. But I can't just let him out of here like this." He pointed in the direction of the muffled screams. "I'll even drop the bail amount to minimum by law, Abby, but he has to go to an anger management class or stay here for a while."

I exhaled. That was quite a good offer, although convincing the lunatic in the back would be an issue.

"I completely understand. It would be good for him."

As cruel as it sounded, I wished I had been there to see Jerry's bent up face. It would have been a nice revenge for all the times he had squeezed my butt cheek in the break room when no one was there.

"Abby, how do you know this guy? He seems very unstable." Ron asked as he once again pointed toward the source of noise.

"Actually, he's a ..." I struggled for the safest words. "...roommate at the moment."

Ron's eyes popped out farther than mine had just moments earlier. "This guy!? Abby, you can't tell me that you are letting this maniac in your house with Wendy there!"

I nodded, looking down at the floor.

"You have got to be kidding me! What is wrong with you, Abby? You won't even let babysitters in your house!"

Daniel was now singing at the top of his lungs. It sounded like some drunken Irish tune.

How would I explain to one of the few people in the world that I trusted this situation without sounding ridiculous? I couldn't. So I told him the truth about this filthy man showing up on my door step, mentioning only the broadest of details.

"It was really pathetic Ron. I couldn't just leave him there in the rain."

He shook his head in disappointment. "This is not like you Abby. You won't let Wendy keep any animal that she brings home, yet you let a dirty stranger into your house?"

"I know its crazy, but technically I know him." I hesitated to let the words flow.

"How?"

"He's Daniel Lawrence." I noticed his blank stare and continued. "He's an actor. Remember the movie 'Dixie House'? He was in that."

"Nah, that was a chick flick. I never saw it."

"Remember the guy all over my walls in my room when I was a teen?"

It took a second, but then I could see it clicked in his face.

"That is him." I pointed toward the off color singing.

Ron looked in the direction of the cells, and then back at me, putting the pieces slowly together. "Really? I thought his name was familiar, but what the hell is he doing in Wisconsin?!"

I wondered the same thing.

"It's complicated."

He shook his head in disapproval. "Well Abby, in any case, you should be careful. I don't care how much money he has or his celebrity status."

"I know." It was funny in a way, because neither of those things applied anymore, but I didn't want to deal with another lecture. Instead, I changed the subject. "I better go calm him down."

Ron nodded, and led me out of his office to the single cell in the back room.

Daniel was pacing back and forth at a rapid speed in the cell. He certainly was pissed off, but when his eyes found mine, he let out a sigh of relief.

"Finally! I've been in here forever!" He walked to the front of the cell waiting for Ron to unlock the door. "This bloody town is bonkers!"

But Ron made no movement toward the cell door. Daniel looked at him, giving him an impatient gesture.

I touched Ron's forearm. "Can I have a minute?" He left us alone.

"Where the bloody hell is he going!?" Daniel demanded.

I tried to keep my face calm. "I need to talk to you alone. What happened? Why did you punch Jerry Potter in the face?!"

"He deserved it! He was completely out of order."

"That doesn't matter. You don't go around punching people just because you think someone deserves it."

There was a pause, deep controlled breathing between the two of us.

"I held out as long as I could," he mumbled.

"You were there for less than an hour," I snapped back.

"That was a long time for me. He was just being such an arsehole and he knew it."

"You're lucky he's not pressing charges. You can leave here as soon as you agree to anger management or pay your bail."

His expression was fueled. "I don't need anger management! He pissed me off. He's absolutely vile!"

"They won't let you out until you agree."

"Can't you just pay my bail so I can get the hell out of here?"

I looked at him, my face understated my frustration.

"It might be good for you."

His exasperated voiced escalated. "I don't have a problem! Stop treating me like a bairn! Get me out of here!" He rattled the cage like a rabid animal. I jumped away.

"You know what? Just stay here. I don't have money to bail you out anyway. I'm not just going to fork over my hard earned cash for your mistake. Learn from it and start showing some respect for people who try to help you out."

I stomped away from the cell.

"You're just going to leave me here?" His voice sounded puzzled and hurt.

Without looking back I replied, "You better believe it. If you want to get out of that cell, start acting like a normal human being. Conform to society enough to blend in and get through the day. Here's your reality check."

Before leaving the cellblock, I turned to look at his confused face.

"Welcome to America."

My feet stomped heavily as I made my way to the exit.

Ron stepped out of his office with a look of concern on his face "Abby?"

Huffing, I continued walking to the door. "Call me if he ever decides to become half way human, Ron."

***

One day, two days, three days. He really was more stubborn than I thought. Finally on the sixth day, Ron phoned me.

I pulled up to the police station, and saw that Daniel was sitting on the bench. He got in the car without looking at me. I don't think he even lifted his head once to look at me, but there was definitely a scowl of defeat on his face. He didn't like the situation. I tried my hardest not to think about how I had the upper hand for once, knowing that I was right. If it weren't for the fuzzy AM radio waves, it would have been dead silent the whole way home.

When I killed the engine in the driveway, silence was shattered.

"You're not going to say anything to me?"

I didn't really know how to reply. Joke or serious? Why not both?

"So do I have to take you to anger management class? Or did you find a new boyfriend to give you a ride?" I smirked.

He looked at me for the first time since he got in the car, and seeing my smile, he finally let out a laugh.

We cackled in unison. Nothing more really needed to be said. He understood, as well as I did.

"Come on Daniel, let me make you some dinner."

He smiled. "Brilliant! You have no idea how delicious that sounds. I survived on banana bread for the week. Ron was barely able to make me a microwave burrito."

Chapter 5

I knew that Daniel needed to gain some sense of pride back. My efforts to find him a job failed. Jenny understandably wouldn't employ him and there were no other jobs available locally, so he accompanied me to on my ride to work, and then roamed the little town square until it was time to go home. I could have left him at home, but honestly, I didn't like the idea of him being there when I wasn't. Maybe I was protective of the crappy farmhouse, but I didn't want a person I barely knew staying there alone. So he would sit in the town square, watching people, grumbling to himself, and smoking his lungs black.

He needed to do something to at least pay for his cancer sticks. Many an hour did I spend trying to convince him to quit, backing my debate with scientific facts. But even with my nagging, his repetitive defense was to 'rather have those than eat'. I gave up the great debate when I realized like any other political or formal debate, no one actually won. Usually the opposite sides stayed in their repulsed polarities, sometimes more determined just to be stubborn and throw in the 'just cause' excuse.

Finally the idea hit me, instead of just sitting in the town square people watching, he could join in the flea market and try to sell some of my things that I didn't need any more. It was hardly a large flea market, but every Thursday and Friday in the late summer and early fall months, the town square would be filled with local people trying to make a buck. It was one of the few visitor attractions to Bristol. Tourists often marveled at brick laid buildings. Inside them, they would find local bakery, barber shop, diner, and the grocery store. Each piece of Americana held no franchise title, and instead boasted fuzzy personality lines, like individuals with common curiosity that was instilled since birth instead of learned in a training session. Thursday mornings at Carol's sweets, the leaked scents of fresh bread and pastries wafted downtown. The barber's pole would twirl in lazy revolutions in front of Thomas's, as old grumpy men sat on the bench underneath it and reminisced about the good old days.

After enjoying an old soda fountain classic at Debbie's, people would work off the excess calories walking through the town square, searching for bargains. It was mostly old antiques local farmers had stashed in their barns, but as their barns needed to be torn down, they would need to find new space for these objects.

Not only would joining the flea market benefit Daniel, but it motivated me to do some house cleaning I needed to get rid of the junk that crowded the closets and dusty corners, but when it came to organizing, procrastination was always the whispering devil sitting on my shoulder.

Slowly I would add things for him to sell. I only had time to rummage in between work and sleep. And even in those times I was stretched for free moments. But stuff did add up, mostly clothing, knickknack things, and eventually the house began to look cleaner.

Even though he tried to hide his rolling eyes, Daniel agreed to carry the boxes out to the car. He would inquire as to how much to sell things for, and I would throw out a quarter or a buck. He never understood why I charged so little and argued that a store would sell it for twenty times whatever I said.

"But I'm not the store," I argued.

He would shake his head in disagreement. "How do you expect to live on pence?"

"It's not a career Daniel. It's just a little added cash. Besides that, this isn't marketed for people with big pockets. This is for normal people just trying to get by."

"But you could flog this rubbish for...."

I got tired easily from his bickering and just wanted to end it. "Well, start a little bit higher and let people barter you down if they really want it."

He pressed his lips into a determined line.

Daniel did not sell anything the first day, but in the following days, he came to understand a little more about how normal people operated. He was fairly frustrated at first, offended at their weak counteroffers, but with each potential customer, he fell in love with the dance of the bargain hunter. Sitting at the dinner table, he would scarf down whatever I placed in front of him and enchanted Wendy and I with epic stories of bartering, never caring that he was only coming away with a few bucks in his pocket.

He always loved to tell us the stories of how he looked like that actor in 'Jocks & Musicians' according to the old birds that passed. He told them he would pose for a picture and they could show it off to their grandchildren as a trick. Daniel's personality became more friendly with each person he met, and therefore, he was able to smooth talk those old ladies into buying something in exchange for a picture. From the sounds of his stories, he absolutely loved the brief moment of popularity.

When his inventory began to dwindle, I had to dig deeper for items. It was easier to clear off a counter-top or end table than it was to tackle a closet.

On a slow Friday afternoon, Jenny sent me home early. After picking up Daniel and what was left of the supply, I began to rummage in the upstairs closet – the part of the cleanup I had dreaded most. The only time the door was opened was to stuff something in and nothing ever came back out. It was the ultimate accumulation of junk.

The creaking of the door hinge only proved that it had been years since I had opened the moth ball scented locker.

Carefully I began removing bricks from the junk wall, mildly reminiscing at Wendy's baby clothes and the old books I used to love. I didn't want to reattach myself to these items because I needed to restock Daniel's store.

Daniel found me at the top of the steps, bags and plastic boxes orbiting around.

"You finding more?"

"Yea, this whole closet needs to go."

"Splendid! I can't wait to see Cheryl tomorrow now!"

"Cheryl Olson? Arnold the Auto Man's wife?"

"Yea, she is in the tent next to me. Her husband's business is dozy since that AutoMart opened up. So she's trying to make some extra cash. She and I compete to see who makes better deals. She's like my market mate."

He bent over and picked up a box to take it downstairs, but stopped when he looked inside.

"What's this?" He pulled out a small torn up shirt. "Maybe this would still fit Wendy?"

I laughed. "There is no way she is wearing that!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's mine! I used to wear that back in high school."

He held it out in front of him with both hands, sizing it with his eyes. He then realized the sexy accents and low cut of the neckline. "You fit into this?" He stretched the red top a few times, and then noticed my offense at his comment. "I didn't mean it like that, Abby. I meant that you wore something like this?"

I shook off the grimace and smiled at the suggestive thought. "Yeah, I had an awesome figure back then."

"I really can't imagine you in this. You dress very plain usually."

"Uh, thanks? I prefer to call it comfortable."

"I mean, well, why don't you wear this anymore? It's a very nice top."

I laughed again. "For one, I'm not a teenager anymore. Two, I don't need to advertise to perves."

He cocked his head. "Well it doesn't just attract gits, you know. You could catch yourself a man if you took care of yourself on the outside," he said.

I glared and said nothing.

He took the escape route. "I'm going to take this box down to the car." He dropped the red shirt into the box and swiftly lifted it into his arms. His legs couldn't move quickly enough down the steps.

As upset as his comment and lack of people skills made me feel, I tried not to let it show. Celebrities like him never needed to learn how to deal with commoners. He was re-learning.

I threw myself back into focus and came across some more bags of vintage clothing, knowing how joyous Daniel would be to see it.

I was finally down to the last cardboard box, squished down from the pressure of holding up the rest. Like all the others, I didn't hesitate to open it.

"Oh my." I giggled when I recognized the contents.

"What is it now? Lingerie?" I hadn't realized that Daniel had returned. As I tried to slam the cardboard slices shut, he reached his hand.

"Bloody hell!" He jerked his hand to his chest.

I was frantic. "I'm so sorry! Are you bleeding?"

He winced looking at his hand. "Well, it's not the worst paper cut I've ever had." He faced the palm toward me. A single crimson line curved along the crevasses. It wasn't horrible, but just deep enough for attention.

I got up and raced down the stairs for the first aid kit. When I returned, there was no sign of a wounded soldier. Instead he sat on the floor next to the malicious box, his unharmed hand rummaging through its contents.

He pulled out a magazine, staring into the cover with pleased satisfaction.

"God look at me. I was in my prime!" He showed me the cover, and mimicked the smile of the cover. It was like looking at two pictures side by side; unfortunately the 'after' picture was the current reality. On the magazine, his obviously dyed bleach hair was short, exposing his high cheekbones and deep jawline. The perfectly pressed designer dress shirt lay simultaneously with his body's defined muscles. Everything about his appearance pronounced divinity and impenetrability.

But now, the majestic man in the picture morphed into a simple commoner, lacking the glossy finish of stardom. His current natural brown flooded down the sides of his face, and stubble edged on his chin. He would scratch occasionally at the second-hand clothes that flooded his body. But there was something similar between the two images. Those almond eyes were the same as the almond ones right next to it, but only in color. As I noticed at our first meeting, there seemed to be a haze in the darks of his eyes.

He set it down on the floor and began to shuffle the contents of the box again.

"Holy shite! You have my action figure from the 'Love Destruction' movie? These toys were hard to come by."

I kneeled down beside him and gently lifted his cut hand. He continued to pull out posters and books and all sorts of memorabilia without taking any notice.

"Yea, I almost got trampled at Hot Topic trying to get that thing," I laughed. "They only had twenty, so Jenny and I camped out the night before and each got one."

"That must have been expensive. Owwww!" He pulled his hand away.

"Don't be a baby," I said as I grabbed the hand again. "I'm just cleaning it so I can put antibiotic on it."

I returned to the previous conversation. "When I think of how much it cost, it definitely was expensive. But that was before I had a bajillion bills to pay. I perfectly fit into the category of teen with some disposable income."

"Hmm," he pondered as I squeezed ointment from a tube onto some gauze.

As I devised a plan to attach the pad to his hand, I noticed very light pink lines on his hand. They were numerous, crawling up and down his fingers and around his palm in every direction.

"What happened to you Daniel?"

He glanced up from the box. "Like I said, not the worst paper cut I've ever had. Take a nosey." He put his other hand next to the first, exposing the same unusual pattern of healed wounds.

"These are paper cuts? What did you do?"

"Well, remember when I told you about finding your letter?"

I nodded.

"Long story short of it, I was skint and trying to figure out where to live. Eugene, the guy who put me in rehab, said that I could stay in his garage until I had better plans."

He settled into a slightly drearier state as his eyes washed over the contents of the box.

"I guess Eugene forgot he had actually put stuff in there, because when I opened it, it was just filled with my fan mail. Years and years of letters praising my acting achievements and my six pack abs, just stashed away. Instead of trying to make a living space for myself, I began to sift through them, reading for hours, letter after letter after letter. And as I read, I realized I wanted to burn them all." Anger had flooded his voice. "I just wanted to watch them blaze into oblivion. No one wanted this rehabbed-post-teenage-heart-throb. No one would write to me or send me fan art or their panties ever again. Worst of all, no one in their right mind would ever listen to me again. I would be stuck in this state of solitude.

"I was enraged. I began to rip every single letter I could get my hands on. Every 'I love you' and question and fantasy within my reach was shredded, from the nude pictures of girls to the twelve page love letters. I must have looked like I'd gone mental." His long hair fell over face, but he did not remove it. I could see that he was reliving that shameful moment of emotion.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, a poor attempt to stall the combat within. He looked at his fingers, examining the cuts from thousands of empty words. He realized that I was staring at his hands with him, and so he put one palm down on the floor while giving me the other to continue to fix. He went back to his explanation.

"When the tantrum began to settle, as well as the papers, I fell exhausted to my knees. I began to cry. I was really knackered by life. I wanted nothing more than to make the pain go away, and it did, only to be filled by numbness." The small ponds in his eyes subsided as he gained strength to part the seas. "There now was a void, and an unknowing that I can't even begin to explain."

I continued to listen intently while stretching the medical tape around his hand to hold on the gauze.

"I don't know how long I stayed in the fetal position for, but it seemed like days. When I came to, I sat up against the wall, surveying the damage. I didn't realize how much anger I had stored up." His hands reenacted the following parts as he continued. "I gave a last sigh and put my mits on the floor. I grabbed a stackful of paper and brought it up to my view. I took out the shredded pieces, examining my wrath in the shreds.

"But for whatever reason, there was an envelope in that stack that had survived my fury." He looked at me with his tortured eyes. "I decided to open it, and well, bob's your uncle."

I nodded. I knew how it would turn out, a spontaneous moment that led to a boring old town in Wisconsin, which in turn led to disappointment.

I didn't enjoy the sadness that plagued the air, so I finished tending to his hand. "This is a tough spot to keep this gauze here. Just try to keep it on for a while so it doesn't get infected."

"Yes, Mum." He grinned. "You're pretty good at this."

"Well, we mum's have to be good for something. I'm well rehearsed for the role. Scrapes and cuts are my specialty."

"And listening."

I noticed some warmth fill my cheeks. "Sorry I can't offer you advice or answers."

"You don't need to apologize for my stupidity. But it's great to have someone who listens to the words I say, and doesn't just shrug my complaints off because of who I am."

"Well, you still are a person Daniel."

"Thanks," he said as he briefly looked me in the eyes. It only lasted a fraction of a second, but that gratitude made that slight lift in cheeks turn to a full smile.

His attention returned to the ragged brown box. He lifted out a small book, reading its title. "My Immortal Life: The Unofficial Daniel Lawrence Biography." His eyebrows lifted in curiosity.

"The official one is in there somewhere too. _Walking on SuperStar Sunshine_."

We both laughed as he searched thru the box, bringing out other trinkets, such as the _Golden Diamond_ necklace collectable from his movie _Kingdom of Magic_ and the special edition candies from _Chocolate with Love_. Underneath the random movie t-shirts and limited edition collector cups, he finally found his official biography. Its yellow cover had more than just normal wear and tear of books; its pages had been turned many times, showing the creases and bends, not to mention the dog-eared photo inserts.

"Crazy that you had a biography out ten years ago. You were barely out of your teens by then. Life was barely beginning."

He began to flip through the color pages centered in the official biography. "I think I actually remember this place." He pointed to a single photo where he was giving his famous smile. "Yeah, it was outside the Vegas Baby Club. I loved that club, at least the times I can recall." He chuckled. "I would get totally sloshed on the drinks. I was quite popular. Never had to pay for a single one. And it was always top shelf."

He smiled as I could see him slip into the memory. The sweet irony blanketed his face.

I don't know if it was my motherly instincts or just curiosity for an answer, but I felt frustrated, as I could remember my own thoughts of liquid disregards. "What is the point of getting drunk every single night?"

"It felt good."

My prying was unstoppable. "Or was a mere distraction."

He lifted his eyebrow, searching in my face for an answer to his mental query. "What are you playing at, woman?"

"Well," I replied. "Maybe if you took care of yourself better on the inside, you might be able to find yourself a lovely lady."

He paused in a moment of reflection. He was obviously searching for a gruesome comeback, but all he could muster was, "Touché."

A door opened downstairs.

"Mom! I'm home!" There was a bit of a shuffle and, Wendy's shoes went flying into the wall. I could hear the echo bounce up to where Dan and I sat.

"Careful with those shoes! Those have to last as long as possible!" I yelled down the stairs.

"You care about the shoes? What about the bloody hole in the wall?"

I laughed. "She's not that strong yet." I carefully placed the action figure back in the box, as well as other objects pulled out by Daniel, like the _Cowboy Blues_ temporary tattoos. He watched of course, and even pulled out another magazine and began to flip thru it.

"Where are you Mommy?"

"Up here by your room honey."

A stampede headed up the stairs. Suddenly, her head popped up. She ran up and gave me a bear hug, but let go sooner than I liked. "Hi Daniel-Lawrence!" She gave him a big hug too. He wasn't able to respond before she let go and gave her attention back to me.

She was proud as could be as she said, "Mom! I got one hundred percent on my reading test!!" Her smile was at its widest.

Simple genuine excitement spread through me. "That's great honey. That's the second one in a row."

"Yup, Miss Louse says if I get one more, I get to pick a prize from the Eagle Student box. I want the pink sparkly pencil because all mines are yellow."

I nodded in agreement. "Then we better start reading the next story."

Her face fell. "Right now?"

I couldn't help but laugh inside. If she only could understand how easy her childhood really was, before she entered her twenties and had the epiphany of paying bills and raising kids of her own. "After dinner. Plus we need to practice for a spelling test."

She gave a slight sigh of relief. "So can I play now?"

"Of course. I'll call you when dinner is ready."

"Yay!" She skipped toward her room, but stopped in the doorway to face us. "Daniel-Lawrence will you play with me?" Her sincerity radiated in her playful smile. Daniel, on the other hand, shot a look of horror toward me, his eyes asking what to do or say.

"Um, Daniel is helping me with this closet. Maybe he will play with you later." With fear still painted on his face, he looked back at Wendy, giving a shaky nod. I was surprised that he was capable of even that due to how stiff he looked.

Wendy nodded in return and skipped into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Daniel let out a big exhale. "Cheers mate."

I couldn't help but ask the obvious question. "Haven't you been around a kid before?"

He shook his head. "Just on the set of _He's Not Mine_. And that was a boy."

"Well, little girls aren't that different."

"I beg to differ."

I rolled my eyes. Granted, physical attributes may be different, but overall, children were fairly the same until puberty. Children are carefree and wild, until their teens, where those same words take on new meanings.

"But I'll give you one thing. She is a smart child. Which grade level is she in?"

"First."

"First?" His surprised seemed genuine. "That's it? She has a lot of work for a first grader."

I gave a slight nod. "She is in the advanced class."

"But don't you want her to have some fun? She's only five."

How many times had I argued this with other people? Particularly Jenny's family. But I saw something more in Wendy. She was not going to grow up just to take over a grocery store. "She'll be seven in March. And she gets to have fun, but she is too good to just let her potential waste away. Last year, her kindergarten teacher Ms. Kane suggested she see Ms. Louse about an accelerated program. Wendy took a test and was reading at the level of a second grader in kindergarten! So this fall she started in the advanced class."

He nodded his head, but didn't seem overly impressed.

"Don't you see how wonderful that is? She could potentially skip a few grades. She could go to college early and get scholarships and grants and go places."

"That doesn't sound as exciting as you try to make it sound."

"Don't you see how great it would be for her to get out of here?"

He shrugged. "Yea, I guess."

"She could be a doctor or a lawyer and completely forget about this place."

His eyes surveyed the small hallway. "That would be nice."

I gave him a confused look. "I thought of all people you would be excited about that part."

"The money? Yea, of course that's great, but aren't you a bit concerned it's a tad much for a six year old?"

"Not at all. I wish someone believed in me at that age."

"Well, I can say someone did believe in me at that age, and frankly, I hate them for it. Look at me now."

Before I could rebut, Wendy's bedroom door opened and she raced out. "Daniel-Lawrence, can you play now?" Before he could respond, her porcelain hand took his with haste and began to drag him toward the door. The same look of fear as before looked at me for support, but all I could do was shrug. Too bad for him, I thought as I closed up the memorabilia box.

He needed to see how truly special she was. It wasn't just a mother's over-adoration, but she was genuinely unique. He only needed a few minutes to realize that.

His legs followed her in defeat as I said, "I'll call you for dinner."

I couldn't help but smile in the kitchen while I whipped up a meal. It just seemed so silly to me that a grown man was afraid of a tiny girl. Worse she could do to him was use her eyes to beg for attention.

I made sure to take my time preparing the meal. A few extra minutes wouldn't hurt Wendy's new playmate. I called them both to the kitchen when the hot dogs and mac and cheese were ready.

My smile only widened when I saw Daniel come around the corner. He had apparently forgotten that a pink plastic barrette had been placed in his hair during his adventure into imagination. I tried not to laugh during dinner, but Wendy caught onto my act to repress the mischievous smile, so she also joined in when she realized what I was trying to ignore. Finally Daniel noticed our girly giggles, and couldn't figure out what was wrong. He touched his nose, licked his teeth to remove any debris, and finally tried to comb his fingers through his long hair, only to be stopped by a simple pink barrette.

Wendy and I read the horror on his face, but couldn't help but belt out our compressed cackles. He promptly ripped the plastic piece from his hair, as well as a few tagalong strands. He stared at it in his hand. In that moment, I expected a tantrum from him, maybe a dramatic exit from the table, but he only joined us in our snickers.

After dinner, I was ready to study the latest list of spelling words with Wendy.

"But Mommy, can Daniel-Lawrence help me?"

I turned off the faucet when it was filled with suds. "Keep your voice down sweetheart."

"Sorry," she whispered.

I smiled as I picked up her dirty plate. "Let me finish the dishes and then I can help you."

"It's fine. I can be of help," Daniel said from behind me, awkwardly. I looked at him astounded, comprehending the small act. I knew then that my plan had worked.

"Yay!" She jumped out of her chair and rushed over to Daniel. She gave him a big hug, throwing her arms around his, making him look like he had just been bound in thick rope. There was a awkward look on his face as he tried to accept the gesture.

"I'll go get the list." She darted off.

I placed the dishes in the tub of water as once again I tried to hide my snickers. "Daniel, you don't have to act like she is so breakable."

"It's not that. It's just that she had liquid cheese from dinner still on her face as she hugged me. I was trying to avoid getting it on this shirt, but so much for that." He gazed down on his plaid top, which was smudged with an orange stain.

"Just leave it in the utility room and I'll get that out in no time." He shot a look toward me, and I responded with a sarcastic smile. "Yes, I'll get it out and you will be able to wear it more."

"Wonderful," I heard him mutter under his breath as he walked toward the utility room.

I raised my voice to be heard wherever she was. "Wendy, wash your face before you start studying!"

Chapter 6

"Do you fancy your job?"

My focus was directed on the never-ending line of clothes on the thrift store racks. It was Saturday, and I had the day off for once. The three of us made a trip out of it, traveling just over the border to Illinois; in Gurnee, there was a huge Salvation Army store there. I usually wouldn't travel so far for just clothes, but they were having a big sale. Not only would I be saving a ton, but it was right outside a ritzy neighborhood. The rich folk barely wore their $50 shirts and $100 pants before donating them to this store.

I had presumed that Daniel was tired of the vintage clothing, even though he hadn't mentioned it in my presence. Instead, he just huffed as he scratched himself in his itchy shirts. He had earned a fair amount of money at the town square, but I told him I would still help him financially. I figured he had paid his dues.

I shoved a bunch of shirts down the rack as I continued examining the row of polos. I was so focused on finding one that would fit his lean frame, that I didn't answer his question.

He asked again, "I mean, why do you work at that store? Because I really don't give a toss for that place."

I sighed. I didn't want to work in general anymore. "Well, it's what I got."

"You work too hard for so little money. You shouldn't have to put up with their shite." The acid in his voice sizzled on his tongue. I thought of his paycheck for the less than 45 minutes of work he had completed. Needless to say, it was paid in cash.

I glanced at him as I sized up the shirt in my hands. "What do you mean?"

"I don't care for the people there. They are fairly dodgy. Especially that Jerry. He is such a wanker."

I chuckled in agreement. "I may not be a fan of Jerry either, but we don't need to talk about this." I found a blue polo that looked like it would fit him and threw it in our shopping cart.

His lips pressed together. "When then? Don't you ever wonder why I punched him in the face?"

"Yes, and no. I feel better with the less I know around that place." The less drama, the better. Not only did gossip swarm in that store, but the news would be across the town faster than the plague. "But I'll tell you this, whatever caused you to do it, I'm kind of glad."

"Really?" A smile crept onto his face.

I nodded. "Like you said, Jerry is an asshole. But at least he's left me alone since all this has happened."

He cocked his head; it was almost as if I could see the idea ball bouncing back and forth between the hemispheres of his brain. "Did he bother you before?"

I hesitated, not knowing how to explain, so I stared in silence at the rack as I replaced a hanger.

"Did he actually harass you, Abby?" His voice escalated as his fists tightened. "If he did I will go back and give him a fist to the face again."

I shook my head. "Don't worry about him Daniel."

"Dammit Abby!" His voice echoed through the store and a few curios people looked over.

I tried to shush him. "Hey keep it down! I want to be able to come back here again. Besides that, there is no need to jump to conclusions"

He folded his arms in front of him, annoyed. "Abby, that was the reason I clobbered him. I overheard him talking to one of the other blokes about how he was going to..." He lowered his voice when my eyes reminded him of the public place. "...sleep with you, well, except he was more graphic than that. It was so grotty the way he talked about you. I just became so angry and I did the first thing that came of instinct."

He threw his hands up in the air. "And then I got taken to gaol. I was furious! I was trying to tell Ron the story but he didn't understand."

The truth was revealing. Had he actually been trying to protect me? Granted, his quick wit had led him into some dangerous situations, but one thing I'd learned from Daniel was that there was raw emotion behind every choice.

