

MEETING DESTINY

Destiny Series, Book 1

2nd Edition

Nancy Straight

Published by Nancy Straight at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Nancy Straight

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 person. 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. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-4507-2109-7

Acknowledgements

Meeting Destiny would not have been possible without the support of several incredible people. Rebecca Ufkes' enthusiasm and insight were invaluable; she provided the encouragement I needed to write the story. Ryan Lemire and Julie Kabalka read and provided much needed feedback to make the story believable. Linda Brant edited the story and polished it until it shined!

The amazing cover was designed by Joy Stroube at dreamscapecovers.com. The model on the cover is Mihaela Voicu.

Finally, my husband Toby has been supportive of my every adventure. My deciding to write and publish a book was no exception.

Thanks to you all!

Chapter One

Seth stopped by to get a salad halfway through my shift – it's one of the only things he'll eat from the menu. "I'm hitting the library. You need a ride home tonight?"

I shook my head, "No, I'll catch a ride with Melissa. Call me later?"

"Sure, but it'll be late." He leaned across the counter, "I miss you already." He's the sappy romantic type. Seth and I have lived next door to one another our whole lives, our moms were best friends in high school, and we've been dating, I guess, since middle school. As I watched Seth make his way to the parking lot, I saw someone coming through the door who made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

I watched the man closely, not paying attention to the order monitor or anything Melissa said. He must have felt me staring at him because he caught my gaze for a second. Neither of us moved. He stood two steps inside the doorway as if arguing with himself whether he wanted to be here.

The man had bushy brown hair that looked as though it hadn't seen a comb in days and likely not any kind of shampoo in weeks. His hair lay in all different directions. It looked dark brown, but I couldn't tell if that was really the color or the grease from neglect. His face looked like leather, covered in stubble, with deep crevices from the sun and a sunken in cheeks. He was slender and tall, easily five eleven, maybe an inch or two taller.

His clothes were a mess. He was wearing a dirty white t-shirt hidden under a thick green winter coat. The coat looked like the old Army jackets from the sixties with a large silver zipper. The coat's length hung well over his thighs. It was unzipped and hung over blue jeans that were too long and too big for his frame; maybe at one time they fit his waist, but that was at least twenty pounds ago. His appearance made me think of a homeless person, maybe an addict whose addictions had shrunk his body, maybe a vagrant happy to find a decent pair of jeans from Goodwill.

His appearance didn't disturb me nearly as much as his expression. It was as if he were looking through the people, like the people in the restaurant didn't actually exist. The hair on my arms joined the hair on the back of my neck, all at attention. I felt uneasy: I don't know how I knew, but I knew this man was trouble.

I scanned the room and saw several tables had opened up. It looked like there were maybe twenty customers, not nearly as many as just fifteen minutes ago. All seemed to be oblivious of this newcomer.

"Lauren!" The voice caught me off guard and quickly brought me back to reality. Melissa looked frustrated with me, "I need four fries and two cheeseburgers." From her stare, she must have had to repeat herself. I watched as the customer wearing the green coat moved from the door to her line. I put the fries and cheeseburgers on the tray and pretended to be looking up at the order monitor.

Embarrassed, I managed, "Sorry, I must have been daydreaming for a second."

Only two orders were in line. A woman in her late thirties, who looked like she had just left an office, had her four-year-old son in tow. The four-year-old was babbling as if he hadn't been able to talk all day. I only vaguely heard his questions, "Mommy, can I have a toy? Can I have a boy toy? I don't like the girl toys. Remember when I got a doll? I want French fries. Can I have chicken? Mommy..."

The green jacket guy was bad news, and I knew I had to get Melissa away from the counter, even if only for five minutes. Before the exhausted mom could place her order, I tapped Melissa on the shoulder. "Hey, Wanda wants you to go inventory the freezer." I am a horrible liar; I made a conscious effort not to make eye contact with her. I just needed her out of the way until the green jacket guy left.

"No way, I didn't bring a coat. I'm not doing the inventory." She blasted this louder than I had expected, and I winced, turning around to see if Wanda had heard the exchange. Wanda was assisting the drive-through and luckily paid no attention to the two of us. "Besides, I did it last week and did a miscount - too many beef patties on this week's shipment. Wanda told me not to do the inventory alone again - ever."

I needed to make this sound good, so with as forceful a voice as I could muster, I looked straight into her eyes, "Look Melissa, I've got plans tonight and can't work late. You can't handle the front by yourself. If we're going to get out on time, you have to figure out how to do basic math and get a count on the freezer!" My angry voice devastated my upbeat friend, and the hurt on her face was as clear as if it had been written in marker. "Just go."

Stepping to the register, I put my back to Melissa, betting she would depart without any argument. I took the order for the mom and son while watching every move from the man in the green jacket. He was looking around wildly at each of the exits, over his shoulder, through the windows; I did my best not to catch his eye again. Rather than piecing their order together and going on to the man in the green jacket, I waited for their order to be complete.

I took a deep breath and told myself I was overreacting. He didn't force his way to the front of the line. If he were really dangerous, he wouldn't have acted like a normal customer. It's not like I haven't served people who were poorly dressed and in need of better hygiene. I tried to tell myself that he was just a hungry man in need of a shower.

No, if anything, I've learned to trust my instincts, and every fiber of my being told me this guy was bad news.

As I got the exhausted mom's to-go order, I was thankful that she was as anxious to leave the restaurant as I was for her to get away from the man standing two feet behind her. Her son continued with an endless string of questions, although I believed she was tuning him out as well as I was. The working mom thanked me and walked straight to the nearest exit.

My stomach felt like I had eaten a rock \- or maybe a whole box of them. The ache from my stomach now joined the tiny hairs on my neck and arms that hadn't relaxed since this stranger walked through the door. My heart started racing so fast that I could actually feel my pulse through my skin.

With as cheerful a voice and smile as I could produce, I finally looked at the man and asked, "May I take your order?" This was the first time I had made eye contact with him since he first stepped through the door.

His hands were in the pockets of his jacket. He broke eye contact and looked at the menu behind me. In a hushed voice, he whispered, "I sure am hungry."

Rather than a smart response like, "Well duh, this is a restaurant," I waited patiently, plastering the most pleasant look on my face that I could find.

My heart refused to slow down. "Take your time," I answered as casually as I could. I looked down at the register, thinking too much eye contact might agitate him. I realized that by now Melissa was safely in the freezer, probably pissed, but at least she was safe. Five minutes after this guy goes, I'll go back and apologize to her. I'll explain that I'm really a lunatic instead of a jerk.

"I know what I want," his voice boomed. I looked back at him; before my eyes reached his, they stopped at his waist where I could see he had a gun. I stared at it as he slid it back into his pocket. I was thankful he had only shown it to me and hadn't brandished it, sending the customers into a frenzy. Knowing the potential horrific outcome, I was relieved that it was just he and I who were aware of his gun. Unfortunately, he was the only one aware of his intentions.

I kept my eyes trained on his pocket. Without looking back to his face, I asked, "What can I get for you, sir?" My voice didn't crack, and I gave no indication of the fear that enveloped me. My reaction, or lack thereof, might have surprised him a little.

He paused, eying me carefully before he demanded, "I'd like some food and any cash you have in that drawer." I could see he was pointing his gun through the pocket of his jacket as he motioned to the cash register.

I finally broke my gaze from his jacket, remained as calm as I could, and answered, "Okay sir, le' me get your order." Not wanting to take a chance at him staying here one second longer than he needed to, I grabbed a smorgasbord of food from the counter: chicken sandwiches, fish sandwiches, double cheeseburgers, hamburgers, fries and onion rings. I grabbed a handful of all the condiments in the bin and put it all in our largest to-go bag. Moving to the register, I reached for the "cash sale" button when I heard the same high-pitched voice I was certain had just left the restaurant.

"Hey! I didn't want a girl toy. I'm a boy." The child was notably upset, but I didn't take my eyes off the man with the gun. I reached under the counter to get the boy a new toy. My fingers struggled to find the large toy box without the aid of my eyes showing them the way. I grabbed a handful of them and passed at least five to the boy without even looking at him.

The man with the gun was infuriated. In a thundering voice, he shouted, "What the hell are you doing? You're ignoring me to give this little brat a toy?" His voice was fierce, and his look vicious.

Quietly and only to the man, "It'll only take a second." The toys were already in the boy's hands, "and he'll get out of the way." The man's uproar caught the attention of several of the customers, as well as Wanda, the manager on duty. I knew if Wanda saw anything she didn't like, she would be at my side in the blink of an eye.

I didn't break eye contact with the man and made my body language as relaxed as possible. In the most cheerful tone I could project, "I've almost finished your order." I wondered to myself if it sounded too strained? I was sure it did. I willed in my mind for Wanda to stay where she was.

Wanda must have heard what I had just told the man, but thankfully she didn't come to my assistance. I knew she was watching closely, but at least she was watching from a distance. I didn't dare turn around to see.

"I want a robot. I already have all the cars. Can I have the blue robot? My dog chewed up my other one, and I really liked it. It was my favorite." I felt his hopeful smile beaming at me.

His mother appeared behind him, "Frank, don't be so demanding; she doesn't have a blue robot, and she's very generous to give you so many toys. What do you say to her?" She smiled at me, oblivious of the danger in a green jacket.

The little voice responded, "But I already have all these. I want a blue robot." The sweet expression that was there a second ago evaporated.

Without breaking the gaze of the gunman, I answered the boy, "I'm sorry. That's all we have. Have a good night."

The child stomped his foot and screeched, "But I already have all these!"

His mother was obviously accustomed to his tantrums and did her best to get him away from the counter without a full-blown melt down. She called, "Goodbye, Frank, I'm leaving" and started walking to the door. The child erupted with tears, screamed, and threw his body at the counter.

I saw the man rotate his body toward the child, the gun drawn in full view of the restaurant. His fury wasn't masked. I didn't think: I just reacted. I leaped over the counter between the furious gunman and the unruly child.

It sounded like a door slammed. The noise must have rattled the gunman as I watched the fury on his face melt into sudden fear. When I first got over the counter, I wasn't able to stand upright immediately. I've never been all that graceful, and leaping over a counter made me a little woozy. I could see the confusion on his face as my body was clearly protecting the child. I used as authoritative a voice as possible. "Leave the boy alone. I'll give you what you want. You don't need to use the gun." He looked at the child on the other side of my body, but then returned his wild gaze to me.

The gunman opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His eyes were wide. I wasn't sure but guessed in that second my sudden movement across the counter must have been more graceful than I realized. I must have thrown him off guard. "You can put your gun away; I'll give you the cash, just don't hurt anyone." My voice was forceful, and I realized instead of moving away from him, I was actually leaning into him as my volume increased.

All the fear and anxiety I had felt disappeared. It was replaced by a new wave of confidence. I knew it was likely short-lived and probably a byproduct of all the adrenaline I had pulsing through my bloodstream. My only priority was the safety of the people in the restaurant; I considered moving toward the cash register but believed that might be too offensive of an act. It was bad enough that I was leaning toward him, no sense making him think I intended to tackle him.

Much to my surprise, he put the gun back in his pocket and turned away from me. I was vaguely aware of the customers who had dived to the floor, trying to locate whatever protection a table might give them. I heard several screams, but they seemed so distant. The man grabbed the bag of food from the counter, and in one smooth motion, rotated his back to me and was out the door in seconds.

Frank's mother had been at the opposite door from the one the robber had just run through. When I looked at her again, she was standing behind me screaming. Why would she scream after the man left? I didn't believe anyone had even paid attention to the man but me; hearing her screaming after the fact was just plain weird.

Wanda ran from behind the counter, phone in hand as she ran to the door he had just bolted through. She reached for the deadbolt latch and turned it. She grabbed her keys from her pocket and locked a second lock into the floor, nervously jerking it into position. Then she pulled the wire mesh from the ceiling down to the floor, and locked it the way we would if we were closing the restaurant.

She sprinted past me, pushing the screaming mother out of the way. Wanda nearly yelled into the phone, "There's been a robbery at Tasty Burger, 1545 North Main Street. Send the paramedics."

She was obviously not thinking clearly. She had asked for paramedics when she should have asked for the police. As I thought about it, the paramedics were a good idea: the child's mother was still screaming with loud sobs behind me. She must have gone into shock or something.

I was in awe of Wanda. How did she know to react so quickly? The police must show up automatically for a robbery. They'll think this is a waste of time when they find out the robber only got away with $30 worth of food and condiments. The thought of explaining what happened to the police made me laugh – not many folks get held up for cheeseburgers.

I realized that Melissa was still in the freezer, and I needed to go tell her what happened. I started to go around the counter as Wanda finished locking the second door the same as she did the first. This whole effort of locking deadbolts and engaging the high security doors took less than forty-five seconds. I'd never seen Wanda move so fast. I caught Wanda's eyes as she was walking to me and told her as quietly as I could, "I've got to get Melissa out of the freezer."

Wanda grabbed my arm to stop me. "Let's get you to a booth and elevate your leg."

Confusion must have spread across my face as I stared at her, "My leg?"

Wanda very gently picked me up, my head and shoulders resting over one arm and my legs draped over her other. Wanda was wicked strong. How had I never noticed before?

I didn't understand why she was carrying me to a booth. I looked at my leg, and all I saw was crimson. Still confused, I looked over my shoulder for a broken ketchup bottle that I must have knocked over. Then the realization hit me: that crimson was warm and wet on my leg. It was my own blood.

Chapter Two

The next seven minutes were a little blurry. Wanda put me in a booth and held a dishtowel over my leg, which was doing little to deter the steady pulsing of blood from my thigh. I had never been afraid of blood but have to confess that this much blood was disturbing.

I looked away from Wanda's face and could see about twenty others staring down at me. I found Wanda's face again and asked simply, "Melissa?"

"Lauren, it's fine. Rob already got her. She's right here." I felt someone squeeze my hand hard and looked over to see Melissa.

Melissa asked, "What were you thinking?"

"I dunno, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I got a weird vibe from the guy when he walked in. I wanted to keep you away from him." Her face was difficult to read. I couldn't tell if she was angry or shocked.

"Like that guy that brought me flowers and you knew he was married?" The man she was asking about had been a regular customer and flirted with Melissa every time he came in. It seemed harmless initially. When he brought her flowers and wanted to take her to a movie, I knew I had to say something. I had a feeling about him, that something wasn't right, and warned her ahead of time. She'd never asked me how I knew, I just knew. I hadn't given it much thought since.

"Yeah, like that."

She mumbled something I couldn't understand.

I felt the pressure on my leg change and saw that Rob was pressing the blood soaked dishtowel to my leg, smiling a weird half smile. Very uncharacteristic. He's the most charismatic person on our team, and I had never seen him smile without his pearly teeth beaming through. "The police and paramedics are here. Wanda's opening the door for them. You're going to be fine." His reassurance didn't sound that confident.

I smiled back at him. I was concerned about the amount of blood I saw. I could feel my pants were soaked. I wasn't in any real pain, but a little self-conscious with all the eyes staring at me. "Anything to get out of filling napkin holders, right?"

Rob's half smile turned whole as his typical jovial self responded, "Next time you don't want to fill napkin holders, just say something. I'd much rather do those than have you get shot and me stuck here keeping you from bleeding to death."

"Cool, will you do the salt and pepper shakers, too, or do I have to get knifed to get out of that?" Full blown laughter erupted from all sides.

"Lauren, you're crazy. I love you, girlfriend. Looks like the white horsemen are here. You be safe." He didn't loosen his pressure on my leg, but he got out of the way so the paramedics could get closer.

An older, blue shirted paramedic leaned over me and lifted the blood soaked dishtowel. "Hi, what's your name?" The lack of pressure over my leg encouraged the pain, which I hadn't felt a second ago, to spread. I was thankful that he only looked at the wound briefly, and then pressed hard with the towel again.

"Lauren."

"Do you know what happened to you?" His tone wasn't urgent. It was what you would expect from a doctor doing a routine physical.

"Well, not to state the obvious, but some lunatic shot me by mistake. He was aiming at a kid ticked off about a toy." I paused for a second, "I didn't know I got shot right away."

He didn't register any excitement at this revelation, and, in the same monotone voice asked, "Lauren, does your leg hurt?"

"No, not really. It feels hot, but it doesn't hurt. Is that strange?" It didn't really occur to me to be worried that it didn't hurt, but as I lay there, I started to get concerned for the first time. My mind started doing cartwheels; even paper cuts hurt, why doesn't this gun shot? What's wrong with me? Am I dying?

The paramedic didn't answer me. "Is it weird that it doesn't hurt? It should hurt, right?"

"Lauren, I need to finish examining you. You'll be fine. I need you to remain calm. You may be going into shock. You are obviously lucid, you're aware of your environment, and you have feeling in your leg. Be thankful that the pain hasn't hit you yet." His voice was the same monotone but had a soothing tinge this time.

I took a deep breath and was as cooperative as possible. I could feel them wrapping something tightly over my wound, checking my heart, and then the second paramedic said, "Okay, let's get her on the gurney and into the bus. Saint Joe's is ready for her; Doc Gracie's on tonight." His voice was a bit deeper than the first paramedic's and was filled with real concern.

The second paramedic turned, and I saw his face for the first time. He looked like he couldn't have been more than a couple years older than I was. He had dark brown hair, a warm smile with perfect teeth, and a rocking tan. It's difficult to describe a man this way, but he was really - beautiful. When I looked at his eyes, my heart literally stopped.

I knew it stopped because I heard alarm in his voice when he answered, "She's got an irregular heartbeat. We need to go now!"

They lifted the gurney up with my body strapped on. Being suspended on a gurney isn't anything I'd ever experienced, and as they ran beside it, it felt a little like flying. Then we were in the ambulance, and the handsome paramedic was hooking me up to all sorts of wires while the older paramedic slammed the doors and went up front to drive.

I looked up at the handsome paramedic's face again. "What's your name?"

"Max, Max Meyer." His eyes were looking directly into mine. My heart skipped a beat again and an alarm went off in the ambulance. He looked at the monitor. "Lauren, do you feel any different?" He looked directly at me instead of at the monitor, and I felt my heart beating out of control. I shook my head no.

He picked up a radio, in a calm and collected voice, "We've got an inbound, twenty-one year old Caucasian female, name, Lauren Davis. Gunshot wound to the left leg: bullet appears to be lodged in the femur. The patient's vitals are unstable; she's coherent but is experiencing irregular heartbeats, significant blood loss. Please advise." Max released the button on the microphone. I heard an answer full of static, but couldn't make out what the voice on the other side of the radio said. Max must have understood because he responded, "Roger Saint Joe, ETA four minutes."

Max put his hand over mine, "Are you cold?"

Those eyes - they were a light green, just a few shades darker than sea foam with a hint of grey. There were brown specs in the green as if a fairy put brown sparkles in to make them more dynamic. I knew those eyes. I couldn't help but stare. I took his hand and squeezed it hard, holding on as if my life depended on it.

"Lauren, I know you can hear me. Are you cold?" I started shaking uncontrollably. I kept my death grip on his hand but couldn't form a response.

"Lauren," he nearly shouted at me this time, no longer the kind soothing tone, now an urgent angry voice. He reached for the microphone again.

I stopped him with my free hand. "I'm . . .not . . .cold," pausing at each word through chattering teeth. I felt an extreme case of déjà vu coming on. I'd seen his eyes in a dream every night since I was in high school. It couldn't be. I had to be hallucinating. Didn't I?

I didn't want to sound absurd, but I had to ask. "M-M-Max, do I look f-f-familiar to you?"

His puzzled expression was obvious, "Maybe, I can't place from where." He reached for a blanket and spread it over my shaking body, then leaned back to me, now holding both my hands.

It was just a dream; there's no way it could be real. I couldn't possibly tell him unless I wanted to end up in a padded cell after they removed the bullet. "You look a little familiar, but I just moved here." He was trying to humor me; I could hear it, but his grip on my hands didn't loosen.

Without thinking, I blurted out, "Will you stay with me?"

My heartbeat fluctuated again, and his monitor blared to life. This time he released my hands and grabbed the microphone again. "St Joe, this is Bus forty-two, twenty-one year old female requires O positive, significant blood loss, irregular heartbeat, one minute out." Another static filled response that I couldn't understand and Max replied, "Roger Saint Joe, forty-two out."

He continued to look at the monitors. He had ignored my question. "Max, will you stay with me?"

His smile was nervous. "I won't be able to stay with you, but I'll stop by after my shift in the morning to check on you." I nodded fervently. I could tell he was trying to lighten my mood when he added, "Now, if I'm going to go to all the trouble of coming in on my own time to see you, you need to hold on. Calm yourself down, understand?"

What a strange thing to say. Hold on. Was he serious? I wondered just how much blood had I lost? I wasn't feeling that strange, but my body was still shaking like crazy. I had attributed it to being so close to him, the man from my dreams who introduced himself as my destiny. Did that really happen? Maybe I had lost too much blood.

I felt the warmth from his hands, while mine felt cold and strangely stiff. I knew I had to say something; I had to tell him. I couldn't be dying, right? I wasn't certain of much of anything in my life, but Max had haunted my dreams for so long I couldn't let him go. I looked into those amazing green eyes, "I really want you to stay with me. Please don't go. Stay."

Max squeezed both my hands very hard, leaning only a few inches away from my face, "I won't leave your side until they take you to surgery. The doctor that's waiting for you is awesome. He'll take good care of you. I'll be back to check on you as soon as I can." His eyes were so sincere, I could no longer hold back the wave of tears begging to be released. I closed my eyes and held his hands as tight as I could, then realized I couldn't open my eyes.

I wasn't in the ambulance or strapped to a gurney anymore. I was swimming in a deep sea of black.

The dream that I had tried for years to convince myself was a fairy tale began to replay in my mind while I swam in that black sea. I could hear his voice through my dream. . . "I am your destiny . . . I'm not a figment of your imagination . . . our physical paths have not yet crossed . . . we chose this life together before we were born . . . We need, more than anything else in this entire world, to meet and work together so that we both may be complete . . . You must learn and let courage be your guide. It will lead you to me . . ."

I don't know how many times this dream had replayed in my mind - thousands maybe. Each time I experienced the dream, I was more aware that it was real. I had finally met my destiny . . . Max.

Slowly, groggily, I tired of swimming in the black sea. I could see the water lightening just above me. I swam toward the surface of the water, away from the darkness. Just as I was ready to break through the surface of the water and to the air above, I had to shade my eyes from the bright sun. The sun seemed to somehow come more into focus. I pressed my eyes firmly to keep them shut. I could feel the light on me.

My awareness began to intensify, as I realized it was not the sun, but a bright overhead light. I felt someone holding my hand, stroking my knuckles lightly. I squeezed their hand back and the gentle stroking stopped. I opened my eyes abruptly and winced from the lights.

Chapter Three

I heard Seth's voice, full of concern, "Lauren! Lauren! Can you hear me? Are you waking up? Lauren . . ."

"I'm awake," but it came out garbled, more of a mumble than a coherent response.

"Nurse! Nurse, she's awake!" His shout made me want to cover my ears, but in my grogginess my hands forgot where they were.

Barely more than a whisper, but this time with words formed, "Not so loud . . . what are you doing here?" I'm sure my puzzled expression was insulting, but I wasn't thinking straight. Of course he's here . . . but where's here? He called for a nurse. Why did he call for a nurse? The awareness of my last few minutes at work flooded over me... I'd been shot.

"It's okay, the nurse is coming. Are you in pain? Do you want to sit up? The doctor said you had lost so much blood...." His voice trailed off and was heavy with emotion. He was talking so fast that it was difficult to understand everything he rattled off. I tightened my grip on his hand in a gesture to assure him that I was fine. People get shot all the time. It's not like the bullet was even close to my heart.

A woman's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Lauren, how are you feeling? Do you need anything for the pain?" Her tone was thoughtful, and she was waiting for a response, unlike Seth just asking one thing after the other.

She looked to be in her mid-forties with a warm smile. "No, I feel okay. Where am I?"

"You are in Saint Joseph's Hospital. You were shot last night by an armed robber. Do you remember?"

Yes, I did remember. An involuntary shudder escaped me as I remembered the man's face.

"You came out of surgery several hours ago, but there were complications. Your mother just stepped out to make some phone calls and get some coffee. I'll call her and let her know you're awake. Can I get you anything?"

My throat was so dry it felt like it was on fire. In a gravelly voice, I simply asked, "Water," and leaned back on the bed. The nurse pushed a button to incline the bed enough so that I could drink without spilling all over myself. I looked for a clock but didn't see one. I lifted my left arm, but my watch wasn't there. I looked at Seth, really seeing him for the first time clearly since I had awakened. He was the guy all the girls noticed: piercing ice blue eyes, shortly cropped blonde hair, a lean-toned frame, 6' 2" and as gentle a man as I've ever known. "What time is it?"

"A little before five a.m." He seemed so distraught. "Lauren, I thought I'd lost you. I got here after you were already in surgery. A nurse took Molly and me to a waiting room. Your heart stopped; more than once they used paddles on you to get your heart going again."

I squeezed his hand again, trying to reassure him that I was fine.

Seth's blue eyes were locked on mine, "The surgeon came to talk to us afterwards. He was so..." the emotion again overwhelming his voice, "doubtful after your surgery. He said they couldn't get enough blood into you. You were bleeding it out too fast."

"I'm okay, Seth."

Seth looked away toward the window as if he had to collect his thoughts before he could go on. Knowing Seth like I do, he was trying to shield me from the pain that was evident on his face. In barely more than a whisper he added, "Thanks for not leaving me."

I found myself patting Seth's hand, "Don't worry. I'm fine." His emotion was powerful and his pain overwhelmed me. We'd been close to each other our whole lives, but this felt different. This was more than a friendship masquerading as a romance. He had told me he loved me millions of times, but for the first time, I believed him.

"I promise, I'm fine." I cast a reassuring smile, and he took my face in both his hands. Salty tears rolled down his cheek and dripped on my neck.

"When your heart stopped the second time tonight, I was sure my life was over. You gave me my life back. You will never know how much you mean to me, but I'll spend every day for the rest of my life showing you."

Did I just hear him right? I had seen love stories in movies, but none with the passion concentrated through his eyes in this moment. He gently kissed my ear and nuzzled my neck. Though we've been inseparable since birth, we'd never had any kind of romantic connection. For the first time in my life, I wondered if there could be something more with Seth. Before I could devote much thought to it, Mom appeared at the door.

"Lauren, I'm so glad you're awake. How're you feeling?" Seth didn't release my hand or move even a fraction of an inch away from me. This was uncomfortable. Mom had never seen any more affection between Seth and me than holding hands. I kissed his forehead as if to cue him to ease up in front of my mom. He took the hint.

"Okay, a little groggy, but okay."

"The doctor says you need your rest. Seth and I will take turns staying with you so you aren't alone. I saw the doctor in the hallway; he'll be in to see you in a minute. Can I get you anything?"

I shook my head.

"If you need anything, just tell us." Mom was used to me: I rarely asked for help even if it was obvious that I needed it.

"I'm fine and, yes, if I need anything, I'll ask. I am a little tired, though."

"Well, I'm sure that's normal. I'll go find the doctor so he can take a peek, and then you can go back to sleep." She hurried out the door and reappeared quickly with a very short man wearing green hospital scrubs. He smiled as he made it through the doorway and walked toward me.

In a booming voice, "Well, you're not looking so bad for dying so many times. Glad to see you're a fighter." The doctor looked at Mom and Seth, "If you two wouldn't mind stepping into the waiting room, I need to examine Lauren. It should only take a few minutes."

Mom winced in silence, and the doctor quickly picked up on her apprehension. "I'm sorry, I need to check her stitches, and the nurse will need to change her bandages. It would be better if, for the first few exams, the family remain in the hallway. I promise she'll be in good hands." My mother and Seth both nodded their understanding and stepped out in silence.

The doctor turned his attention back to me, "I'm Doctor Gracie. You sure kept us on our toes last night. You lost at least two quarts of blood before you got here, bleeding out faster than we could pump back in."

He checked my eyes, listened to my chest, checked my pulse and made notes on a chart. After a few minutes he smiled, "Your vitals are very good, so barring any big surprises, you're going to be out of here in no time."

"What exactly is no time?" I had never been a big fan of hospitals.

"Assuming no complications arise, I would say the day after tomorrow you should be sleeping in your own bed."

"So I can go home in two days?"

"Assuming everything continues as well as you are now, you bet. By the way, Max has called me three times checking on you. I'm glad I'll finally be able to give him a good report. How do you two know each other, anyway?"

I paused for a moment trying to understand the question, trying to place . . . Max. A few seconds passed, then it all came back to me. What was the right response to this question? Max had called several times to see if I was okay?

The doctor seemed mildly curious as he waited for my response, and I finally answered, "We don't know each other that well; we just met recently." This was the truth. I had only just met him in person last night, although I've had hundreds of conversations with him – at least I think I have. I've spent so many nights dreaming of this guy that I have even given him a name – Destiny. Now he had a real name . . . Max.

"Huh, I would have guessed you were old friends. He did compressions on you in the ambulance and refused to switch with anyone until you were prepped for surgery and we were ready to bring you in. I just assumed you two were close."

"You said he called checking on me?" I tried to be as nonchalant as possible.

"Yeah, I just hung up with him a few minutes ago. He wanted to know if you were awake yet. Max asked if he could come into recovery to see you. I told him you were already out of recovery and we had set you up in a room."

"Into recovery?"

"After surgery we keep patients in the recovery room until the anesthesia wears off and vitals are stabilized. It's normally about an hour; you were in a little longer than most."

"But why would he ask you?"

"Recovery is for medical staff only. Family and friends have to wait until someone is cleared from recovery before they can see them. Max was trying to get around the rules with his hospital credentials. I like Max and would've bent the rules for him, but there wasn't any need. By the time he asked, you had already been moved into your room."

"So did he say if he would be stopping by?"

"No, but since he was on last night, he should be getting off work soon. He may decide to check on you himself."

I hoped that the doctor couldn't see the flush on my face, as I did a momentary flashback to my time with Max in the ambulance. His amazing green eyes peered at me in my mind, and I felt giddy that he might pop through the door at any time.

"I'm going to give you a sedative to help you rest. I need you to get as much rest as possible; your body needs it." The doctor put a syringe into my IV bag.

"You haven't mentioned anything about my leg. Was everything okay with the surgery?"

"The bullet fractured - well shattered is a better description, a section of your femur and clipped your femoral artery. We were able to repair your artery in surgery and stop the bleeding. You're young and in good health, so after we got the bleeding to stop and the bullet out, I kept you open a little longer. We put an intramedullary rod in your femur, screwed it in place, and did a bone graft to speed the healing process."

The image of pins in my leg brought with it a flash of Frankenstein. I looked down at my leg to see metal pins sticking out of either side of my thigh. Gross! My leg was propped up on pillows, without a cast.