Even though it felt great to know Daniel had been defending my honor, I had to stand up for Ron. "You were kinda of hyped up. I had a hard time understanding you."

"I was pissed off. It was unfair. You don't need to be talked about like that. No woman does, especially you. You have been nothing but nice to me and he was just wrong to speak about you that way. You need to tell Jenny."

I tried to calm him. "Dan, he hasn't done anything, really. He's tried to hit on me, but I don't return the advances. He has grabbed my butt a few times, but I really don't think he meant anything."

He huffed. "I can't believe that you accept it. That's a load of bullocks. It's not like you ask for it."

I turned to face him. "Look at it from my point of view. It's the only job I got, and it's reliable. I can't really do much else. I barely graduated high school and college is out of the question until Wendy is old enough to make some money of her own. I'm the only bread winner in the house, so I just deal." I turned back to the rack of shirts.

"It's wrong though," he insisted.

"A lot of things are not right in life, but frankly, complaining about it is not going to help at all."

His eyes narrowed on me. "But sometimes enough complaining to the right people can cause a change."

I rolled my own eyes. "Don't go political on me Dan."

"But didn't Jerry Potter stop touching you?" His smug smile radiated.

"Yeah, because you resorted to violence," I replied. "You didn't even think it through, like maybe just stand up to him with words first. That might have been nobler."

"That is beside the point. I don't know where you get off thinking that you are not worth standing up for, but you have the right not to be bothered by a scally like him. "

I felt a sensation of warmth trickle through my body.

"Dan, I'm starting to see a whole different side of you. It's scary," I joked.

He didn't seem amused. "I may not be perfect, but I was taught growing up that you respected women that you cared about." He paused and then mumbled. "Although the ex-wife doesn't make the cut."

'Kristin the Vixen' as she was called in the tabloids. Elegant and sexy in her own perfect world. Kristin was the envy of all women with her divine body. Her long brunette hair fell angelically on her shoulders, and there was not a trace of imperfection on her lovely face. Her ivory skin only complimented her superior radiance. It seemed like a Hollywood fairytale: the most gorgeous actress in the world and the most handsome and daring actor. It was a beautiful thing while it lasted.

"I know that you may not care for her anymore Dan, but you should still have respect for her as a human being."

He shrugged.

"That's horrible. But she had to have loved you."

He shook his head. "More like the cash. Once the bees and honey was drained, she went looking elsewhere. You don't understand, because you never met her. She played a happy and loyal missus for the spotlight, but she was neither. She used me for her own gain. Most of my money was gone before I was on set to work. She was a cruel uncaring witch. When I finally realized that I couldn't change her, I changed my circumstances."

"Well, I can't change things that drastically," I quickly replied. "Most people can't just turn things around 180 degrees when life sucks."

"But at least they can say they tried to make their lives better."

"No offense, but you aren't exactly a model citizen."

His eyebrow lifted. "Are you talking about Kristin? I gave that bint everything. I thought that I truly loved her. I kept giving, and she kept taking. It was never enough. When she knew the money was almost gone, she finally signed the divorce papers. But she took every last thing I had and went after Hugh Hefner."

I shook my head. "That is not what I meant at all. Look at where you are: bumblefuck USA. You say that you want to change circumstances, you should do it; but seriously, how would you do it now? It all comes down to the dollar. You need money to get away from anything."

"But I'm not in any compromising situations."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Moreover, when did I ever say that I wanted to get away from here?"

I rolled my eyes. "Even the flies want to get out of here, Dan."

Finally he laughed. "Ok, so it's not Hollywood, but this quaint life is starting to grow on me a little."

"So if you had the chance to leave and go back to Hollywood, you would stay here?"

"Probably not. The unemployment rate hereabout is ridiculous."

We both had a bit of a chuckle.

Wendy came running down the aisle of clothes.

"Mommy! Can I have it? Please?" She held up a stuffed color-soaked macaw.

"Honey, you already have plenty of toys."

She frowned, "But I don't have a parrot!"

I stood my ground. "Please Wendy, put it back."

"Aw nuts," she mumbled as she walked away.

There was a look of confusion on Dan's face. "Why don't you get it for her? She's a good kid." His sincerity of the question almost made me feel sorry for him. Daniel Lawrence may have been the bread winner of his own family at a young age, but I'm sure he was never denied a materialistic want in his life.

"It doesn't matter if she's a good kid; I can't afford to buy her everything that she asks for. I try to get the important stuff, and some surprises, but unfortunately it comes back down money, again. If only I could rid the world of such a plague."

"It couldn't have cost much," he argued.

Although it was true, I held my ground with him too. "Dan, don't make me feel guilty about this. It's bad enough that I can't get it for her."

He searched for a rebuttal. "I just think that since she is such a sweetie, she should be able to have it. I mean, I was a brat of a child and I got loads of toys."

I examined the circumstances. "Well, she didn't have millions already from Veggie Soup commercials by the time she was five."

"Ha, I hated doing those commercials. I hated the soup, but they forced me to look like it was as delicious as sweets. It was totally rancid."

I chuckled. "Once again, it doesn't mean I don't want to give her everything. If I could, I would buy her anything she wanted, and store it in our house in Costa Rica."

"You have a house in Costa Rica?"

I belted out a laugh. "No, I wish! That's one of my dreams. I want to take Wendy away from this place, to somewhere more beautiful and stimulating than Wis-con-sin." I played on the last word.

A hopeful smile traced along my cheeks. "I want her to experience wonder in the world, and Costa Rica offers that. It is just gorgeous from what I have read. Not to mention cheap in terms of tropic estates."

"That sounds lovely," he said.

I nodded. "I want to get us a place right on the ocean so she can go swimming every day, and then I can get her a real macaw as a pet. That would be better than any stuffed animal." I chuckled.

He stared at me as I looked elsewhere. "What about you? What would you do there?"

"Well, I could work at their local market or something. I wouldn't need a huge house or anything, just a safe place that I could call my own and finish raising Wendy in."

He smiled. "Is this your ten year plan?"

"More like 100 year plan. I wish I could make it there in my lifetime."

There was a slight sarcasm in his voice. "Well, if that opportunity arises in Hollywood and I get famous again, I'll buy you a house in Costa Rica."

"Aww, that's sweet. Just remember I might hold you to it."

"It's the least I can do to pay you back for a trolley full of top designer clothes." He pointed to the overflowing cart.

"Oh jeez." I laughed. I had lost track of how many shirts had drifted into the cart. "We need to put some back. Which ones do you want most, Dan?"

He glanced at the cart without much care. "Daaaaan..." he mocked in the local accent. "You make me sound so American."

I shrugged as I filed through the shirts. "When in Rome. Daniel sounds too formal. It would be like if you called me Abigail all the time. It would make me feel distant or like I had done something wrong."

"I think it to be a beautiful. Abigail."

"Abby's fine." I hid my smile as I felt the trickle of warmth continue to seep into my veins.

Chapter 7

We wrapped up our shopping, and left in the old white jeep. I took the usual back roads, tracing the outlines of the various farmlands and subdivisions, as well as driving through the other small towns.

We were almost home, when a rolling metallic clatter came from the engine, pounding louder with each beat.

"Aw, crap!" I said, and then instantly felt guilt as I remembered that my daughter was in the back seat. Dan's vulgar language seemed to be rubbing off on me, and I needed to address that when I had a moment to myself.

"What happened?" Dan asked. I slowly pulled onto the shoulder of the road, and the jeep came to its own floating stop.

"I don't know." I popped the hood and jumped out of the car. A black cloud of smoke greeted me when I opened the hood. I waved my hand to push it away as I coughed a few times, sampling the oily smolder as it landed on my taste buds.

_Dammit_ , I swore to myself.

"What's wrong?" Dan had stood up and was holding the door open, waiting for my reply.

"I don't know," I repeated. "I think this is something that I can't fix."

I just needed to get to a pay phone and call Arnold the AutoMan for a tow. Luckily, there was a payphone nearby at a local gas station. I tried to ignore Dan's complaints and shock at my not having a cell phone.

Arnold personally picked us up and towed my failing Jeep monster back to town. He gave it an overall inspection and slid the estimate across the counter. My knees buckled.

"Really?"

Arnold didn't smile. "It's a really old car Abby."

"Oh my god, how am I going to pay for this?" I didn't mean for the phrase to escape my lungs. It was a classic 'woe-is-me' line, and I wasn't looking for sympathy.

Arnold shifted his eyes uncomfortably. "Don't you have a credit card?"

"Don't be silly Arnie," interrupted Cheryl. She was walking into the reception area from the parking lot, with Dan following behind her. "Those things are evil!"

He glared at his wife as she joined him behind the counter. "Arnold Raymond, don't look at me like that! Give her a payment plan and be damn happy you got her business over AutoMart!" She smacked the back of his head and then looked at me with kind eyes. "Don't worry dear, we'll be happy to work out a payment plan."

Arnold stalked away into the garage.

"Thank you so much Cheryl. I really appreciate it." As if gratitude could replace monetary value.

She reached her hand across the counter and set it on mine.

"It's no problem dear. I know how much you do for the rest of us."

I looked down, feeling embarrassed.

"Plus, he's going to the dump tomorrow and I'm sure he could find some parts there. So, it may take a few days to get it fixed."

"That's fine. If it saves everyone a few dollars, I'm all for it."

A few dollars here and there could add up, and I needed to save enough for the winter that was coming up. Wendy's old winter coat was definitely too small this year.

Thinking of my darling, I looked back at her sitting in the waiting area chair. She was flipping though a kid's magazine, her legs swinging happily as they could not reach the floor. Dan sat uncomfortably next to her, adjusting to get comfortable in the bumpy chair.

"Do you want a ride home, dear?" Cheryl brought my attention back to her.

My reality focused. "Naw, I don't want to irritate your husband anymore than I already have. We can walk." We finished working out arrangements.

I grabbed a bag of clothes from the trunk and took Wendy's hand as we left, and Dan didn't skip a beat in following.

"See you Thursday, Daniel?" Cheryl shouted out the door.

"I wouldn't miss it dear!" He walked backward to keep up conversation with her, swinging the full bags of clothes in both hands. "I've got an inkling that someone's going to buy that damn lamp this week, and I will flog the rubbish for my betting price."

She laughed. "I doubt it!"

He returned facing forward and proceeded to catch up with Wendy and me.

"We're walking?" There was a slight whine in his voice.

"Come on, it's good exercise." I laughed, taking his hand in one and squeezing Wendy's in the other.

We hadn't gotten far before Wendy asked, "Mommy? Can I just stay with Jessica?"

"Well, it's on the way, so we'll see." It was a nice day, so I knew that she just wanted to play on their huge trampoline. Or as Jenny would call it, the "wear-the-damn-kid-out" cage.

We arrived at Koper's a short time later. Jenny had no problem watching Wendy and Jessica, meaning she sent them both home with her father. Home was literally right behind the grocery store, maybe just a fifty yard walk if that. They always saved a lot on gas money.

I turned down Jenny's offer for a ride as well, and I could see that Dan was still disappointed. But I did make arrangements for Wendy to arrive at home in time for dinner and a ride tomorrow for myself.

Dan and I walked along, making small talk. As meaningless as it was, I thoroughly enjoyed it. The sun warmed my skin just enough to be comfortable as a simple breeze cooled it.

We continued to talk about whatever came to our minds, mostly movies. His side was fairly biased when talking about the cinema, as he knew the true personalities of the actors and let that come through on his opinions of the films.

"...and Leonardo DiCaprio's acting can kiss my jacksie, which is probably how he got some of those roles anyway. Hey, where are you going?!"

"To the house," I shouted back to him while I found my way in between the brush.

"Shouldn't we stay on the pavement?"

I smiled. "Don't tell me 'Daniel Lawrence' is afraid of adventure."

He laughed. "No, I just find it odd that out of all bad ideas, you approved of trespassing."

I chuckled as I looked back through the thin greenery. "I don't need permission; it's my land."

After that, he gladly walked over toward the trees, but stopped right before entering. "Wait, you own this?" He followed me.

"So you own from here, to the house?"

"Yup." I walked southeast, reaching my legs up higher in the tall grass and overgrown shrubs. Clumsily tripping over the greens, he tried to keep up.

I finally came to a small pebbled path. "Ah, here it is." I brushed my hands along my calves, scratching where the long grass had tickled.

"Does this go directly to the house?"

"Not directly, but it's easier to walk than climb through the brush. It's actually part of a maze for the Halloween festival. The town hall decorates the pathway and even has a haunted section."

"On your land?"

"Yup."

"Do they pay you?"

I snorted at the redundancy of this type of discussion. "Dan, not everything has to be absolutely about the money."

"But shouldn't you be compensated?"

"For what? Them using land that I never touch?"

"But..."

I promptly interrupted. "Dan, I don't get paid because I love this little town. I love the fact that it is still just that, small. If it helps the morale of the town to have a fall festival on my unused fields, so be it."

I paused for a breath. "Besides that, people then offer to help me out, like Cheryl with the payment plan."

His heavy footsteps still followed my pace. He thought to himself, trying to grasp this concept of empty compensation. "So how large is the farm?"

"Well, there are six plots divided by these lines of trees. What I have now is like thirty acres or so. But it used to be well over 1000 acres."

He gaped. "One thousand?"

"Yea, that new subdivision that is going in and the streak of land across the highway from the house used to be ours."

He seemed to be mesmerized by the immense size. "You used to farm all that?"

"My great grandfather and grandfather did it with help. And then my father did with help until I came along."

Although the sun still beamed, the atmosphere suddenly became gloomy. I hoped he didn't feel the crystal shards on my tongue. But I failed as usual in lying, and he tried to be nice about it. "To spend more time with you?"

"Ha. No, he needed the money. Farming isn't a big money maker, so he sold most if it like twenty years ago. He kept some of it because it's what he loved, but he had to make ends meet working at the DMV in Kenosha."

He kicked at the weeds, stirring up chunks of dry dirt and clay. "Doesn't look like it's been tilled in a whilst."

I continued to walk casually next to him. "Well, it's hardly a farm anymore. Haven't planted anything in 18 years at least."

"That explains the overgrowth. Shouldn't there be a barn?"

"There used to be." A flash from the past blurred across my memory. I didn't want to look, but I could still see the large metallic hoe pierce the wooden barn, destroying it into splinters.

"I barely remember it though. All I know is that the county wanted to put in a highway, and the barn was in the way by like a foot, so they convinced dad to sell the that piece of land too so they could build a highway barely anyone drives on. That's why the house is fairly close to the road."

"How long ago was that?"

"About fifteen years. I think I was ten when it was torn down."

"Is that how long he has been gone?"

"Dad? No, he passed away right before Wendy was born. Hepatitis."

"I'm sorry to hear that." His apology cut through the awkward silence that fell. "It must have been rough on you."

"Yeah, but at least I had Jenny and her family. They helped me through it all, mainly by babysitting. At least it made it easy for them to take care of Jessica, since she came along right after. They already had the baby-proofing done."

On a dark winter night about five years ago, Jenny had called me in a drunken incoherent state of mind. She confessed that the only reason she had Jessica was because I had Wendy, and the lure of the attention was too great to pass up. "What a rip-off," she said to me, slurring each syllable.

I heaved a sigh. "It actually turned out for the better, I think. Last thing I needed was to look after two helpless people."

The idea floated in the space between. It was hard to read his face from the corner of my eyes. I couldn't tell if he was offended at the comment, or just confused. In any case, I just tried to move it along.

"So that is why these plots are turning into forest again."

"Why don't you plant something?"

The answer seemed obvious to me. "Like I said, it's not worth the effort to farm, especially right now. I'm the only one with an income in the house and I'd rather work a guaranteed income than waste my time on a drought season."

Not to mention I didn't know a whole lot about farming. Ironically, being the daughter of a farmer didn't mean that I could keep a plant alive. I was too young to really help my dad when he did make produce, and by the time he gave up, I was old enough to realize I didn't want to be in the house. He kept selling the land off piece by piece. He never told me why he didn't sell the rest of it, but I liked to think of it as an insurance policy or inheritance.

"If you're not using it at all, why don't you sell the plots?"

It's not like I never had been asked the question, but I had to pause in my answer. It was a catch 22. "Honestly, I don't want to see this place torn up by SuperMart."

"SuperMart?"

"Please don't tell me you've never heard of them?"

His face was blank.

"Easy and Cheap?" I echoed the slogan. A juvenile smile drew across his face, "Oh yeah, I know that name. SuperMart has their eye on this place?"

"They have for a while, but especially since the town hall approved zoning for the subdivision to go up."

"How much?"

"Not enough for me to sell it."

He guessed numbers, and I didn't hint until he came close enough.

"You must be joking. I would take that in a flash! You could move to Costa Rica tomorrow."

I exhaled sharply as I spoke. "It's not that simple."

"Seems pretty simple to me. Flog the house, get good money, live the life!"

I stopped mid-pace and glared directly into his face. "Is that all you care about? The money?" I continued to walk toward the next set of trees.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you." He tried to keep up with me, but when I heard the rhythm of his footsteps co-inside with mine, I would pick up the pace. "It's because of the SuperMart, isn't it?"

I wouldn't let my tears come forward, so I had to control my breathing with slow thoughtful respiration. I let the anger and the fear drip out my swinging arms and legs as I kept marching forward. The bags crinkled and crunched as our pace increased.

He continued to make the connection. "It's like what Cheryl said about Arnold's business. Since the AutoMart came, his business can't compete."

Like a slingshot the words flew out of my mouth. "And neither could Jenny's, or Carol's bakery, or Thomas's barber shop. One mega store would take them all down. It was great when the zoning of the subdivision was approved, because we all would have more customers on a daily basis, but if SuperMart moved in as well..." Seeing the silhouette of the house through the upcoming trees, I pushed through the last of the greenery.

He continued to press me. "Is that what Cheryl meant when she said she understands what you do for everyone?"

I didn't reply.

"But you shouldn't have to hold the whole town together."

I now took the easy way out. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Screw them." A phrase so easily used by a vagabond.

My slingshot tongue only cracked faster and harder. "Screw you, you son of a bitch!" I stomped off through the last break of trees and toward the farmhouse. I slammed the door behind me, hearing the wood splinter.

Chapter 8

"Hello there, Mike." Jenny greeted with an eager smile as he entered the grocery store.

He smiled back as he gave her a nod. "Mornin', Jenny."

Mike Reo was a kind and gentle man who moved out to the country about fifteen years earlier. Even in his middle age, Mike was one of the most handsome men in town. His body was well toned, and his shirts were just barely tight in all the right places, outlining the contours of his upper body. I don't think he dressed that way intentionally. Mike was just one of those cursed people who had amazing Hollywood looks, and he would probably look that way until he was six feet under.

"Here with the latest batch?" Jenny's smile grew. "Anything new?"

Mike looked down at the crate of dairy in his hands. "I added jalapeños to a few. Seems to be a popular flavor down south. I must say that the cheese didn't turn out too bad. We'll see how they sell and maybe I'll make some more."

"Of course you will Mike, everyone loves your cheese. I wish I knew your secret."

"Must be the cows." He smiled gently and let out a quick laugh. "You want them in the usual place?"

Jenny didn't answer, seemingly lost in Mike's perfect abs.

I coughed when I noticed her daydreaming.

"Uh, what?" she replied, dazed.

Mike just lifted the crate.

"Oh yea, just on the table by the milk." Mike turned and walked by me, nodding at me as well. There was no doubt that he was a beautiful man, but I never found myself drooling over him like the other teenage girls in my school. If I ever stared at him, it was similar to looking at art, admiring but not desiring. "I'd better go check and make sure that the milk cooler is working. You know how temperamental it can be on these hot days."

I rolled my eyes, but she ignored me.

I was finishing cleaning my cash register when Dan walked in through the automatic doors.

"Abby, what time are you here until?"

"Three."

He sighed. "All right. Just wanted to know how long I have to wait."

"Are you so bored that the only entertainment for you is to find me?"

"Well, I have no iPod or computer, so it's hard to stay busy."

Mike rounded the corner, removing his cap to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Jeez Abby, how long have you been out of cheese curds? Should I bring in more next time?"

"Maybe a few more bags, I'd hate to see any go to waste."

Jenny came around the corner, "They never go to waste. They're keeping us in business. I've heard from certain people that they prefer to come here instead of Kenosha just because you can find Mary's Dream Cheese only here."

"And that's the only place you'll find them. You better believe it. I'd rather shop here than any SuperMart. You'll never see Mary's Dream Cheese on their shelves. It'd be lost in all of the competition."

"Not to mention buried in the aisles," I added.

"But you would make better profits." Everyone looked at Dan after his comment. He smiled anxiously after he realized that he had let the words slip from his mouth without editing.

Mike gave him a stern look. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we have ever met."

"Oh yea, Mike this is my friend Dan, Dan Mike." They shook hands.

"You look really familiar." I felt a minor drop in my stomach.

"I'm told that frequently. Just one of those faces I guess." He shrugged. Jenny raised an eyebrow at me as if to say, _nice cover up_.

"How long have you been here for?"

I interrupted. "He's just staying with me for a while..." Mike gave me the same shocked look that Ron had presented in the police station. Mike had watched me grow up from afar, but there was still a certain amount of fatherly protection he bestowed on me.

"Hmmm," Mike said.

Ignoring the tension, Jenny wanted Mike's eyes back on her. "Hey Mike, why don't you have Daniel help you on the farm today?" His eyes shifted toward her skeptically. She grinned and continued. "Mike, you just told me that this weekend was difficult because Mikey took it off. When does he come back from his vacation?"

"Tomorrow, or at least I hope. He's supposedly going to propose to Susie tonight on the Chicago River. So you never know."

"Mikey's going to propose?" I yelped. I didn't mean it to sound so detrimental, but he and Susie were only 18. It didn't matter that they were high school sweethearts, well more appropriately middle school sweethearts. To me they were still children.

"Yeah, saved up for a while and just bought her a diamond."

"Wow." It was all I could reply. Jenny was super excited asking if he had seen the ring and then demanded all its details. But she interrupted herself. "Well, I'll just wait and see it myself. She works Thursday for a few hours so I'll just gab then. But how about Dan giving you a hand today?"

Mike looked at him. "Have you ever worked in a barn before?"

Dan shook his head.

"Well, the stuff I'll have you doing requires years of experience, so it might be an intense ride home when I fill you in on all the skills you will have to come up with." Three of us smiled, knowing Mike's humor. Dan would be shoveling cow manure and other odd jobs.

Dan nodded his acceptance.

"Ok, well, I can't pay you much," Mike began, but Dan interjected. "No that's fine, it's better than nothing."

"All right then, come on city boy. We've got work to do." I walked with Dan and mike out the doors of Koper's. Mike led Dan to his truck, and Dan promised to be home by four.

Mike corrected him, "Seven, Dan."

He waved goodbye to me from the truck, but even as the distance grew, I could clearly see his frown deepen.

Unfortunately, I was sent home early again, which was becoming more routine than I liked. But luckily I was able to pick up my Jeep that morning from Austin's and was able to catch up on some errands. A funny thing happened though. I asked for the date to write on my check. Mrs. Feit told me, and it was apparent it was the millionth time she had said it.

Something was wrong when she said the date. I searched my mind to figure out why. It plagued me.

October 10th.

It was another day, but I couldn't help but feel it was supposed to be important.

I drove, still wondering why. Was another bill due? Was I supposed to bring snacks for Wendy's class today?

As soon as I realized what I had forgotten, I stepped on the gas.

Chapter 9

The front door swung open, and heavy feet dragged across my front room. I sat in the dark of the kitchen, trying to control my breathing. But with every scrape that inched my way, my heartbeat took on a life of its own, fluttering so hard that it was hard to believe that any oxygen was in the air. Wendy stood by my side in the kitchen, eyes wide and glassy with excitement, and I knew she was experiencing the same thing.

Suddenly, light filled the room.

Dan stood at the entrance to the kitchen, confused by my stiff form.

"SURPRISE!" Wendy and I shouted.

Dan stumbled backward in fear, but then came forward again when he felt no longer threatened.

"What the..." he began, but luckily Wendy finished his unasked question.

"Happy Birthday Daniel-Lawrence!" She ran and hugged his legs. "Ewww! You smell like cow poop!" She backed away.

"Wendy..." I scolded.

"No, I really do. It's all right." That was when I noticed how much his appearance had changed since this morning. His red polo shirt and jeans were literally spotted and smeared with god-knows-what. I could only guess what from Wendy's sense of smell. And that was when it hit me, the manure and sweat and dirt and achiness that stood before me. I do believe that this was one of his worst days ever.

Dan didn't really have to say it out loud. His weak eyes shouted that he would be back momentarily. He dropped a canvas bag on the floor and walked the other way toward the bathroom.

"What's wrong? Doesn't he want cake?" There was a faint sound of a tear that Wendy was holding back. She and I had worked very hard on his birthday cake. As soon as she got home, we threw together a chocolate cake mix and made vanilla frosting from scratch. I had to help her with the letters, but overall she had insisted on doing most of the work. I would try to even it out, but she wanted to impress Dan by saying she had done it all by herself.

"No honey, he would love some cake. He just needs a shower so that he can sit at the table with us."

"Well, he does stink." We giggled.

"But he will be back, so we can unveil his gift." Her grin grew wide again, and I saw the pure innocence and beauty of an angel in my daughter's face.

Dan did come back, although it was rather slowly. With each minute that passed, he became more and more like the tin man without any oil. He fell down on the kitchen chair instead of sitting.

"Happy Birthday Daniel-Lawrence!" Instead of hugging him again, she handed him a cardboard pointed hat. He looked at it like he didn't know what to do next. "Um, cheers Wendy."

She laughed. "Silly, it's the birthday hat. You need to put it on. I've got one and Mommy has one too. We've had them a long time."

He reluctantly put the hat on, adjusting the elastic band under his chin. Wendy and I did the same.

I lit candles on Dan's cake and placed it in front of him. Dark blue sloppy letters spelled his name and the usual slogan for the occasion. There were flat red flowers on the cake as well, hand drawn in sugar by a six year old.

Wendy was so excited for the moment of the cake display that she stood as close as she could to it, looking as if she might explode at any moment.

"Wow' was barely pushed through his lips. Wendy explained her cake skills, and Dan tried to show his appreciation as much as he could.

"It's absolutely brilliant. How did you know these were my favorite colors?" Wendy just shrugged and pointed toward me. "Walking on SuperStar Sunshine" was what I mouthed.

"Blow out the candles Daniel-Lawrence!" He obeyed, but his blow was more of a sigh. I couldn't tell if it was because he was a year older, or if he wondered how he had gone all the way from the red carpet to Wisconsin.

Wendy clapped vigorously. I cut the cake and began to distribute pieces when Wendy said, "What about the present?"

"Oh right, I almost forgot. Dan, close your eyes because I didn't have time to wrap it."

"I'll just look at the wall. Wendy can vouch for me when I don't cheat."

I didn't argue. I ran into my bedroom and pulled out the gift I had gotten him right after paying bills. I came back to the room and Dan had fulfilled his duty. "All right, this is from both me and Wendy."

He turned around, and his mouth dropped open.

He gently took the guitar from my hands. "Abby, this is spectacular."

"Do you like it?" Wendy asked.

"Of course! Thank you so much Wendy." She smiled as if she had come up with the whole idea herself. I was surprised I could come up with a perfect gift for Dan. What do you get the man who had everything, then lost it all, and then is relearning about living?

"Where did you get it?"

"From Carol. Her son bought it from a pawn shop because he wanted to form a band. But he never really got started and now he's off in Florida somewhere. Sorry about it being old, and all the stickers he put on it. I couldn't get them off. I tried but..." I continued to ramble as I gave Wendy her fork and placed one by Dan's plate of cake.

"No, it's perfect." He held it carefully, and strummed very softly. "It plays well. That's all that matters."

This smile was his own. He was genuinely happy for the first time in forever. I had to capture the moment.

"Wait here. Let me go find the camera." I was gone for a few minutes. It had been a long time since I had used it, and I had to remember where it was stashed. But I was too late. By the time I had returned, not one, but two people were unconscious. I was startled at first, but then I realized that their heads lay on the table resting. They both had fallen asleep in a matter of minutes because of their exciting day. I couldn't help but laugh to myself. Dan's guitar lay against the wall as his head was sound asleep on the kitchen table, pointy hat in icing. From the look of it, Wendy had managed one bite of cake before she fell asleep as well. I put the camera down on the counter and carried Wendy to her room. I came back shortly to move Dan.

"Dan?" I shook his shoulder. He barely jumped with any force, but replied with a moan. "Come on hun, let's get you to bed." He obliged, stumbling through the kitchen.

I walked protectively behind him as he dragged his way to his bed. I kept my arms stretched out just in case he took a tumble.

"Could you put my fridge in the cheese?"

"What was that?" I laughed. He repeated the same mixed up sentence.

"In the bag, Mike paid me in cheese."

"What do you mean, he didn't pay you at all?" This did not sound like Mike; he was honest and gave fairly.

"No, he gave me some cash but I asked for cheese." Dan's head hit the pillow. "It's so damn good! Why didn't you ever tell... me... about...bloody... cuuuurrrds..." The only thing to follow his comment was a thin snore.

I was shocked to see how much cheese he fit in the bag. I barely had room for it in the fridge. Needless to say, I would need to ask Dorothy for some of her recipes to use up large quantities of cheese.