The doctor continued, "This would normally have been two surgeries, but the damage to your leg was pretty extensive, so we wanted to get the rod in right away. We'll need you to stay off it today. Tomorrow we'll have you try crutches to see if we need to put a frame on it for stability."

"No cast?" I felt my senses slowing down as the sedative made its way through my bloodstream.

"The rod we inserted acts like a cast from the inside. We'll wait for the swelling to go down before we have you work on mobility. With any luck we may not need to put a frame on." He laid down my chart and made his way to the door.

The doctor seemed surprised as he crossed the threshold and declared, "Well - speak of the devil! We were just talking about you."

My eyes were so heavy I couldn't keep them open. I saw someone step through the doorway in a blue uniform shirt, just as my eyes closed.

Chapter Four

I awoke feeling groggy again, with my throat on fire. There was a perfume fragrance that was nearly overwhelming, almost as though I were breathing in through some floral air freshener. I forced my eyes open, and this time, the light wasn't as blinding as it had been the last time I awoke.

I blinked my eyes a couple times and looked around to see if my room was empty. Seth was sitting on the visitor chair on my left, sound asleep. He was the best friend ever. I could see the worry on his face through the slumber. I reached out to touch his arm, but the tubes protruding from my arm acted like a restraint, so I wasn't able to stretch my arm to him.

I looked around the room, surprised to see bouquets of flowers lining every table top, window sill and flat surface in the room. It looked like a floral shop, all sizes of arrangements in every pastel color: pinks, yellows, oranges, their combined fragrance overwhelming. I started to count the vases: one, two, three . . . seventeen, eighteen! Where had all these flowers come from?

The curiosity got to me, and I reached to the table on my right to see the card on the arrangement closest to me. It was from Melissa with a quick message scrawled, "I would trade with you in a minute and am still mad about the freezer." The card warmed me knowing my ruse had kept Melissa safe.

I mulled over the events of last night. As soon as the man had entered the restaurant, I knew he was trouble. My body reacted to him before he even got near me. I've always had a sense for people, for their intentions, but never anything like last night.

For as long as I can remember, I've always known things without proof and believed in outcomes others would never fathom. This would normally paint a picture of someone who is gullible and easily deceived. There are things that I understand that I cannot quantify, but unlike so many others, I don't always require proof to validate my instincts.

Instincts: those elements that make the hair on your arms stand on end when danger approaches, that permit you to turn around quickly to catch a man's gaze in a bar before he looks away. The last several years, my instincts have become sharper; I'm not certain if it is due to practice, age, hormones or what. I'm not physic or clairvoyant, just more perceptive than most.

I could have handled things differently, but if I had, the results might have been dreadful. As it was, my leg may have been shot, but I wasn't in any insurmountable pain or anything. No one else had been put in jeopardy, so I was sure I'd picked the best course of action among some seriously crappy choices. I put Melissa's card back in the holder.

My throat might as well have been lined with sand paper, the pain radiating was nearly unbearable. I laughed at myself - I lose a couple quarts of blood, suffer a gun-shot wound, die a few times on the operating table, and it's a sore throat that's unbearable. I looked for a glass of water. I didn't want to wake up Seth; who knows how long he had stayed awake. I decided to push the, "Call Nurse" button on my bed. Mere seconds passed before an older stout woman came charging through the door. I raised my index finger quickly to my lips in an effort to keep her from talking aloud. I pointed at the sleeping Seth. She nodded in understanding. When I cupped my hand in a pretend glass gesture as if I were drinking, she nodded, understanding my sign language.

She smiled and walked over to a table that was overflowing with flowers. Tucked behind a large arrangement was a little plastic pitcher and glass she carried across the room to me. In a hushed tone, respecting my wishes not to disturb Seth, she asked, "How are you feeling?"

I managed a smile of my own and replied, "I think okay. What time is it?"

Her name tag read Felicia. She looked at her watch, "A little after noon. Are you hungry?"

Until she said the word hungry I hadn't noticed, but by stomach was definitely empty, and I nodded enthusiastically. "I'll be right back with some lunch for you. You may not want to let him sleep very long. The poor guy's been worried sick about you all morning. I know he'd be thrilled to see you awake and having a bite to eat." I nodded, and she turned around and was out the door in a flash.

My voice sounded like gravel. I drank the whole glass of water in relatively slow sips, partly to sooth my parched throat and partly to try to smooth my voice before I spoke. I cleared my throat quietly, then in a soft but audible voice uttered, "Seth...Seth helloooooo." The sound gave him a sudden jolt, and I felt bad; he was sound asleep, and my voice startled him awake. He had a brief second of confusion, uncertain what had awoken him, then I could see the relief spill over his face.

In as smooth and playful a voice as I could squeak out, I asked, "So don't you have anything better to do on a Friday than sit in a hospital all day accepting flower deliveries?"

Seth's face beamed. He was on his feet and at my side in an instant, holding my hand with his, and gently caressing my forehead with his other. Seth had never pushed me to be physical with him, and any handholding or tenderness had always felt a little awkward.

But today, I could see his genuine desire to be closer to me. I had never really craved his touch before, but feeling his tenderness provoked a desire for more, a yearning I didn't know I had. I have no idea how long we spent motionless with one another, the only movement his gentle caress on my forehead.

In barely louder than a whisper he asked, "Lauren, I have so much to say to you. Are you really awake?" I nodded and couldn't help but feel the warmth that emanated from him and the wave of unfamiliar tingles in my body.

He stared at me, then looked away as if he were embarrassed. His mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. I saw his eyes were fixed on our hands. I squeezed his hand as if trying to prove I was okay.

"I promise I'm awake...sorry I've been so out of it today. I guess I have some idea how a bear feels, hibernating and everything."

Whatever he wanted to say, I didn't want to push him. I liked this moment. I had never felt so close to him before and wanted to savor the moment a little bit longer. I was sure this was more a result of a horrific event than a new revelation on our relationship. I felt his breath speed up as he leaned in to kiss me. My mind was full of uncertainty: Where was this coming from? Although a small part of me liked his new found attention, a louder voice inside of me was screaming that this was huge mistake.

When I closed my eyes, all I saw were those sea foam green eyes with brown speckles in them, and I knew my desire was not at all for Seth. I needed to stop this.

Seth's smile faded away. He looked briefly to the ceiling as if he needed his composure before his mouth would cooperate. Then finally in a remorseful voice, "This has been the worst day of my entire life. I feel so powerless to help you. I need you to be okay. Do you understand?" He didn't break his stare or pull his hand away from me.

I nodded, but after feeling the intensity of his stare, I needed to calm him down, if that was even possible. "Seth, I'm fine, really. I've never been shot before, and honestly hope never to repeat it, but I feel okay. The doctor says I'm going to be fine." I tried to switch gears on him and asked, "Where's Mom?"

"Molly went home to take a shower. The doctor said you wouldn't wake up for a while. She should be back any time. I'll call her and let her know you're awake again."

The nurse came in with a lunch tray, then rolled an odd-looking table over the bed in front of me. She adjusted the bed so that I was seated nearly upright, and the table was at exactly the right height. I peered at the unappealing tray of food she had set in front of me. She filled my glass with water again and could see my disappointment. "Sorry Sweetie, this is the standard tray. I'll bring you a menu so you can pick your meals for the remainder of your stay. You don't have any dietary restrictions, so you can eat chocolate ice cream for every meal if you want." She giggled a little and her less serious mood was exactly what I needed. I picked up the fork, "Well, thanks," and pushed the food around a little. She gave me a half smile and disappeared out the door again.

I was pretty sure the meat was chicken, but it had creamy stuff all over it. Peas were my least favorite vegetable and there was a near mountain of them on my plate. The biscuit was hard as a rock, and to top it all off – tapioca pudding. I can't imagine who would want this meal – certainly not me. After poking everything, I realized no matter how hungry I was, I wouldn't find this lunch appetizing. Without trying to sound pathetic, I asked, "Seth, do you think you could get me some real food?" I looked at him hopefully, knowing he didn't want to leave.

"Sure, what do you want?"

"Chicken and French fries would be great, but at this point I'll take anything with grease." He rolled his eyes at me. Seth had never approved of my eating habits but made no effort to try to dissuade me this time.

"Your mom should be back anytime. I'll go get you something as soon as she gets here." Seth saw the disappointment on my face and smiled knowingly, "Okay, I'll go now. You're right, I'll probably beat her back here." He delayed for a second as if he were arguing with himself.

"Seth, really, I'm okay. It's okay to leave me. I'm just really hungry." He nodded and started to turn around to leave, then stopped and stepped back toward me. He leaned down to kiss my forehead and whispered in my ear, "I'll be right back. I miss you already." He hesitated for just a second, then walked out.

I sat in silence for a minute. I was tired but not enough to nap again. I saw a television mounted on the wall and looked for a remote. There had to be one around here somewhere. I began to rifle through the drawer of the table the nurse had wheeled in front of me. The drawer's contents included several old magazines, some hospital stationery, a couple pens, but no remote. I saw the table beside my bed and tried to angle my hand around the bed rail to open the drawer when a voice startled me.

"Is this where the town's biggest hero is staying? I have to say I expected a little better accommodations for someone who single handedly foiled the town's first armed robber in years. Threw yourself in front of a speeding bullet and everything. I expected you'd be in the penthouse suite." The happy voice came booming in; I could hardly contain my excitement when I realized it was Max.

The events in the ambulance came flooding in. I was so thrilled to see him, I felt giddy. I nearly shrieked, "You remembered!" but regained my composure just before I could make a complete idiot out of myself. Up until Max walked through the door, my pulse had been a steady 60 beats per minute.

As soon as I realized it was Max coming through the door, my pulse began to increase steadily, and I knew at this point if I couldn't get it under control someone was going to rush in with a syringe, and I might never be able to talk to him. I consciously willed my pulse to stay slow; it was at 95, but it hadn't increased quickly enough to sound the monitor's alarm.

Even with a concerted effort to try to contain my thrill at seeing him, I nearly squealed, "Hi Max, I'm glad you came." Did that sound too needy? Play it cool, Lauren. Don't scare him off.

His jovial mood was evident in every movement as he stepped through the door. He teased, "Lauren, are you kidding me? How could I not come? I stopped by earlier but Doc Gracie had just knocked you out. How'ya feelin?" His smile warmed the room, and I hardly paid attention to what he was saying. I stole a glance at the monitor again; it displayed 101 as I took a slow deep breath, willing it to slow down.

"Much better. The Doc filled my tank. He said I came in a couple quarts low last night."

"Looks like you have a bunch of admirers from all the flowers. I don't think I've ever seen so many in one room." At least he was better at small talk than I was. My mind raced, and anxiety crept forward with the realization that if we ran out of things to talk about, he might leave.

He had been about six feet away from me. I smiled as I looked at the flowers lining my entire room. After a few seconds my gaze left the flowers and went to his face. "Max, could you come a little closer?" I tried to motion for him to come closer but was quickly reminded that the tubes wouldn't allow me much movement. He could see my frustration and moved right beside my bed.

He rested his hand lightly on the bed rail near my hand. I felt strange, a little nervous. Should I take his hand? What if he pulls it away? I ever-so-slightly inched my fingers closer to his, so close that only the width of a credit card separated us.

Unsure what to say, all I got out was, "Hi."

Max leaned toward me a quarter inch, and his knuckles brushed against mine. With a sheepish smile and in barely more than a whisper, he responded, "Hi."

For such a simple exchange, I was profoundly affected. If anyone had walked in right then, they would have looked away in embarrassment and tried to give us some privacy. I didn't have any idea what to say to him, but at the same time had so much I needed for him to know. I looked at him, maybe into him.

Could this strange connection I had with him really be one-sided? Had I been visiting his dreams? "I'm glad you're going to be fine, Lauren." I loved the way he said my name. His voice sounded exactly the same as it did all those nights in my dreams. It was really him. He was really here. A tender hand reached down to mine: a look of shock was visible on his face at the same time I felt an electric current shoot through me - not painful, but powerful.

My heart rate spiked to 120, which was enough that the monitor came to life. Max loosened his hold on my hand and turned his attention to the monitor. The nurse came into the room quickly and all but pushed Max out of the way. Max's tone was apologetic, "I'd better get out'a here."

Rapid fear shot through me. "No, stay," I blasted a little too authoritatively and definitely too loud. I told myself to calm down and added, "Nurse, really, it's nothing. I don't want another shot; I was just happy to see Max." Willing my heart to slow down, it cooperated a bit as it slowed to 118, then a few seconds later to 116. "Please, I really want to see him for a few minutes."

Her nametag read "Felicia." She shot a disapproving look, "Max, if it hits 125, you had better be prepared to explain to Doctor Gracie." She turned to me, and the harshness of her tone had evaporated, "All right, dear, but just a few minutes. You haven't been out of surgery very long, and we need to keep you as stable as possible."

Max looked at the nurse, "Thanks, Felicia." It hadn't occurred to me, but Max probably knew the entire hospital staff. "I won't stay long."

I still had no idea what to say to Max but was sure that if I didn't say something soon, he would leave, and I might never see him again. The miserable thought kicked my brain into high gear. "Max, I'm sorry about my heart not cooperating. I'm sure it's from all the drugs in me."

I knew I wanted to really talk to him, but the awkwardness of being in a hospital nearly tongue-tied me. "I wanted to thank you for everything..." I trailed off, unable to articulate anything more. His eyes were a mere few feet away and were truly breathtaking. The light green was like nothing I'd ever seen before, at least not outside my dreams, and the brown specs were so predominant, they were in one word – amazing. Realizing that I was staring, I quickly broke contact.

"It's my job, Lauren. I'm glad we were the ones on the scene." He was just as nervous as I was. I could hear it in his voice. Why was he so nervous? Max wasn't the one with crazy dreams about destiny, and his heart hadn't stopped when he met me. I must be imagining it, projecting my emotions onto him to better justify them to myself.

My heart rate began to climb again: it hit 122 as I again clutched his hand, feeling the same electric pulse race through me. I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. I was thankful that I was lying down, confident that if I had been standing, I would have lost my balance. "I can't explain it, but I know I'm not going to be able to keep my heart from racing again." A little nervous and fearing rejection, I asked, "I'm a little spent. I'm really glad you came to see me, and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind meeting me outside of the hospital? Nothing major, I just have weird memories from last night and wanted to talk to you about them." There, I had said it and didn't sound like a freak, just someone who had gone through a traumatic experience looking for some answers.

There was a notable pause as he stumbled on his answer, "Lauren, I really . . . I'm not sure if . . . Maybe it would be better . . ." He trailed off and I was sure he was trying to find a nice way of saying no thanks. His tone was dismissive, but my stare never wavered.

Not wanting to let him off the hook, I asked with a little more urgency, "Max, it's important to me." My eyes were pleading and my hand held his tighter. "The doctor says I'll be out in a couple days, and I really want to see you, even if only for a couple minutes."

His expression gave him away and I felt like he was, what? Happy, maybe, to be put on the spot? "Lauren, I'd like to see you again. It's just that I came here earlier and I thought, well, I was under the impression . . . Never mind . . . Yes, yes, I'll call you." I wasn't convinced with his hesitation that he really wanted to see me again. Not wanting to take a chance, I added, "Would you mind putting your phone number on the back of this card. I'd hate to have to take another bullet to try to find you again." I pulled the note card from the closest flower arrangement and handed it to him.

He smiled more broadly than before and reached into his pocket and took out a business card, "Here, this has all my numbers." He had an odd expression, which I couldn't place. I was worried he was going to bolt out of the room when he remarked, "I talked to Doctor Gracie this morning after he had to stabilize your heart. He said he was planning to run some more tests in the next couple days. Did he say when he thought he'd release you?"

He tucked the card behind the card from Melissa on the holder in the flower arrangement. I was thankful that he did because it was where I could easily reach it, yet it was hidden enough that I wouldn't have to explain to anyone why I had it.

"He just told me that if things keep going well, maybe two more days."

"I'm glad you're going to call me, but do you mind if I stop back while you're here? I'm normally at Saint Joe's at least once a night and could pop in and see if you need anything?"

I managed to get out, "I'd like that."

"I'd better go. I am really glad you're okay. You've got all my numbers. Call me anytime... day or night . . . even if . . . well, call me whenever you want." He squeezed my hand one final time and shot me another huge smile, then turned and walked away. He paused at the doorway just for a moment and turned back to look at me. "Lauren . . . I'm glad you're doing so well. I'm sure this isn't the most appropriate time to ask, but when you feel up to it and want to get together, maybe we could go out for dinner or something?"

I managed to smile but could think of nothing clever to say. "I'd like that."

"Great! I mean . . . I'm really glad that you . . . never mind," his face looked squarely at the floor. "I'll stop by tonight if I have a run to the hospital. I need to get home and catch some zees." He was blushing as he stepped out the door.

I looked at the monitor: it was at 123, but slowly descending to normal. The next several hours were a flurry of doctors, nurses, and visitors. By the time visiting hours were over, I was completely exhausted and yearning for sleep.

Dad had been out of town on a business trip but flew in late in the afternoon. I was glad to see him, but my mind was still preoccupied with meeting Max. After he'd checked his phone for messages and wore a particularly urgent expression, I told him, "It's fine Dad. Mom and Seth are here. I'm okay. You don't need to stay here."

He smiled, "It's nothing that can't wait a couple days." He was a liar - a worse liar than I was.

"Dad, it's fine. I'm glad you came to check on me, but you don't have to hang out. Go do what you've gotta do." He was up for some big promotion at work; I didn't want to put it in jeopardy, and the four of us were running out of things to talk about.

Mom stood up and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "Go home and get some sleep. You look like hell."

He winked at her, but didn't argue. "All right, I know when I'm not wanted. Call if you need anything, Lauren."

For the next few hours Mom and Seth took turns getting coffee, changing channels on the television, reading the paper. The two were making me nervous sitting there. By nine p.m. I couldn't take it anymore, "You both look worn out. I'm just going to be sleeping anyway, so why don't you two go home and get some rest and come back tomorrow. If I need anything, the nurses are just a few feet away."

Reluctantly and after a great deal of prodding, they both decided they would go home for a few hours but promised to be back before breakfast. The nurses came back through at least once an hour, charting my vitals, refilling my water pitcher, checking all the gauges. My body was stiff from lying still for so long, so I asked the nurse if I could get out of bed for a little bit.

"Sorry, Lauren, no activity for twenty-four hours. Your leg was all but shattered, and the swelling needs to go down from the surgery. We have to keep your leg immobile and raised above your heart to keep the swelling down, or you will never get out of here. Putting any pressure on it right now is not a good idea. Just sit tight and you'll be mobile again soon." She dimmed the lights in my room and walked toward the door, "I won't be back until midnight to check on you again unless you call me. Do you need anything before I go?" I assured her I was fine.

Once I was alone in my room, I looked at the flower arrangement with Max's card sticking out - begging me to pick it up.

Chapter Five

I stared at the phone. This was the first time I had been alone all day. What was Max doing? It wouldn't be too desperate to just call and say hi, would it? I reached for his card. He hadn't been kidding; the card had his home number, work number, and cell. If I got him on the phone, what would I say? Let's see, probably stay away from the whole, "I saw you in a dream" topic, and try not to mention that every time he's near me my heart starts pumping in overdrive. I should avoid talking about Seth.

Seth. As I stared at the phone, this call seemed like a huge betrayal. Seth was a great friend - my best friend for as long as I could remember. I had to admit that earlier today, for the first time ever, I almost believed there could be something more between Seth and me. I knew there was a reaction in me, but I dismissed it. I'd never felt that way about him. I knew I couldn't ever feel that way about him. He had taken me by surprise by what he'd said: that was the reaction I'd had to Seth's words - surprise. I looked at Max's card again and couldn't help but feel guilty.

My mind wandered to Max again. After all these years, finding out that my dream was really more than a dream was too enticing a prospect. It wasn't like Max and I had an official date planned, just a dinner. He saved my life; of course, I would want to get together with him to say thanks. Anyone in the same situation would want to talk to the person who was responsible for a second chance at life. It wasn't like I was cheating on Seth or anything. A phone call to say hello couldn't possibly be a betrayal of Seth.

Who was I trying to convince? I couldn't even be within ten feet of Max without my heart trying to race out of my chest. When Max was near me, I felt like he was supposed to be there. Forgetting how he made my mind spin and my heart race - there was a physical draw. That heart monitor flying into a rapid alarm mode was embarrassing enough, but when our hands touched, I know I felt an electric shock. That surge of electricity couldn't possibly be a normal attraction, but was it just me or did he feel it, too?

I picked up the phone. I dialed Max's home number, and after the fourth ring his message played, "Hello, Max and Missy are busy. Leave a message, and if we like you, we'll call you back....beeeeeep."

I was shocked by the message and didn't know what to say. I could only get out, "I, uh, was calling for . . . Max . . . " I hung up abruptly. What was I thinking? He had a girlfriend and she lived with him! How could I be so stupid? What was I thinking? Max and Missy, well, wasn't that cute? Why would he give me his home number? He wasn't brave enough to tell me to my face that he couldn't see me, so he took the easy way out and let me find out on my own. I'm such an idiot.

I had never been gullible my whole life. Why hadn't I realized? I thought back to our conversation and his hesitation was obvious. I hadn't even considered his hesitation to be the result of a girl in his life. What was I thinking? Of course, he had a girlfriend. He was gorgeous. He had an exciting job. Why would I think he was available?

I buried my head in my pillow, sure that Missy would hear the message and know what a jerk Max really was. Served him right. He should have just told me he was spoken for and that I didn't have a chance.

Then a thought occurred to me. What was I so upset about? Hadn't Seth been with me nearly every minute since I got here? Seth put himself out there with his feelings for me loud and clear. Here I was sneaking around, and that answering machine was exactly the wake-up call I needed.

It would be pretty easy to float effortlessly through life with Seth. He was intelligent, with an enormous heart, and he would do anything for me. I couldn't say that for anyone else I'd ever met.

Then reality set back in, and I reminded myself that I'd never felt any kind of passion for Seth. What was that crazy country song? "You can lead a heart to love, but you can't make it fall." I never realized that I would feel the poetic irony of that song. Seth and I had always been so comfortable with one another, like we were a matched set. Why couldn't I make myself want him?

My anger subsided a little. Why should I be upset about Max's girlfriend? I wasn't exactly unattached, and I wouldn't hurt Seth for any amount of money. The only secret I had ever kept from him was my Destiny dream. Good riddance, Max, and I tossed his card with all his information into the trash.

I fell into a restless sleep. Had I been in my own bed, I would have tossed and turned for hours. As it was, with all these tubes and wires connecting me to more monitors than I thought possible, movement was restrictive. I lay silent, immobile and restlessly asleep. My dreams haunted me throughout the night, full of seafoam green eyes, handguns, and old Army jackets. I don't remember what woke me up, whether it was a noise or I felt as though eyes were watching me. I startled awake to see Seth sitting silently in the chair. He was looking blankly at the wall, no sound other than his breathing.

Seeing him sitting silently in my room made me smile; that was my Seth. I had no idea what time it was, but was sure it was way before breakfast. "Don't you ever sleep?" My voice startled him for a second, and just like earlier in the day, he was up in one fluid motion at my side. I noticed that his eyes weren't as swollen as the last time I saw him. There were dark circles under them, but the white surrounding his irises had lost most of the bright red that had been so evident earlier.

He looked behind him and used his leg to scoot the chair he had been sitting in so it was flush with my bed. Seth had a hopeful look, "I have an idea I want to try, okay?"

I had no idea what he was about to do. There really weren't that many possibilities, so I didn't protest. He pushed a button next to the nurse's call button on the bed's remote control, and the bed lowered. After a full minute, it looked like the bed was nearly all the way on the floor. He moved his chair so that it was flush against my bed - positioned so that we were facing each other, the chair only slightly lower than the bed. He lowered the bed rail so that it was completely out of the way. He sat in his chair then gently laid his head on me.

Still angry with myself and the whole Max situation, I guiltily tried to make light of Seth's affection. "I never knew I looked like such a big fluffy pillow lying here in bed." He opened his eyes, his mood was somber, and he didn't give me even a hint of a smile. He rotated his head so his face was firmly planted on my abdomen. I couldn't see his eyes.

I felt him press his face into my stomach. It felt like silent sobs erupting against my stomach, but he said nothing and remained planted against me. I brought both my hands to his head, carefully running my fingers through his hair. Uncertain what to say, I murmured, "Really Seth, I'm fine...I'm going to be fine." He stretched both arms around me and hugged me tight, tighter than was comfortable, but I didn't tell him to stop. It began to be difficult to breath, but I didn't tell him to let go. After a few minutes, I could feel that his emotional implosion had run its course. He took a few deep breaths and rotated his head so he was able to look at me.

My arms were still loosely around him, and my fingertips gently caressed his neck. I felt the need to comfort him, to tell him I was fine. I wished we could go back to normal – closest of friends. Every other girl I knew would kill to have Seth's heart. I willed myself to smile, but inside I knew the truth: I would never feel the draw to Seth that I had felt for an almost perfect stranger - Max.

Sharing this epiphany with Seth would shatter him. Finally he broke the silence, "Lauren, what are you feeling?" It seemed an odd question. Since obviously I had pain medication coursing through my veins, what was he expecting me to say? I hoped he was asking about the feeling in my leg, the pressure on my diaphragm from his head, or the maze of tubes protruding from both arms. He repeated his question, "I really want to know, what are you feeling?"

"Well, the nurses are keeping me pretty well drugged. I can feel a pressure sensation on my leg, but I wouldn't say it's even remotely close to pain. More like when someone kicks you in the shin one day and the next day when you are walking you can feel a tightness at that spot, but not exactly pain. I'm just anxious to get up and walk around." I saw his wounded expression and knew my answer was way off the mark.

"No" I heard a bit of shakiness in his voice, "I was asking about how are you feeling . . . about me. I'm not stupid. I know you've never felt . . . but I need to know if you feel anything." He held his finger to my lips just briefly so he could continue without an interruption from me. "Lauren, my whole life, from the time I knew what a friend was, you were mine. Over the years you have grown from my closest friend to my entire life. When I got the call Thursday, I nearly ran two cars off the road to get to the hospital to be with you. I was in the waiting room when a nurse told us they had to restart your heart. I realized in that moment that all those years I had just assumed you knew how I felt, how deeply a part of me you were, but I had never told you. I never made you listen. I'm not as articulate as I'd like to be, and I can't make myself sound like some romance novel, but I've done everything I can think of, and I feel like maybe you still don't feel the same, maybe you will never feel the same."

He looked away from me briefly, as if the wall behind me was somehow interesting. I was speechless. "Lauren, if you don't feel the same, I'm okay with that. I just need to know how you feel. I love you enough for both of us, but I just need you to tell me how you feel about me."

My eyes were completely clouded over; I tried to speak but nothing came out. I used a dry patch of my blanket to wipe the moisture from my cheeks and take a deep breath. The silence seemed to last forever, while the monitors slowly hummed along and the beeps from my heart monitor beeped without a change. Seth hugged my body hard again, and I could tell he had interpreted my silence correctly. He knew I couldn't bring myself to say it.

I used all the strength in my arm to lift his chin, so he was forced to look at me. "I love you, I always have. Until today, I didn't know how deeply you cared. I guess I thought you considered me closer to your sister than your . . . " I couldn't finish it - girlfriend, lover? "I can't describe how I feel, because until the accident I thought we were both kind of resolved that we were a couple because it was convenient. It makes Gwen happy, it makes Mom happy, there's no one on earth I'd rather spend time with, so it was okay, logical even to be a couple."

Seth could see exactly where this was going and cut me off. "It's never been out of convenience."

My voice was still shaky, but this was a conversation we needed to have. "You're right, but do you really think of me that way? I think my accident scared you and somehow now you think the only way to heal me is to change our relationship around. I'm not sure I want that."

"I've always worried that you just stayed with me because it was comfortable, and I'm not stupid enough to believe that you will ever have a passionate desire to be with me. I'd like to think that maybe I was missing something, and you do feel that way about me, you just aren't ready for that next step."

"Seth, I..." I had no idea what I could say. He knew I didn't feel the same, and he must have been waiting for me to say it. "I do love you. I am not ready for that next step. It really isn't you, I'm not ready for the next step with anyone." Great, the it's not you, it's me speech. Until I heard Max's answering machine a few hours ago, I had myself convinced that I was ready for a next step – just not with Seth.

In my mind I had been holding Seth at bay for years knowing that my "Destiny" was out there. My Max. What a joke.

Seth interrupted my thoughts of Max. "I can accept that you don't feel the same, but until you tell me you don't want to be with me, I'm going to keep trying to convince you that someday you might. You will: you just don't know it yet."

I didn't want to hurt him, but I didn't want to be alone either. I struggled for several long minutes knowing that I should tell him now, before he got his hopes up that something would change. "Seth, I love you, but I don't think I'll ever feel that way."

"You will. You just need a little more time." He clung to me for what felt like hours, never loosening his grip. Just as I could feel dawn arriving through the window, I felt him slide his hands gently along my sides. His eyes remained closed, but his gentle hands were comforting. I rotated my torso down to kiss the top of his head. He finally released my body from his grasp and gave me a look I had not seen before. Neither of us spoke for a long while.

The last several hours had been excruciating. I didn't sleep at all and with each passing hour the certainty that there was no way to keep from breaking his heart became all too clear. I'd finally gotten enough courage to tell him that I would never feel that way about him, but he refused to listen.

His eyes were clear, the dark circles under his eyes faded, and he seemed to be excited about something. I braced myself for what he might say next and the likelihood of this moment being the time I would have to rip his heart from his chest. "Lauren, I need to run an errand. Do you have any special requests for me to pick up while I'm out? Maybe a greasy double cheeseburger or something?" His decision to leave for a while and offer to get me a bite to eat took me further by surprise, and the relief I was feeling had to be written on my face.

"I'm always up for a greasy cheeseburger. If you're near Tasty Burger, stop by and tell everyone that I'm doing okay." Seth got up, stretched his arms high into the air and then leaned into me with a smile, put his lips to my ear, and whispered, "I miss you already."

As Seth approached the door to exit, Mom walked in. I could see her surprise at seeing Seth. He gave her a quick hug and told her I was doing better, that he'd be back soon.

She watched him disappear through the door, "Well, I guess I don't have to ask how you're feeling. There is a spring in his step, so you must be in pretty good shape! Did he spend the night here after all?"

"I think so. I woke up sometime after midnight, and he was in the chair."

"I'm so glad, Lauren. I didn't want to leave you alone last night in this place. I'm glad Seth is less fearful of your wrath," she added with a smile. "Where's he off to so early?"

"I dunno. He just said he had an errand to run and asked if I wanted a cheeseburger."

She shook her head at me and added, "Well, you must be doing well if he's running errands and getting you greasy food."