Chapter 10

"Let's go out," Jenny begged. Apparently the latest People and Star magazines were boring enough that she put them back on the check-out shelves. It was probably only the third time this week that she had flipped through the same ones, waiting for customers to come in.

"What?" I didn't register what she had said until a second later. "Jenny, I'm not going out on a Thursday night." We were standing in the hygiene aisle, I was trying to unpack new shipments of random items, and as usual, Jenny was wasting time not being at the service desk.

"Why not tomorrow? It'll be Friday night, and we haven't been able to do anything for a long time."

"That's because there is nothing to do in this town."

She ignored my answer. "Let's go to Kenosha. There's an open mic tomorrow at Silver Snakes. You could do some poetry."

I glared at her after I rolled my eyes. "You know I haven't written in years."

"Yeah, but you used to love to go and listen. Maybe you could get some inspiration to write again!" She leaned her petite frame against the shelves. "After all, you've got quite a handful of stories you could share with the world now." She clicked her tongue twice and winked.

I tried to hide my disgust. "Jenny, you know it's not like that."

"Yeah, but come on, you have to admit it could be."

"Jenny, no."

She stood up straight and threw her arms out in front of her. "You have Daniel freakin Lawrence at your house!" she cried. "You've barely said anything. Come on girl, I need some details."

I tried to skew the topic as I continued to line up the different brands of toothpaste. "Oh, I see it now. You just want to go out with Dan."

She shook her head. "You know I can't do that. I'm _married_." She uttered the last word like it was physically painful. I gave her a good look over. Her style seemed to suggest otherwise. She was one of the only ones who didn't have to wear the blue smock, so her blouse only accentuated its own transparency with her black bra showing clearly through the white.

"So I have to live through you on this one." Jenny sighed. "I can no longer be the whore I was when I was young."

I was appalled. "Thanks for the ego-boost."

"I didn't mean that you were a whore, I just mean, out of the two of us..." she paused and alternated whom she pointed at with her heavy jeweled finger. "... _you_ are more likely to have vicarious sex with Daniel Lawrence than me."

I put the bottles of toothpaste down that I was sorting and glared.

"Jenny, I don't do that."

"Maybe you should. You need to have some fun, girl."

I snorted. "Sorry that my definition of fun is not as kinky as yours. I don't do casual sex. I'm actually a responsible mother now."

"I'm a mother too!" she contested. "But you're throwing away such a good opportunity! We live in this po-dunk town, and have never gone anywhere. We waste our time living in this grocery store just to make a buck."

I listened to her side of the argument, but I was not deterred. I said nothing and went back to sorting toothpaste.

"Abby, think about it," she begged me. "When we were 15, we would have done anything just to get a lock of his hair. And now you have Daniel freakin Lawrence sleeping in a room right next to you, and you don't even consider hitting on him."

I slammed down the box of remaining tooth paste and brushes.

"I don't use people, Jenny!"

I could feel the heat rushing to my face. Dan was not just some piece of meat. He was a man. A bitter, selfish British man.

"Chill out girlfriend." She looked around to see if anyone was listening. "No need to throw a hissy fit."

I slowly felt the fire leave my face. I was being silly, overreacting to my friend's suggestion, which really wasn't all that far-fetched when I thought about it. Who wouldn't have had that sort of fantasy?

"Sorry."

Jenny sighed. "You work too hard."

"You are right about that." Maybe I did need a change of pace.

"We are so going out tomorrow to Kenosha. I've already got my dad to stay home and babysit Jessica, so Wendy can stay at our house for the night."

Another lame excuse escaped my mouth. "I don't know if my car will make it back and forth."

"So we can carpool."

I exhaled in defeat. Carpooling to me just meant that I would be the designated driver as usual. At least I might have a friend with me this time instead of being the customary third wheel.

"I have to ask Dan first."

"And what do you think he's actually doing tonight besides grumbling?"

She was right. He would just sit outside and smoke and think about the world's stupidity. It might be good for him to get out of here for a while. Actually see something in America besides this town square and the police station.

"Ok. We'll be over with Wendy at seven. "

Her grin flashed with white teeth and mischief. "Sounds good to me!"

"Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna finish stocking these shelves so I can pick up Dan and go home before picking up the kids from school."

"Don't forget to tell Daniel Lawrence about your date!"

"Ok Jenny. First thing I'll do when I see him." I rolled my eyes where she couldn't see.

Chapter 11

I found Dan in his room, sitting centered in his bed next to a ragged old cardboard box and reading a book.

"Dan?"

He hadn't heard me open the door, and jerked his head up to me. I found this odd, as the creak in the wood was quite loud not just from the door, but the floorboards as well.

"I didn't see you there."

"Focused?" I joked.

"On the past." He waved his official biography in the air.

We both laughed just to keep the silence at bay. I had always enjoyed the silence, until Dan came along and created a big bang in my universe.

I sat on the edge of the bed and glanced into the box. "I can't believe you still have all of this. Wouldn't it sell?"

He hesitated in response. "Not exactly."

I lifted my eyebrow.

"Quite honestly," he began. "I didn't want to give it up. I don't really have anything tangible from my previous life, and I like to take a shufty at what I had." He flipped through the pages of the book in his hand, fanning out bittersweet memories.

I sat closer to him on the edge of the bed, barely placing weight onto it. "These never made it to the car did they?"

His smile looked embarrassed. "Nope, as soon as I saw what it was, it was going straight in here." His eyes fixated on the pages as he flipped them. "Hope you don't mind."

I shook my head. "Naw, it wasn't doing anything but collecting dust in the closet. Hold onto some of that stuff for another fifty years and maybe you'll be able to retire off of eBay."

His expression traced sarcasm between the playful smile.

"Come on," I playfully tapped his knee. "It's carpool day. My turn to pick up the kids from school."

He obliged, and crawled over the miscellaneous trinkets and merchandise. This left a bare hole in the center of the bed, like planets circulating without a sun.

We were sitting in the car before he spoke again. He was very hesitant, and it was obvious on his face that the right words were hard to find.

"Why don't you ever ask me anything?"

It was a very general question that didn't make sense. "About what?" I turned the key and the shaky engine made a loud but choked roar. The sad thing was that it was quite the upgrade from its prior ruckus. At least I didn't have to pray to the Jeep gods as much to let the car resurrect one more time.

"About my previous life."

I let out a quick chuckle and backed the car out of the driveway. "Dan, you make it sound like you were reincarnated from a special rock or something."

I saw him nod in agreement at the way he had phrased his question. He searched again, and I briefly saw him bounce ideas in his eyes. Why this conversation was so difficult for him to spill I couldn't understand. "Seriously, aren't you going to ask me about what happened? How I went from million dollar man to tramp?"

Of course it had crossed my mind a few times, but I was never one to inquire on a personal level. "Am I supposed to?"

He let out a sigh; I could tell that this seemed like pulling teeth to him. "I'm just so used to being bombarded with questions. I was looking through the box of memorabilia, and you had so many magazine articles about me. Most of them were interviews. I was almost always asked the same inane questions, like favorite color or my relationship status. But you never ask me anything like that."

"Ok," I paused. "So what is your relationship status, Dan?"

He glared. "That's not what I meant." He paused for a breath. "In case you were wondering, I am divorced."

"I know that."

"Don't you want to know why?"

"Not really."

"Why don't you?"

"Dan, does it matter?"

"Shouldn't it?"

The thought recoiled in my mind and sprang back. _Shouldn't it?_ I filed through my mental notes.

"Ok, you had a glamorous past, but you were still a decent person. Should I be worried about you kidnapping my daughter or something?"

"No. Of course not."

"Well, I honestly don't talk much around here, except with Wendy."

"But you do talk," he quickly replied. "You just don't ask me the usual questions."

"Is there something I should know about you, Dan?" I once again was aiming for skeletons in the closet that would separate me from my daughter.

"You are so confusing. You puzzle me."

I found myself to be a fairly straightforward individual. I worked, I took care of my daughter. That was me. I had my priorities straight.

"Ok. I don't know if it's a compliment or not"

"Actually, I mean it in a fascinating kind of way."

Dan found me fascinating? Talk about weird.

"I'm pretty boring."

"I don't mean your life, but it's how you react to other people."

I briefly took my eyes off of the road to glimpse at him. His almond eyes shouted aggravation.

"You write a letter to a celebrity that is only a sentence long. Then, you have that celebrity, er, an ex-celebrity show up on your door, and you don't freak out as most fans would do. Then you have all these opportunities to ask any question possible, such as why I am on my hiatus, but you don't. I would think that anyone would be dying to know what I did previously. I know when I was popular, every step I took was front page news."

I gave a slight chuckle. I may have not been as extroverted as most would be in a situation, but if only he could have seen inside my head. "So I should be jumping up and down like a teenager, Dan?"

"No. It's almost like you stop at a certain point."

"I don't get it."

"Bad analogy, but it's like diving into a murky lake. I can see you dive in, but once you are underneath the surface, I can't see you. I don't know if you are drowning or just enjoying being under. It's like you don't want anyone to see you there, so you stay. Most people would come up for air, but you stay under as long as you can. I don't know what you are doing under there."

Finally, I understood. "Are you questioning my motives for helping you out?"

"More like I'm questioning your lack of motives."

Once again, I think that was a compliment, but I wasn't sure how to take it. A person with motives saw personal gain, even if it was at the expense of the other's sanity or trust.

"Dan, could it be possible that day you showed up on my doorstep, that I only saw you as a person? Maybe I just see you as you are? Just Dan?"

"But I am, well, used to be 'Daniel Lawrence'." He said his name as if it were a copyright brand. "Don't you feel a slight bit intimidated or a need to seize the moment?"

I shrugged. "Dan, I got over the fact that you were 'Daniel Lawrence' after you were in the jail cell. I'm not a teenager anymore and I don't let my hormones get the best of me like I used to."

He grinned. "You make it sound like your fifty years old. You can't be more than 30?"

I gawked. "Twenty-four, thank you. I'm only a few years younger than you. Didn't anyone tell you to always aim lower when guessing a woman's age?"

The look on his face gave away the fact that he already had. "Oh come on! I don't look like I'm over 30 do I?" There was a shrill note in my voice.

He went into damage control. "No, no. I didn't mean to be a wanker. You're just very mature and wise beyond your years. Some people might see that as a good thing."

The conversation ceased for the rest of the drive. We were no strangers to the silence that interfered in our conversations now.

We arrived at the school parking lot just in time to hear the bell, and so the hounds were released, finding their designated cars and buses to be rewarded with time at home.

Three little girls walked our way, one with a head as heavy as a brick.

I exited my two door Jeep to put the seat up and let the girls into the backseat.

Dan was the first to say something, "Hello Wendy. How was primary school?"

She didn't even attempt to take her eyes off the ground. She just jumped right in the backseat, without saying a word.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"She got a teacher's note for you." Jessica chimed in as she was about to climb in the back seat with Wendy.

Wendy gave her friend a wounded look. "Jessica, don't be a tattle-tale!" Her eyes welled with tears, and I could see the ruby circles beneath them.

"Wait, you got a note? What happened?"

She just broke down crying, and seeing the tears stream down her soft face broke my heart.

"Oh honey, come here." She climbed out of the back seat and straight into my arms. I squeezed her little frame tightly as she continued to whimper into my shoulder.

"Shhh..." I tried to calm her as I pet her hair, rocking slightly.

My eyes came to Dan's, and he sat uncomfortably, waiting for instruction. I held the keys in front of me, asking "Do you mind?"

He got out of the passenger's seat and held the door open as I got in, Wendy fitting into me like a key to a lock. Her grip only held tighter as the tears seeped through my shirt.

Dan helped Jessica and Emily Brown, another member of the carpool, into the back seat and started the car. We drove with only the sounds of my cooing and Wendy's sobs, and my occasional reminder to Dan to stay on the right side of the road.

I didn't ask Wendy what happened. I was happy to see her calming down with each minute that passed. Whatever it was, it must have been bad, because I had never seen her so upset before, especially for a six year old.

We dropped off Emily at home, and continued to the grocery store, where we left off Jessica, her mom waving to us from the automatic sliding doors.

By now Wendy just sat in my lap, laying her head against my chest. I softly pet her hair, hoping that soothing vibes would penetrate her ceramic skin.

I didn't ask anything until we were in the house.

"Can I see this note?"

She reached into her backpack and brought out an envelope. It was addressed to 'Ms. Abigail Blossom'.

I opened it and pulled out two folded pieces of paper. I unfolded them and read through the first page.

"You're crying over a spelling test?" My cry was of relief. The way she had been acting I thought she had killed the class hamster.

"I'm sorry, Mommy!"

"Wendy, please stop crying, sweetie" She crawled back into my lap on the couch, and buried her face in my chest. I stroked her back as I continued to read the letter to myself. I looked at the second page, exposing the truth.

She didn't just fail the spelling test, she bombed it completely. I haven't seen so many red marks on a paper since I was in high school.

"Wendy, didn't you study?"

"Yea, like always. I've never done that bad before. I don't understand."

I didn't understand either. She never got such bad marks. As I continued to scan the page, I saw a red sentence at the bottom. "Wendy, don't let your British friend help you again with your homework."

That was when I finished decoding the words that Wendy was tested on.

"Honour? Colour? Favourite? Dan, did you change the words on her list?"

"Let me see," he said as he took the papers from my hands. "Everything on here is correct."

"Daniel, you did change them?"

"No, I corrected her words, the list she was studying was wrong."

"Oh my god..." I was so embarrassed.

I lifted Wendy from my lap. "Honey, this is nothing to cry over. Mrs. Louse says you can retake it next week."

Her blue weeping eyes sunk my heart. "Are you mad at me?"

"Of course not, sweetie. It's not your fault. Go upstairs." She slowly dragged her body up the stairs. I assumed she only walked so slow from the emotional drain of the day.

I had to get back to the bigger issue. "Dan, what were you thinking?"

"It was incorrect."

"No, they weren't. Now my daughter is freaking out over nothing."

He shook his head. "Maybe if you didn't put so much pressure on her..."

I snapped back before he could finish. "Don't you dare criticize my parenting skills. She is a smart kid, and that is why she is in the advanced class. That is beside the point."

"Fine, I was just trying to help. I won't offer anything anymore!"

"Fine!" I stomped off toward the kitchen.

"Fine!" he echoed as he slammed his room door shut.

_Since when did I have a teenager?_ I thought.

Chapter 12

"No, I'm not interested." I slammed the vintage phone down on the hook. I huffed in disgust. It was the third time this week that SuperMart had called, once again trying to sweeten the deal with lifetime employee discounts and donations to the school to buy a new playground. Bribery was a dead language to me.

With a crack of lightning, the house went dark. I sighed and brought my hand to my temples, wondering what else could go wrong with the day.

This weather was dumbfounding all the meteorologists. Never had we had such a warm fall. Occasionally we would break a record here or there, but in terms of consistency, this season stayed well above the average. We should have been pulling out warmer sweaters and jackets as our tanned bodies braced for the wrath of winter, but I hadn't so much as pulled out the long-sleeved shirt to wear under my work shirt.

"Um, Abby?" came a voice from down the hall. "My lights won't work."

"I know," I replied. "Powerlines must be down."

I heard movement in my house, and it was obvious that it was Dan trying to make his way around in the dark. If I was wrong, it would be the world's clumsiest burglar.

"Ow!" he yelped. "Bloody hell!"

I grabbed the flashlight from the cabinet without a second of hesitation. I could walk around this house with my eyes shut.

I waved the light in his general direction and found him standing in the middle of the hallway at the entrance to the living room, rubbing his head.

"Oh jeez what did you do now?"

"I didn't do anything. The bloody wall moved."

A small chuckle released itself from my chest. "Sure Dan." I pulled his hand away from his head. "Lemme take a look there."

I expected to see nothing honestly, maybe a slight round pinkness from the impact, but instead, a perfect red line ran vertically from his forehead down to his cheek, just passing over his left eye. "Dan! How are you that blind?" I tried to settle the laugh that grew deep in my diaphragm.

"I told you it moved! That corner had it out for me since day one!"

He noticed my useless attempts at repressed laughter. "It's not that bad is it? Am I deformed?!"

"No. You just have a line, and it's not bleeding or anything. But looks like you hit it hard enough that you will have a mark for a few days."

"Please tell me you joke, because I don't want to look like a freak."

"You'll be fine. You can barely notice it." I had to turn away as I said it.

"Hey, where are you going with that flashlight? Bung it over here."

"I'm gonna check on Wendy, but you can keep it. I do better without it. Plus I don't want your pretty face to suffer another injury."

Sure enough, Wendy was asleep. Nothing could wake her. I always wondered how I got so lucky with her. She was far opposite from Jenny's little girl, who had colic and would cry at all hours of the night. I had the one baby in the world who slept for over 12 hours at a time. She would fall asleep at six in the evening, and not make a peep until seven the next morning.

I lightly closed the door as another shock of lightning passed by her window, highlighting her porcelain features.

I walked slowly down the old steps, hearing every moan produced by the shift in my body weight. I must have walked these steps a million times, and I could always tell when the last step was near, because the step above it would always make the loudest creak of them all. But even as I reached that step, I could see the edges better than ever before, and I realize there was a light source from somewhere in my house. It was a soft glow that grew in strength with every step forward.

The living room was accented with lit candles. It wasn't many. Maybe ten or so, but it was enough to bring warmth to the room through their different shapes, sizes and holders.

Dan stood amid the flickering flames. "I hope you don't mind. I saw them underneath the buffet table in the cabinets and figured this would be a good time to put them to use."

I didn't mind at all. If anything, I was intrigued. The living room did not look as withered and aged as it did during the day. Rather, the softness of the flickering candles gave it a sense of renewed life, hiding its imperfections. It seemed quite beautiful to me, for the first time ever.

"It's actually very nice."

He smiled proudly at me.

I couldn't help but inhale the sweet floral and citrus scents that mixed in the air. It was an energetic cocktail.

"I'm really sorry that I messed up today. The whole thing with Wendy's test. I shouldn't have blown up so quickly." He paused briefly, "Or changed her material."

"That's all right Dan. The revenge was on the corner wall." I smirked.

"I guess I deserved it."

Suffocating was the silence, but it only took a heavy crash of lightning and thunder to breathe air back into me. But it was a startled breath I had inhaled, and without noticing, I had shifted my weight towards Dan. But I realized the action halfway, and tried to erase it, but I over compensated and fell into him. I quickly regained balance and moved away as I apologized. As a side thought, I wondered, _were his arms actually open to catch me?_

A long second ached on. "Do you have a radio? So maybe we can find out how much longer we have to worry about this storm."

I nodded and walked in a cloud of awkward shame.

There was only one radio in the house, and it was in Dan's closet. It was Dad's portable CD player with a radio. Hour after hour, he would sit in his rocking chair and sip his vodka cocktail, all while listening to the same love songs CD go round and round. I hated the thing. I broke the disk in a fit of rage after he passed, and stashed the radio in the closet.

I walked into the living room and handed the player to Dan. "Here. It probably needs new batteries." I pointed to the end table drawer.

After he changed the batteries, he turned on the radio. Through a blur of static notes, I recognized a perfect chord.

"Hey, go back!" He turned the knob and the static became louder as he past the same sound. He recognized its passing and turned the knob back to settle on the nostalgic rhythm.

"Oh my, I haven't heard this song in ages." I kneeled down beside him at the radio.

He lifted an eyebrow. "You know Staind?"

I smiled as the husky voice of yesteryear pierced my eardrums with grace. "Of course. They were one of my favorite bands in high school."

"Interesting, I took you for a country lass."

I returned the eyebrow shift. "This is reality, hun. Nothing fits in a stereotype out here."

He looked for a refutation. "Well, you don't have the radio on ever, and the only beats come from a broken shower."

"Hmm." I guess I had become used to the lack of tunes. The silence by now was a security blanket. Silence meant things were as they should be, as in reality. Noise such as music caused chaos.

"I met these guys briefly, at least so I've been told." A reluctant grin showed a slight embarrassment. I didn't nose into the idea any further, because I knew the outline of the paparazzi story. It seemed like every night he was out with the latest who's who of the boulevard. Flashes of a picture book scanned in my head: candid shots at the hottest parties, groups of celebrities striking a pose. In my collection of clip outs from all the magazines, Daniel was obviously my target. In my younger years, I just took him to look sleepy, or maybe just not having the greatest hair day, but hindsight now proved he was drunk or high.

"I just didn't picture you liking music like this. Although it is more pop than heavy metal."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Yee haw!"

His troubled looked smoothed into this gorgeous smile. Dan skewed his British accent into that of a rough westerner. "Well, Miss Kitty." He stood up. "May I have this dance?" He offered his hand down to help me up. I timidly let my hand fall into his as I lifted myself from the cold hardwood floor.

"Just don't pull any fancy moves on me."

"Oh, like this?"

Without a chance of inhale, I found myself spinning into a deep dip. Unfortunately, I was shaken by the sudden move, and stiffened my posture. My eyes faced back to his, as I was caught for a brief second, and I fell with a thud.

His accent faded back to across the pond, "Oh my, are you all right?"

"Didn't you hear my warning?" I tried to rub the throbbing thud away.

He helped me sit up. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened. You coiled and my hand lost your head."

I laughed. It was all I could do. Delighted and dizzy, I said, "I wonder why you didn't get first place on Dancing with the Stars."

He laughed. "You're not upset?"

He held me there for a second, our eyes aligning like perfectly sown land.

"Help me up please."

His smile creeped as he gently brought me back to vertical.

"You know it's rigged right? I wasn't Apollo Ohno, but I should have made it to the finals."

"Are you sure?" I continued to rub my head.

He chuckled. "Yea, well, fifth to a football ballerina and a girl band wash-up will have to do. At least I still got paid for it. Fastest check I spent."

He reached for my hand that was tending to the bruise. "How about something a little more appropriate?"

He never removed the hand from my waist, but slowly took his other into mine and began to pace slowly with the music. Obviously something I could keep up with, no fancy dips and spins.

Although the echo of the recent dizzy spell rested on my mind, something else pulled forward. The picture collage that had flipped through my mind not seconds ago began to turn leaves again. Although they seemed a distant memory, their clarity came into focus. As a young teenage girl, I had clipped out every square and silhouette and word that referred to this man. I must have spent hours looking at each individually, memorizing every facet of information, whether it was written or artfully snapped. A younger Daniel, teenager with hopes and dreams, faded in disaster. Still able to make money, just enough to buy his friends. As he aged out of his teens, as well as through his twenties, the circles under his eyes continued to darken. His skin lost its glow. His smile barely showed, other than in his films. Worst of all, his eyes took on a glossy reflection, shutting out the world.

"Did you spend it on drugs?"

"Oh yeah." He rolled his eyes. "Once I finally had some money again, I took that and went into constant party mode."

My eyes carried to the walls.

"Right before rehab?"

"Well, it was a year before. But around then. It was definitely the hardest time I hit the stuff."

"And you haven't done anything since?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you doubt me?"

"No, I'm just curious."

As proud as a champion, he replied, "Not a snort of coke, not a sip of liquor, and not even a one night stand."

"Really? None of it?"

"Not one bit of chaotic fun." He laughed.

I was slightly stunned, but felt a sense of accomplishment that wasn't my own. "Wasn't that your entire life?"

"It was."

Now, I didn't question any of his answers on a personal level. Even in the short amount of time I had spent with him in the last weeks, I could see his ability to change his ways. Granted, he needed a kick start in situations, but he would follow through. But in general, didn't such a dependency only lead back to the same road? "Just seems like a lot to give up all at once."

"It is." I processed his answer as he continued to lead me in rhythm.

"What's your life now? Tea parties and tuna noodle casserole? What an upgrade." I moaned.

He gently squeezed my hand that laid in his. "No, it's just starting to make sense is all."

"Tea parties and tuna noodle casserole?" I asked.

He shook his head with a chuckle. "No, the sobriety of it."

We continued swaying in paced time. His answer seemed very optimistic, and I wanted to pry.

"Such as?"

"The desire to have a purpose."

My eyes quickly traced up to connect with his. I hated to hear him talk the way he did about himself. It could have been my biased backstory of a giddy high school groupie, but I still saw him with purpose.

"I've been in a drugged haze for almost a decade. Rehab strips the haze away, but it doesn't mean everything's clear. The doctors try to get you to unveil some deep dark secrets that you never wanted to deal with or find the core reason of why you feel that need to turn to drugs. Most of the barmy blokes I met had been molested or beaten, but not me. I'm convinced that I just liked getting high. No one else I have ever met could take a hit and steer clear of the stuff for months like me."

I could name an easy target for unveiling. "What about Kristin?"

A scowl phased on his face. "What about her?"

"Well, she kinda messed with you. Didn't you love her at some point?"

"Didn't you love Wendy's father?" he snapped back. A reminiscent pain overcame me, like a popped blister that was almost about to heal on its own. My eyes flung downward in shame. I disliked even thinking about him, let alone being reminded out loud.

"I'm sorry Abby. I didn't mean to..."

I interjected quickly. My pain wasn't his issue. "It's fine Dan. As much as it stings, I get your point. Maybe I did love him, or maybe it was the joy of having someone there."

"You don't know yet?"

"Yet?" I drew my eyes back to his face.

"Well, you've had a lot of time to think about it. Did you or did you not love him?"

I may have had the time, but it was dealt to more prominent matters. "I honestly don't know. I was only a teenager. What about Kristin?"

He sighed, but replied. "In hindsight, I think I did love her. But she didn't love me like I thought. So it cancels out to no. So did you love him?" he asked again

I just shrugged.

"Hmm," he hummed.

"Am I supposed to have it figured out?"

"I just thought that you would. You seem to have everything else figured out."

"If I give that impression, that's nice, but I really don't. Nothing's that black and white. We are all sutured."

"Sutured?"

_Dammit_ , I shouted in my head. _Now he's gonna look at you like you're an idiot._

"It's a theory I made it up. It's silly, I know."

"What does it mean?"

"You don't want to know. It's really just a silly way of looking at things." It was a mental aromatherapy, just instead of a calming scent, it was a logical explanation to get through the tougher moments.

"Please?"

He must have been taking notes from Wendy on my weaknesses. "Well, we are born in this world, and we are constantly torn apart. People break us, accidently or intentionally. All I can do is try to put myself back together with the pieces that work or are savable. We suture ourselves back together like some internal Frankenstein. It's best just to put it back together the best we can and move on before someone realizes how fragile we really are and makes their move."

He slowed to a stop.

"How do you do that?"

I was at first confused by the sudden stop of our pacing, and then by the question. I cocked my head in surprise.

"How do you make me feel so inferior?"

My stomach dropped, and sudden regret consumed me. I didn't know how I became accused of such a crime, but I took the guilt instantaneously.

"No Abby." He shook his head in frustration. "I mean it as a good thing"

My stomach settled lightly. "How can that be good?"

He searched for the right wording. "You... make me want to be a better person."

"By making you feel inferior?" I threw back.

"See Abby, that is what I'm trying to explain with sobriety. I've been so cold to everything, and I'm just learning how to deal with reality. My first thought to the situation of being broken apart would be to tear something from the other chap." He briefly paused to organize the next thoughts.

"I've been so numb for so long that everything I feel now is intensified; every centimeter of the spectrum has feeling. It's like I'm being assaulted by emotions and I'm trying to put them in their place. I've just been trying to figure out good and not good, but everything in-between doesn't fit."

It didn't justify this whole 'inferior' crap. "That doesn't mean that you should feel like a peon."

He pondered a response to my thought. "Ok, consider this Abby. I've always been the one on top, at least until recently. I've been treated like royalty when I haven't even earned a right. When you're told you're the greatest all the time, you tend to believe it and let it go to your head. Even now, those thoughts linger in the back of my mind, that I'm superior in some predetermined way. But when you talk to me, so honestly, I realize how wrong I really am. I've never earned a thing in my life, and yet." He paused for a breath. "All I want to do is earn the possibility of being equal with you."

"Equal?"

"I've never met an equal, darling. Like I said, everyone was inferior to me, until I met you. And for once I would like not to be alone in the spotlight."

I could see the darkened room in my head, surrounded by the navy velvet of the dark, speckled with peripheral light from the center stage. There he stood, perfectly groomed and happy, centered in the limelight. "I don't want to be alone in the dark either."

He sighed. "How can you not see that the spotlight is on you and I'm just trying to fit in it with you? Maybe it's the abstinence of it all, but I find myself happier in sobriety when I'm with you."

There was a flutter in my heart. With each thud another intense wave rushed through. I wasn't sure how to handle this sensation as it trickled, and I felt suddenly anxious from it. Caution tried to intervene, but it was a secondary message to my brain, overturned by the need of the moment.

The forces that surrounded me seemed to gravitate centrally between Dan and myself, lassoing us inward. It was hard to ignore the pressure, but in a second's hesitation, I searched for friction.

I was startled as the buzzed groan of the lights came back on. With that realization I awkwardly pulled myself away from Dan's embrace, watching the bulbs warm up around me.

I searched for an excuse, but all I could say was, "It's getting late, I have to work tomorrow."

He nodded slowly in agreement, making the red line down his face seem longer than before.

"Do you want some ice for your face?"

He looked confused, so I traced my finger down my forehead and cheek.

He mirrored my image. "Oh, I had forgotten about that. No, I think I'm good."

"Ok then, good night, Daniel." I blew out the candles and walked toward my sanctuary in haste, ignoring his last second call of my name.

Chapter 13

"So, Daniel, how long do you plan on being in Wisconsin for?" Jenny asked.

I shuddered as I immediately felt a drop in my stomach; she was going to make this awkward night. It was bad enough that Dan and I had barely talked today, and the avoidance only grew with this conversation.

We were in an old dive bar called Silver Snakes, with the usual dark and gloomy feel. Lighting was mostly provided by the neon beer signs and television screens that circled the bar. A smoky spotlight stared at the tiny empty stage in front of us.

"Um," he began. "I'm not really sure." I could tell that he hesitated to talk any more.

Seeing and feeling the discomfort, I changed the subject. "Are you sure that there is an open mic tonight, Jenny? It's kinda dead in here." There were maybe ten people sitting in front of the stage, if that.

"That's because we are early." Ken said, shooting a dark glance my way. I had always squirmed under his stare. Even in high school his olive complexion and hairiness intimidated me. At least back then he was more fit, but now he looked like a gorilla with a beer belly. "It should start any minute and then a band is set to play when the open mic is done."

_Great_ , I thought. I just wanted to be at home. Bars used to hold a certain reverence before I could legally drink. But now I generally tried to avoid them. I didn't like being hit on by the local hicks and motor heads. Even if they were just trying to engage me in a conversation, I always felt like they had a plot inside their head to ruin me that night.

Being in this place reminded me of an easier life I had long left behind. It was true that I did once like reading poetry on stage, but that was when I was a teenager. It was the one outlet that inspired me. I loved to slam down a piece that I worked my heart and soul into, even if it was the smallest crowd at a coffee shop. But then life got in the way.

A tall middle aged man took the stage. He was lean, but had some defined shoulders and arms. His entire style was comfy and simple: short blonde buzz cut, Def Leppard shirt and jeans. "Hey everyone! Welcome to open mic night at Silver Snakes. I'm Anton, host and owner of this classic establishment. If you want to sign up for something, whether it is poetry or music or whatever, see me at that table right there and we will set you up." He pointed to a tall table by the upright piano. "So let's get started. First up we have poem from Vicki." He encouraged us to applaud. The few hands that did echoed against the walls.

A plump girl stood up and walked toward the stage. She was dressed from head to toe in black: boots, vinyl short skirt, bustier and dog collar. Light brown roots showed through her raven black dye job. The goth look was completed with dark purple eye shadow and deep crimson lips.

"Thanks," she said in her Cher-deep voice, unfolding a piece of paper and showing no fear. "This piece is titled 'Death'."

I heard Jenny groan right beside me. There was nothing more we hated than cliché poetry.

Jenny stood up. "I'm going to the bathroom." I wanted to follow, but as much as did not care for the masochistic anarchy of the goth chick's words, two people leaving at the same time would have been rude. My guilt for offending even a stranger was profound sometimes.

I prepped myself for the next performer, a bony boy who sat at the piano. He entertained us with a mini concerto he'd composed, only to stop and admit it wasn't finished. He definitely had potential, but left the piano when his song abruptly stopped.

A few more audience members trickled in, mostly sticking to the bar, their original purpose for coming to the dive in the first place. They usually just ignored every new person on stage, talking to the friend next to them.

Jenny finally returned, new beer in hand, trying to hide the smirk on her face. My fears were confirmed when Anton returned to the stage.

"Next up, we have Abby." Slight applause.

I glared at Jenny. "You didn't!"

"What?" she asked. "It's about time we heard something good."

I stood slowly, Dan letting me out of the booth as I accepted that my friend sold me out. It had been years since I performed any poetry. I didn't have any new material with me, mainly because I hadn't written any, so that meant I would have to unearth some of my memorized poetry from the earlier days.

I tapped the microphone. "Hi, um. My friend put me up to this. I guess I'll try to do something that I have memorized, but it'll probably be a bit rusty, just a warning."

I took a deep breath, looking at Dan, his simple smile encouraging.

"This..." Once the first word was out, the rest followed like a stream of water naturally down a mountain.

"This.

This is for the Rapunzel who shaves her head

Engraving 'carpe diem' on her scalp with each flick of her wrist

Sells her soul to the man at the wig shop

Not only that, but has to dive down to the corners of cement street pockets

Just to afford the least luxurious, yet most adored gold watch chain for that husband

Whom she can only feed stale water and bread.

This.

This is for that same husband

Who so dearly clenches to his great grandfather's last living gift of time

Pawns his only wealth at the same instant that she covers her head back at home

Sells his soul to the man behind the counter because he knows

His lady deserves of a brush laced in pearl tears for those curly locks

Those curly locks which she loves so much.

This.

This was for them.

What is this?

There are no words to describe this

Because actions speak louder than words

Defining it is near impossible

But I know this

This

My darling

This is for us"

The last lines burned my tongue. I used to believe every syllable in those lines, and I could taste the hope that lingered in the poem, but I steered myself away from it like it was a concrete wall in my path.

I walked back quickly to my seat, not paying any attention to the faintly more thunderous audience's appreciation.

There was a big smile on Dan's face. "I didn't know you could do that."

"I used to do it all the time."

Jenny interjected, "And I loved hearing it every time. That is my favorite poem of yours. I'm so glad you did it."

Dan sipped his coke, obviously bored with its lack of sting, but his focused remained on me. "That was absolutely brilliant. You should be a professional poet."

I laughed.

"I've always told her that, but she never listens." Jenny smirked, as if she was showing off my talent to Dan like a proud parent of an honor roll student.

I finished my last sip of water. "Don't get ahead of yourself there, Dan. It was just a hobby. I'm nothing compared to Derrick Brown or Marc Smith."

"Who are they?"

"Well, Marc Smith is the father of slam poetry, and Derrick Brown is just amazingly talented. They are like the Elvises of the poetic world."

"Hmm, I think I would like to hear them sometime."

My sarcastic smile finally made an appearance. "Yeah, and then you can see how crap-tacular mine is in comparison."

He showed me his doubtful grin.

Anton returned to his emcee position. "Well, does anyone else want to do something before we bring out the band? We have just a little time left." He searched in the audience.

"Why don't you go up there and do something Daniel?" Ken asked.

"I don't do poetry."

"But you can play guitar, right? Ask if you can borrow the guitar that's on stage."

Before Dan could stop his raising hand, Ken flagged down Anton and pointed to Dan. "Ok, it looks like we have our last performance of the night. Give... what's your name?" Anton's eyes squinted through the spotlight to find a silhouette.

"Daniel."

"...Daniel a big hand!" Anton walked off the stage, returning to his seat at the piano.

He gestured to Anton, pointing to the acoustic guitar that was sitting on the back of the stage. Anton gave a willing yes to his question. Dan picked up the six-string and sat it on his leg with a well practiced ease. He fumbled with the strings, tightening and loosing trying to find the right key.

"Sorry if this sounds rough."

He hesitantly strummed a few chords. Though I had little knowledge in music, my ears were pleased, like the simple stroke down a cat's back. He had played this song on a soundtrack for a movie in which he played a vicious thief who got screwed over by his partner in crime.

Once a rhythm was established, he lifted his head, eyes closed, and leaned toward the microphone.

"She called me a bastard

I called her a bitch..."

" _Woooooooo! Bitch_!" came a drunken call from the crowd. But Dan's meditative state was not stirred.

"When did this become a battle for nothing?

Nothing to gain?

Nothing to fight for?

Nothing to die for?

When I was young and stupid

And you were too

We thought to kill was for everything

But now we have nothing.

Nothing at all.

Bitch."

It was a short song, one verse repeated twice.

I thought that I understood those types of words back then. But with age came wisdom of how immature I really was with everything.

The rhythm of the guitar was peaceful, reminding me of a history before overtime and midnight feedings. The way he held the guitar, his presence, reminded me of the juvenile giddiness that I had associated with him, long before I had met him. Watching him hum into the microphone, I felt myself teased with thoughts that had prevailed in my younger years.

There was a great applause from the audience, all twenty or so of us. Smiling as he stood, he gave a nod to the crowd and put the guitar back in its place. He came back down from the stage and sat next to me.

"Wow," Jenny began. "It's been a while since I heard that song. And it's still great."

"Thanks." He smirked. "It was nice to play again."

Ken leaned in. "I feel stupid, but I didn't realize that you sung that song. I know you did 'She Lost Me', but I thought you just were in movies and stuff. How long have you played for?"

"I just remember as a kid I was forced into piano lessons, and then I found out the girls liked guitars better, so I think I learned guitar when I was in my teens."

Jenny smiled. "Maybe you could play some more? The crowd liked it, and you have talent."

"Nah, it was just a hobby." His eyes floated over to me. "Getting on that soundtrack was unexpected. Anyway, let the band get up on stage, I'm thirsty. Anybody fancy a drink? Abby?"

He looked at me. I shook my head. One Bacardi and coke for the night was enough for me. From the looks of how Jenny and Ken were sloshing them down, I was going to have to drive home.

Dan walked away.

"Why don't we go back to your place and have a bonfire?" Jenny asked me.

Before I could come up with some lame excuse as always, she beat me to the punch. "Like the good ol' days. Let's get a bottle of wine and sit around the pit. It hasn't been used in so long. It could use a good breaking in." She looked at Ken, his eyebrows lifted.

"I guess we could," I replied.

"Come on, Abby. Have some fun." She whispered in my ear.

I knew that she was just trying to rekindle her romance with Ken. When we were teenagers, we would have the bonfires and drink whatever we could get our hands on. She and Ken would sneak off into the woods for their deeds. Unlike me, Jenny and Ken had families who were concerned at their houses, so they used my woods as the middle ground.

"Ok. Um, I'm going to use the ladies room first."

On my way to the washroom, I noticed Dan still at the bar, talking with a young woman as the bartender mixed his drink. She was a beautiful slim brunette, thick wavy hair that just barely covered the cleavage of her perfect breasts. She wore stilettos and a short pink skirt, which exposed the pink thong at her hips. I hated the way she smiled and laughed as she talked to him, like she was trying too hard to get attention. The bartender slid Daniel's drink toward him, and as Dan pulled a five dollar bill from his pocket, the brunette pushed his hand away.

She was buying him the drink.

I threw the bathroom door open. I knew I had no right to be mad, but fury surged through me.

I looked at myself in the mirror, noticing every speckle of imperfection. My cheeks were flushed, blemishes and scars holding my face together. My wide nose protruded like a sore thumb, my pale yellow eyes were lifeless. I was covered head to toe in just frump – jeans, t-shirt, tennis shoes. No deep diving necklines, no pink thongs higher than the waist of my pants, no slender heels.

Why did it matter all of a sudden that I was ghostly pale? I didn't care for fashion, so why did I now have an urge to fantasize myself in something more provocative?

I splashed cold water on my face.

_Ridiculous, Abby_.

I took a deep breath and worked my way back to our table, trying not to look at the brownie still standing at the bar. Dan was now sitting at our table again, his free drink in hand. At least he wasn't with her.

When he saw me, his face lit up. "Guess what Abby? I got great news!"

Part of me wanted to make a sly remark to the slut in the stilettos, but I shoved it down deep. "Oh yeah?"

"I have a job!"

I was not expecting that, but I smiled. "That's great! Doing what?"

"Well, it's only one gig for now, but I was talking to the woman at the bar, and her husband is Anton, the bloke who owns the pub. She said that she loved my playing and that they were looking for a musician to fill in next Thursday because their other band that was scheduled cancelled."

"That's really nice." I said. _Damn married slut in stilettos._ I couldn't believe a married woman would dress that way.

"Congrats!" Jenny and Ken cheered.

"Yeah, so I don't have a lot of material, but I have a week to try to remember some old songs and make some new ones. But she said it would be fine if I did covers or repeated songs, just as long as I kept them spaced part enough between the sober people and the drunk."

"Just let me know if I need to work some extra shifts to cover your bail again." The words were bitter on my tongue. I didn't look directly at the brownie at the bar, but I felt my negative thoughts gravitate in her direction.

Chapter 14

As expected, I drove Jenny's compact car home that night. The two love birds were in the backseat, making out as if we were back in high school. It was quite uncomfortable for Dan and me to listen to their drunken suckling and moaning.

"I think we will just drop them off at home. They don't need to be around an open flame," I stated.

"Probably a good idea. Their breaths might catch on fire."

I chuckled at the thought. I had lost count of how many gin and tonics Ken had drank, and Jenny was such a lightweight that only a few beers had her smothered under a drunken pillow.

"We will get them in the house and get back into my car to head home."

"Should we leave them drunk and alone with their daughter in the house?"

I was surprised by his concern.

"Yeah, Jessica will be fine. Jenny's dad lives with them. Besides that, the girls should be asleep by now anyway."

"I'm just saying, that if it were Wendy, I wouldn't want her alone in a house with two drunks." Once again, I was surprised. Wendy was my concern, not his.

Turns out I was wrong about the girls being asleep. Hyper and pumped on sugar, they didn't show any signs of slowing down. But in seeing Dan, Wendy had a sudden urge to return home and sleep in her own bed.

Wendy prattled on about her evening in detail. Actually, it was more like she was talking to Dan, her eyes responding with a sparkle every time he asked more about her sleepover, or lack thereof. She kept up with the semi-scary movie that they had watched, and how Jessica tricked her and made her scream. We were already inside the house when I noticed that she had taken his hand while discussing the makeovers they had done with Jenny's old makeup.

Seeing her gaze at him and holding his hand melted my heart. It was so cute the way she giggled when he would say something in response to her. Wendy was beyond infatuated with Dan. And of course who wouldn't be? His brown eyes and high cheek bones were a model for perfection, although that long hair needed a serious redo. Maybe I would let Wendy at the scissors. He probably wouldn't mind as long as she did it.

"Well, you are certainly wound up missy. How are you ever going to sleep?" I asked.

"Aw mom, it's Friday! I don't want to go to bed! Can't I stay up a bit longer?"

"Well..."

Dan snuck in a word. "We could still have the fire in back. Just a wee one. Frankly, I don't think I've heard the entire story about this lad Mike in your class."

She blushed.

I hesitated. "I don't know, it's pretty late."

"Please Mommy?" Her eyes were too lovely to deny.

"Ok, but just for a little while."

***

I walked back down the stairs after I placed the sleeping beauty in her bed. Wendy had stayed up for only a half an hour or so of the bonfire before falling asleep in my lap.

I walked out the back door to take a seat next to Dan on the bench.

"She's really a smart kid, you know," he said as he began to light the cigarette in his mouth. "You shouldn't be so overprotective of her."

"I'm not overprotective." I shot back.

"You grabbed her arm practically every time she moved."

I gasped. "It's a fire. She can be clumsy."

"She's a kid. She'll learn quickly."

His passive strategy on teaching was harsh to me. "Sorry that I didn't attend your class on Parenting 101."

"I didn't mean it like that Abby." He glared at me. "You've got to back off a bit and not take everything said to you about Wendy so seriously."

"Well, it's hard to do the job of two parents sometimes."

We sat in silence. I stared into the glowing remnants of the bonfire. He inhaled on his cigarette a few times before he made the move.

"Can I ask where her father is?"

Without looking up from the embers, I sighed. It wasn't something I could talk about easily. Every single day I would try to block his face, only to see it in Wendy. She had his blue eyes.

I turned my head down toward the bench, and found my fingers reaching for his pack. I pulled out a single and placed it on my dry lips.

"Can I get a light?"

He gave me a puzzled look, but activated the lighter.

I inhaled. Delicious tobacco burned along my throat. I coughed, but inhaled again. The taste was soothing.

"Been a while?" he asked.

"Seven years. Something like that. I used to smoke at least a pack a day. But I stopped when I was pregnant."

"Cold turkey?"

"Pretty much." The reluctance in my voice must have been obvious. He adjusted his body to face me better. His dark blue jeans swung over the bench as he leaned in slightly. I just stared bedazzled into the smoke that danced into the sky.

"She means a lot to you," he stated.

"I'd give up anything for her, and I always will. I would never even think of putting her through what happened to me. She's all I got."

His hand sat on my shoulder, lightly rubbing comfort.

"What happened Abby?"

_Life,_ was my internal answer. "My mom, well, she regretted me."

"I doubt that."

I rolled my eyes. "Dan, she reminded me daily of how I ruined her life."

He kept his mouth shut after that response. But my defenses had become compromised, and so that bulwark crumbled.

"She was a wild child of Chicago and then she met my dad in a bar and got knocked up. She only became a mom because that was what was expected of her. Her parents were strict Baptists, and somehow they found out. And she hated being forced into something like that, but she couldn't do anything about it. Shot-gun wedding, ya know.

"And then there was Dad. My dad, he did love my mom. He was the hick farm boy who fell for a city slicker. He loved me too, and never gave up on my mother. He always thought that she would come around, realize how important I was or some BS. So he made her happy the only way he knew how. He worked on the farm and worked extra shifts in town to make enough money to buy her anything, even the alcohol." I flicked the cigarette in my fingers. "He enabled her until the day she stepped in front of a train."

Dan's hand now slowly crept along my back, soothing the only way he could right there. Tears began to well in my eyes. The hatred and the frustration built within me.

I shook my head. "Probably the best thing to ever happen to us was when she died. But he couldn't get past his guilt that he could never make her happy." I rubbed my eyes briefly with my free hand.

"I know my dad loved me, so I did what I could. At eleven, I was head of the house. I cooked and cleaned and did whatever I could. But it was never enough to get him to say a goddamn word. The only time he opened his mouth was to take a drink. He would sit in his room all day, staring at his photos of her. He would listen to the same CDs over and over. I guess they were songs he associated with her. Tears in Heaven, things like that. He sentenced himself to a silent slow death by the bottle too, while I lived off his government check."

I sucked on the cigarette, and Dan waited patiently for me to continue. "When I was a teenager, I became very rebellious. Well, as rebellious as I could be around here." I rolled my eyes. "I just had to make sure that Dad got a few decent meals in him a day. No one here cared where I was at all hours of the night or when I slept through high school daily. Carol would make sure I had a donut or some breakfast and Jenny's family tried to keep an eye on me. But I wasn't their responsibility. It wasn't right for them to take over and force me to school. The only reason I even agreed to go to school some days was to see Roger."

I gave a slight chuckle.

"Roger," I said with faux reverence. It had been years since I spoke his name aloud. "Roger was going to be my prince charming. He promised me everything under the sun, even to take me away from this place and we would be 'together forever.' He was going to save me from hell. But instead he found my weaknesses and guilt tripped me often. My self-esteem was already low enough, but he pushed me down farther until I gave into his pressures." I aggressively inhaled the smoke again, and watched it swirl out of my nostrils.

"I never really wanted to, but I would steal liquor from my Dad's cabinet. Not that he would remember how much he was drinking anyway." I rolled my eyes again.

"That's where Wendy came in. I was seventeen when I found out. Roger told me to get rid of her because we weren't ready. But I just couldn't. This was our child." The dam could no longer hold the pressure, and with only word, the lakes in my eyes turned into rivers, molding their journey down my cheeks.

"How could he turn down his _own_ child? I couldn't understand him or my mother. I could never even begin to comprehend how they could deny such a beautiful creature."

I began to sob. I threw the cigarette into the embers and clenched my face as to hide my shame. "He lied. He was supposed to be there!

Warmth encircled me. Dan's arms began to rock me, sharing in my agony. "Shhh...."

It had been years since I had cried like this. I had blocked it from every exit, because there was no time to sit and think about it.

I turned into his loving embrace and crashed. I choked out more tears as he silently gave me shelter in the cave of his enclosure. With every tear that snaked down my cheek, a weight lifted. I would never be light as a feather, but I was able to breathe for a moment while he helped me hold it.

His hand petted my hair with tenderness.

I took a deep breath in and began to pull away. His hand reached to pull away the locks of hair that had fallen into my eyes. As he stroked my cheek, wiping away the stream, I burned his face into my memory. His velvet almond brown eyes reached out in sorrow for me.

I sniffled. "So when you say that I'm protective of my daughter, I guess I can't help but agree. I'm the only one who has ever been able to protect her."

He burrowed into my eyes, and gave a slight grin.

"What?" I asked, waiting for the rapture.

He looked softly at my skin.

"It's amazing how you and I have such different tales, but we both ended pretty fucked up."

I felt a big burst of relief and smiled. It was true. He had been given everything perfectly from birth, while I had struggled all my life. Neither one of us got our fairytale.

"But I'm glad that at least our fucked up lives ended up in the same moment," he said. He cupped my hands and rubbed his thumbs over mine. Lifting them gently, he gave the most delicate kiss to my hands. The kiss from his soft lips sent a warm sensation up my arm.

He then looked directly my way.

I sighed. "Me too." Staring into his brown eyes, I smiled. He grinned back.

Suddenly, my stomach felt full of butterflies, and my heart began to thud at a quicker pace.

He leaned in, and I did the same, gravitating without warning.

His lips on mine were divine, almost making me forget how to breathe. His own warm breath was soothing against my skin. He cradled my face in his hands as we kissed, slowly tracing his hands along my neck. My heart felt as if it would leap out of my chest as he drew his lines along my arms. I could feel the passion and grace in his motions, beautifully taking in the details of the sway of my curvature.

Something screamed in my head. This was not right. The butterflies were becoming stinging bees in my abdomen.

I pulled away hastily.

"What's wrong?" he asked as his eyes slowly opened.

I honestly didn't know. But I did know that I needed to stop.

"I don't..." I hesitated. Jenny's earlier words suddenly echoed in my mind ... _vicarious sex with Daniel Lawrence_.

"You don't what?" He looked perplexed.

"I don't... um... I need to go to bed."

I shot up like someone had pulled a trigger and sped into the house, leaving him alone. I gained speed, and slammed the room door behind me. I fell on my bed in an exasperated huff.

Chapter 15

I didn't sleep much. His lips brushing over mine just replayed over and over, exciting my senses. But what stuck out the most was his expression as I pulled away, happy but confused. As much as I wanted more, I just couldn't bring myself to accept that this was happening.

Maybe it was the alcohol. My traitorous mind leapt to agree.

It made more sense now. The Bacardi had gone to my head and messed with my emotions. That's why he looked so charming, and why I made such a mistake. I don't break down in front of people ever. I'd only had one drink, but it had been so long that it must have been the equivalent of ten for a normal person.

_It was a kiss, and you kissed him back_.

But it was more than that. It represented something that I had fought off for so long. I had built monuments onto my hard shelter, and I didn't like to know that there was a flaw in my refuge.

I was finally awoken by the smell of burning something.

I jumped out of bed, adrenaline moving my legs. I followed the black cloud to the kitchen.

"Shite shite shite!" he cursed. His back was to me, standing over the stove.

"Move!" I threw him to the side to grab the handle of the skillet. Black smoke rose from griddle as I moved it into the sink. I turned the faucet on, and the swirls of black slowly sizzled into nothing.

"Are you trying to burn my house down?"

"No, I was just..." There was a loud thudding coming from the utility room.

"What the hell is that?" I ran toward it. I opened the door to find the wash machine jumping all over the floor, causing the ruckus that echoed through the house. I opened the door of the washer, overflowing with soap suds and unbalanced.

"I'm sorry," he said from behind me. "I was just trying to be nice. You are always doing stuff hereabout for me and I thought that maybe I should do something."

"Dan, have you ever done a load of laundry in your life?"

"I think you know the answer to that question," he replied as I pulled out a red sock from the washer.

"Well, from now on, let me handle this. You're lucky I don't mind pink as a color."

He exhaled loudly. "Sorry. I made a mess."

I dropped the bleeding sock back into the washer. "Don't worry, I'll fix it."

"Would you like some toast?" He reached out a plate in his hand, two slices of charcoal.

"Um, no thanks. You don't have to cook or clean anymore. Please."

He looked down at his ashes on a plate. "I am such a bugger."

I shook my head as I cooled my aggravations. "No you're not. It's the thought that counts."

"Pathetic thoughts. I can't even make eggs and toast."

I shook my head. "Really Daniel, go have a smoke or something."

"I quit," he said.

"When was this?"

"This morning," he said as he crumbled the black toast between his fingers.

"Why?"

He paused, looking for the right words. "For some reason I didn't like the way you looked with that fag in your mouth last night. I didn't want to be a bad influence anymore."

"You just gave it up cold turkey?"

"So far so good. I haven't had one in eight hours." He chuckled before his long pause. A moment of pride heaved in my chest, aching with glee.

"Can I at least explain the disaster?"

"Looks self-explanatory to me," I replied, staring at the suds on my linoleum floor.

"I wanted to apologize for last night. I didn't mean to make things uncomfortable or weird."

He was apologizing to me? I wasn't expecting that. He probably thought that now I was going to demand rent or get out.

"Don't worry. I won't kick you out." I laughed.

He let out a sigh. "Do you think that is why I was trying to be nice? So I would have a roof over my head?" he asked.

It had crossed my mind.

"Abby," he began. "I can handle being out on the street. But after last night, I just couldn't handle you being angry with me over something I did to you."

"Angry?" This I was not, at least not for that. I was quite a bit frustrated looking at the mess that greeted me this morning, but pure rage was far from my thoughts.

"I know I come off as a git a lot of the time, and I didn't mean to make it look like I was trying to take advantage of you. I know my rep as a bastard precedes me from when I was in Hollywood, but you are the one person in my life right now that I just can't screw things up with."

I still couldn't believe that he thought that I was angry with him. I had tossed and turned all night beating myself up mentally.

"I've never met anyone like you. You don't put up with any of my shite, yet you deal with me. It doesn't make sense. You are very unique and special to me."

The lump in my throat was suffocating.

The shiver down my spine brought me back to reality. "Please don't beat yourself up over anything, Dan."

"Just tell me one thing." He gazed directly into my eyes. "Do you find me... attractive?"

I didn't know how to go about any of this, so I just let honesty run the story.

"Dan, this is very scary territory for me. You have to understand that this is all very new to me. I haven't even been on a date since I was seventeen."

"I won't force you into anything. But if you do feel something for me, well, I wouldn't mind knowing, even if it is a smidge."

Did I feel something? No doubt I felt something, but what was it? I knew that his breath was sweet and rehabilitating, but what did that mean? That my hormones were dissolving the walls of my realistic perspective? Or it was just that he made me feel better about being boring Abby?

"I..." my eyes swelled with water.

He pressed his finger to my lips. "You don't have to answer. Just know that I'm here and I will not make you do anything that you don't want to do." He wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulder.

He turned toward the doorway. "I'll go find a bucket for the floor."

"Dan," I choked.

He shifted back toward me.

"Why aren't you mad... at me?"

He was baffled by the question. "Why would you say that?"

"I can't give you anything."

He shook his head. "You already have given me a lot. You need to give yourself more credit."

"No, I mean, I won't...physically..." The words broke as they slipped through my lips.

He didn't seem to understand at first, bewildered by my phrasing of the sentence. "Wait, let me get this straight, I am supposed to be upset with you because you didn't sleep with me last night?"

"Isn't that what men want?" It was a lame thing to say, but it was the first set of words I could make into a sentence.

Pain over misconception showed on his face. He was upset. "Ok, I might have gained a reputation as a horn dog in my old life, but that doesn't mean that you," he struggled for the words. "...are required to do anything. I expect nothing from you. If anything I owe you a lot right now."

Ropes of tears began to trace my cheeks. I felt stupid for making such an accusation.

"Don't cry, please, Abby." His arms wrapped around my waist. My face buried in his chest as I embraced him. It was the second time in less than twelve hours that I had broken down in front of the same man. It was definitely more than the rum at work.

"Listen, I'm _not_ Roger."

Even though the name stung, he was right. He wasn't Roger. But Roger was the only experience I had, apart from the ass-grabbing at work. It was in that moment of vulnerability that I realized how skewed my view was of relationships.

Dan's hand stroked my snarly bed-head.

"I know that I'm not perfect, and my emotions get the best of me sometimes, but I don't ever want to make you regret having me around."

"Dan..."

He swiftly interrupted. "You say that this is scary territory for you, Abby, but it's the same for me."

He pulled his face back to look at me, his cool hands cupping my red hot cheeks.

"I have never, and I do mean never, met anyone like you. I've been and seen and met some of the most interesting people in the entire world, and none of them can hold a candle to you. I've seen so many good people turn out to be imposters. They put me up on a pedestal for their own gain, filling my head with false realities. When the pedestal fell, none of them were there. But you, you make me feel like I could be a normal person. You are the first person in my life who hasn't tried to get one single ounce of anything out of me, except maybe some manners."

He let out a laugh. "Whatever is going on here, I don't want to screw it up. If we have to do this in slow motion, I don't care. I promise you that." He brushed his fingers along my cheek. My defrosting heart fluttered.

Doubt poked the back of my mind. Old habits die hard. "Dan, you could do so much better than me."

"How can I do better, when I've already found the best?" He smiled, as did I. It was hard to take such a charming compliment, but I wanted to hold it for as long as I could.

He sweetly kissed my forehead as I breathed him in. I couldn't help but take it with a grain of salt. "Are you sure, Dan?? I'm quite a basketcase."