"Dad says to tell you he loves you. Can I get you anything? Fluff your pillow, rearrange your flowers?" She was so nervous she couldn't even make eye contact with me.

Without sounding too abrupt, I asked, "Okay, Mom, I can tell when something's eating at you. Are you going to share it with me willingly or do I need to pull it out of you?"

"I'm fine. I'm glad to see you aren't as groggy as yesterday. Do you feel better?" She seemed upbeat, but I could tell she had something she desperately needed to say.

"Mom, why do you do this? You know I can read you like a book. What's wrong?"

Her nervous smile subsided, and she admitted defeat, knowing that trying to hide anything from me was fruitless. "Oh, Lauren, we are all so worried about you. What with the television crews camped outside the house and the entrance to the hospital . . . The phone has been ringing non-stop; I had to call the phone company to put a block on our line for incoming calls. The police have come by the house several times to give us updates on their progress. They have a man in custody for shooting you."

"Really, the police caught him already? That's great! When?" No one had talked to me about the shooting since it happened, and I was thrilled with this tidbit of information.

"A few hours after it happened, I guess, while you were still in surgery. The mayor's office called and wants to give you some sort of an award. The police said they need to take a statement from you when you are up to it. I have to confess I'm a little frazzled. Coming to the hospital to see you is the most peaceful part of my day."

I knew she was telling me what was on her mind, but she still didn't hit the part that was bothering her. "There's more that's bothering you than phone calls and interviews. What else?" I hated dragging it out of her. I wished she would just get it over with and tell me why she was so upset.

"I never could hide anything from you, could I? I look at your indifference to the whole situation - I just don't know if I should hug you for being so brave or shake you for putting yourself in that kind of danger. What could have possessed you to jump in front of a man with a gun?"

The way she described it, I did sound reckless. "I'm sorry, Mom," my voice hardly audible.

"I'm not looking for an apology; I just don't understand. What possessed you to do such a thing?"

"I just knew that guy was dangerous and frustrated with the little kid standing by him. From the time I was little, you told me never to back down from a bully." The regret I had felt a minute ago was quickly consumed by my conviction that I had made the right decision in an extremely bad situation.

"I never expected the bully you decided to stand up to to be a man with a gun. Sometimes you've got to think things through before you act. You came pretty close to getting yourself killed."

"I know I made the right choice. It's not like I planned it. I didn't know I had even been shot until after Wanda locked down the restaurant and carried me to a booth. So, obviously, I wasn't jumping in front of a speeding bullet; I was just trying to keep the man from attacking a little kid." Dark irritation was seething through every pore in my body. "Do you know what height a four year old is? Right there," I pointed directly at my bandaged leg. "His heart was at my mid thigh, right where I was shot. Now what's worse, me taking a bullet in a leg or a child never living long enough to make it to kindergarten?"

Fury with her grabbed hold of my entire body. It was difficult to keep from shouting at her. I was sorry I had ever asked what was bothering her. "I'm a little tired. Do you mind giving me some room." I felt my eyes swelling up with tears.

As I did my best to maintain my enraged stare, she looked at me like I had just crossed some imaginary line that our relationship might never recover from. I continued to stare at her, my wrath refusing to subside, "Really Mom, I don't want to talk about this again, ever."

Her hurt wasn't masked in the slightest. She took a step back and stood for a long minute looking at the floor and mumbled very low, "I almost lost you."

My words still full of fury, "Well, you didn't . . . but calling me an idiot won't win you any points."

Again with an expression that looked like I had just slapped her on the face, "I never said you were an idiot, Lauren. Your life is more important to me than a child I've never met." She paused, knowing this conversation had taken a turn she never saw coming and desperately wanting out of. "The news stations are asking for an interview. Do you feel up to it today?"

"No, give them Wanda's number." A light tapping at the door that hung wide open caught my attention. I didn't recognize the two men at the door who were waiting to be invited in.

Mom pivoted in place and asked, "Can I help you?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but I'm Detective Pothier, and if Lauren is feeling up to it, we'd like to ask her a few questions about the events two nights ago." I motioned for them to come in, and they began what I'm assuming was a well-rehearsed, "soft" interrogation. I shared with them all the details, and, until we got to the part where I was sure a door had slammed, they didn't take any notes and really didn't appear to be paying much attention. It turns out everything I relayed matched statements they had already taken from witnesses. Detective Pothier chuckled a little, "You really thought someone had slammed a door?"

The embarrassment I was feeling had to shine through, but I simply nodded and finished the remainder of the interview as quickly as possible. During the course of the fifteen minutes it took to relay the events to the two police officers, my mother had excused herself, so it was just the three of us in the room.

The detective leaned toward me, "Kid, before we got here we already had all the information we needed from eye witnesses. This was merely a formality for the file. Everything you have told us precisely matches the other statements we have taken, well, except for the slamming door. Everyone else seemed to know it was a gunshot but you," he added with a snicker. "I'm sure you know we have a suspect in custody who says he's prepared to make a statement that, I believe, will corroborate absolutely everything we've learned the last two days." The detective closed his notebook and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but if you were a man, I could only describe you as someone with balls of steel. I have had the privilege to witness courage throughout my life, but you take the cake." The look on his face made my chest swell with pride. This wasn't some desk jockey. This was a veteran police detective telling me how courageous I was. My first inclination was to invite my mom back into the room and ask him to say it again.

A little self-conscious from his kind words, I was only able to follow with, "Well, thanks." The two detectives both wished me a quick recovery and politely excused themselves.

My mind spun a little on the detective's choice of words, specifically the one word. Courage. My reoccurring dream haunted me again – Max's voice echoed in my mind.

"You will not be able to find me until you are on the path to attaining courage. Once you find me, all the information that I share with you now is locked away from me, hidden in my human unconscious mind. You will have to follow your instincts, choose your paths wisely. I know you will recognize me."

I got goose bumps on my arm and couldn't help but let my imagination take hold. There was no way this was a coincidence. Was it some sort of prophecy? A million different ideas began to run through my head, not the least of which was even possible. Max wasn't just in my dream: he really was my destiny. The robbery fulfilled it. My courage had brought me to him, just like my dream foretold.

How could someone I had never met come to me in a dream and tell me about my future? Then when I met him, he was completely unaware of the future he had told me about. Worse yet, that future wasn't possible because he was already committed to someone else. To top it all off, Seth was all the sudden convinced he loved me in a love kind of way. I closed my eyes in an effort to settle my mind from spinning out of control. All of this had to be a trick of some kind that my mind was playing on me. It had to be.

Chapter Six

Seth didn't return until late that afternoon, coming in with a suspicious look as he walked to the side of my bed. He put the chair back where he had left it this morning and sat down. His wariness was evident, and he simply took my hand and sat beside me.

With some effort he asked me, "How're you feeling?"

"Good, what have you been doing all day? I was expecting you hours ago. Did you remember my cheeseburger?" After the detectives left, I had been left to my imagination for hours, and it was a thrill to have an actual person to talk to. Continuing to analyze my destiny dream had only yielded more questions that I would likely never be able to answer. I was beginning to come to the conclusion that the dream, though very oddly timed, was nothing more than that, a dream.

My subconscious saw a handsome paramedic and began filling in details that I didn't have. His eyes were beautiful, but in my dream, he was sitting across the room from me in the dark; I would never have seen his eyes, no matter how many times I had the same dream. Or would I? The adrenaline and heart racing was most likely a response to our first meeting, a little like Pavlov's dogs. Having Seth here allowed me to stop over-analyzing the entire situation and was a good way to get back to reality.

He handed me the cheeseburger, "I had to go for a run, clear my head a little. Did you miss me?" Seth was trying to be coy, which was a huge improvement over his disposition last night.

"A run? I thought you said an errand to do?"

"I ran for an hour or so. It had been a few days since I was on the track. It helped me clear my head, then I ran my errand."

I could see he didn't want to give me any details, so I prodded him a little, "Oh, is it a secret?"

I heard annoyance in his voice, "No, but I don't want to talk about that. Molly called Mom in tears saying you kicked her out of the hospital room. Is that true?" Of course, I should have known better than to think Mom would just drop the subject and give me some space to cool off. She called Gwen, Seth's mom, probably got her all spun up, so Gwen called Seth. Instead of overanalyzing a fantasy all afternoon, I should have spent some time putting this string of events together.

"Kicked out is pretty strong. I wouldn't say I kicked her out." Now the annoyance was creeping into my voice.

"Then what would you say?" His accusatory tone sparked the embers from my earlier argument with my mom.

"I would say she was out of line, so I asked her to give me some space. Obviously I couldn't leave. You need to stay out of this one." The warning in my voice was clear: this was not something I was willing to discuss, nor felt it appropriate for him to get involved in.

His brow furrowed as he raised his finger, as if accusing me of something, "I hate it when you get like that with her. She only wants to help."

"You weren't here, Seth. She didn't want to help, she... she called me...it doesn't matter. This doesn't concern you, so just drop it."

"I talked to her and told her I'd get you to apologize, so do you want to dial the phone or shall I?" His voice was annoyed, sounding as if he had observed the whole situation and decided that I was in the wrong. This went over like a hot poker to the eye.

"You what!? You weren't even here. What do I have to apologize for? You must be out of your flippin' mind!"

"What's gotten in to you? Your mom is on the edge of a breakdown and you send her away. I'm trying to calm things down, and you tell me I'm out of my mind? You need to realize you are lashing out at the people who love you."

"Seth, I don't want to hurt you. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, so I'm going to say this before I say something I'll really regret: I want you to leave. I want you to go home. I don't want you to come back to the hospital. I don't want my mom to come back to the hospital. I know I'm being unreasonable; maybe it is the drugs, maybe I'm just exhausted. I refuse to have this argument with you or anybody else."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Maybe I'm not being clear through all the politeness." With every bit of baritone I could muster in my voice, I yelled, "Go home!" I know my eyes were wide and my hands were shaking. This was the closest we had been to a real fight, ever. I might regret it, but I needed him to go before I blurted out something I couldn't take back.

His response was unemotional and simple, "Nope."

Adrenaline coursed through my veins, anger escaped every pore of my body, and strangely enough everything I saw took on a red hue. Although I had never had this type of response to anything in my past, the fury I felt at this moment completely engulfed me. I willed my mind to find a happy thought of some kind that I could latch on to, but I came up empty.

Seth interrupted my attempt at Zen with, "You can be as big a bitch as you want. I'm staying put. Let me know when you're ready to call Molly." He took my remote and started flipping through channels.

In a calm voice, so there could be no mistake on his part, "I will have you removed."

It was his turn to display his temper, and he issued me a challenge. "You wouldn't dare." He looked straight into my eyes as he delivered his message.

"This is your absolute, very last warning. Go home now while we are still on speaking terms. Stay any longer and I'll call the nurse."

"You're acting like a child. Grow up."

With the fury I felt pulsating through me with every heartbeat, I pressed the, "call the nurse" button on the bed's remote and waited for her to arrive.

A nurse came into my room, "Yes, Dear."

In as syrupy sweet tone as I could manage, I responded directly to her, "I know this is going to sound crazy, but I am unable to get my visitor to leave. Would you mind taking him off my visitor list and ask security to get him out of my room?"

Seth's eyes were ablaze, and if there had been any doubt, it was obvious this really was our first fight. I knew he thought I was bluffing, and when I so pleasantly requested his forcible removal, I could see he was finally taking me seriously. The nurse wasn't certain whether this was some kind of a joke or if I was serious. "Lauren, are you sure? Seth has been here nearly every moment since you got here."

Seth turned to the nurse and asked, "Give us a minute?"

The nurse looked at me, not wanting to get in the middle of our quarrel. I stayed stoic, not wanting to acknowledge that even a minute was acceptable. She nervously told him, "Seth, I think just a minute, go ahead and say your good-byes."

"I know you're in pain, and I really think you are striking out at the wrong people. Your mom doesn't deserve this treatment and neither do I. If you want to play the 'poor little me' card, I'm only too happy to let you wallow in your grief."

"I'm not playing that card; in fact, I was defending my actions to my mom when she told me how selfish I was by jumping over the counter. I would have to say that my action is likely the least selfish thing I've done my whole life, so don't pretend that you have any idea what happened between her and me. How long have you known her? How many times has she embellished a situation to make herself look like the good guy? A lot, right? So when I tell you that you don't know what you're talking about, I mean you don't know what you are talking about!!"

Seth gave no response, but I knew I had struck a chord.

"You know I'm right, so why automatically assume I'm the melodramatic one?"

"I don't think you're being melodramatic, but I kind of agree with her. I mean, what were you thinking? You didn't even know that kid. Did you have a death wish or what?" And there it was, no pride in the sacrifice I was willing to make for a stranger. No acknowledgement that I had quickly surmised the situation and gotten as many people out of harm's way as possible. No admission that I had showed any level of courage. If this was truly how he felt, we really were at an impasse.

I knew there was no need to argue. He'd never see my action for what it truly was - a valiant effort to do what was right. "A death wish? No, not even close. Maybe you don't care that I did the right thing, but I know I made the right decision."

"I know you put a stranger above your family and me."

Without one ounce of emotion, I simply declared, "I don't have anything more to say."

"Yeah, I guess I don't either. I will be back in the morning and you will not be ugly to me. Do you understand?" His forceful tone took me a little by surprise. Seth leaned into me, kissed me lightly on my forehead, then whispered in my ear, "I miss you already."

After Seth left, I turned on the television. I didn't want to overanalyze this conversation, the one with my mother, or the dream that kept replaying in my mind. Instead I watched mindless sitcoms.

Several hours went by and the low illumination coming through my windows changed to pitch black. Without even realizing that I had drifted asleep, I woke up to someone standing in my doorway.

The figure realized that he had awoken me and quickly raised his hands from his sides to in front of his chest with his palms facing toward me. He looked as if I was holding him up with an imaginary gun. He whispered from across the room, "I'm sorry, oh I didn't mean to wake you." He paused for a minute, I guess waiting to see if I was going to scream or say something. When I didn't say anything, he continued with a little more volume but still barely over a whisper. "Hi, Lauren. I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to wake you. I just finished a call at the hospital and thought I'd check on you before I got back to work."

It was Max. That first night in the restaurant or maybe in the ambulance I noticed that he was handsome, but standing in my doorway in the dimly lit room, he was mesmerizing. The dark hair and tanned skin were what I had noticed before. As I looked at him again, he was tall and very muscular, his biceps over stressed the seam of his shirt. His uniform fit him perfectly. I caught myself imagining how amazing he would look at the beach. Before I let my mind run wild, I remembered the message on his answering machine from yesterday and a cold chill washed over me.

"I'm good." The iciness in my voice was evident, and I could see his reaction immediately.

He stood for a second at the doorway as if he were in conflict with himself, then walked the ten feet over to my bed. Still barely louder than a whisper, "I just wanted to say hi. I checked your chart at the nurse's station. You should be released tomorrow. Any big plans?"

I could tell he was nervous, and I did nothing to ease his anxiety. The same frosty tone as before, "No, I'm just ready to get out'ta here." I didn't dare make eye contact with him because if I looked into them, I wouldn't care about Missy anymore. I looked at his hand and didn't see a ring, so at least he wasn't married. I'm sure his girlfriend would be thrilled to know he creeps into other women's rooms in the middle of the night to watch them sleep.

I could hear the tension in his voice, "I can tell this is a bad time. I'm sorry. I'm a big time night owl and just assume everyone else is, too." I felt him looking right at me as I kept staring off. "I've got to get back to the bus. I'll see you later?" When he asked, I couldn't help but look at him, reflexively but I quickly compensated for my momentary lapse and looked back down at the bed.