"Jeez woman, take the bloody compliment! The only place I want to be is right here."

He wrapped his arms around me again, and squeezed. For the first time in my life, I felt protected.

Chapter 16

Days passed, without much excitement. I felt better after our discussion in the kitchen. There was no pressure, and with that idea in my head, I felt like I could continue on with daily life. This is what we did. I would wake up, take part in my normal routine of hygiene and mundane culinary skills, drive to work with Dan in the passenger seat and let him roam on his 'off' days. I would then spend the day sorting through the usual products and helping customers, pick up Daniel, drive home, and continue my motherly duties.

But a new segment invaded my routine. Any time my thoughts wandered to Dan, I could feel my heart pick up in pace. It wasn't like the teenage drama queen, waiting outside a hotel for hours just for a glimpse at something special and rare, all for a short adrenaline rush and a fuzzy photo at the end.

Instead, I found myself addicted to this subtle change in the rhythm of my heart. It was unique to me, and I couldn't help but want to dissect its intensity.

What I found to be most odd though, was that this subtle change was for Dan, not "Daniel-Lawrence". I had never felt so close to someone so ordinary.

***

"Why Wendy Pan?" Dan asked with a sheepish grin.

I was staring determinedly at the faded wood, attempting to scrape every last piece of loose white paint. With all the inside renovations happening in the house, I figured an attempt at the outside was in order. It had been at least twenty years since the farmhouse had received an upgrade.

I knew there was no way I was going to be able to do the whole house in one sitting, so the goal for tonight was to scrape the loose chips and paint one coat on the east wall. It was a big task for only a few hours before the sun set.

After a final hard scrape, I smoothed over the wood with my hand. "Isn't' it obvious?" I returned to his inquiry as I handed him my tool.

He shook his head as he accepted it. "I thought Wendy Pan was a real person, remember?" He laughed at himself. "I did think it an unusual name, but I figured that people have been named worse, like Apple or Cocoa."

He turned to the tool box and placed both of ours inside. "Do you think we will actually get this wall done tonight?"

"Not if you just stand there." I threw a wide paint brush at him, and he barely caught it in his plaid laced chest. I liked the way he looked in the long plaid shirt and ripped torn jeans. It gave him an edgier look that wasn't as aggressive when he held a paintbrush. "Come on, Huck."

He was puzzled by the comment, but came back to his original topic. "So why did you pick Wendy Pan as a pen name?"

I smiled as I walked toward the paint cans. "Well, it's really silly."

"Please?" he begged as he kneeled down with me. His imploring effortlessly slipped through my defenses. It was hard for me to constantly open up to him, but it seemed to get easier every time. Since Friday's events, we both found ourselves quite talkative. I was intrigued by the stories he shared with me, about his family and childhood, traveling throughout Europe with his manager Eugene, and all the luxuries of his celebrity status. He seemed to take quite an interest to my stories as well, even though they were quite boring in comparison. The most interesting story I could conjure was when the ninety-year-old Mrs. O'Connor called the police, meaning Ron's direct line, because her arthritic hands couldn't open her beer bottle.

"Okay." I sighed as I cracked open the paint can on three sides. But I couldn't look at him directly when I said. "I saw you as like a Peter Pan figure, kind of."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Oh. You like a man in tights? I only wore tights in that Shakespeare's Hamlet movie you know." His smirk made me blush.

I gave him a slight slap on the shoulder. "I'm not going to tell you if you make fun of me."

"Sorry." He chuckled. "Continue."

"English was the only class I seemed to do well in, and I really liked to read back then. As a young girl, I overanalyzed any love story. I picked apart every aspect of the plotline and dissected characters, trying to get into their mind sets." I peeled off the top of the paint container, exposing the creamy blend.

He looked at the color. "Yellow?"

"Actually it's called 'Chilled Lemonade'."

"If my lemonade looked like that," he began, and I noted the scrunch in his nose. It was quite obvious that this shade was not a part of his sophisticated palette. He glanced my way, and seeing my expression, he playfully concluded, "I'd drink seconds, of course."

"Good." I smirked. "I liked it." I reached for the wooden paint stick. He watched hypnotically as I was beginning to swirl the buttery liquid, its golden crests vortexing into the center.

I nodded to Dan, asking for the hand bucket. He complied. "I'm just surprised that you didn't stay with white."

_I'm not that predictable, am I_? I thought.

"Well, I was going to do that, but then I had this spur-of-the-moment desire to try something new. This house has been plain for way too long." I handed him a half-full bucket and he dropped his brush in.

"I like the way you think," he said as he offered his hand to help me to my feet. "But you keep distracting us from my questions. You said that you analyzed characters. I can relate to that. That is kind of like what I do to prepare for a film."

"Yes, actually," I agreed as I walked toward the ladder and he followed. "I loved to take on characteristics of them. It made me feel real emotions I couldn't find here. It was that escape from this shit-hole reality."

I paused as I stepped up onto the ladder, shaking it slightly to check its sturdiness. Dan reached out and held the side of the ladder with one hand, holding it steady. I walked up a few steps and reached back for the hand bucket with brush. "It was the story of Wendy and Peter that captivated me the most."

He cocked his head in contemplation as I began to coat the wooden siding evenly with velvety spread. "That is interesting. Don't girls in high school usually want to find their Romeo?"

My arms instantly froze in space, and a small glob of yellow began to scurry down the brush. I snorted. "I _hate_ the story of Romeo and Juliet."

My resentment for the plot fogged the air with tension.

"Really?" he asked. "Why?"

_Oh jeez, here we go_ , I thought as I returned to slathering on the paint.

"The story of Romeo and Juliet is too pop-culture-fied."

He frowned. "Pop-culture-fied?"

"I made that up obviously. But people hear 'Romeo' or 'Juliet' and they automatically think of some beautiful love story."

"It is not?"

Exasperated, I replied, "No! It's a horrible story."

This was news to him, and it showed on his face. "I don't think I have ever heard of anyone so repulsed by Shakespeare."

"It's not Shakespeare. He wrote the play very well. It's how people interpret it so closed-mindedly that makes me angry."

He was confused. "So it's not because they die?"

I briefly shook my head. "It's the reason why they die that makes it ridiculous. People say that they died because they couldn't live without each other, and yes, that theory has a bit of romance to it, but it's not true."

And so came my argument, one I had rehearsed many times passionately. "Romeo was infatuated with Rosalind, and he was depressed that he couldn't have her because she joins the nunnery. So he was on the rebound for anyone who would give him a glance. Luckily, here comes pretty naïve Juliet, who is only 13. She doesn't know what she wants! She's way too young!" I heaved a sigh. "They never really loved each other. They were crazed for the other but it was definitely not love."

He defended. "But their families wouldn't let them be together."

"That doesn't matter. Everything always works out with time. The whole story takes place in less than a week. They could run away and waited for the fury at home to dampen."

"Maybe they didn't think that would work out?" He gave a shrug.

My frazzled words cluttered the air. "Why did the price have to be so high, even when in choosing to expire, they still can't be together?" I exhaled for my closing argument. "To die is to be selfish."

"To die is to be selfish?"

"Absolutely." I huffed as I leaned back to face him as I made my point. For a second, my arms flung wildly in the air as I was off balance. Luckily, I saved myself just in time, forwarding myself just enough to be steady on my own two feet again.

Once the concern faded from his eyes, he gave a playful smile. "Settle down. You were right when you said that you overanalyze these things. Who are you to define what their love was?"

I focused on the wall again, beating on the paint faster. "It's common sense. Like when I fell in 'love' with Roger, I was stupid. I blindly followed 'love' and didn't think it through! Life doesn't have to end just because things don't turn out how you expect them."

It was silent except for the sound of the brush strokes. My own secret hurt my ears. I was bitter.

I bounced back to the moment, no longer wanting to think about my personal misgivings. I stroked the wood at a slower pace now, especially when I realized that my wrath was just creating a yellow rain storm that dripped onto Dan's long brown hair.

"What if they had just waited a while? Things could have gotten better. Maybe the family would eventually learn to accept their shared interest, even if it took decades. But at least they could work things out, and come out stronger." I took a step down on the ladder to continue covering the lower wood panels.

He searched for an answer. "Hindsight is 20/20, Abby. Sometimes we have to take a leap of faith."

I threw my hands in the air, cautious though this time of my balance. "But to live is to have better odds. Death is permanent. To live is to know emotion and feelings. To die is to not evolve."

He searched for a response in the brief moment of pause, but came up weak. "Okay, maybe they didn't need to die, but that is how it turned out. That is their story."

"That's why I like Peter Pan better."

I don't think a slight bit of confusion had left his face in the last few minutes. It always seemed when we would discuss things of this nature, the crease between his eyebrows got a workout. "I thought that Peter and Wendy weren't together in the end."

"They weren't," I agreed.

I saw him do a double take. "Isn't that just as bad?"

"Look," I began my lecture once I had two feet on solid ground again. I talked with my hands, as if that would help prove my point. "Wendy was meant to be for Peter and vice versa. There is no doubt to that. But in the end, they realized that they lived in two different worlds. He needed to be among the stars and she needed to be in reality. They didn't die at the second that they couldn't be together, they took the higher road. They _lived_."

I noticed my voice had calmed. "As much as Wendy didn't want to be apart from Peter, she loved him, and she let him go. That is real love. She didn't try to change him or herself to make it work by compromising their individualism; she knew that it was better for him to be who he was than to force him into anything else. Because if she did that, he wouldn't be the Peter that she fell in love with."

"Wow." He stared at me, his hair speckled with yellow spots. "That is the most messed up version of Peter Pan I have ever heard."

I snorted again walking back to the paint can for a refill. "It's a much better story than Romeo and Juliet. At least Wendy went on to have Jane, and Peter Pan made Jane happy. You never know how your story will end up."

Dan grabbed the back of his neck, contemplating the information given. "Now why is it that if she gives him up its love? Why does she have to sacrifice her happiness? Whereas Romeo gives up his life, but it's his hormones?"

I had never viewed it from that frame before, man's sacrifice versus woman's. I let the question settle in my head before I answered.

"It's more romantic that way. The best love ever is the love you will never have."

His face contorted in disgust. "That makes no sense! Oh just forget it." He assisted me in pouring the paint into my empty bucket.

"You read way too much into that story. After all, it is a story."

I sighed. "That's why I love and hate books and movies so much. They are just stories. And it's what those stories say that cloud reality."

He obviously debated on asking the next question.

I looked back at the partially painted wall as I organized my thoughts. "It is great to lose yourself in a story, like in the Harry Potter books you can be a wizard, in the Twilight saga you can be loved by a vampire, but heartbreak really comes when the story ends. Then you are back to your real life."

I then stared at the grass as I carried the refilled bucket back to my canvas. Chagrin evenly dissolved into my words. "No special powers, no special people. I get so depressed after I read a good book."

"I don't think that that is supposed to be how it works," Dan said.

"But it is. Don't tell me you haven't seen fans get obsessed with your films and then try to put themselves into those characters. Especially in that love story you did as Orion. How many people wanted to be your Jamie?"

He smirked, "Orion is a name I heard quite often in bed..." his voice trailed.

I shifted my eyes away. I didn't want to think of the millions of women who shared his bed even though it was an obvious fact.

I shook the jealousy out of my head. "Yeah, so you get my drift. Isn't it depressing?"

"Well, at those moments it wasn't." He snickered again, but stopped when he noticed the repulsion on my face. "But I would sometimes feel bad when girls would actually think I was going to be in love with them in the morning. That's not how it works."

Point proven.

"Exactly. There is no real romantic love in the world. That is the stuff that gets you in trouble. All writers and directors who put that crap in the story need to be punished. It gets hopes up and people don't realize that reality is a bitch."

We paused. My labored breathing only inched into the silence as I began to paint the wall at my eye height. Dan picked up an extra brush, dipped it into my bucket, and began to paint at the same height as me.

"I don't agree," Dan finally replied, barely concentrating on the uneven strokes he created. "Stories and films are based on human emotion, and the author just wants to share that with others who want to feel it too. They take the feelings from real life and try to spread a message."

"Then they shouldn't be writing things that curve a person's perspective that much," I said. I knew it was a useless battle to argue, because no authors would ever change their minds. These things were part of centuries-long human tradition.

"Human emotion should not be based on the story, Abby. It's not the author's fault if someone can't distinguish between reality and the fantasy world. For example, just because I acted in a movie about a mental patient, it doesn't mean that I am one."

"I wouldn't go that far," I joked. I considered myself done with the previous conversation, and I thought a joke was an easy escape route.

"Ok, bad example. How about Orion? Just because I played a sexy and romantic doctor, doesn't make me him. I can't take it personally if a girl is convinced that she was meant to be my Jamie. It's not my fault she's gone mental."

I shrugged. "I can understand that, I guess. But I still doubt that I will be picking up another book anytime soon."

He connected his almond eyes to my pale yellow-hazel ones. "Fine with me. If you were a book worm, when would you have time to delight me with such thoughts?"

We laughed together and agreed to disagree. The slight breeze swirled his long brown hair away from his face, exposing his graceful expression. This was the first genuine smile I knew he made for me. Even though we couldn't come to a consensus about literary love, it didn't matter; he was holding me in his gaze, happy.

The idea of someone being happy because of me tickled my insides. And I hoped that my own grin could only return the favor to him.

Suddenly, my cheek was spotted with paint. He held back a laugh through his teeth as he pulled the brush away from my face. "Ha, I do like this color; it brings out the yellow in your eyes."

I couldn't help myself. I took my brush and swiped it across his nose. As he went in for another swipe at my face, I resisted playfully. I shrieked laughter as he chased me toward the wall. But he wasn't ready for my advance and I swung him around me, and pressed him against the wet wall, my arms creating a hold on his torso as the palms of my hands squished the wet paint behind him.

"Awe!" I laughed mischievously.

We stood there, not wanting to move from the wet wall, as it would only confirm that we had flung ourselves up against it.

He then took his arms and wrapped them gently around my waist. His eyes found mine in a perfect connection, and he stared at me as he sighed contentedly. I had seen the haze in his eyes fade away, but had I never studied the colors of his irises, light brown surrounded with a darker outer ring, with yellow spokes shooting out from the center.

It was a peaceful moment where nothing needed to be said. I welcomed his slender fingers on my forehead as he pushed away some loose hairs that had rebelled against my ponytail.

He politely asked, "Can I give you a kiss?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you ask?"

"Well, last time you went running from me. I figured at the time that I was a bad kisser." He laughed.

"Ha, no," I laughed, feeling the wet paint creep in-between my fingers.

"Good, because I would hate to be informed that the MTV awards were a hoax. I won best kiss three years in a row, you know."

"Yea, I do remember." The kissing scenes from the movies flashed across my memory. I felt the intoxication of the mood in each one, each spark in lips sending an electric nudge to my curiosity.

I slowly moved in toward him, and he did the same. My stomach gleefully dropped as we connected and he held my face with cautious passion. This should have been the first kiss, where I threw my worries to the wind and let myself take pleasure in the moment. I relished the adrenaline that drifted into my veins. I wanted to let myself want him completely.

All my life I had never felt like I was good enough for anyone, and even now in this moment, I felt I was getting the better end of the deal. But I couldn't help but notice that his face said the same. Somehow in the alignment of the stars and quasars, with the eliminating pulls of black holes and explosive forces in supernovas, somehow everything around us had reached equilibrium. The chaos of reaching that point was apparent, but in the end, the scales balanced, and neither of us was shortchanged. Needless to say, in an imperfect life, we had found a moment of perfection.

He slowly pulled away, still holding my face in his hands. "So, what is the verdict?"

"I must say, Dan, I don't think a Golden Popcorn Bucket does you justice."

He smirked. "As long as I hear that from you, I believe it."

The back door opened from the porch. I quickly pushed away his hands from my cheeks, covering his with the golden paint. He understood my hasty action as an angelic voice approached from around the corner.

"Mommy?" she asked as she glided toward us. "I finished my homework."

I cleared my throat. "Did you study for the spelling test?"

She shook her head.

"Well, I have to finish this wall first..." I began.

"Nonsense," Dan interrupted. "You go help her with that. I'll finish here."

I was surprised by his admirable gesture. "Are you sure you can do it by yourself?"

"It's just the one wall; it probably would get done faster with only one of us doing it, if you know what I mean."

My cheeks flushed with heat again.

"It's either that or I can help her with spelling..."

I laughed remembering his track record. "Thanks, but I think I'll handle this one." I took the angel's delicate hand into mine and headed toward the house.

I quizzed her on the ten new spelling words. She was so smart, but so easily distracted as well. She kept asking about how Dan would spell it, but I would bring her back to focus, offering one cartoon when she spelled all the words correctly. That gave her incentive, and so she tried very hard. She misspelled 'sticks' as 'stiks', but I was in such a happy mood that I still let her watch the cartoon.

After I put in a VHS of short Disney cartoons, I walked outside to check on Dan. To my astonishment, he was just finishing up the corner panel.

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "It looks amazing."

"Yea, well, it didn't involve cooking or cleaning, so it wasn't too difficult." He smirked.

I grinned cheerfully as I helped him clean up the painting supplies and put them in the small shed attached to the house. We wrapped Saran-wrap around the brushes and bucket, hoping we would come back to finish the job within the next couple days. Tomorrow was out of the question, mainly because I had to work a day shift and tomorrow night was Dan's big performance night.

"So are you ready for tomorrow?" I asked, mildly knowing the answer. He had been practicing all week when he had time. Usually he would play while waiting for customers in the flea market, and even getting some extra change in his hat for it. At home, he sat in the creaky wicker rocker, strumming random chords and searching for melodies. Everything that he played had a hint of magic to it, like he was meant to strum the guitar that Wendy and I had gotten for him on his birthday.

"I guess I'll have to be. I've got plenty of covers I can do, and some of the older songs too. But writing is difficult."

"No one said you have to spit out a Grammy award song," I said as I closed the shed doors. We began to walk back toward the back door of the house.

"Maybe, but I really am trying to write what I'm feeling. It's kind of odd, because I used to just write without a second thought, but I really want to make it a good song and be honest."

I gave the only answer I knew. "So then be honest and don't over think it. One of the greatest pieces of advice I got about writing poetry was from my high school English teacher, Mrs. Colman."

I stopped us both in our tracks and turned to face him. "Start from here." I touched his chest. "Then edit the outcome from here." I moved my hand up to his forehead.

His smiled. "That's a good piece of advice. But I'm kind of in a time crunch."

We continued into the house through the back door. "Then don't write. Just do covers or something. "

I turned and faced him. "Write and play when it's honest." I grabbed his hand and gently squeezed, feeling the newly formed calluses in his fingertips.

"I guess that is what I will have to do."

I was at the kitchen sink washing the dried paint off of my hands. I glanced at the sunset through the tiny window. Yellow rays had already blended into purple.

"Wendy!" I yelled to the front room. "When that cartoon is done, we need to get you cleaned and ready for bed!" I heard her moan from the other room.

I dried my hands as Dan finished washing his yellow fingers. "Dan, you should go to bed early too. I know it's hard for you to get up in the morning, but tomorrow I have to open the store. It's bad enough that I have to drag Wendy out of bed for school, let alone a grown man."

He rolled his eyes like a teenager. "Why don't you just let me stay here tomorrow?"

I hesitated, waiting for a good excuse to pop into my head. "I'm not going to let you stay here and torch my house trying to make yourself lunch."

"Ha ha. You're going to hold that against me forever, aren't you?"

I gave a slight grin. "Probably."

Chapter 17

"I thought that you said that you quit." We were by the stage entrance, in the back of Silver Snakes bar.

"I did. That was the simple part." Dan took a drag. "Staying away is the tough part, especially when my nerves feel like they are going to explode. This helps me calm down."

I really didn't see the need for him to worry. I had been hearing him practice around the house all week. Last night he worked really hard after our conversation. He practiced into the early morning hours, and I didn't mind the background music in my dreams.

I gently rubbed his arm, trying to spread my confidence into him. "You'll be great."

"I hope so. I haven't been this nervous probably since I was at the Oscars." He didn't win, but he always said that it was an honor to be nominated. I had always seen the Academy Awards as a tease to the actors, pulling at their career strings.

"I've been listening to you practice all week. I haven't heard a sound I didn't like."

"Yeah, but did you hear any of my lyrics? They are different from what I used to write. This time they have true feelings behind them." He swung his head back to remove the longer bangs from his eyes. I had convinced him to get a haircut this morning at Thomas's while I was working, because he didn't have anything to do anyway. This new shorter style was a first for Thomas, but it was rockin'. A perfect length in between short and long, a definite upgrade from the shoulder length hair style that made him look too messy for my tastes. His clothing was simple but sexy: a gray dress shirt with silver buttons, and dark jeans.

"Just tell the world what you are thinking. As long as you feel good about it, that is what matters."

He released the smoke hastily from his mouth. "Cushy for you to say. You are not performing tonight."

"True, but I've been on stage before and been judged on my words. I used to be slamming poetry all the time. If you are confident and work hard, then people will see that and appreciate what you have to say, even if they don't agree with you. That's the beauty of poetry crowds. They come and expect to see new perspectives."

"I guess so. I just don't like not knowing the outcome. I'm just so used to people taking anything I say and turning it into gold."

I gave him a reassuring hug. "It's only gold if you let it be, so believe in yourself." I found my face buried in his chest, maybe thinking these positive vibes could diffuse into his heart.

"I wish that I would have asked you to look at my lyrics now. You are good with words." He brushed a strand of my hair out of my face, tracing his fingers down my neck.

I snorted. "Correction, I used to be."

He squeezed me tighter, and I didn't mind if he wrinkled my pink shirt. "The poem you did the other night was brilliant."

"Well, I've had years to perfect a single poem." I sighed. "Listen, when we move to Costa Rica, you play guitar and I will write the lyrics for you. We will have our own collective."

"I'd fancy that." He smiled. "Now I have to do well tonight so that we can get some good tips. That will get us closer to the border. In fact, let's just leave now."

I snickered. "Just get through tonight." I reached up to his lips, tasting the tobacco. It reminded me of the sweetness I used to search for in a clove. "Break a leg, sweetie."

"Cheers."

I walked back into Silver Snakes, and joined Jenny and Ken at the booth. There was an increase in the crowd, and suddenly I felt the nervousness that overwhelmed Daniel. I don't think I had ever done poetry in front of this many people. In fact, there were no seats left, many people were standing.

Ken pushed a glass my way. "I got you a rum and coke."

I thanked him and took a big swig.

"How's he doing?" asked Jenny.

"Fine, just a bit nervous."

"Well, here we go," Ken announced.

Anton was on the stage in his blue jeans and army boots, but he had swapped out the Def Leppard shirt for Pink Floyd. "Hey there everyone! Before we bring up tonight's entertainment, I just want to remind you of some drink specials. Beach buckets are only five bucks tonight, and we got English brandy specialty shots too. So let your mind tour Europe tonight via my liquor license." There was a quiet snicker among the crowd. "Without further ado, Silver Snakes welcomes the famous Daniel Lawrence!"

My body jumped. It was a louder applause than I expected.

I smiled at him as he walked up on stage, guitar at his side. He sat down and adjusted the mic.

"Hey, how is everyone doing tonight?!" There was screams from the crowd. "I love you Orion!" screamed a drunken girl. I glared at her.

"Cheers, I guess." He paused in between his chuckling. "Actually, yes, thank you all for coming. I didn't know Anton was going to be promoting me like this, but I've revived an old hobby and hopefully you all will like it."

Someone screamed, "Play Bitch!"

"I'll play that one a little later for old time's sake. But in the meantime, here are some new ones that you can tell your friends about."

He took a deep breath and began to strum. I noticed the collection of chords right away, as I remembered Dan sitting outside in my backyard playing it. But now his face was determined, no longer frustrated with finding the right words.

"I won't be Peter

Wendy Darling, I will never go back

You don't have to be a Juliet

Losing your Romeo over nothing

Maybe you could be just a Darling

And I just a Montague

We can both survive and live

In a never ending after

Of Darling-Montague

Let me give you a never ending after

Never leave

Never promise something to break

Never ending after

But a continued story

Of sweet and sour

If I had to give my life, I would.

If you had to give up happiness, you would.

I know this, but we won't act upon this.

Why be star crossed lovers

When we can cross over to the second star on the right

Together

Let me give you a never ending after

Never leave

Never promise something to break

Never ending after

But a continued story

Of sweet and sour

I promise you this

As long as you have me around, I won't disappear.

Just please,

Let me give you a never ending after

Never leave

Never promise something to break

Never ending after

But a continued story

Of sweet and sour"

I sat before him, astounded. He had taken our conversation and used it to create this masterpiece. Even better, he had blended our two views into one. I compromised without being there, and I liked it.

Applause erupted. In hearing the growing roar, Dan's confidence expanded before my eyes. He became more comfortable with every song, looking like he belonged on stage. In a way, I was jealous of his happiness. It made me want to stand beside him and gain some credit.

The hour continued without a glitch. He played more new songs, and some covers of popular bar songs, as well as some of the older ones that he was known for, but none of them moved me like the first one. He seemed to shimmer as time went on, gaining strength and beauty with every cheer and clap from the crowd. His smile glittered with exhilaration.

"Once again, thanks chaps for coming out to see me do this show. This has been absolutely bloody amazing. Cheers!" He retired from the stage as the crowd continued to shout.

"That was wonderful, Dan!" I threw my arms around him. I could have sworn that there was a sad sigh that came from someone behind us. I was boosted by her jealousy of Dan in my arms.

"Thank you Abby. You were my inspiration," he whispered in my ear. My heart skipped a beat.

He was congratulated more by Ken and Jenny as we sat at the table to converse. Several times other people in the bar came up to meet Daniel to talk and take pictures. I was a bit annoyed after a long time of this, but I didn't show it. Daniel was back in his happy place, popular and desired, and I didn't want to ruin that with bitterness.

Time passed easily, and although I didn't want to ruin the moment, I had to interject my need to get home. Three out of the four of us would need to go to work tomorrow morning, as well as get our kids off to school.

Once again being the most sober, I drove the four of us home. And just like before, Wendy had the sudden urge to sleep in her own bed. But she wasn't in the car for a minute before the vibrating engine had her fast asleep.

At the house, Dan carried Wendy in. Her tiny body lay against his chest, head on his shoulder. I carried his guitar, since my hands were available, setting it down by the foot of the stairs as he carried Wendy to her room on the second floor. The way he set her down reminded me of the movie "Annie," how the stone wall Daddy Warbucks began to show his softer side for the girl. They were becoming a family.

I enjoyed the thought.

_Our family_.

I smiled as he left a goodnight kiss on her forehead. I doubted that she was conscious enough to realize that we had made it home.

He held my hand as we walked back down the stairs, pleased with our evening.

"Thank you for helping me these last few weeks Abby."

"No problem," I replied as he stopped us at the bottom of the stairs. He turned to face me.

"Really, I can't remember a time in my life when I was much happier than I am right now. You've really turned my life around."

My cheeks swelled with warmth as his lips pressed mine. There was a burning in my chest. It felt like my lungs were to explode. Feeling this way about someone didn't seem normal.

_Just feel._ I argued with myself.

To feel was to be vulnerable, and I had held this attack off for so long. Every time I thought that I had won the battle, but I realized I was only losing the war. But it was one war that was ok to lose, and better yet, avoid the slaughter just by surrender.

I sensed exhilaration like no other in the acceptance of this fate. My arms felt outstretched to the world, as if I were standing up in a convertible traveling at top speed, letting the wind devour every molecule of my existence, twirling around and caressing every pore of my skin, revitalizing.

This thing, maybe it was love.

Love. Just feel love.

And so I cusped his face in my hands and as crazy as a mad woman I felt released from my cell. I kissed him back with full passion.

My hands outlined his perfect face, sucking in his aura. Breathing was an inconvenience, but it reminded me that I was alive. He was alive, inhaling and exhaling that sweet breath into me.

Ferocity took over.

I couldn't help it, and I didn't want to stop.

I couldn't touch him enough; his warm smooth skin seemed caged in clothing.

I moved my hands hastily to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons as my desire consumed me.

But he briefly pulled away. Breathing heavily, I opened my eyes, staring directly into his.

"Are you sure?" he choked out.

There was sincerity in his face, but his delicious aura pulled me back to him.

I nodded. "Yes." Then I begged. "Please, Danny."

He grinned and continued to kiss me as he swiftly lifted me into his sturdy arms. My legs wrapped around his torso as my lifesaver. We stumbled our way to my bedroom, hitting corners of walls and just laughing as we did, but never stopping the continuous make out session.

We barely got into my room, and I could feel myself slipping from his arms, so he sat me on my dresser counter.

His lips left mine shortly as he lifted my pink shirt off of my pulsing body. I frantically returned to his buttons, realizing my hate of the complexity of such a simple tool. He became as impatient as my hands, finally using his own just to rip open his shirt, silver buttons flying through the air, exposing his smooth chest.

He couldn't move the shirt down his sleeves fast enough, tracing his tongue around the edges of my lips, while slipping the shirt behind his back. Once they were free, he wrapped his arms around me once again. Danny began to work down from my lips, toward my neck, kissing as he went.

The pleasure was immense, never had I felt such adrenaline plague my arteries, saturating my blood with desire and purpose. I felt so strong, yet so weak, so I let myself fall back.

There was a loud crash of breaking glass.

Chapter 18

We stopped, frozen in space. It was like a slap to the face, bringing us back to reality.

I looked behind me.

Coins, intertwined with shards of glass. It was the remnants of my savings pickle jar.

I looked back at him, and gave a shrug. Immediately we resumed our play, only to be interrupted again.

"Mommy?"

The only sound in the world to take me out of that moment.

_Shit_.

"Stay upstairs, Wendy!"

"What was that noise?"

"Its fine Wendy, I just broke some glass. Stay upstairs! I don't want you to cut your toes!"

I looked into his eyes shyly. As much as I wanted to continue giving into my animalistic instincts, I was a mother before anything else.

"It's fine," he whispered, disappointed like I was.

I hopped down from the dresser counter, thankful that my sandals were still on. I was consumed in my thoughts, trying to remember how to think, how to walk, how to find a broom.

"Abby!" He tossed my pink shirt at me.

Yeah, that might be a good idea.

I threw it over my head, not taking notice of the tag on my throat.

I found the broom, dustpan and a bucket in the closet in the hallway, and returned to find Danny trying to walk around the shards while dressing himself.

"Why would you put anything in glass around here? Can't you get a plastic piggy bank?"

"That will be next on my list." I handed him the dustpan as I began to sweep under the bed, exposing not only the coins and glass, but the occasional dust bunny. We went through at least ten full heapings of the dustpan, throwing whatever we found into the orange bucket.

"Why do you have so many coins?" he said as he lifted another pan full above the bucket.

"It's my savings fund."

"For what occasion?" he asked.

"Well, it's really Wendy's college fund, but sometimes I have had to dip into it to keep the electricity on. I try really hard not to, but sometimes things come up."

"I'm sure she will forgive you." He grinned.

"I really try to put all my change in it every day. Or at least I used to."

"How much do you think is here?"

"Not much. Maybe a few hundred dollars. But it's nice to have an emergency fund should Wendy really need something. Like she needed new shoes this school year. She was in tears one day because her shoes were too tight, but she didn't want to tell me because she thought I would be mad for some reason. That's a six year old for you."

"Sounds like her mother." He smirked. I sneered at his joke. With my luck, worrying was going to be genetic.

"Mommy?"

"What sweetheart?"

"I'm thirsty."

"I'll be up in a few minutes honey. Let me finish cleaning first."

"But I'm really thirsty!" she whined.

"I'll take care of it," he said. He rubbed my arm gently. "I'll bring up a glass of water for you Wendy. Just wait upstairs." He kissed my forehead and headed toward the kitchen.

I continued sweeping, stirring in my own thoughts. As good as it felt, I should have been more responsible. Wendy was in the house, and I didn't want to have to explain any awkward situation to her.

I finished the mess, adding into my bucket the extra dust I could find. It had been a while since I had seen Danny. I figured that Wendy wouldn't let him leave. I slowly walked up the stairs, beginning to notice a humming coming from where I was headed. Dim light bled through the slight crack in the door to Wendy's room. I approached even slower, listening to the familiar guitar chords that ricocheted my way. Standing at the entrance, I peeked into the princess's room.

Danny was sitting on the edge of her ruffled pink bed spread, guitar in lap. He strummed along painlessly, humming the words of 'Darling-Montague'.

Wendy's eyes were shut, and her breathing deep. She looked like porcelain doll, so easy to break and disturb.

I listened to the strumming for a minute, watching him meditate.

_What is he thinking about?_ I wondered. Could it be that maybe music was his new calling? Was it about the night's events? Maybe he did fantasize about us running away from the small less-than-cozy life that we had. We could go to Costa Rica and live on the ocean. He could play guitar at a local restaurant and I could help him with the lyrics in between waitressing or something like that. Of course Wendy would be with us, I could home school her or see about their schools down there. The environment there would be perfect for her to learn about all those animals, the iguanas, the macaws and so on.

I began to walk back down the steps, slowly pacing myself to the rhythm of the guitar chords. It was quite a moment for reflection. Thinking of the last month seemed compact; it felt like only yesterday that he had showed up at my doorstep. And through all the chaos of jobs and life in general, the son-of-a-bitch had come around to be a really decent guy. He was just incredibly misunderstood, just like anyone else. He had more in common with the human race than tabloids gave him credit for. The son of a bitch was a man, a perfectly flawed man with good intentions. Most importantly, he was mine. _My_ son of a bitch.

_Now hold up_ , I caught myself. I couldn't claim him, there was barely a month of time I had spent with him.

Be rational, Abby, don't let this go to your head. These things take time.

At least it was nice to say that he belonged to no one else.

My internal thoughts were frustrating to me. I wanted so badly just to enjoy things as they were, but I couldn't help but wonder about the future. I was happy, for the first time in a very long while, and yet, worry would always follow me.

I laid down on my bed, waiting. I curled up with a pillow, thinking about the man upstairs.

Danny was always known for his spontaneous nature. Me, just the opposite. I planned for any scenario, he lived in the day. Either way, our emotions would catch up to us somehow.

I thought of the wild beast in the police station cell and I smirked. That was not the Danny I knew. Besides that, it was a terrible misunderstanding, where Jerry should have been punished for his dirty mouth. At least Dan would act and stand up for something he believed in, while I probably would have just remained silent and dealt with it.

My thoughts began to slow, and I could feel the weight on my eyelids. There was no intention of falling asleep, because I wanted to talk to Danny after his recital. But in the end, I did.

I could have sworn that as I approached the deepest levels of slumber, that a pair of lips touched my cheek with most elegant grace.

Chapter 19

"Can I borrow your car for the day while you're at work?"

It was morning. I had awoken alone, disappointed, but grateful that I didn't risk Wendy walking in and needing to find an explanation for the guest in my bed. Danny sat at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of oatmeal. I was making hot tea for both of us. I guess the taste was starting to grow on me.

"I guess. But you'll have to drop me off at eight fifteen, and I'm sure Jenny wouldn't mind giving me a ride home. I work until six."

"That'll be fine. I won't need it that long. I want to go talk to Anton about playing some more gigs at some other pubs that he owns."

"Just don't stress yourself out."

"Well, it's about time I started making my own money again. I can pay some rent."

"You don't need to worry about that right now."

"But I do. I've always had enough money to buy everything, and now I can barely pay for the basics." He twiddled the spoon around the bowl.

"Really, I understand." I set down the earl grey next to his bowl.

"Even if I could just make enough so you wouldn't have to work as much, then I could feel better about it."

"As nice as that sounds, I can handle the work. I've been doing it a long time now, so you kind of just get used to it."

"You get used to hundreds of thousands a week pretty quick too."

That number was impossible in my mind.

"Just remember, it's about being happy, not about dollar signs."

"Yeah, I guess. But it can be nice to have both."

I sipped my tea. I couldn't directly empathize, but I could sympathize. He did use to have a lot, probably more than I could make in ten of my lifetimes.

"If it really bothers you that much, you could work it off helping me paint the rest of the house."

"I guess that will be a good start."

"Would you mind just being back home by four? That way Wendy doesn't have to sit at Jenny's house for too long after school. She's getting tired of hearing Jenny's old man telling the same stories over again and again."

He looked surprised by my request, as he should have been. Rarely did I ever let Wendy out of my circle of protection, unless it was with Jenny's family or Ron. "Sure."

Wendy peeked around the corner.

"Did you hear that sweetie? When Mrs. Brown picks you up from school, you can come right home. Dan will be here."

Her eyes softened as she smiled. She joined him at the kitchen table. "Okay."

I served her a bowl of oatmeal, maple brown sugar, slightly less water than the instructions said. That was the way she loved it, a thick goop of drying cement.

She ate quickly, but not fast enough. Good thing I was prepared and had already slipped a granola bar into her backpack. As soon as Mrs. Brown's car beeped in my driveway, she sprinted out the door. "Bye Mommy! Bye Daniel!"

"Bye sweetie! Tell Mrs. Brown to drop you off at home tonight!"

There was a slam of the front door that echoed in the house.

I looked at Danny, "You finished?"

"Yes, delicious porridge." He handed me his bowl as I scooped up Wendy's. I scraped the leftovers of hers into the trash bin and put them both in the sink as I prepared dishwater.

I was startled as he whispered, "Let me" in my ear.

"Jeez, you are as quiet as a cat. You scared the crud out of me."

"Sorry, but why don't you let me do dishes for once?"

I laughed. "Do the words "red socks" and "burnt eggs" ring a bell?"

He smiled. "Well, at least let me assist you."

"Okay, you can dry if you want. Can you handle not dropping them?" I winked.

"That's not really what I meant. I wanted to help you wash."

Before I could spit out my naïve sentence, he stood behind me, tracing his fingers down the sides of my arms, to my hands. He placed his chin on my shoulder and gave a content sigh as he guided my hands into the suds.

"Oh," I grasped. The innuendo had slipped by me earlier. Lack of practice, I guess.

I think we only washed one bowl the entire time. He splashed a lot, and I squirmed away from the water, but never him. I laughed at this play, and it felt good to sincerely smile.

His fingers intertwined into mine, the soap bubbles outlining the only distinction between our two hands. Sunlight sparkled in from the little window over the sink, highlighting the rings of deep purples, yellows and blues in the froth. In a moment of agreeable silence, we both looked at our combined hands, marveling at the sight. Maybe I couldn't claim him as mine yet, but it wasn't anyone else's hand that he was holding.

I wondered if he thought the same thing.

He gently pressed his lips to my exposed shoulder, and then did it again, and again, inching toward the nape of my neck. It was thrilling, as if he electrified me with every kiss. I felt at ease, noting every pressure point that he marked with his faultless lips.

He brought those beautiful lips back to my ear. He swallowed, and exhaled. The sweet heat of a man swept over my skin.

"I love you," he whispered.

I felt a warm shiver glide down my back. My heartbeat tripled at the words, but I felt no fear. No cynicism.

I believed him. I wasn't scared, because I knew that this feeling was right.

I turned to him, documenting his pause for my response. "You know what?" I whispered.

"What?" he whispered back.

"I love you too." I meant it, with every cell in my body. The phase fell right off my tongue, with no speed bumps in the way. I was grounded, balanced into a state of a knowing that everything would be okay.

He wrapped his arms around my body, breathing me in. He pulled back only to tenderly kiss me on the lips while cradling my head in one of his masculine hands. He let his forehead rest on mind.

"I'm still waiting to wake up any second now," I said. I couldn't help but be a downer. It was my reality kick back.

He let out a laugh with his reply. "Maybe this was the rubbish that those writers you hate so much were trying to get at."

"It doesn't mean that I'm not dreaming. I've probably been in a coma for the last month and imagined it all."

"Maybe they wrote those things because they felt the same." He kissed my forehead.

I grinned smugly. _Maybe it was_.

We stood there, enjoying the embrace of the other and admiring the dream like state of the moment. Then he said, "Why don't you and I go on a date?"

I questioned the idea. "Aren't we past that stage?"

"Maybe we did it backwards, but I'd still like to take you out, officially. Let me take you somewhere special to celebrate last night's paycheck."

"Why don't we just stay in?"

"Because, what's the point in making money if you can't spend it on the one you love?"

My cheeks flushed. _I_ was in love.

"Besides, the measly paycheck I get, well, I would rather spend it on memories than rent."

We chuckled together.

"How about tomorrow night?"

"Fine," I agreed. "But nothing crazy."

"I think I can handle that." He smiled as he dove in for another kiss on my cheek. He stayed there, bringing me into his torso with placid pull. It felt good to hold him, and be held by him. The heat of his body radiated against my soul, warming every element, fusing any fractured shards of glass back into a single pane. It may never be perfect again, but at least I could see a bit more clearly.

Serenity in my own home. Once it seemed impossible, but time had finally given me a break.

_Time_.

I swung my eyes at the clock. I was late for work.

Chapter 20

In the midst of my cussing, I somehow found a way to change out of my soap drenched clothing into my khakis, white polo, and blue smock.

I sped my way over to work, handing the keys to Danny in the passenger seat without a second thought. My main concern was getting into my job.

I avoided Jenny's face as I passed by the service desk to clock in and tried to avoid her throughout the day, but I couldn't escape lunch. Jenny used her power of scheduling so that the two of us had a bit of overlap in our break time.

She was hovering over me as I ate my peanut butter sandwich. "So, did you know that you haven't been late or missed a day since your maternity leave?"

I filed through my head for the quickest and most distracting response. As I broke down cardboard boxes in the backroom and restocked the beer cooler, twice, I had imagined every possible question she would ask, standing by with a comeback.

"Doesn't that mean I am owed a raise for my years of dedication?" She ignored my query as she jumped up to sit on the counter.

"Were you very tired this morning?" she pried. "Was being up so late on a Thursday night too hard for you to handle?" Her grin was stretched tighter than the cheetah print bra underneath her thin shirt.

"I lost track of time."

Dissatisfied with my excuse for tardiness, she moaned. "You are gonna have to do way better than that."

"Excuse me?"

She placed her face only inches from mine. "Spill it girl, I want the details. How was it? Is he huge? Oh I bet he is..."

I gasped. "Jenny!"

"Don't be such a virgin about it. You have to tell me _everything_." She severely stressed the last word. "All I got is my imagination, so you'll want to fill me in, because I'm sure I can image worse things than you could tell me."

"Don't be so loud."

"Ok!" she sarcastically whispered, nudging me.

I glanced around the break-room to make sure no one in sight. It looked more like an interrogation room, windowless with the bright solo lights. I definitely felt accused of some crime.

"Nothing happened."

She cocked her head. "Wow, I was right. I can imagine worse things."

I debated on filling her in on the airborne silver buttons.

I shook my head. "It's not like that. We are taking our time."

"Booooriiing! Where is the juice? I saw the way that you two were looking at each other last night. You are totally holding back on me."

"Would you like me to lie to you?"

She stood up annoyed, looking for the right words. "You have got to be kidding me. You are not going to share one detail?"

I shifted through my memory inbox of details, screening for anything PG. "We are going on a date tomorrow," I said.

"What? That's not what I meant. Besides that, a date? Isn't that backwards?"

"That's what I thought, but he wants to take me out officially."

She sighed. "I take it then you need me to watch Wendy tomorrow."

_Wendy_. I hadn't even thought of her for tomorrow. This fact disturbed me, making my stomach drop.

"Um, yea. That would be great." I definitely owed Jenny and her father a lot of babysitting hours after the last couple weeks. I could only hope that she wasn't keeping copious tabs. I looked at the clock. My break was almost up. I crinkled a dirty napkin into a ball in my hand as I walked to the garbage can.

"So are you going to go shopping tonight after work?" she asked.

"For what?"

"You know," she said. "Lingerie, condoms, maybe some chocolate syrup..."

"You are seriously impossible sometimes."

"What? You don't need to end up on Maury trying to prove a baby's daddy if you can avoid it." Sometimes I felt like she never heard a syllable that crossed my lips. We were supposedly best friends, but times like these reminded me of how much she used me for her own satisfaction.

I glared at her. "Sex is not the most important thing in life you know."

"But it certainly makes it in the top three." I forgot how well she could disgust me sometimes. The way she made this whole thing sound so casual frustrated me.

"No, I'm not going shopping. I'm going straight home. Actually speaking of which, can you give me a ride home today?"

"Sure. Wait, how did you get here?"

"Danny dropped me off. He wanted to use the car today."

She stared at me. "And you actually gave it to him?"

"Yeah, he went to ask about performing some more shows or something."

"Cool. I would love to see him perform again. That show last night was great. It wasn't like the punk stuff we went to when we were in high school, but it was completely wonderful all the same. I'm so glad I recorded it."

"Yeah," I agreed and stopped. "Wait, you recorded it?"

"My camera also has a video recorder on it."

"They can do that?"

"You need to get more technology and use it for once girl. I wouldn't be surprised if that cheese brick of a digital camera you have has video on it too." She was mocking my thrift store wonder. "Anyway, I recorded a few of the songs."

"I'd like to see those. I'm sure that Danny would like to see them too. He was so nervous last night that he must have smoked a pack of cigarettes before the show. I told him that he would be great, and he was. Showing him would only confirm it."

"Sure, in fact you can go onto..."

A page came over the old intercom system, bellowing an echo through the break room. "Abby Blossom, please come to the service desk immediately." It was Jenny's father.

"Hmm," I paused. "Maybe he needs me to open the second register." I hastily walked out the break room and directly into the dairy aisle. The store didn't seem busy before, but it usually was feast or famine around here, and you could never predict which it would be.

I came out the aisle around a stand of two liter sodas.

Ron was at the service desk, fully dressed in his officer attire. He looked at me, and even from across the registers I could tell it was with worried eyes.

Wendy was my first thought.

_Don't panic._ I tried to calm myself as I came closer to the service desk. This wasn't the first time that he had showed up to the supermarket looking for me. About a year ago when Wendy was in kindergarten, he was the informant on her broken arm. She was on the monkey bars, which I always tell her not to do, and her hands slipped.

"What's up, Ron?" I tried to keep my cool. "Is everything all right?"

"Not exactly."

I broke my placid character. "Oh my god, Wendy."

"No, Wendy is fine. She's at school. Something else has happened, Abby."

My stomach churned. "Danny?" What reckless mistake did he make now, letting his emotions get the best of him? How much was bail going to be this time?

"Um, no. I haven't seen Daniel at all."

Those were the two most important things on my mind at the moment, and I was mystified by what else could be going on.

"Abby, why don't you come with me?"

I looked at Jenny's dad behind the service counter, startled by the seriousness in Ron's voice.

"Don't worry Abby, we can handle the crowd today." He let out a sarcastic chuckle.

Ron led me to his car and let me in. It wasn't the first time I had been in his cruiser, but this time was different. He let the engine turn over as we sat in stillness.

"You're going to have to say something to me, Ron. This silence is killing me."

He let out a loud sigh, and let the beans spill.

"Abby your house is gone."

I did a double take. "What?"

"It burned to the ground."

I stuttered in silence. I thought of my little old farmhouse, creaky and splintered. Perfect firewood.

"It's gone?" I waited for the punchline.

He nodded looking me directly in the eyes. This was no practical joke.

We drove in silence to my house, or rather lack thereof. I tried to wrap my head around this whole situation, but I couldn't. Maybe it was just a nightmare. I could only hope.

It didn't set in until we pulled up to the lot, my view blocked by the fire truck. My walking was jagged and weak as I rounded the red lights and sirens.

Only the house's blackened framed remained, with smoldering swirls of embers and smoke climbing toward the sky. Other than the frame, it was exactly as Ron described: gone.

Before I comprehended, I was on my knees. Ron joined me, rocking me as he held. "It's all right Abby." His attempts to soothe were welcomed, but I couldn't stop the tears.

I stared at the fiery ashes, begging myself to wake up.

Chapter 21

I stared blankly. It was all I could do. Time had no appreciation.

Ron wanted me to go to the hospital, fearing medical shock, but I refused to move. I didn't belong anywhere other than my own land, my home. Everything was a mumble around me. The sounds of the sirens began to fade. Conversation was background noise. The sun was beginning to set. The red and orange sky only reinforced what I had missed in the action. I watched the firemen walk among the charcoal, looking for clues to the cause.

My car slowly pulled up to the gravel driveway.

"Blimey! Abby! Are you all right?!" Danny rushed to my side, forgetting to shut the car door.

I attempted at a nod while trying to hold myself together.

He embraced me, and it was the one place I felt a fraction safer.

"Where's Wendy?" He stroked my hair.

I hadn't spoken in hours, and my mouth was drier than the desert. "She's at Jenny's house. I couldn't let her see..." I paused to look at the lot.

"But she is all right?"

"Yeah, she was at school still."

He pulled me closer with a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. What happened?"

"They don't know yet. They are investigating right now."

"Oh my god Abby, I'm so sorry." He held me tighter.

I tried to be optimistic. "At least none of us were in the house. We are all okay. That's what matters." Saying it out loud felt hollow.

"Absolutely." He gently kissed my forehead.

Ron walked our way after finishing his conversation with the fireman.

"What did they say?" I asked.

"Well, they don't think it was an arsonist. It's still too early to be sure, but from the forensic evidence, it looks like the fire started inside the house."

"Where?"

"Your room." I felt Danny's hands squeeze my arms. I could only think it a reaction, as I had stopped breathing for a moment too.

"My room?" I would have for sure thought the kitchen with all the old faulty electrics. But I guess that all the cords that carried current in that house were a fire hazard.

"Electric outlet?"

"It doesn't really look like that either. The forensic expert says that it didn't start in the wall. It had to of started in the middle of the room."

"The middle?" I was flabbergasted. It was odd and random for it to have started there.

"Did you use a candle or something this morning?"

I shook my head. The only reason I had any candles in the house was a backup if the power and flashlights had failed.

Danny gasped. I turned to see the realization on his face, a conundrum was starting to make sense.

"What is it?" I asked as the horror washed over his face.

"Oh my god, Abby."

"Dan?" I pushed my hand against his cheek, seeing his eyes twitch. His soul was fighting with himself.

He could barely let it out. "I had a cigarette."

"So?" I didn't think I needed to relook at the situation twice. "They said it started inside." I saw the conclusion in his face. I was suddenly flushed with anguish. "You were smoking inside my house?"

"I was in a hurry and I must have forgotten that it was in my hand." He wrapped his arms around me, petitioning for mercy in his touch. But I did not react to the contact, I was feeling numb. Putting it all together in my head was making me dizzy.

I must have turned new shades of blue and red as he held me.

_Stay calm_ , I tried to reason with the hyperventilating voice in my head. _It's ok_.

He had a cigarette in my house, and now the house was gone.

_It's just the house_.

"Wait," I said. He pulled back from me, watching carefully every tremble and nod that my head made. "Why were you in my room?"

He fumbled for words, stuttering without making a sentence. I glared at him, waiting for the reply.

Then it hit me, "Better yet, why were you smoking at all?" He had given up smoking only a week ago, but besides last night, he hadn't had a cigarette that entire week.

Last night he was nervous. _It helps calm me down_ , he had said.

"Why were you in my room with a cigarette, Daniel?" His eyes begged me to stop the inquiry.

Ripping myself from the false safety of his arms, I marched my way over to the frame of the house, walking my way through the debris.

"Stop Abby! That's dangerous! It hasn't been cleared by the fire marshal yet!" But Ron's concern didn't sway me. I walked through the house, as if the walls were still there, to my where my room used to be. I stood and began to take inventory.

There were bits and pieces of everything draped in black ash: the wire springs from the mattress, metal knobs from the dresser on the floor, melted globs of plastic goo from cheap Made in China trinkets. It was hard to look for a clue when the whole scene was wrong. I paced in the open air, trying to think of anything that was out of place, beyond the crazy circumstances. I scuffed my shoe across the floor to push away rubble, and noted the warped green pennies that lay at the corner of where my bed used to be.

I was wordless when I realized what was missing. I searched the room with my eyes twice just to be sure.

I stumbled over the debris to get to Daniel, this time ignoring the fact that I was walking through use-to-be walls. Ron saw the anger in my stride and intercepted me.

I screamed. "You burnt down my house for $300!?"

His eyes told the truth. I didn't care for the apology within them, I could only see red.

"Abby! Calm down!" Ron struggled to keep me away.

"You were smoking a cigarette because you were nervous, because you were planning to steal my money!"

Ron looked at Daniel as I did, horrified by the revelation.

"Abby, I borrowed it."

"Without permission! Why? I've done everything for you, and yet you do this to me?"

"I never meant to..."

"You are such an asshole." My tongue was quick, and I could tell it hurt him.

"I know. But my intentions were good." I broke free of Ron's grip, bringing my face inches within Daniel's.

"Making me homeless was a good intention?" If there was ever a moment where looks could kill, Daniel would have been dead before I could have solved the case.

"Let me explain. I took your car to go see Anton, and long story short of it, I used his internet to check my email; my agent Eugene sent me an email to a link on YouTube. It was of me playing last night. It had so many bloody hits that Eugene told me to get a recording done and to send it to him right away and we could cash in on this. Anton told me about this recording studio in Milwaukee, and he called in a few favors to get me in right away, but they needed cash for overhead expenses. I didn't have any, and then I remembered your bucket with the pickle jar fragments. I swear I was going to pay you back triple."

My anger rushed to my head as his story quickened in pace to fit in every necessary detail before I struck.

"So I came here, and was debating on borrowing it. I was so worked up that I must have smoked ten fags before I suddenly mustered enough courage to go into your house to get it. But I must have had that burst of courage in the middle of a cig. I remember taking a drag, but I don't remember getting rid of it. I must have dropped it in your room when I picked up the bucket. And that is why I'm so late tonight, we were recording and it took so much longer than we thought."

Another thought had occurred to me. It was at least seven o'clock. He said he would be home by four for Wendy. He would have left her alone. What if the fire had started later? What if she had gotten home only to be trapped in it? A thousand scenarios flashed in my mind.

"So you did burn my house down for $300?"

"It actually turned out to be $540."

I smacked him straight across the face without even registering the idea of the reflex. He should have known this was no time for jokes.

"You son of a bitch." I felt the words tingle in my throat, as I could feel every ounce of venom that projected with them. "Get the hell away from me." I shouted it several times to prevent him from getting a word in edgewise. Eventually he took the hint.

I didn't care if I never saw him again and frankly, I didn't care if I ever would.

Chapter 22

Six months later and the damn song was everywhere. I tried to mute everything, but still the radio and television seemed to find a way to reach my senses. The grocery store was the worst, playing pop music over the intercoms in between pages for cleanup in the aisles. 'Darling-Montague' was beyond popular. It was everywhere, from commercials for new TVs to important news briefs. It must have played a hundred times a day, and each time, I would feel my heart sink a bit further for a false promise. But with every day that passed, I wanted nothing more than to return to the days of when that promise was sincere. It was only then that I realized that I had fallen into the same trap twice.

Jenny was on carpool duty today, dropping off the last kid besides her own. She didn't know how else to really help me other than moving me into the apartment over Carol's Bakery and making good on her turn in the carpool. She took over for my days for a few weeks until I decided to get out of my obvious depression. Something snapped within me and then I tried to get back into some type of normal routine again. It was quite strange not to walk through the old farmhouse, because it was all I had ever known. Being in the new place felt like a permanent vacation, but somewhere in my head I could rationalize I could return home.

I greeted them at the door. "Hi Jenny, Jessica. Hey there sweetie. How was school? What did you learn?"

"Nothin'." This was her usual response lately, and the few words during the day she would say to me. I patted her head as she flung her pink backpack on the kitchen table chair.

"Can Jessica stay for a while? I want to show her something in my room."

"Sure sweetie." The two ran down the hall.

"We can't stay too long. Ken has to get to work for overnight inventory and he needs my help."

"Well, come in for a little bit then. Do you want something to drink?"

"Water would be fine."

I walked into the kitchen to get it. In comparison to the old farm house, it was smaller, but quite an upgrade. The stove and refrigerator were only a decade old in comparison to the vintage 50s appliances. I actually had a dishwasher, although I still think that doing it by hand led to cleaner dishes. I didn't mind the other improvements, such as smoother countertops or the newer pine cabinets that actually opened without creaking and splintering.

Another perk was the smell. No longer did I wake up in the haze of moth balls and mold, but rather sweet pastries baking in the ovens below the apartment. Wendy thoroughly enjoyed Carol's free treats, and I rarely interfered with her few simple pleasures, but I insisted that she and I help Carol twice a week to help offset the cost of the food. We would work for barely a half an hour, just putting away some dishes and I would put in additional time cleaning those dishes just to make up for Carol's kindness.

Jenny sat on a hard stool at the island. "This place is starting to look homey pretty quickly."

"Well, I didn't have many boxes to unpack." I sighed. It was very true. I had maybe one half full box that I used to scavenge any remnants of the old farm house. There was barely anything in the shed as well. A few pictures, burnt on the edges of course, ash covered jewelry that hadn't melted, and somehow I was able to dig up a couple of Wendy's toys, trying my hardest to make them back to their pre-fire status with a cleaning. But that was really about it. The house was like a pile of dried kindling.

She had a question to ask, I could see it in the way she stood. "When do you close on the land?"

"Supposedly Thursday. The Super Mart people are very eager to start building."

There was a sadness in Jenny's face, and I knew why. The second that I realized I couldn't afford to build a new house on that land, and that it was as useless to me, I had thrown Jenny's family into a panic attack. There was no way that they were going to be able to compete with Super Mart. But my hands were tied. When the contractors had heard my house was gone, they increased their offer, I assume to take advantage that they wouldn't need a demolition company now. I had no insurance on the house, because what agent in their right mind would insure it? Besides that, my money had more important places to go over the years, like diapers and electricity. So in the end, Super Mart shareholders won, and I had the blood money in my pocket. I was disgusted with myself.

"I'm really sorry Jenny."

"I know. I don't hate you. Just remember that. No one does. We all knew that it would be a matter of time. This whole town is building up as fast as Atlantis fell." Silence coasted into the room. I knew that no matter how many apologies I could stack in her favor, I would always feel guilt. Generations of Jenny's family had owned that little piece of Americana for over a century. Improvements and expansions over that time hadn't changed its significance to their daily lives.