"Yeah, sounds good."

Max stepped away from the bed, and I felt dread gripping me. There was no way that I should feel this conflicted, but I did. I was furious that he had penetrated my subconscious, not happy that he encouraged me to call him when he knew he wasn't available, and now he stopped by in the middle of the night, for what? To see how I was? He read my chart before he came into my room, so he already knew I was doing fine. Did he know I wouldn't be able to get any sleep now? I ought to give him a dose of his own medicine and ask him to call me at Seth's house.

The iciness in my voice from a minute ago was replaced by a tone of resentment. Although it would have been easy to let him escape and blame my annoyance on the late hour, I decided to let him know that I knew about Missy. No sense missing my opportunity for ticking off all three of my visitors in the same day. He was at the door when I asked, "Hey, Max?"

He stopped dead in his tracks, still with his back to me in the threshold of the doorway. He angled his neck slightly and answered, "Yeah?"

"Okay, I know this is none of my business, so it's okay if you don't want to answer," though clearly in my mind it was not okay for him not to answer.

Max pivoted so he was facing me but didn't budge from the doorway. "No, go ahead, ask me anything." He sounded so sincere. I wished I could ignore the shape of his body, the color of his eyes, or the warmth of his smile.

"Who is Missy?"

"Missy?" A pause without any expression on his face, "Who do you mean?"

Anger welled up within me ready to spill over now, "The Missy you live with!"

Max smiled widely. His expression was without a doubt, smug. He waited for a few seconds and responded in the most loving, heartfelt voice, "She's my best girl." He walked toward my bed as I felt my own heart plummet. His best girl? How many did he have? He didn't even attempt to deny her or make up some sort of a story. Without missing a beat he was pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, "I just had these printed the other day. We were at the park a couple weeks ago. You gotta see her. She's beautiful."

I looked down out of curiosity at what kind of supermodel she must be for him to be so enamored with her. He had one of those plastic pocket inserts for pictures opened to a picture of him with a golden retriever lying on the ground in a park with a ball. My embarrassment was dreadful, and he really seemed to be enjoying it. The buoyant look he gave me made me feel ever so small.

"Well, don't I feel like an idiot." I felt my face flush a deep red. He was smiling at me as if he had played the funniest joke on me, and I had never felt more humiliated and thrilled in the same moment in my whole life. "When I called you and got your answering machine, and heard your message, it didn't occur to me that Missy wasn't a person. I guess I jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"Missy's the greatest. The minute I walk through the door she makes me feel like I'm the most important human in the world. She snuggles with me at night, well, I guess, I work all night, so she snuggles with me during the day. She's a great listener. I can tell her anything. So the female I live with runs on four legs – I guess that part of your conclusion was a bit off." He smiled a warm smile at me as if my question about Missy really pleased him.

"I feel stupid. I'm sorry I didn't think to ask you like a normal person."

"It's okay. Is that the only reason that you weren't too happy to see me tonight?"

"Yeah, pretty dumb, right?"

"No, it isn't dumb at all, kind of flattering to tell you the truth. If I were living with a girl, why would I give you the number to my house? What kind of loser does that?" His smile held and I was thrilled that he zeroed in on exactly why I was so angry. The fact that I didn't have to tell him why I felt the way I did was refreshing. Then Max's tone changed from jovial to serious, and he asked, "As long as we are asking personal questions, you wanna take a turn?"

Feeling pretty good about the world in general at this moment, "Sure, anything."

"Who is Seth to you?"

Bam, punch in the gut! I can feel that however he knows about Seth, this question has been eating away at him as well. How should I answer this? "I don't know, why do you ask?"

Frustration appeared on his brow. His voice was slow but steady, "I came by last night to check on you, and he was practically sleeping in bed with you. I asked the nurse who he was, and she said he was your boyfriend." With this his gaze left me and went to the floor, "Well, is he?"

Not wanting to lie to him, I uttered both words carefully, "He is."

Hurt, disappointment, regret, I couldn't tell, but I wanted to crawl in a hole when his humor from minutes ago evaporated in front of me. "Oh, well then...Cool. I guess I'd better get back to work. I really am glad that you are doing so well."

Before he had a chance to turn and walk away, I reached for his hand and blurted out, "Max, you don't understand. Will you let me explain?" Max nodded, but the look on his face didn't waver. My urgency to keep him from leaving was accompanied with focused effort to make him understand, "Seth and I live right next door to one another. Our mothers were best friends in high school and bought houses next door to each other. They got pregnant two months apart. It has always just been assumed that we are together. He's my best friend, and I know he thinks of me as his girlfriend, but I don't think I am."

Agitation escaped through his voice, "How is that possible? Either you are or you aren't. That really isn't open to interpretation."

My response was slower this time, a little more calculated. "I've never been interested in any guys at school. So when people started to assume that Seth and I were a couple, I didn't discourage it. We have never really talked about it before, and I thought we both felt the same way, like we have more of a deep friendship than any kind of romantic connection. Seth and I have never really been physical with each other, at least no more than you would be with Missy. Since there was never anyone who I was really interested in dating, it was just easier to go along with what everyone assumed. I never had any reason to rock the boat."

I could sense from his posture that he still wasn't buying it. "Lauren, I don't want to state the obvious, but I think you need a reality check. The way he was sleeping with you last night, I know that he . . . how should I say it? . . . doesn't agree with your idea of the relationship."

"Yeah, I found that out last night. But I kind of think it's just an over-reaction to the whole shooting. I'm guessing when I get out of the hospital, it'll go back to normal."

I could tell he didn't want to keep talking about it. "I've got to get back to work. I am glad you're feeling better." He started toward the door.

"Wait, Max, I know you can't stay, but I need you to know I do feel differently now. I feel like maybe it is time to rock the boat." I watched him to see if there was any reaction; it was immediate, as soon as he had processed what I said.

A broad amazing smile beamed back at me, his look not at all matching his words. "You do what's right for you. Don't get me wrong. I'm flattered, but I don't want the reason you end a very long friendship to be because of me. I don't want to come between you two. If you find yourself single and you want to get together, I would love to get to know you better, but I don't think it's a good idea while Seth still thinks you're his girlfriend."

His words made my heart soar, my whole body felt warm and my heart rate began steadily gaining speed. Knowing how badly this visit could have gone, I couldn't help but push my luck, "Max, I need to ask you one more thing. Just another minute?"

Max glanced at the watch on his wrist, and I could tell he really did have to go. "Yeah, but I've already been gone for way too long. My partner's got to be looking for me by now." He moved a hair closer to me, and I could hardly contain my excitement.

"I know this isn't the best place, and I understand if you tell me no, but if I don't ask, it's going to drive me crazy. I was wondering if you feel anything weird around me?" This sounded so strange, but I didn't know how best to articulate my question. I needed to know if it was only my imagination.

Max looked me straight in the eye, "Weird, like what?"

I felt the flush of embarrassment on my cheeks as I asked quietly, "Like, chemistry, a little?"

Max stood still as a statue staring at me sitting almost straight up in my bed. His smile faded a little as he leaned into me and whispered, "You mean like this?" He softly slid his hand behind my head, pulling my lips up to his: gentle at first, then increased intensity until I found that I had wrapped both my arms around him, wires protruding from every direction, and my entire body tingled. I grew lightheaded as he eased his face away from mine. He gently lowered my head back to my pillow and moved his hand to my face. Max traced my lips with his index finger. After a few outlines of my lips, he responded quietly, "Chemistry, huh? No, I hadn't noticed." His wide smile reappeared with a vengeance.

My heart monitor went crazy, jumping well into the 100s as an alarm blared to life telling the world what had just happened. Max reached over and pushed a button on the monitor and the alarm muted instantly. As he leaned in for what I was sure was going to be just as passionate as our first kiss, his pocket beeped.

Max stopped, rolled his eyes and fished in his pocket, pulling out his cell. He looked at the screen with disappointment in his eyes. "Hey, we just got a call. I really have to go. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for continuing this conversation soon, but I really can't stay."

"I'd like that, too," unable to say anything else.

He kissed my cheek, "I can't wait to tell Missy about tonight. Bye." Max darted out the door as he sprinted off to save someone's life. The jealous part of me hoped he was being called to help an old fat man.

Chapter Seven

The remaining hours until the sun came up flew by as my mind replayed our few minutes together. My stomach was in knots. I'd never felt this way before. From the moment he ran out of my door, I hoped that his message was a false call, and he would suddenly reappear. As the hours ticked by, I realized that I wouldn't see him again before my usual string of visitors arrived.

When the minute hand took the hour to five a.m., my eyes got heavier and my excitement with Max subsided, a little. Knowing one of the nurses would be in soon to check my vitals, I argued with myself on whether it would be better to just wait for the interruption before dozing off.

By twenty after five I saw Felecia's smiling face. "Well, aren't you up early today? Can I get you anything?"

"I wouldn't mind some chocolate ice cream for breakfast."

"I'll see what I can do, but don't hold it against me if your chocolate ice cream tastes like eggs and bacon. Now, hand me that arm." Felicia took my blood pressure, temperature and charted down numbers from the monitors I was still hooked to. She looked at the heart monitor's paper sheet and must have seen the spike when Max stopped by last night. "Did you have a nightmare last night?" She didn't seem overly concerned with her question and looked as though it was more important that she jot something on my chart.

I decided it would be much less embarrassing to have her think that monsters had entered my subconscious, instead of me having a midnight visitor who made my heart want to jump out of my chest. "Yeah, pretty intense. You can see a nightmare on that thing?"

Her disinterest changed to what looked like genuine concern. "Was it the shooter? You may want to talk to someone about it. A professional can help you work through it, so it isn't so frightening."

I smiled, but bit my lip, desperately wanting to laugh out loud. Reliving the shooting hadn't even occurred to me as something to be fearful of. The strangest part of the whole ordeal was the utter lack of concern that it had happened at all. Somehow, deep down, I felt as if it were meant to be, the whole event needed to happen. "I'm okay. I don't think I need to talk to anybody. I'm sure it was a one-timer."

She finished writing in the chart and gave me a discouraging look. "Okay, but there's no shame in asking for help, or wanting to talk about something traumatic." I nodded, and I was confident she believed she'd planted enough of a seed that she could merrily go on to her next patient. "All right, push the button if you need me." Felicia darted out the door without another word.

As I thought about what she had said, it hit me that it was a little strange that I wasn't the slightest bit upset about being shot. I should be upset. I kept thinking about the man who shot me. I wondered if he was somehow overtaken by some force of nature to rob the restaurant? As shootings go, this was not nearly as heartbreaking as others that had happened in other parts of the country. It's in the headlines all the time: "Twelve dead and four injured in a shooting today." Something told me that had I not taken a bullet, I would have been hit by a train, run off the road, or any number of other things, to create a substantial enough injury to warrant medical attention. At least this was my new theory regarding the forces of nature and the fact that I somehow had to meet Max under extreme circumstances.

I knew that my dream about Max and the premonition of our paths crossing would have come to fruition no matter what. I was actually a little thankful, given the possibilities, that it was just me who was shot. This shooting set a chain of events in motion. As I effortlessly remembered my entire dream with Max, I knew something huge was waiting for me in my future. With this realization, I faded back into fantasies of Max.

Alone with my thoughts, I remembered his eyes looking down at me in the ambulance: the same eyes from my dream. The dream seemed so real, like it really happened, as if I really spent all those nights interacting with my destiny, not just dreaming. I always woke up with that same feeling, knowing not to share any part of the dream with another living soul. But now I know, there was a living soul that was a part of my dream. For four years I'd had the dream so many times that I could close my eyes and conjure up the whole thing.

In a funny way, it was a rush to have new material. Replaying our few minutes together, it felt so natural and electric all at once. Did he feel the same? He had to. He had to feel the powerful connection I felt. He stepped out of my room as if nothing had happened, like it was just a run-of-the-mill, everyday encounter. It couldn't have been. It was the most powerful thing I had ever felt. My destiny, without a doubt, Max was my destiny. As I accepted this fact, a warm glow overtook me as my mind replayed every second. I felt his eyes watching me, feeling safe that we had found each other.

His words were on a continuous tract in my mind, "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for continuing this conversation tomorrow." He's coming back. I looked at the ceiling wondering when he would be off work. How soon would he walk through my door again? Most likely after seven a.m. Assuming he wanted to continue that conversation, he would be coming back through my door in an hour.

Oh crap! I didn't even know what I looked like. I dug desperately in the drawers of the nightstand and the wheeled table, but there was no mirror. Two days and I hadn't combed my hair or taken a shower. Two days, who was I kidding? It was going on three. I pressed the "Call Nurse" button while warding off a full blown panic attack.

Felecia came in, "Hi, Lauren, are you okay?"

"Not really, I feel kind of gross. Is there any way I can take a shower or anything?" I was pretty sure that I already knew the answer, but I waited for her response with a glimmer of hope.

"Sure, let me take care of a few things and I'll come back and help you. I need to show you how to cover your pins before you get in the shower. We've got a physical therapist coming in to see you at eight. She'll show you some exercises to keep your strength up, speed your recovery, and help you get used to your crutches."

Felecia came back with a bag of toiletries and in painful detail showed me how to keep the wounds dry while I was in the shower. Once I was in clean clothes, freshly showered and finally out of bed, I felt like a new person. I kept watching the door, anticipating Max popping through at any minute.

"Seth's such a sweet young man; he'll be glad to see you out of bed." That rock just hit my stomach again. Seth – he, too, was going to be here any minute. Of course, she thought I was looking for him.

In all my fantasies about destiny and reliving those few moments together, I'd completely forgotten about my reality. I couldn't put it off any longer. As soon as Seth arrived, I had to tell him the truth. I was going to tell him exactly how I felt. I wasn't going to pretend any more. I owed it to him. It was the right thing to do.

At that moment Doctor Gracie surprised me, "Hi, Lauren, I heard you were already out of bed."

"Definitely, today's the day, right?"

"Swelling's down. Vitals are normal. All your tests came back clean. Felecia told me she showed you how to care for your leg. Once the physical therapist sees you, you're clear for release."

"Sweeeeeet! I'm so ready." Doctor Gracie wished me a quick recovery and made his way back out the door.

The physical therapist arrived at eight on the dot. Her name was Gretchen, but I came to think of her as Ivan, Ivan the Terrible. She wheeled me from my room to a physical therapy room. The room was bright and cheerful, but within seconds of my arrival, I knew that was a façade. She was built like a brick house, and was probably one of the most intimidating women I'd ever met. She had the demeanor of a drill instructor, the strength of a bull, and the personality of a postage stamp.

I had just barely been walking on my crutches, yet she had laid out a complete regimen of strength exercises and stretches, and delivered the fabulous news that I would be working with her three days a week for the next six months. Fricken Wonderful!

I began hoping Max might show up. He probably knew everyone at the hospital. Maybe he could get Ivan to loosen up a little. She brought me back to reality when she bellowed, "Maybe you haven't had a human anatomy class. The femur's a pretty important bone. If it doesn't set right, all kinds of complications could arise. If you don't keep your joints in motion, it won't set right. If you lie around doing nothing, it won't set right. You've got a very short window to help your body heal properly."

I had never been all that athletic, so her custom workout routine would have been difficult under normal circumstances. The fact that I had a hole stitched up on my leg, a fresh bone graft, a rod running the inside of my bone, and big screws sticking through my flesh should have qualified me to ease into a workout. This was not the case with Ivan pushing me.

I had no idea where her training came from, but motivational speaking was not a possible career choice for her. "If you want to walk with a limp for the rest of your life \- keep cheezing out. Don't push yourself, no really, take it easy. Take a break. Maybe we can get some milk and cookies and turn on the TV?" Holy crap, I thought I was the queen of sarcasm, but Ivan buried me.

At a few minutes before 9:00, the routine finally got bearable. She reached over and slapped me hard on the back, "Good work, Lauren. Okay, here are exercises I want you to do throughout the day." She handed me a stack of papers showing ten different exercises. "This is your appointment card and directions to my office." It wasn't a single appointment card: it was a listing of thirty-six appointments, all with her.

Pleased that our brutal hour had come to an end, I asked, "So if I do all this, how long until I'm fine?"

Gretchen looked at me, pivoted her body so that she was facing me squarely on, her movements reminding me of a robot. "If you do everything I tell you, exactly the way I tell you to do it, you'll be as good as new in three months. Given your current muscle tone, you'll probably be better than new in three months - but only if we do this my way. If you decide to skip appointments, don't do your daily routines, gaff off the exercises I just gave you, you might be in decent shape in nine months. Your recovery is up to you. I'm just a tool in your toolbox."

"So doing all this, I'll be off the crutches in three months?"

"If you do what I tell you, give it a hundred percent, in three months your leg will be in better shape than it was three days ago."

This was the first thing she said that I liked.

"Great, we can go out dancing just in time for graduation." I heard Seth's voice behind me. I was glad he was here. This would give me a chance to talk to him before Max stopped by. As I turned around to say hello, I noticed Felecia had followed him into the room. Maybe now wouldn't be the opportune time.

Seth looked really happy, "You've got to be excited; you're almost out of here. Your mom is loading all your flowers in the mini-van now. With any luck there will be enough room for you, too."

I looked at Gretchen and she gave me a quick wave, "Felicia will do your check out and care instructions with you. You've already got your rehab instructions from me, you just need to sign some insurance papers and you can go home."

Thrilled at the idea of going home, and anxious to get out of there, I grabbed the crutches setting beside me, "Felicia, lead the way!"

"Easy Lauren, you don't get to hobble around on those until you are out of the hospital." She helped me back into the wheel chair and began pushing me back to my room. Seth followed at first, then asked Felicia if he could drive. She smiled and handed me over to him. He drove me to my room, and he really wasn't kidding: all the flowers that had lined every open space in the room were gone. Felicia pulled the visitor chair out and began to go over paperwork with me. I was only half listening to her instructions as I was looking to the door every few seconds to see if Max was there.

"Okay, Lauren, if you don't have any questions on the sheet, that's really all that I needed to cover with you. Let your mom know she needs to stop by the discharge desk before she leaves, and you should be all set."

As she finished her sentence, I looked to the door one last time and there he was. He wasn't in his uniform. He was in blue jeans, a t-shirt that flattered his biceps and chest, wearing a smile that affirmed he was as happy to see me as I was him. I was thrilled. I had been so worried that he would come and I would already be gone. Without even thinking of Seth standing right behind me, I nearly squealed, "Hi, Max!"

Max's smile grew, and as hard as it was to imagine, he was even sexier in the daylight. I had noticed his perfect smile, amazing eyes and bulky frame before, but his street clothes made him look like one of those really buff guys Rachael and I would drool over coming out of the gym. He walked to me, and I could tell he was freshly showered, smelling of expensive cologne, and as improbable as it seems, looking more handsome than I remembered. Max reached out for my hand and held it awkwardly, "I hear you're busting out of this place."

"Can you believe it? I'm so excited to get home. Don't get me wrong, I could get used to pressing a button and having someone run through the door to get me a glass of water, but I'm definitely ready."

"Who's your friend, Lauren?" Seth was behind me with his hands on the wheelchair's handlebars. I was nearly oblivious to the fact that he was even in the room when Max walked in. I released Max's hand as if I were a child just caught raiding the cookie jar.

"Oh, that's right, you haven't met. Seth, this is the man who saved my life. Max, this is a friend of mine, Seth." I couldn't see Seth's face, but he had to have noticed my reaction to Max. He would have had to be blind, deaf and dumb to not.

Seth used his charming voice, "Hi, Max. Well, it's really a pleasure to meet you." He took Max's hand in what looked like genuine admiration, "I don't know how to thank you. Lauren is the most important person in my life. These last few days have been a roller coaster, but I'm thrilled that you made these last few days, and the next fifty years with Lauren, possible. You have our deepest appreciation." Seth was clearly trying to correct the introduction where I only called him my "friend." Seth switched his attention from Max to me, "Lauren, I think we'd better head down to the car. Molly's waiting."

Max stammered, "Sure, ah...I was just doing my job." There was an uneasy silence where no one spoke. Max was the first to recover, "Well, I'm glad you're heading home; I guess I'll see you around." Max's voice was discouraged.

"Max, thanks for everything. Don't be a stranger, okay?" was all I could manage to get out. I reached back to him and awkwardly squeezed his hand. I would call Max in a couple hours and apologize profusely, but for now, I just needed to find the nearest exit.

Seth began pushing me toward the door while Max just stepped out of the way. We were down the hall, around the corner and waiting for the elevator before I said anything to Seth. Completely frustrated with the way our latest encounter had played out, "Well, thanks for letting me say goodbye."

Seth was still behind me, so I couldn't see his face, but he replied, "It's not like you two are going to be life-long pals. He was just being nice, wishing you well." The elevator opened and he drove me in, turning me around once we were inside. I saw the elevator door beginning to close, and there was Max, slowly walking toward the elevator with his head down, not even noticing that we were right there. Seth's hand reached over and pushed the "door close" button.

When the elevator opened, an orderly took over the wheel chair for Seth. Mom was waiting by the front door when we came out. "Seth, do you mind driving Lauren home? The van is so full, I don't think she will fit in mine."

"Sure, Molly. Lauren has to stop by the business office to sign some papers; we'll be right behind you." I was thankful for this immediate opportunity to talk to Seth alone. I'd be able to tell him exactly how I felt. I was sure he'd be hurt, but at least I didn't have to do it at my house, in front of my mom.

Seth brought his car around to the entrance from the parking garage. The orderly wheeled me to the passenger door, then Seth gently lifted me into the passenger seat. "Let me move the seat back so you have a little more room." He reached down to the floor in front of my seat and pulled the lever to reposition the seat farther back. After the seat was as far back as it would go, he pivoted his body so his face was directly in front of mine. Seth moved his hand to my right knee, and leaned in to kiss me.

I turned my head just enough so that his lips made contact with my cheek. The surprise on his face was evident, and I smiled saying, "Sorry, morning breath."

Seth smiled back, "I don't mind."

Not wanting to start the conversation right there in the parking garage, "Well, I do, let's get going."

Seth closed my door and put my wheelchair and crutches in the trunk. He got in the driver's side and backed out. As soon as we were out of the parking garage, I realized this was the most opportune time to tell him.

I took a deep breath, "Seth, you really are my best friend." I patted his right arm trying to be reassuring. He looked my way, and I could see he had no idea what was coming. Knowing what had to be done, and how devastated he'd be, I tried to think of the easiest way to tell him.

If it were me, I would want to know directly. I wouldn't want him to beat around the bush about it. If I tried to soften the blow, he might get the wrong idea, and think that there was still a chance for us. I settled on the direct approach, "I don't want to be your girlfriend, and I think it would be best if we dated other people."

Seth didn't respond. He didn't look at me, as if my words didn't even register. I continued, "You deserve someone who loves you back - the way I know you want me to love you. I know that I won't feel that way about you. You need to find the right person for you. I'm not her."

A long silence followed before he finally spoke, "So, you're breaking up with me, is that it?"

"Yes."

"I'm not mad about you telling me to leave last night." Of course, he would think this had something to do with me tossing him out of my room.

"Good, but I had a lot of time to think, and I know I'm not the right person for you."

"You're just under a lot of stress. You'll feel differently in a few days." He still didn't look at me, and I was sure from his expression that he really didn't believe me.

"Seth, I'm not saying this because I'm stressed out. I'm saying this because it's the truth, and it's not fair to keep pretending that one day I'll wake up and feel differently. We graduate in a few months. I think you should enjoy your last few months of college, not hovering around me like an old mother hen."

While I was talking, his expression was tense, then it eased and relief spread across his face. "Oh, I get it. You're worried that if I take care of you while you're laid up, that I'll miss out on some rite-of-passage? There's no one, anywhere on earth, that I would want to spend time with more than you."

"No, Seth, really, I think you should get out and date. Meet new people."

"Where is this coming from? Is this because of last night? Lauren, I'm going to take care of you, not because I feel sorry for you, but because I love you. I don't want to talk about this anymore." He reached for the volume on the stereo and turned it up in an effort to dissuade me from saying anything else.

Frustrated at his complete disbelief and utter disregard for my wishes, I reached for the volume and turned the stereo back down. This couldn't wait one more minute. "Seth, you need to decide right now if you want to continue being my friend. You are not my boyfriend as of right now, and if being my friend isn't enough, then we are nothing to one another, do you understand?" My words sounded harsh, but I didn't want for there to be any confusion.

His obliviousness seemed to subside as I watched him, and saw that my words were sinking in. "Of course, I'm your friend. I don't know what's gotten into you, but I have half a mind to...to..." Seth trailed off, anger edging into his voice. He seemed unable to continue.

Realizing for the first time how volatile this had the potential to be, I eased my annoyance with him down an octave and replied quietly, "I think it would be better if you just drop me at my house, and maybe we take a break from each other for a few days."

Seth didn't respond. We drove in silence as I looked out the window, willing the pavement to move faster. I could see we were nearly to our houses and was relieved that this was almost over. A few final minutes passed before Seth pulled into his driveway. He got out, opened the trunk, and retrieved my wheelchair and crutches. I opened my door, and there was Seth standing with the wheelchair.

"Here, let me help you." Seth eased me into the wheelchair and wheeled me to the front door. We got to the bottom step, and he asked politely, "Do you want to give the crutches a try?"

"Sure." I took the crutches and made my way awkwardly up the steps. Seth followed a few feet behind me, to make sure I didn't crash. As he stood a few feet inside my house, I could tell he wanted to help me.

"I'm going upstairs. I'll be fine, Seth. Thanks for all your help. I really think it would be best if we don't see each other for a while."

"Whatever you want, take your time. Give me a call when you want to see me again. I'll be patient. Like I told you - I love you enough for both of us. When the realization hits you that you've made a huge mistake, call me. I promise not to hold any grudges." Seth made an effort to kiss my mouth, but I turned my head again, so he kissed my cheek and gave my shoulders a gentle squeeze. Then his phrase that I have become so accustomed to was whispered one final time in my ear, "I miss you already."

Had last night not happened, had I not been so completely convinced that I had found the one person in the world I was truly destined for, my exchange with Seth would have likely brought me to tears.

But last night did happen. I know Max and I were brought together by something so much more powerful than a simple accident. I felt terrible for hurting Seth. I knew this was something I should have done years ago; Seth deserved someone who could love him equally. It was selfish of me to keep leading him on. One day he would appreciate that I was finally honest with him.

That day was not today.

Chapter Eight

I found Mom in the kitchen having just unloaded the last of the flowers. "If you are feeling up to it, I think it would be a good idea to send thank-you notes for all the flowers."

Appreciative of the distraction, "Sounds good." I hobbled awkwardly to the bouquet from Melissa that had been by my bed in the hospital. I pulled the card that was in the card holder and panic hit me. Max's card wasn't there! Where was it? The memory of hearing his answering machine and me throwing his card away came into focus. I was furious with myself. What an idiot! How was I going to call him? Max didn't have my number. I hid the dread I was suddenly feeling so Mom wouldn't see. "I'm going to go up to my room to write the thank-you notes, okay?"

Mom turned around, "It's okay with me. Can you navigate the steps?"

"We'll know in a minute. If you hear me falling, we'll both know I can't," I replied with a smile, hoping my humor camouflaged my frustration. She chuckled back at me as I collected all the mini cards from the card holders in the flower arrangements.

"I've put all the cards and letters that came in the mail in your room. There must be fifty in the pile. I'll run out and buy some more thank-you cards."

I made it up the steps without incident. I lay on my bed and reached for my phone and dialed information. The automated attendant transferred me to a real person, and the directory assistance human cheerfully informed me of seventeen listings for Max Meyers in the Charleston area. Having no idea where Max lived, I asked, "Could you give me all seventeen numbers?"

The human stated, "I can give you five." She rattled off the first five numbers of the seventeen. I dialed the first number and got an answering machine. I hung up without leaving a message, knowing that it wasn't the same answering machine I had heard a couple days ago.

When I tried the second number, a lady picked up on the second ring. "Hi, this is Lauren, I'd like to speak with Max?" The lady answered, "This is Max."

I know I sounded a little flustered when I asked, "I'm sorry, this is Max Meyer?"

She answered, "Yes, Maxine Meyer."

"I am so sorry, I have the wrong number. We both hung up, and I called the other three numbers without hitting the jackpot.

Extremely frustrated with myself, I got ready to dial information again. I looked at the stack of unopened cards and all the cards I had pulled from flower arrangements. I found that I wasn't feeling very thankful for anything and lay down on my bed. After a few minutes, I felt myself drifting off to sleep and did nothing to resist.

I found myself in a fitful sleep, with images of the shooter, of Max in my night-washed room, of Seth's hurt look this morning, all mixed together. The dream of Max coming to me and telling me how urgent it was for me to find him, got all jumbled up with the events at the hospital, with the exchange between Seth and Max, Felecia worried about my heart monitor, then \- a ray of hope. Doctor Gracie told me he had received several calls from Max. I awoke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. He must have Max's number, or at least knew a way to contact him! I dialed information again, but asked for the number to the hospital this time.

When a receptionist at the hospital came on the line, I asked if she could connect me to Doctor Gracie. I was connected to his voice mail and left a message, "Doctor Gracie, I'm sorry to bother you. This is Lauren Davis, your gun shot patient, and I was hoping you could give me a call at your earliest convenience..." I left my number and sat back in my bed, thrilled that I'd soon have Max's number.

I grabbed the stack of cards and opened each one. I was shocked that only five came from people I knew. I counted sixty-one from complete strangers. One message tugged at my heart more than any other.

Dearest Lauren,

I have no idea how to thank you. Fred is my son. You saved his life yesterday. No amount of money will ever repay your sacrifice, but I felt it necessary to do something. Please accept this as a small token of my appreciation and know that for the rest of my life I will remember what you did for my son and our family. I wish you a speedy recovery, and, if there is ever anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask.

Love,

Maggie Lawrence.

Inside the card was a check for twenty thousand dollars.

Shock overtook me. How should I write a thank-you note for this one? Could I even keep this money? I'm sure my parents would say no. I set it aside as I opened the rest of the cards. I was shocked by how many cards from strangers came with cash and checks. One from a car dealer said I could have any car on his lot at cost. All the inscriptions were much the same, calling me a hero, saying how brave I was, or thanking me for a friend or a loved one who had been in the restaurant during the robbery. It was overwhelming, and all told I had received more than twenty-five thousand dollars from grateful strangers.

I began writing thank-you notes, but after ten handwritten notes, I realized that this was something I would have to pace myself for. I had been at it for a couple hours, and my hand was throbbing. When the phone rang, I picked it up on the first ring, hoping to catch it before Mom could.

"Hello," I responded into the receiver.

"This is Doctor Gracie from Saint Joseph's. Is Lauren available?"

"Hi, Doctor. This is Lauren. Thanks for calling me back!"

"Lauren, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Safe and sound at home. I have a weird request for you. Max Meyers was the paramedic who got me to the hospital. Do you know how I can reach him?"