She changed the subject. "Don't be mad, but I got you something for your birthday."

I moaned. I hated birthdays, at least my own. She just had to remind me that I was a quarter of a century now.

She handed me a blue envelope.

"I know your birthday is tomorrow, but I wanted to explain it."

I opened it, rolling my eyes in the process. It was a card, which had a sexy stud of a man on the front, defined biceps and all sorts of muscles I couldn't begin to name. I snickered with Jenny. It was just the sort of card that she would pick out. As I opened it, something flew out and hit my chest. I figured it was a gift certificate or something of the like. But as I lifted them to my eyes, they seemed to gain the weight of a brick. They were concert tickets.

"Jenny..."

"Don't hate me, but I think you should go. You've been so miserable these last months, and I figured out why. It's not the house. You always hated that place but never had enough time or energy to move. You may not admit it to me or yourself, but you miss him. Your last words to him were in the heat of the moment."

Even though I had my negative moments with Jenny, she truly was my friend. She could always see right through me, and as much as I hated to face myself, she was right. I did miss him. The Daniel that I had fallen in love with. My Danny.

"You and I have work off that night, so we can go and see if we can get a hold of him and if not, well, at least you tried."

"How do you expect to get his attention in a sea of screaming teenage girls?" His status as celebrity was back with more force than ever. This time, he was the handsome singer as opposed to the award winning actor. It was quite amazing how the media took him back so easily, like an old lost friend. The idea of even being anywhere close to him was impossible, not only because of the bodyguards that accompanied him everywhere, but the entire entourage that kept his existence stunning.

Jenny smiled. "I could flash him." Something she would do in a heartbeat.

"Just like all the other fans there," I replied.

She thought again. "We can make a poster."

"That he can see in row..." I scanned the tickets in my hand. "...WW? In the nosebleed section?"

"It was the best I could get! You should have seen the prices on anything closer! I was lucky to get those, otherwise some scalper could be selling them for quadruple the amount on eBay right now."

"Maybe you should sell them, if they are worth that much."

"Abby, please accept the gift. I worked really hard to switch around schedules not only at work, but also so that Ken would be home with the girls so that you and I can stay in a hotel in Milwaukee for the night."

My half fists came down on the island counter. "You didn't!"

"We can have a girl's night out. Like hell I'm going to drive home after that."

"I'll drive. Please, don't do the hotel. You don't need to spend that kind of money on me. It's bad enough that I can't pay for my own ticket."

She folded her arms. "That's why it's called a gift." She huffed. "Fine. But we are still going Friday."

I nodded and then paused. "Wait...this Friday?!" I confirmed the date on the tickets. "That's tomorrow!"

"I didn't want to give you too much time to think it over and decide not to go."

Was I that predictable?

"Wendy is going to come to my house straight after school, and then I'll pick you up around six."

I let out a loud sigh of defeat. "Ok, you win."

"Great!" She looked at the clock. "Oh wow, I need to get home. Jessica? Come on!"

Chapter 23

I continued through my motions of motherly duties. I fixed dinner and made sure that Wendy did her homework. Other than the haze that lingered in the back of my mind, all seemed to be normal.

Wendy fell asleep on the couch watching television. This was something that I would have never allowed in the old farm house, but I found myself a little bit more lenient since everything went up in flames. Maybe it was a sort of a bribe, leniency in exchange for her love. I knew she was unhappy, and who wouldn't be traumatized from all of this? She was only seven, and all the things that were important to her were gone. Her toys, her bed, her familiar surroundings. It was enough to distract her in school. She was such a bright kid before the fire, but then I started receiving calls from her teacher Ms. Louse that Wendy was disruptive and not doing assignments. She tried to be as accommodating as possible to the circumstances, but her patience was wearing thin. Luckily, Wendy was starting to come around.

I lifted her as gently as possible from the couch and carried her to her bed. It was moments like this that I cherished, especially these days, when I could be needed by my daughter. She meant the world to me, and if I could change anything for her, I would.

I loved to hear her relaxed breathing on my shoulder. I laid her down, tucking her in with the purple sheets, and kissing her forehead with tenderness. I stroked the hair away from her stone face, swallowing the picture of my sleeping beauty.

As I stood to leave, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Thin black frame, face down on the floor, only peering out from under the bed by an inch. This may have not been odd in a normal child's room, but when everything was so bare from lack of possessions and starting over, it stuck out like a yellow daisy in a field of red roses. I bent over and picked it up, flipping it to see the other side.

Perfect Daniel. It was a picture of him ripped out of a magazine. Obviously from the rip pattern, it was a hasty action. She must have taken it from someone at school or one of the magazines at my work. It was a candid, looking like he was on his way into an airport or something. Even when he didn't pose he was a walking piece of art. His stance was apprehensive, waiting in line. His dark blue jeans were slimming on his already long legs, and his shirt was simple, some worn out faded picture was left on it. His eyes were covered by stylish sun glasses, as if that would hide his perfect heart shaped face. The angle of his jaw and the height of his cheekbones were the most noticeable in the world. Even the greatest of lovers didn't know their partners' faces as well as I knew his.

He was beautiful, as if the dirty loner on my doorstep months ago had never existed. You would have never guessed from that picture that the herculean figure was so breakable and human, the way I remembered him.

If only I could take off those sunglasses on his face. A part of me wanted to see those almond brown eyes again, try to see down into his soul.

Jenny was right. But I just tried to confuse myself with denial. Was it really him that I missed? Or was it the thought of him? Or not just Dan, but someone? If it had been anyone else in the world, would I have opened my door and invited a stranger in on a rainy day? Probably not.

_His celebrity charm rubbed on me and he suckered me in_ , I told myself. But he was so wretched; wouldn't I have been compassionate toward anyone that pain-stricken? I would hope so.

I placed the little black frame on Wendy's dresser. She should be allowed to see him and not hide him under the bed. Then my thoughts began to fuse bridges.

She missed him.

Of course I knew this already, but it didn't really click until then. All the trouble with school, not talking to me like she used to, I had blamed it on the fire. She didn't miss her toys or her bed as much as she missed Daniel-Lawrence.

Dan was the first father figure she'd had in her short life. She had never met Roger, and the only other man who could have even come close to a father figure was Ron, but we only saw him here and there.

I was reminded of the night we broke the pickle jar. I tried to clean up every broken piece of glass to prevent my daughter's slip on them, while he actually tended to her. He sang her to sleep, strumming his guitar softly as she descended into a dream state. I remember seeing her peaceful face, porcelain with contentment. Not like tonight; tonight she was just sleeping in restlessness.

My poor Wendy. I wasn't the only one suffering. But I knew that I could handle the pain. I didn't like to see her so unhappy. All I had done to protect her in her short life, and yet I couldn't have foreseen something like this. I gave up so much for her, even my own little bit of happiness, just so that I could keep her in an innocent child's world. It was painful to see the one person I loved hold back her feelings.

I put the frame back into its original place under the bed.

I had been working so hard the last few months to get her out of her troubled state, I didn't want her to regress back into it by my action of bringing him to front and center again.

I vowed once again, never to let a man hurt my daughter. I didn't care about my happiness anymore at that moment.

I closed her door, mouthing a silent "I love you" to the snoozing princess. I walked back to the couch and sat down. It wasn't very comfortable, and I wondered how Wendy had so easily fallen asleep on it.

_At least we have it_ , I reminded myself.

There were very little furnishings in the apartment. Carol and Thomas found me a couch, and frequent customers of Koper's gave some donations. It was quite frustrating to have so little to organize for once. Walls had no pictures or artwork, except the few paintings I would tape up from Wendy's art class. The simple thick brushings of flowers and stick figures gave the room a little more character. Otherwise, everything was just plain.

I didn't want to wallow in my grief, so I curled up with a cushion. The TV was still on from when Wendy had been watching it, but it no longer played cartoons. It was the beginning of late night TV. So I let myself fall into a hypnotic daze, not really paying attention to the jokes, the guests, the music.

After the shows were over, I flipped through the channels, looking for any distraction I could find. There were plenty of infomercials trying to sell the newest lame technology and easiest hard way to get fit. I found myself thirsty, so I left the TV on as I went to go get a glass of water. By the time I came back, a new show had started. I sat down, unable to move my thousand pound hands.

"TMZ has got the latest scoop on the hottest hunk! We have Daniel Lawrence at a restaurant, with his ex-wife Kristin Leittl. They have been seen together many places lately. Some of the paparazzi got close enough to shoot these photos." Daniel and Kristen were sitting at a white cover clothed table. He was looking directly at Kristen with stern eyebrows, her perfect body arched toward him in the sunlight. "As you can see, he looks very interested in whatever Kristen has to say. Later we caught them leaving the four star restaurant holding hands." Sure enough, he was holding her hand, but his pace was hastened as he looked ahead. Kristen smiled at the camera, showing her stainless teeth. "So we don't know if they are trying to rekindle something or not, but from the looks of it, something is definitely going on."

I turned off the television in disgust.

He was with her. He was holding her hand.

It was official: he was not mine.

I fought the tears that welled up inside me, but it was hard to hold back a river when your dam is made of twigs.

_He was back where he belonged_ , I reassured myself. He had lost everything, but now it was back.

I thought back to the night of his dive bar performance. After the initial jitters, his face lit up and he seemed invincible. That was the world in which he could be happy, being in the spotlight. I could never give him anything like that, not in this shithole.

This was all I could tell myself in order to begin the process of forgetting him for good.

Chapter 24

There came a knock at the door. Jenny was early.

"Come on in!" I yelled. "I'll be out in a second!" I was still checking myself over in the bathroom mirror. I didn't have any makeup on, and my clothes were unfashionably comfy. Just a plain purple top and a pair of light blue jeans. I knew Jenny would throw a fit at my lack of style, and strip me down for a sexy makeover, which was probably her reason for arriving so early. But I was ready to stand my ground and I was in no mood to be "delicious," as she would say.

I didn't even want to go to the concert. After watching TMZ and realizing how far from me he was now, I couldn't bear the thought of seeing him. It would confirm my fears that I could still be in love with him, and the sutures in my heart would be torn out again.

I was going to try to stall for as long as I could, maybe force Jenny to take me to dinner first or something. Maybe I could lie and say I forgot about a doctor's appointment for Wendy. On a Friday, at six pm.

Stupid.

I sighed. She'd had months to prepare for any excuse I was going to come up with. So I would just have to settle with going to Daniel's concert. As awkward as it would be, the chance of him actually seeing or recognizing me would be so minute that even if I had a boob job, my tits would be lost in the sea of young teenage breasts.

And even if he saw me, what good would it do? I could see that he was happy again with my own eyes. He was back in the spotlight, where he belonged. I could only be thankful that I was there to help him find a passion in life. That thought made it a little easier to go on with my own.

I looked over my outfit one last time before going into battle. My weak excuses for armor were trivial, but at least they were there. I began to walk down the short hallway.

"Jenny, I was thinking. What if we went out to eat first?"

But it wasn't Jenny. The silhouette of a man stood at my kitchen island, his back facing me. A deep brown blazer covered his square frame. Definitely a different perspective on the man I had seen wearing dusty flannel shirts only six months ago.

He turned toward me. "Hello Abby."

My heart skipped and my entire body stiffened, freezing me in place. Breathing was a mental note.

"Daniel." It was a statement, not a question. It was if my feet had grown thick roots that had hooked me into the carpet.

He was gorgeous as always, but just like on TMZ and the framed picture, there was an extra flair to his features. Hair worked into a controlled tousle, face freshly scrubbed and manicured, teeth bleached into a bright sheen.

He was smiling.

"I see that you are going to my show tonight." He lifted the tickets from the countertop. "I didn't think you would attend, otherwise I would have sent you free tickets and backstage passes."

"I'm not going," I shot back. At least that was the plan, not to see him tonight. "They are for someone else." I hated to lie to him, but it was partially true.

"Oh," he replied, setting them down. The silence between us was deafening.

"Is Wendy here?"

The déjà vu from the first time we'd met made me laugh to myself.

"No. Girly sleepover."

"Ah." More awkward silence. I wanted to kill the tension in the air, but the way I wanted to do it was wrong. I wanted to jump into his arms, touch him, and search for that shelter that held me before.

"How are you?" he asked.

"All right I guess." Searching for the right words was difficult. Many times I had role played in my head what I would say to him if I ever came face to face with him, but right then, my script was blank.

"You look good," he said.

"Thanks, you too."

This wasn't going well. I decided to cut right to it. "Did you need something Daniel?"

"No, um, I was nearby for the tour, and um, I wanted to give Wendy a present. She had asked me once about England, and so I got her a wee flag when I was there last." He pulled it out of his pocket. "Nothing really. I just thought that she might enjoy it." He spun it around his fingers and then set it on the countertop.

"Well, thank you. That was very nice of you." I knew I would never let her see it. She didn't need to know that he had been here.

A low voice mumbled through his breath. "And I wanted to see you."

A ton of bricks being thrown at me, meticulously aimed for non-vital areas, would have been a better fate than what I was feeling now. I wanted to give in, repeat the words back to him. Spill every single repressed feeling of how much I missed him, but I couldn't. My thoughts never made it to my lungs.

"I really miss you, Abby. I know that you can do so much better than me, but please, please just hear me out."

"What's done is done Daniel."

"You're right! I can't change what happened. And I don't blame you for hating me for it, but you must understand that everyday I think about how much I have wronged you. I am completely tortured by it, Abby."

My heart felt too heavy to beat.

"If I could take it all back, I would Abby. I never meant to burn down your house!"

My eyes welled with tears as I forced the words out of my mouth. "Do you think I'm mad because the house is gone?"

He shrugged. "Well, yes."

After all this time, he didn't get it. Over a half year to ponder and search through a supposed purgatory, and he thought it was about a pile of old wood. "Dammit Daniel! You are so dense. I know you didn't mean to do it. It was an accident. I forgave you for burning down the house a long time ago."

"Oh," he replied. His face wandered for an explanation. "Then what did I miss?"

"I'm furious at the reason why the house burned down. You took advantage of me. You stole my money and betrayed my trust. Why you would think that I wouldn't have helped you, I just don't understand. I bailed you out of jail and gave you cash to get some clothing and those damn cigarettes, and I fed you. Why would you think I wouldn't help you cut a demo?"

"I acted on impulse, like I usually do. It was a short window of opportunity, and I had to get to Milwaukee straight away and I needed enough money..."

I interrupted. "That still doesn't explain why you didn't ask. Why you led me to believe I was an important part of your life and then just shut me out of it. It felt like the first opportunity you had to get even a little taste of your old life, I didn't matter anymore!"

He recoiled as if I'd slapped him, and I knew I'd hit a nerve. "That's not true, Abby. You have to know that. I was just doing it for _us_. I wanted to make our dreams come true Abby. I wanted to be able to give you a life where you wouldn't have to work so bloody hard anymore. You could tour with me and Wendy could have the best tutors in the world. Then we could move to Costa Rica and just play in a local bar once we had enough. Even after I left, I never gave up on that dream for us. I sent you those money orders to help you get by until then..."

"Oh, you mean these?" I stomped my way into the kitchenette and flung open a drawer, pulling out a stack of papers. But I had never cashed a single one. The zeros increased over the months, but I didn't even look at them twice. I didn't want his money. I already had enough from the Super Mart folks.

"And what was the price you paid for that dream Daniel? This should prove to you that none of this was about the house burning down or the money. I don't want your damn money. I'm standing before you broken because you thought the money was more important. Was betraying me worth it?"

"I wish you'd stop calling it a betrayal!" He paused for a moment and then frowned as if a new thought had popped into his head. "You know, it's almost like you want it be a betrayal. You want to be angry to push me way. That's it, isn't it?"

Tears slid down my cheeks. It was as if he'd looked right into me, right past my front. I felt exposed. "Daniel, it's not that I don't want to be with you it's just that I _can't_. I can't get caught up in anything like this again. I let you in. Not just my house, but into _me_. It was one of the most challenging things I have ever done. Now I'm damaged and I can't risk it again." I wiped my wet cheeks. "It's not just about you, ya know."

He tried to bring me into his arms, but I pushed him away. I wanted to touch his smooth chest again, and press my lips to his, but I couldn't give in. I could feel a precipice looming just beyond that point and I refused to fall. "I've done a lot of stupid things in my life and I've paid dearly for them. I was even reckless and irresponsible with you. But I can't be like that again, ever. It's not just myself I have to worry about now."

His sore eyes didn't leave mine. "Wendy?"

"She is my sole source of living and the reason I'm standing before you. Everything in my life has pointed to disaster. I should be some low life on drugs and depending on the government and blaming every mishap on someone else. But the first time I held that baby in my arms, it was then I knew I could handle whatever came my way, even if I was on my own. I found one second of stability in this chaos and ever since then I have pulled all my resources together to maintain that. That was until you came along. At times she took a back seat, but I won't let that happen again. And I'm not going to set her up just to break her heart again."

I could tell my words were knives slicing his heart. His beautiful almond eyes showed the sting with every slash. I only hoped he knew how much this hurt me as well.

"I'm begging you, Abby," he whimpered. "I'm begging you to take a chance on us. For a better life. You love me. I know you do!"

My strength was flagging, but I tapped into the reserves. "I have tried to hold my entire life together since I was born Daniel. I have tried with every ache in my body to be optimistic. I took that chance and it proved to be a failure, and I have to live with that. And so do you."

"You're making this more difficult than it has to be. Neither of us is perfect, but we love each other. And when people love each other, they make things work."

It wasn't something I could deny. But now we were going in circles, and it had to stop before I fell apart. "Daniel, I've said what I needed to say, and I think you've had your fair share as well. But now I need you to go."

"Abby..." His voice cracked and I looked away from his eyes to avoid seeing his tears.

"Daniel, don't make this harder. I can't give you what you're asking for."

He turned and trudged toward the door, saying nothing as he opened it and walked out. I closed the door behind him and threw the deadbolt into lock. The symbol was too real of my own heart.

After he was gone from sight, the dam broke. I leaned my back against the door, and slid to the floor. My head was rocking between my knees as I released every tear.

"Abby..." His voice came through the door.

He hadn't left. I knew that to touch his smooth face would calm this anxiety; it would provide me with stillness again in this dreadful chaos. I touched the door instead.

"Abby, please don't do this. You don't have to give up anything. I love you for just that reason. That you are your own woman."

I picked my head up, and looked at the door. I could only see the faded white paint and dirty fingerprints, but it was like I was looking him in the eyes. Only the façade was easier.

He went on. "I know you don't need me, but I need you.

I couldn't find air to fill my lungs. No words could escape my mouth. Only tears fell down my red hot cheeks.

"The happiest time in my life was when I was here with you. I've done a lot in my life Abby. Traveling around the world, getting high and low, blowing away all the money I had on useless shite. I've probably had more sex than Ron Jeremy and never felt a connection to any of those bloody girls. I've had what you'd think was everything, but it was all just... _mediocrity_. Only you never truly realize that until you put it up next to something great, like I had with you and Wendy."

Even through the door, I could hear his heavy panting. "I never had a damn thing in this world until I had you. Fame doesn't matter. It's just all I know how to do. But these fans and films and music, none of them matter if I don't have you."

I rested my head on the door; it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

"I would give it all up in a half a second. Less than that if you would have me back. I can't live without you anymore. You may have given up on your fairytale, but I haven't given up on ours. I'm here to show you that you don't have to be afraid to let go and just be happy for once. That you bloody _deserve_ happiness, if only you'd let it happen. I'll prove to you that we're worth it, Abby. Even if I die doing it."

I could say no more. I'd run out of all the words I could use to express how I wasn't good enough for him, that nothing is worth this kind of pain. I needed to be alone. No more words. No more tears. No more pleas. Just silence, so I could breathe and heal, or at least wait for the numbness to come back.

I heard a heavy sigh, followed by his footsteps down the hall.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, knowing he was already gone. I kissed the door as more tears streamed down my face.

Chapter 25

"I think I found what you gave up on

I know I feel it, that something that you took a chance on

It was hope

It was a possibility of a definite truth

It was just the wrong face and the wrong time

An assumption so badly wanted

That you gave up everything for the incubus

But that doesn't mean that I'm not the right one

And that hope doesn't lie in me.

If you would accept this gift

I would be complete

If you could just find it

Somewhere in your beautiful heart

Just to forgive this stupid man

I know that you won't regret me.

Just meet me there

I'll see you in paradise."

Daniel's next song hit number one within a week of its release. Two weeks later, he was dead.

I found out by stacking the daily newspapers at the grocery store. When I realized what I was looking at, my legs lost energy and I had to cling to the counter. I could feel a burn in my chest, and it was brutal to my insides. It was as if I was in space, gasping for air when there was none.

The picture showed his contorted body covered by a single sheet, but I knew it was him. Any fan would recognize the tattoo on his arm from a mile away, which peeked out from underneath the corner. When he had married Kristin, he got her name tattooed on his wrist intertwined in a chain to make it look like a permanent bracelet. Before he went to rehab, he had her name poorly removed, writing over it 'Kry".

Jenny had heard the news seconds earlier on the TV in the break room. As soon as the words of the breaking news anchor entered her ears, she dropped her coffee and began to run. She didn't slow until she had crashed behind me, giving me the support I needed to remain vertical. She cried with me as we stared at the magazine covers, confirming the truth with each page.

Journalists speculated controversy, but the medical examiner determined drug overdose.

I knew better. I drove him into his last days.

***

I'd only known Eugene for a matter of minutes, but I could already tell that he was my only soldier on this side of the pond. I had no words imaginable for the gratitude that I felt when he sat next to me in the black cab. My only ally was sharing in my sorrow.

Nothing ever felt real. I couldn't believe that I had just endured a nine hour plane flight, the first flight of my life to be exact. I couldn't believe that I was in London, without my daughter. If anything she would have been here studying abroad before I even stepped foot in an airport. I was riding in a taxi car with Eugene, a man I had only heard heroic stories of. The way that Daniel had always said his name with such respect, such reverence, hardly put into perspective the man sitting next to me.

He was only a man. Probably not more than ten years older than Daniel would have been. His black suit seemed so just right against his leathery skin. He had dark black hair, but it began to show wear with the few stragglers of grays pushing their way through.

"Are you all right?" he asked, keeping his breath even and his eyes concerned.

I had to ask myself the same thing.

"I'll be fine."

"You know you don't have to go," he replied. But I knew I had to.

"I need to. Dan would have wanted me there."

_Daniel_. My head was angry. _You sick son of a bitch_.

What a nice thing to say of all days. I knew that he would have laughed if he heard me. I had said the same words before to him, but the vile this time was a pinch compared to the beat down before.

My eyes began to fill.

"Here." Eugene pulled out tissue from inside his coat pocket.

"Thanks." I took the tissue and held it to my eyes. _I just needed to make it through the next hour_ , I told myself. _Maybe two_.

After that, I could cry again. I could cry alone in my hotel room until there was nothing left, if that were possible.

The taxi was only inching forward.

"What's the hold up?" asked Eugene.

"Traffic," replied the driver. "Looks like the bobbies are redirecting."

"Bloody hell," Eugene mumbled under his breath. "Of all the days that he has to have a funeral. He always loved to stress me out." He laughed.

What an odd thing to say, but I could completely understand what he meant by it. I only had to flash back to burnt eggs for breakfast. My stomach turned.

"He never really planned anything, did he?" I asked. There was never a person, besides Jenny, who I could talk to about Daniel. It would be nice to hear someone else's memory of him, so I wouldn't have to relive my own.

"Nah, that was what he had me for. Ever since I've known him, he just would just make decisions on a whim. Usually what felt best. That's when I would have to come in and clean it up." There was a reminiscent note in his laugh. "He never thought things out rationally back then. He just would see, want, and have."

Definitely sounded like the Daniel I had met so long ago. His royal attitude over a lemon seemed so silly now.

"But he knew I always had his back. That's probably the only reason he stayed alive so long, because I was there. And for my efforts he only gave me these." He pointed to the stray gray hairs on his head. "I used to be so handsome to the ladies until I became his best friend. Then I became the famous chap's old gray-haired friend." He chuckled.

"Well, it couldn't have been that bad all the time. You stayed with him for a very long while."

"Ten years, actually, as an agent. But he was a mate from day one when we were younger. "

I tried to do the math in my head. "Ten years?"

"I'm only two years older than him."

"Really? How did you convince him to let you be his agent then? I mean, you were really young, right?"

He adjusted his position in his seat. "Well, he actually convinced me. He was in the middle of that mess with his parents' death in the car accident and he said I was the only one he could trust because everyone was just trying to rip him off. So long story short, he begged me to represent him. I was about to graduate from the University soon but the job market was horrible. So I took the job as a temporary position, thinking he would fire me fairly quickly. I had bleedin' little background in the entertainment industry, but I got the hang of it eventually, or just got really lucky with his cinematic roles."

I let out a small chuckle. "That's some good luck."

"I know. We had so much money it was mad. He may have been spoiled to the core because of it, but still, he was a good man. A lot of people only saw him as a celebrity, but he was searching for something to calm his soul, just like everyone else."

He was only a man, too.

The taxi driver rolled down his window.

"We need to get to Westminster Abby. Can we get thru here?"

The police officer bent over to reply. "There's no way you'll even get a kilometer within that church. All the roads are blocked."

"What are you on about?" shouted Eugene from the back.

"Precisely what I said, _all_. You might be able to get through on foot, but the people are blocking the streets. We are just trying to figure out a way to get the right people in still."

"What about the tube?"

The officer shook his head. "Underground is packed as well."

Eugene leaned back into his seat. "Oh, stone the crows."

"What is going on?" I asked.

"The crowds are much bigger than I expected," he whispered.

Of course. His fans. "Well, let's walk then."

"Abby, you don't understand. We are kilometers from there."

At first, I didn't care. I didn't like just sitting in the car. I wanted to get this done and over with, as if my quickening of pace would make time tick faster. But then it hit me.

Thousands of fans. In just about any direction from the Abby. We'd never make it on foot.

Eugene rolled his back window down to talk to the officer. "Look, we are on the list, so to speak. Is there any way that you can get us there?" The officer gave him a fishy look, but turned his head to his side to talk into his radio.

I didn't really listen to anything after that. I know Eugene had somehow convinced the police officer to give us a ride in one of the police cars. I somehow made it into the back of the neon yellow and orange cruiser, staring at the floor for a while.

_Thousands of fans_ , the thought resonated in my head.

I looked out the window. We were moving at a snail's pace, but at least the car was moving continuously now. The lights and sirens didn't make people move out of the street any faster. It seemed like the crowd was just as numb as I was.

Their faces were so devastating. Worse than the faces of those who wait for their loved ones to expire in hospice. At least in hospice, there was a certain acceptance of fate. But here, denial reigned over them. Each one of them had scarlet lines around their eyes. Some would be holding another as they wept. Others just stared into the crowd, pained and lifeless. Many were holding candles, any type that they could get their hands on, blue, white, thick, skinny, short. Posters, teddy bears, ribbons lined any fence and wall, bearing familiar phrases.

We Will Miss You.

I Love You, Orion.

See You In Paradise.

A shiver went down my spine. I knew it was inevitable, seeing his words or even hearing them throughout the day. I knew the song was his poem to me. It was his apology, his declaration of humanity. All he wanted was for me was to love him. And I did. But in loving him, I thought I was doing the right thing. We couldn't be together because those ties were worn. I knew that and he had to accept it.

But he didn't.

Instead he proved his humanity by looking for an answer at the bottom of a prescription bottle.

He proved to me that he was real. And it was because of me that he was dead. It was because of me that thousands of people in zombie-like states of torture centralized themselves around the Abby, paying their last respects to a human god.

The knot in my stomach began to twist, burrowing deeper into my gut. I felt light headed and dizzy. My eyes fluttered from the weight of my head, so heavy.

Out of all the people in the world, why did he have to find me? Out of all the letters that his rage showed no surrender to, why did mine escape? Out of all the heart throb celebrities that a hormone driven girl could write to, why did I write that one letter to him?

"Abby." Eugene put his hand on my shoulder and turned me toward him. "You really don't have to go through with this. Please, let me take you back to the hotel."

"No. No, no." I came to, reaching into my purse to pull out a bottled water. "I'll be fine. Just dehydrated and jet lagged." I tried to twist the cap off, but it slid thru my sweaty hands. I kept twisting and twisting and my hand put a dent in the side of the bottle.

Eugene grabbed the bottle out of my hands. He took out a handkerchief and used it on top of the bottle for friction. It came off easily.

"Thank you." My hands were shaking so hard that I hit my cheek and barely hit the outline of my lips when taking a sip.

From that moment on, I dazed in and out of everything going on around me. Echoes bounced, silhouettes slid by. I paid no attention to the cries and words that surrounded me, neither to the overcrowding of such a large place.

Somehow I found myself in a pew, hypnotized by the urn at the altar.

My love was burned, and compressed into a small box.

My entire focus lay on keeping myself from falling apart, piece by piece, like oddly shaped blocks tied by rope with a poor knot.

Chapter 26

Eugene accompanied me to my hotel, guiding me through my Parkinson–like symptoms. I had no desire to move.

"It's very important that you are there at the reading of the will," Eugene urged.

I shook my head and barely spoke. "I don't know, Eugene. It's been a very long day and I've never had so much emotional stress in my life."

The fact was I didn't want to go. Not only was I in a haze, but it would be awkward.

"He mentions you in the will. I was there as a witness to it."

I didn't want to be in a room of strangers, watching them as they divided up his young life. To them, I was just the last fling he had before he died. I was like the side story no one needed to know about.

"It's not going to be a lot of people. You know he doesn't really have any family. His parents passed away, so they won't be there. I think there is an uncle that might attend, and then there is myself, and all the leeches and then Kristin..."

I shot him look of dread. "Kristin Leittl?"

"Yes, um, she insisted that she was there too. Just because they were married she thinks she might be getting something."

"Does she?" I remarked with acidity in my voice. The thought of her burned my lungs as I breathed deeply.

"I don't remember the details like that Abby. He just had me sign the witness statement and told me that if he died, you were supposed to be there."

I didn't like the way Eugene said that. It made it sound like Dan was planning his death.

"Honestly, Abby, this may be hard for you to hear, but he came back a changed man. In a good way. I had never seen him so sure of something before. He was happy with himself knowing what he had found was real, but tortured that you weren't there. He would have done anything for you. So, will you please come? Daniel wants you there."

I sighed.

"How could I deny him anything now?"

***

We walked in silence. It was hardly a time to start a conversation. The office was a typical lawyer's grotto, I guess. Florescent lights paled the room. A large wooden desk surrounded by chairs dominated the room. Certificates and degrees hung on the wall behind it, providing only a slight accent to the simple drywall.

"Hello, I'm Brian Dean." He held out his hand. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

He was an older gentleman, probably in his late fifties. He wore a double-breasted suit with pin stripes that screamed expense and luxury. His grayish hair was a carefully-sculpted puff on his head. I could hear a true tint of sympathy in his voice. Whether or not it was from practice of delivering news to an anxious group, the little bit of kindness made me feel a speckle of hope, like a single ray of sunshine ripping through monstrous purple storm clouds.

He continued to introduce himself to Eugene, and a couple of other men in the room. I didn't know any of them, and so I figured it was the lawyers that Eugene had mentioned earlier. As he finished his rounds, Brian asked us to have a seat as we would be starting soon.

"We are just waiting for one more, and then we will begin." He sat down at the mahogany desk, pulling open a drawer and fidgeting around in it. He pulled out a case, and from that case he took reading glasses. He seemed to make himself look busy and important, filing through papers and drawers as we waited.

Eugene sat down in the chair next to me. These lavish chairs made me so uncomfortable, not because they weren't comfy. Luxury was just a foreign language to me.

The door swung open, and Kristen glided in, her black stilettos clicking rhythmically on the tile. Her little black dress was barely appropriate for the occasion, more cocktail party than funeral. Moving my eyes up, her ivory chin curved perfectly with her angled jaw line. She wore a vintage type of hat, with netting falling over her face as her auburn locks swayed. Glossy red lipstick glittered thru the black veil over her face. She was breathtaking, and any man would have wanted her and any woman would envy that beauty. I know in that moment I did.

"Sorry I'm late." She sniffled. Even her voice was silky. "It was rather difficult to find my way."

A business man walked in behind her, and sat himself on the other side of me. Kristin sat down next to him. She was only two seats away, but I felt like she was right on top of me, and I couldn't move.

"Well, then, let's begin." Brian opened a manila envelope that had lain perfectly centered on his desk. He pulled out a single piece of paper, adjusted his frames and read aloud.

"I, Daniel Michael Lawrence III, of London, England, born on October 10th ..." Kristin let out a low moan when his name was mentioned. I looked over at her, patting the creases of her eyes with a tissue. I glared at her as Eugene reached over and held my hand. He squeezed it anxiously.

"Do hereby give my last will and testament. I appoint Eugene Wallace of London, England to handle my debts once I have died. When debts and costs are paid in full, I bequeath my house in London as payment for his hard work. Other than the house in London, I give Wendy Blossom, Daughter of Abigail Blossom, of Bristol, Wisconsin, in the United States of America all my assets, monetary, physical or intellectual property, and rights to my estate. Everything is distributed only to her to be put into a trust, she may access on her eighteenth birthday. Her mother, Abigail Blossom, is in charge of those accounts until then. "

There was a gasp of shock in the room and loud whispering amongst the group. I knew he would mention my name, but I was not prepared for this. My hands began to shake, and my palms sweat. Did he just say what I think I heard? Brian continued reading, but I wasn't listening.

"Eugene...?" I barely whispered, a choke at his name. Tears were coming, not because I was given a fortune, but because I was furious. I never wanted any of this.

"Yes, Abby. You have everything."

My breath began to quicken, my heart race. He left me everything, and I didn't want any part of it.

"What do you mean she receives everything?" Kristen was towering over the mahogany desk piercing a glare into Brian that could kill.

"I'm sorry Kristin, but it looks like Daniel had no intention of leaving you anything."

"That's impossible!" She stamped her foot. Her lawyer tried to calm her, but her tantrum continued.

"That low life nitwit left me nothing! Nothing at all! That bastard better be rotting in hell. He's a no good rotten sod." She kept up her swearing, in stark contrast from the graceful creation that had just walked in the door only a few minutes before.

"I'm glad that son of a bitch is dead!"

Her words thudded on my chest. She never loved him, and yet she expected everything. Literally. He was her false happy ending. He tried for her, but she was such a selfish little bitch who would do anything for the money.

I despised her. I never knew a person so beautiful on the outside could have such an ugly soul. My internal frustration only gained fuel every time she called him a son-of-a-bitch.

_No_. I thought. _You don't talk about MY son of a bitch that way._

I slowly stood up from my chair and stepped toward the desk. She was still hovering over it, whipping every tongue flip at Brian and her lawyer. I calmly tapped her on the shoulder.

"What?!" She whipped her head around to glare at me.

I punched her in the middle of her face, breaking her perfect nose.

Chapter 27

Thank goodness for webcams and the internet, otherwise the phone calls to England would have been staggering.

I used Dan's personal netbook to make the calls. I didn't want it either, but Eugene told me that I legally owned it, and it would be much cheaper to use the computer than continuously fly back and forth between the States and Britain. I had to give into that. I wasn't going to force Eugene into anything that he would have to pay for. So half-heartedly, I took the netbook from the house in London, but only as a way not to spend Dan's money.

As much as I dreaded the conversation, it was nice to have the company, even though it was across the world.

"God, this is so frustrating! Can't I give it away to a charity?" I asked as I adjusted myself at the kitchen table.

"No, in his will he distinctly says that it is Wendy's, and that you can only manage the accounts, which means no giving away of anything."

He had me in a bind. I didn't want anything to do with Dan's money, and he was very aware of this. I had only been home for a month or so and still had absolutely no desire to even look into the financial aspects. I still went to work, I still took Wendy to school, and life went on as it always does. There were a couple of weeks of inconvenience where paparazzi followed me, and Barbara Walters wanted an interview. But as usual I wanted nothing to do with it. Everyone wanted to know who Abigail Blossom was. I didn't want to know any more people. But with time, the photographers left and the phone calls diminished. I was finally able to get back to my life.

Jenny wanted me to cash in whatever I got and party it up. But the truth of it was that I would give it all away in a half a second just to see him alive again. Money didn't matter to me.

"I don't know how to manage this kind of money, Eugene. I'm lucky when my own checkbook balances."

"Well, I can help you set it up so it goes into a trust fund for Wendy. You wouldn't have to do much. Just check it every once and a while to make sure that no one hijacks into it. Plus then you can add the other earnings you get over time."

I did a double take. "What do you mean other earnings? There is more?"

"You have intellectual property rights."

I stared blankly at the screen. "Once again, I'm in the dark on this."

"That means any copyrights that he has, such as the music."

"How long do I have to worry about that for?"

"Seventy years." No hint of irony in his voice.

"Oh." Obviously, I could have never been a lawyer or agent or anything of the such. All these rights, taxes, debts, different types of properties made my mind spin. Even worse was that it was all in a different country's law.

Thank god for Eugene. He never complained once about doing this for me. He took care of the paper work and explained everything as best as he could in terms I could understand. Mostly he just had to confirm everything with me and then mail or fax me documents. He was going to have to come out to the States anyway to get my official signature of many of the documents with a notary.

He continued, "When it comes to real estate, besides the London house, he did have other property."

"Sell it," I spit out. I covered my face with my hands and tried to rub away the frustration. "Put the money in Wendy's trust fund."

"Don't you want to know it's location?"

"Nope," I shot back without a second thought.

"Costa Rica."

I stopped mid-breath, my fingers separating just enough for Eugene to see my eyes through the slits. "What?"

"So do you still want to flog it?"

"What?" I repeated, shocked.

"Looks like it was recently purchased. From the sound of it, it's a really lovely place. The picture is fuzzy from copying but from what I can make out of the words, it is right on the coastline."

Dan had bought a house in Costa Rica.

_For us_ , I thought. My mind began to argue with itself.

_No, he must have just liked the idea of a house on the beach_. _He just stole my idea._

But what if it was for us? I know he hadn't given up on the possibility of us, just from his songs.

My sore dry eyes became flooded, although the wetness did nothing to soothe the burn within.

"You should take a holiday there, check the place out. You have been through a lot lately, and could use a break."

"Out of the question. I don't want to travel." It was partially true, because I did not care much for airplanes, although one trip shouldn't determine my entire life's choices on travel. But the real reason I didn't want to go was for Jenny and her family. Super Mart had just opened a few weeks ago, and their success was obvious in the smaller shop's failure. There were some dedicated people who kept coming to Koper's, swearing off the corporate yahoos, but slowly the committed customers' numbers dwindled as well. I couldn't blame them for changing shops. Super Mart had amazing low prices, ones that we just couldn't compete with. I knew that when Ken had to leave the store in the afternoon for his second job that it wouldn't be long before the end would come. Needless to say, I would be unemployed in two weeks.

I heard Eugene sigh from across the ocean, but I tackled his defense. "I don't think I'm ready to deal with that Eugene."

"Believe you me, it might just help you come to terms with everything that has happened. If you'd like, I could accompany you. I have to come the U.S. anyway, so I can just tag along if you don't mind." He would be the only one who could afford to join me.

"If we go, it has to be a short trip. I had a hard enough time being away from Wendy in London."

"We will leave from there as soon as you would like. Do you want me to book tickets now?"

I sighed loudly. "I guess. Just make it at the end of the month. I have to help finish packing up the store. After that, I have to find a new job."

He gave a slight smile. "Okay Abby. I think we've done enough for tonight. I've got to get up in a few hours and deal with more leeches."

"Thanks for staying up for me. I've just been so busy all day."

"It's no problem. I'll email you with flight details tomorrow."

"Ok, thanks Eugene. Bye."

"Cheers."

I closed out the video conference and just stared at the screen. For whatever reason, my curiosity couldn't help but draw me to the My Documents shortcut. It contained more folders and word processing documents. The file names were simple, nothing that struck my fancy.

But a bright icon next to an internet link caught my attention. It was titled 'Darling-Montague'. My hand hovered on the mouse and my finger fell onto the click as light as a fifty pound feather.

The link opened internet explorer, and it seemed ages that the page took to load. When it finally did, I automatically knew what I was going to see.

I could feel every pump of blood in my carotid arteries, and I wished to release the pressure. As my heart quickened in pace, each thud pressed on my dry throat.

As much as I tried to repress the feeling, I knew that it was coming.

Staring at the computer screen, I marveled at his aura on the YouTube video. Although the recording did no justice to the in person performance, it sufficed. Watching his meditative state as he performed made me feel warmth flow out from my chest. I ached to hold him again, if only my soul could reach out into the computer screen and harness his being. I wished to sweep him away in that moment, erase the next few days from ever happening in our lives.

When I had him behind the bar, I should have taken advantage of his suggestion: to run away to Costa Rica right then and there. I thought I was being realistic by shrugging off such a comment. I was too careful, too meticulous in my plans. But now I wished I could just take his fingers between mine and run, make the great escape.

For a brief moment, the video swung over to a booth where two people were sitting next to the recorder of the performance. Ken gave a quick wave to the camera, and I didn't even take note of the camera's existence. My gaze was glued in Danny's direction.

No wonder he knew I loved him, especially if I looked at him like that. A content smile lifted from my face as I slightly bit my lower lip. I may have never been a spokesperson for makeup, but the natural hues made my face glow with radiance. My straightened hair fell effortlessly onto my famous pink shirt. The woman in that video was the most satisfied one in the world.

I was happy.

"Mommy?"

I quickly wiped my eyes with my hands, preventing the dam from breaking. "Yes?"

"Whatcha doing?"

"I should be asking you the same thing. It's past your bedtime."

"I'm not tired."

I shrugged. "I guess I'm not either."

"Are you listening to music?"

"Well," I hesitated.

_Just let it go. It doesn't matter now,_ I thought to myself.

I smiled at the princess. "Come on over here Wendy. You can watch with me." She skipped over to me, her long pink pajama gown flowing gracefully along her angelic feet.

"It's Daniel-Lawrence!" She jumped into my lap.

"Yes, sweetie." I wrapped my arms around her tiny body to hold her in place.

We watched the few songs he performed that night at Silver Snakes. Frequently, I found my hand automatically clicking on replay. Wendy never questioned it.

When the final play had ended, she leaned her head against my shoulder. "I miss him, Mommy."

Trying to hold back the tears again, I gently kissed her head as I pet her hair. "I know you do sweetie. I miss him too."

It was then I realized that no matter what I did, I couldn't protect Wendy from everything. The higher I built the fortress around her, the harder it would fall. Although my intentions were good, she would have as normal of a life as I did. She would grow and experience kindness, hatred, and love. She would have clumsy moments, but she would heal. This was all a part of being human, to live.

A knick-knack flashed across my memory.

"Here," I lifted her off of my lap with ease and onto her own two feet. I rose and found my way to the kitchen counter. I opened the top drawer and pulled out the small trinket. I brought it to Wendy.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's the British flag. It's the place where Danny was from."

"Cool." She examined it in her hands. "It's like our flag. It's got the same colors. Red, White, Blue." She pointed to each color as she recited.

I kneeled down to her level. "Well, we have a history with them. We were part of the country at one point."

She looked at the flag, and then glanced at me. Her inquisitive eyes were as blue as the ocean I knew I was going to be seeing soon. "Does that make us family?" she asked.

Tears welled in my eyes as I smiled at the simple thought.

I nodded as I pet her hair. "Yeah. They are family."

She attempted to hide the yawn that forced its way out.

"Come on honey, you need some sleep." She didn't oppose. She had fallen under the spell of slumber before I finished tucking her in.

I wandered my way out of her room and began to head for my own. But my feet did not go where I commanded. I found myself back in front of the computer.

I wrote poetry for the first time in a long time.

I wrote until the sun came up.
Chapter 28

"I had accepted my fate

To hold this world in my own hands

To hoist it over my shoulders and barely let out a grunt.

You saw me standing there

Unable to completely comprehend why I tried to save humanity

To save everything I knew to be good

You offered your hand

I could only think to myself how I couldn't hold it

Without dropping reality

I couldn't risk one touch of your rough hands

Silk upon my dying skin

Just for my own selfishness

I couldn't let go of everything I tried to hold together

Not now

But with that offered hand, you did not take away my own from the cherished object

You only helped me to hold it, the pain searing your palms

I may never hold you

But it was fine

I could see you, and you could focus on me

You accepted to make your own fate

You would assist my life, as long as you could be a part of it."

There was a minor applause from the audience. But it didn't matter, I was on stage in my happy place, even if only a few minutes.

It felt like I could tell him those last minute things I never got to in real life. This was my penance.

***

I could smell the ocean, salt and fish. It wasn't far. The address in this tropical wonderland was even hard for Eugene to find. At some point we turned off the main road, meaning stone and gravel, onto what seemed like a driveway, which was more stone and gravel. Wherever this house was, it was definitely secluded. We rode through the green jungle for what seemed like ages, but I knew it could only be half a mile. My anxiousness was distorting my sense of time. I didn't want to see the house; I wanted to see what he saw in it.

As we approached the driveway's end, the house began to shimmer through the forest. It was a simple white one story, adobe style walls on the exterior. Reddish brown clay tiles adorned the roof. It was probably twice the size of the old farmhouse. It was beautiful.

I was quite surprised by this. It didn't seem like something that Daniel would have picked. Even before I had met him I always imagined that he lived in a mansion, sitting by the fireplace sipping on brandy and admiring priceless art. He would marvel in his own glory, staring at his random awards.

I shook my head. That was before he had showed up on my doorstep. I guess after that, his tastes changed.

Eugene stopped the car. "Here you go." He lifted his hand to drop a single key into my palm.

I hesitated, staring at the golden key. "You're not coming in?"

"I think you'll want to be alone a whilst." I guess this was a good idea. I didn't need Eugene see me break down anymore than he already had. I nodded, exiting the rental car, and approached the front door as he reversed.

The yellow door infringed on my eyesight; I felt my heart pulse faster with the door's cold stare. This place was once a dream, and now it was real. Danny was real at one point, but now I only saw him in my dreams. I wished it reversed, like it had been once. I stuck the key in the hole, a perfect fit, and the lock disengaged.

I breathed heavily, reminding myself how to use my hand. I twisted the knob and stepped into my unfamiliar home.

Chapter 29

The front door opened into a very large room, taking up the whole floor. It was minimally furnished, white couch, oversized arm chair, flat screen over a fireplace. But what took my breath away was the view. The entire back wall was glass, exposing the deep blue ocean. I walked toward the glass, admiring the white crests that crept toward the south. I could see down to the beach, a marble cream color as the clear water brushed up against it. For a second I could see Wendy running along the beach, laughing and happy once more.

Then I realized this was no small house. The entrance was on the third floor. What appeared to be a simple cottage on the front turned out to be built into the side of a cliff, each floor creating a stair effect into the rocks.

It was perfect. It was far superior to the view that I could ever come up with in my head.

"You really out did yourself Danny."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something familiar. In a way, it was out of place. It didn't blend in with the crisp whiteness of the room. It was old and ragged, with odd fascinating stickers covering barely a fraction of its blemishes. A birthday investment.

I kneeled down in front of it and I reached out to touch it, only to find my hands creep back to my face. It was a piece of him, a piece of us. What was left of it.

I marveled at the worn random stickers and the basic wood of the guitar. It was a perfect shrine to what I wanted more than anything else in the world: a second chance at the first time. I felt my mental state fall into despair.

"Woman, why are you crying?"

I froze as I realized that I had officially lost it. I had heard Daniel in my head. Staring at the one piece of our tangibility, his sweet yet smoky voice ricocheted throughout my cranium. My stomach dropped further into me, my throat suffocated by the lump.

"No..." I said aloud. I didn't want to fall apart now. I had been so good. Eugene was right, I did need alone time.

I shrieked as I touched the guitar. I hoped for some satisfaction in the feel of it, a comfort that I yearned for. To have his arms around me again, to be able to kiss him again. Just be able to tell him everything and how I would have changed it all.

"Abby..." came the melodic voice again, but this time from behind me. I whipped my head around. As I stood, my breakdown only deepened into another level of Dante's hell.

I saw him standing before me, gorgeous as ever. His tan limbs protruded from his khaki shorts and unfastened dress shirt. His rockstar hairstyle, sun-dyed into a lighter brown, swayed across his forehead from the breeze coming in from the open window. He wore that smile I had grown to adore; his almond eyes burned into me.

Even in my wildest dreams, I never imagined that my mental collapse would dissolve into this beautiful hallucination.

He walked slowly toward me, and I remained in the same place, waiting for his ghost to wisp off into thin air. I would be able to see him, but unable to physically touch him. It was worse to see him so close, but know I could never feel his lips creep up my neck, never feel his warm fingers hold my face as carefully as crystal.

His arms reached out and around me, and I still waited for the apparition to dissolve. Every millimeter closer I waited for pain or numbness, whichever would be worse. Either fate would be devastating.

I felt pressure.

He touched me.

The image touched me.

I stuttered in silence, trying to make a phrase out of the syllables that wouldn't leave my mouth.

Was it all just a dream? Did my senses betray me?

"Daniel." It was not an explicative, nor question.

"I thought you would never come." He whispered in my ear and kissed my cheek with his soft lips. His arms drew me toward him as he breathed me in.

"Dan?" I repeated, but now it was inquisitive. I was trying to distinguish between reality and my dreams.

He pulled his head away from my ear, looking me in the eyes. "Yes, it is me love." His slender fingers lifted away my loose strands of hair.

I swallowed him in, grasping that I was awake. This couldn't be a dream.

"Danny!" I screamed suddenly as I threw my arms around his shoulders and fiercely kissed him. I didn't care if it was a dream anymore, it could be a beautiful lie for all I cared. The devil's trickery would be fine after this moment, because this moment could get me through the madness to come. To touch his perfectly angled jaw was awe-inspiring, stunning my senses into a state of ideal chaos.

I pulled myself away only to be able to see his face, my hands trembling as I felt for holes in the façade. "Danny, is it really you?" is what I meant to say, but what came out was incomprehensible through my tears.

His eyes stayed calm as he nodded, and he pressed his lips to mine.

I was frazzled in the moment. Rationally, he was dead. I saw the pictures, the headlines, the speculations. I was in London at his funeral, trying to scramble my way through stampeding fans. I was there when his will was read. All signs pointed to dead.

But he was here, and I could touch him. The beautifully smooth skin that I yearned for was able to be pressed upon, blood flowing underneath in his warm veins. He was alive.

Still holding my face in his hands, he smiled at me, wiping away the strings of tears with his soft thumbs.

"Before I wake up from this, let me say it now." I swallowed. "I love you Danny. I'm so sorry that I put you through all of this. I never meant for you to die..."

His grin grew as he soaked in my presence. "See, I knew you still loved me." His embrace engulfed me. I could feel his breathing on my shoulder, and I could feel the beating of his heart as I rested my head against his chest.

I exhaled. "You are dead."

"Actually, no. And don't talk about dreaming." He beat me to the punch. "I told you that I would take my own life to prove that you still loved me."

I inhaled deeply. "But, I don't understand."

"This is what I tried to explain to you. My life means nothing if I don't have you. I would give up everything for you."

"You were dead."

"No, my old life is dead," he corrected me. "There is nothing that I could have wanted from it, except you."

I looked into his sincere expression. Was it true? This was actually reality? He didn't want to be a part of the life he had always known? So many questions.

"You gave up your celebrity status just for me?"

"Permanently. Abby, I have never felt so complete as when I am with you. Even the day that you kicked me out of your flat, seeing you made me so happy, even though you were being so stubborn. I don't need fame or money or anything like that. You are worth more than my own life. "

I swallowed, attempting to absorb every single word. It was hard to hear that I was wanted so badly by someone else so amazing. I was just Abby, a normal broken person. But as much as it was weird to hear these things, I accepted them with open arms.

I drew his mouth to mine again. Something told me that even this kiss would never settle my thirst for him. I could kiss him the rest of my life, happy as a clam, only to keep wanting more. But we could work on that part.

We paused to breath, a mortal inconvenience.

I remembered where I was. A house in Costa Rica. It occurred to me, he was waiting. "What would you have done if I never came?" Would he have just rotted alive in this place?

"Lived here until you flogged it. Then I guess I would get a job in town at a pub, singing my songs about you. But that's also why I left Eugene the house in London, as a backup plan to get some cash in case you didn't show."

I did a double-take. "Eugene knows you're alive?!"

"Of course. He helped get me the documents, and everything." He grinned.

"Who else knows?"

"No one we have to worry about. It's amazing how people are so skewed by money to keep their mouths shut."

There were so many questions to follow. "What about the drug overdose? There were pictures."

"Well, I didn't get nominated for an Oscar just on my bloody good looks, love. You had to believe that I was dead. I knew that was the only way you would let me back."

I thought of the funeral, how much it hurt to think I was the cause of all the sorrow in the streets. "I have been in pain for the last month Danny. It was horrible! To think that you died because of me, that I took away something so beautiful from the world. I never thought I would be able to forgive myself." My eyes began to well up again.

"Shh, there is no need to worry now. I'm sorry that it had to be that way, but you and everyone else had to believe that I was gone, otherwise we could never have a ordinary life together. The paparazzi would have followed me everywhere, and I didn't want to subject you to their judgments forever. You didn't need to be in that world, and I knew that I couldn't have a world without you. I just wanted to give you a normal life."

I laughed. "This doesn't seem very normal."

"Well, it's the only way I could give you all of myself. I've never wanted something so badly in my life as I wanted you."

"What if I had said no?"

"You know me, I didn't plan that far." His sarcastic grin glittered. "Why, are you going to leave me now?"

"No!" The words shouted from my lungs. "But, what about Wendy?"

"Duh, you know I love Wendy. She will be here with us. I've actually set up her room to have a view of the jungle so she can watch the macaws from her window. Don't worry. Her room is close to yours."

This was all happening so fast. In a normal circumstance, I would have rejected every gift. But it was coming from Danny, my beautiful Danny. I accepted anything that fell from his lips, as I was mesmerized by kissing his living skin.

"You can go get Wendy and whatever else you want. Anyway, you'll have to leave every ninety days by Costa Rican law until we get you citizenship. Until then, it might be good that you check on things at home with the funds."

"The money." There was disgust in my face, and he knew why.

"Well, I knew that the second that you would hear that I gave it to you, you would throw it away to a charity or something. So I put it in Wendy's name because I knew you wouldn't take that away from your daughter. You never have to worry about her college fund again." He tenderly kissed my forehead. "Also, all that is in this house is paid for in full. I made sure I had everything set here before my great acting gig as a zombie. I assume you still have the money orders?"

I nodded. I couldn't throw them away, mostly because he had touched them.

"You will be set for life in Costa Rica." His slender fingers ran through my hair, exposing my drenched cheeks.

"What about you? Aren't you in this equation?"

He shrugged. "Well, it's all your money. Without you I would have never written a single word. I would probably still be wandering the streets of Wisconsin." He fiddled with my fingers, appearing to memorize every inch.

"Plus, I was hoping you would share a tad. Word on the street is that you take in pathetic tramps." We both chuckled.

How was it that everything seemed to be falling into place? Like this was the way it was meant to be? Something so complicated and intelligent easily fit into the puzzle pieces.

"When did you have time to plan all of this?"

"I started here first." He pointed to his heart. "Then I used this to edit the outcome." He pointed to his head. "Best piece of advice I ever received."

They say that life is what you make it. But I can't help but feel that a pinch of whatever you want to call it—fate, destiny, predetermination of some kind—fits into the equation. If the most significant events in our lives are laid out ahead, then how you react to those times determines the richness of your life. I knew that I wasn't going to allow myself to plan this out; this time around, I would let everything unfold as it should.

Something crossed my mind. It was an insignificant detail, but while the truth was out there, I might as well get it off my chest. "Wait, something still doesn't add up. Why were you with Kristin so much?"

He rolled his eyes. "Trust me, it's not what you think. I hate that vile woman. She had something of mine, and she wouldn't give it back unless I played her game, meaning I made her front page with the paparazzi. I hated spending that time with her, but I knew that the end result would be worth it."

"What did she have?"

"Just something old. Though it probably would have been easier just to send you into her house and beat her up for me." He smiled.

I snorted laughter. "You heard about that?"

"I may be dead, but I still have the internet. I didn't realize that you had an ounce of violence in your body." His white teeth sparkled through his crooked lips.

All I could do was be honest. "That felt so good to punch her in the face. It was revenge for all the average people out there. People like her just have no idea how good they got it, even when it's gone."

He took my hand, delicately folding each finger through mine. I felt a déjà vu, thinking back to the soapy dishwater in the old farmhouse. It was the last time that I had smiled, and enjoyed everything in the moment, just like right now.

It didn't matter that he had played a trick on the world. It didn't matter that the old farmhouse was gone, or the savings pickle jar was smashed back to sand.

He was alive. He was here, and he wanted only me. I only wanted him, every element that constructed his presence. The only thing that mattered is that we were together.

I squeezed his hand. "So is this a happily ever after?"

"No, love. This is your never ending after. As long as you will have me around, I won't go anywhere. Even on the days that you hate me for whatever reason, and those times that we don't agree, I promise to love you and never leave."

"Oh Danny, I can't imagine ever wanting to see you walk away from me again."

His lips lunged at me, and I happily accepted the attack. I couldn't have enough of him. He was mine, breathing his sweet air into me, revitalizing my soul. This connection felt as if he had never been gone.

Placing his forehead against mine, he whispered, "So you see, Romeo and Wendy could find common ground, even if the world never knew it. They were both selfless."

I paused, gaining breath that I had lost in the previous moment. "That's the most messed up story of Peter pan I have ever heard." I reused his words from a very long time ago.

He laughed heartily. "God I missed you!" His embrace circled me.

"I love you, Abby."

"I love you too, Danny."

His tender bronzed arms tightened around me. This was the moment that writers penned out, this was the moment that singers raged on about, this was the moment that everyone in the world searched for. To be in the arms of the one you loved. Not only that, but knowing it was the bare boned truth between the two of you. This treasure was actually possible.

"So, can I take you on that date now?"

Talk about backward. Never ending after, and then a date. "Absolutely." I smiled. "Take me anywhere as long as I'm with you."

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