There was an audible sigh on the phone. "Lauren, I'm not an answering service. I'm very busy."

"Doctor Gracie, I'm so sorry to ask, but I needed to ask him something about what happened at the restaurant, and I misplaced his number. I tried information, but I don't know if he's listed, and there are a ton of Max Meyers in the area. You mentioned that he called you a few times that first night, so I hoped you knew how I could reach him."

Unenthusiastically, Doctor Gracie responded, "Hold on, I'm sure I've got his number here somewhere." He did find it and gave it to me. I thanked him profusely and assured him I was fine.

I dialed the phone immediately. It wasn't the number I had called before; it must have been his cell phone. Max picked up on the second ring. "This is Max."

A thrill rang through my voice. "Hi, Max, it's Lauren."

Nothing. Silence. Did I dial the right number? "Hello? Are you there?"

"Hi, Lauren, you must've made it home okay." His words were something close to monotone, and I knew he was still stung by Seth's words this morning.

"Yeah, a couple hours ago. I'm sorry about this morning. I was thrilled to see you, but unfortunately I didn't have time to talk to Seth alone before you arrived."

"Yeah, I got that. So did you talk to him?"

"Seth drove me home, and on the way I broke it off officially with him." There was a hopefulness in my voice that this would somehow fix the hurt I knew I had caused.

More silence, then Max asked, "So how'd he take it?"

I thought about it for a second, realizing I was so focused on convincing him that I was really serious, it didn't occur to me how well Seth took the news. "Actually, he took it very well. He didn't raise his voice or call me names or anything like you see on TV. He argued with me a little, telling me that I didn't know what I was saying. But in the end he understood."

"How clear were you?"

"I was very clear, and if you don't mind I'd rather not talk about Seth, other than to say I'm sorry for our abrupt departure. I was just so thrown I didn't know what to say...so, like a coward, I didn't say anything at all. Are you mad?"

"Not mad, just...I wasn't sure what I should have said. I wasn't expecting to have your boyfriend tell me he was all set for the next fifty years because you were okay."

"Well, you said to call you when I was single. So...I'm single and I've officially called." I was clueless as to what to say after that. Maybe something to the effect of you rocked my world and I wanted to see if you could do it a second time? Or you are the most beautiful man I've ever seen?

A stiff laugh came back on the line. "Well, I'm glad you are single. I'm a little worn out from last night. Do you mind if I call you later before I go to work? Maybe about 6 o'clock?"

Excitement zipped through me. He wasn't holding my inability to speak at the hospital against me. "I'll be waiting. Do you have my number?"

"You just called me, remember? It's in my phone. I'm glad you called. I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay, bye." I set the receiver down and looked at the clock: five more hours. What would I say? I guess I had plenty of time to figure it out.

About two o'clock Mom came upstairs with another bag of mail, a snack and a drink. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm good. Holy crap, I haven't finished the thank-you cards from this morning yet! How many are in there?"

My mom smiled, "I stopped counting after one hundred. It is really amazing that so many people are sending you cards."

"Mom, most of the cards have money in them, a lot of money."

"Really? Well, that's nice, Dear. Make sure you send a note to everyone." She said this almost dismissively, and I wondered to myself if I should really tell her how much. She would find out eventually. "So far I've gotten nearly twenty-five thousand dollars."

"What?"

"Yeah, I can't believe this! So if you get to the store, I'm definitely going to need more thank-you cards."

She picked up the pile of opened cards and read a few of the messages, then flipped through all the cash and checks. "Wow, wait until your dad hears about this. By the way, Gwen stopped by a few minutes ago. She told me you and Seth had some sort of fight?"

Oh brother, here we go – I should have expected Seth to send his mom. "No, not really a fight, I just told him I didn't want to be his girlfriend anymore and thought it was time we dated other people."

"Oh, Lauren, you two are so close. Did something happen?" I so very much wanted to blurt out, "Well, yes, I happened to meet a man who made me feel like I was holding a live electric wire." Obviously, I thought better than to use that approach. There was no way she would understand.

"No, nothing happened. I just had a lot of time to think at the hospital and thought it would be good if we saw other people." Knowing this was not going to go over well, I looked away pretending to be preoccupied with the new stack of cards.

"When you say other people, do you have anyone in mind?" Her tone was accusatory, and I knew I would either have to lie or confess. I am such a horrible liar, I decided it would be better to come clean.

"Well, kind of. There's this guy, Max Meyers, that I would like to go out with."

"How do you know him?"

"He's the paramedic who came to the restaurant. He stopped by to check on me, and we hit it off."

"You and Seth have been close for so long, I think you should really think this through before you make any rash decisions. Gwen told me he's really upset."

"Mom, I don't want to date Seth anymore. I never really wanted to date him in the first place. The longer I drag this on, the harder it's going to be on him. He's a good friend, and I don't want to keep pretending that he's my boyfriend."

"Lauren, you need to talk this through with Seth. I'll invite him over, and you two can talk for a little while."

"Mom, no. If you call him now, he'll think I changed my mind, which will just make it harder on him later."

Mom nodded and walked out my door. Wow, two for two. I was worried that either Seth or Mom would be hysterical when I told them. Maybe they're scared of getting me angry because of my leg? Or maybe because I kicked them both out of my hospital room? Whatever the reason, I'm glad.

Rachael came by mid-afternoon. She looked like she was digging for information, so I was sure Seth had asked her to come investigate.

"So, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. I'm going to have to go back to school tomorrow and am dreading trying to hobble through the hallways." The doctor had offered me a note but this was my last semester and I didn't want to risk graduation.

"Look on the bright side. You've got a built-in reason for being late to all your classes."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I talked to Seth today." I was right; she was digging. "He said you broke up with him this morning. Why? And don't tell me it's complicated!"

"No, not complicated. I just think we should date other people, that's all."

"Other people? Are you crazy? You two are perfect for each other. If you let him go, another girl's going to snatch him up."

It would be in bad taste to say that I was pretty sure I had already found a replacement. "If you're volunteering, I say go for it."

"Be serious, Lauren."

"I am serious. You have a great personality, you're beautiful, Seth and you are already close. I think you two would be a great couple."

"Lauren, I'm serious. You need to work this out before somebody realizes he's available. I'm not one of them, but there are hundreds of girls who would kill to be dating Seth."

"Well then, that's good news. No one will have to kill anyone. He's available now. Maybe you could help convince him to put himself out there? I know he won't listen to me, but he may listen to you."

Rachael stayed a little longer but was taken by surprise that I had no interest in keeping things going with Seth. I guessed that she felt the need to go brief him on everything I'd told her.

After dinner I caught myself watching the clock. I knew Max told me he would call me, but I couldn't wait any longer. I went up to my room and dialed his number, half expecting him not to answer.

Chapter Nine

Max picked up on the first ring, "Lauren, is that you?"

I was surprised at his greeting, half jokingly, "Yes, Max is that you?"

"I'm glad you called. I've been staring at the clock watching the minutes tick by. How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine now that I hear your voice. I was a little worried that you might think me a bit of a stalker but decided I'd roll the dice. You could always not answer if you didn't want to talk to me."

Max howled at me, "Well, that's dumb! When can I see you?"

"You can come over right now if you want."

I was elated with the idea but was brought quickly back down to earth when he replied, "Geeze, I wish...I'm on my way to work. I can stop by in the morning."

"Actually, I have to go to school tomorrow."

"School tomorrow? How're you going to get around?"

"I have these handy-dandy crutches. It should be a hoot. I could meet you in the afternoon if you want?"

"Great, when and where?"

"I guess I'm a little limited in mobility, so maybe just here at the house?"

"How about five o'clock?"

I gave him my address and we hung up. I felt like I was floating on air the rest of the night and didn't even care that I had a miserable day at school tomorrow to plan for. Luckily, it was a very small campus; all my classes this semester were in the same building. I had considered withdrawing from the semester, we had just started a few weeks ago, but there was no way I was going to sit through summer school and not graduate with all my friends in May.

*****

My alarm blared at six a.m., a full hour earlier than normal, but I knew I needed the extra time to get ready. At seven-thirty I made my way down the stairs, surprised by how quickly I had learned to navigate the stairs. Mom was nowhere to be seen, and Dad had already left for work. I grabbed a bowl of cereal, then it hit me. How was I going to get to school?

I couldn't drive myself with this stupid leg. I couldn't expect Seth to take me. The city bus stop was six blocks away. I looked in the driveway and saw Seth's car was still out front. I was sure he was expecting me to call like I did every morning. Not today. I looked at my watch and realized that Max was probably off work by now, but I didn't want to ask him for a ride.

I dug through the cabinet under the telephone and found the phone book. After rattling off my address to the cab company, the lady told me they would pick me up by eight o'clock. It would be tight, but I should still make it to my first class on time. I gathered my books and book bag, and sat on the couch waiting in silence. I heard a rap on the door and looked out to the curb thinking the cab company must have gotten here early.

I struggled to balance the book bag on my shoulder while pushing my weight up from the couch. Before I could take a step, the door opened and there was Seth smiling at me. "C'mon, Lauren, we're going to be late."

I was apprehensive of his offer, as I replayed our exchange in his car Saturday morning. Had he really accepted that I was no longer his girlfriend? Was he being considerate, or was this his way of inserting himself back into my daily routine? Not wanting to believe that he had an ulterior motive, but not wanting him to believe that there was a chance for reconciliation either, "Seth, you don't have to take me to school. I called a cab."

"You what? Are you nuts? Come on, let's get going or we'll be late."

I needed to be as diplomatic as possible. I couldn't afford to keep knifing him in the heart. I did care about him, but I knew in my heart that his feelings for me were not at all the same kind of love I had for him. When there was more distance between us, I hoped we could revert back to the easy friendship that we'd shared for so many years. "Seth, I don't feel right asking you for a ride, I mean, given the circumstances."

"The circumstances? You mean like you dumping me? Don't be an idiot, let's go."

What was that? I think it was humor. Had he really accepted the fact that we weren't a couple anymore, and he was really just offering a friend a ride to school? Two days was nowhere near enough time for it to be out of his system. He couldn't possibly have a sense of humor about my breaking up with him, could he? Uncertain if he thought I was not serious about the break up or if he knew I was serious and had accepted it, I found my legs weren't cooperating while my brain was trying to process.

A strange smirk appeared on his face, not humor like before but more like frustration. "Lauren, we're still friends, right? Friends can give friends rides, right?"

Maybe I wasn't confident, but willfully believing that this ride seemed to be offered with no strings attached, my legs finally cooperated, and I started hobbling in his direction. Seth took me by the elbow, guiding me ever so slightly toward the door. He threw my book bag over his shoulder and walked my snail's pace out the door, down the steps and to his driveway. Seth helped me into the car, then closed my door and walked around to the driver's side. He put the key in the ignition and started to back out of the driveway, then stopped and looked at me. "As long as you brought it up, have you had a chance to reconsider your breaking up with me?"

My heart plummeted. I should have known. I'm sure this was some scheme that our mothers thought up. Why else would Mom mysteriously disappear the morning her daughter had to get to school after major surgery? I should have seen this one coming. Knowing I hadn't cancelled the cab that was due any minute, I opened my door and started to get out.

"Wait! I was just asking. Our conversation Saturday took me by surprise. You have to admit I've left you alone. I haven't called or stopped by or even stared at your bedroom window. I'm just asking." He paused for a few seconds then looked away from me, "It sounds like I know the answer. Don't go. I'm happy as long as I am in your life, no matter how small a role I play."

With my hand still firmly on the door handle, my voice sounded strong, "Seth, I want you to date someone else. There are plenty of girls out there. Ask one of them out."

He looked back at me, this time all the humor drained, "Okay, I will, but can I have a little time to get used to you not being my girlfriend first? Seriously Lauren, it's only been two days. You made this decision out of no-where. Last week we were talking about picking a grad school that we could both get into. I figured it was either the pain you were feeling or the medications you were on."

I nodded. My actions with Seth had been hasty, but prolonging the inevitable just seemed heartless. I remained in the car and closed the door, then phoned the cab company to cancel my ride. The whole way into school, Seth never once got out of line or asked anything that was remotely offensive. It wasn't like he was giving me the silent treatment. I think he, too, just didn't have a clue what to say.

The school day was the longest on record. Trying to balance my bookbag while hobbling along on crutches in over-crowded hallways is not an experience I would recommend. I was frustrated with myself for not bringing my stupid wheelchair to school. I was used to having my leg elevated all the time, and now sitting in class made it throb. By noon I was ready to go home. I told my professor, and she was very sympathetic. When I called Mom and asked her to come get me, she was tied up in a meeting. I sat in the student union for the remainder of the class and used one of the couches as a pseudo bed long enough for the pain to subside a little, and then I went to my afternoon class.

I had seen Seth several times throughout the day. He seemed to have accepted my decision and our few conversations weren't strained. That afternoon Seth drove me home. As we pulled into the driveway, I was paying little attention to anything he had said in the car; my thoughts were consumed with Max, knowing that he would be here in an hour. My heart began to speed up as I thought of our few private minutes my last night in the hospital. Today, there would be no interruptions, no emergencies to respond to, no heart monitor, just the two of us; the more I replayed our few moments together, I felt that same lightheadedness coming on.

I was snapped back to reality when Seth opened my door and offered me a hand out of the car. His hand caught me off guard; consciously I wasn't even aware that we were back in his driveway. I took his hand, allowing him to pull me while I pushed myself out of the car with my other. As soon as I was upright, Seth slid one arm behind my back and his other behind my knees. I was airborne. "Congratulations, Lauren! You made it a whole day with no major spills. That's an accomplishment without all the bandages." I laughed out loud, not a giggle, but a heavy belly laugh, and leaned my head back staring up into the sky.

After a few gentle twirls, Seth put both of my legs gingerly on the ground, and I leaned into him to make sure I wasn't dizzy and gravity wouldn't face-plant me in the yard. We stood there in the middle of the yard, both laughing while Seth tried to catch his breath. All the awkwardness that I had felt with Seth was suddenly gone in a shared silliness between two old friends.

As we stood in a dizzy embrace with one another, I heard tires squealing. I looked into the street and saw a huge black jacked-up truck that had been parked across the street from my house leaving most of its rubber on the pavement. The smoke emanating from the tires left a dark black plume, and the burnt rubber smell was thick in the air.

I had never seen the truck before on our street and commented, "What a jerk." I had no idea who the driver was who had just raced down our street and was now flying around a corner a block away.

I saw Seth smiling, not the silly smile and laughter we had shared a half a minute ago, but an deceitful smile, and he added quietly, "Yeah, what a jerk."

Seth helped me to my front door, handed me my book bag, and went to his house. I realized this was the first time in years he'd left me without saying his signature, "I miss you already." The nostalgia wasn't lost on me, but I was thrilled that we might have a shot at a regular friendship after all. I went inside, rushed to the bathroom to touch up my hair and make-up and stole a glance at the clock.

At a few minutes before 5:00, I was as presentable as I could possibly be. I waited anxiously on the couch with one hand nervously on the curtain, checking every ten seconds or so to see if Max had pulled up. At 5:30, I decided to call Max to see if he was still coming. I got his voice mail, "Hi, Max, I thought you were coming to my house this afternoon?...If I screwed up the time, I'm sorry; I'll try back in a little bit. I think the house phone number is still blocked for incoming calls, so call my cell when you get this. I'll talk to you soon." After hanging up, my mood took a nose dive, and I sat in the quiet living room for about five minutes and tried his number again. I left another pathetic voice mail.

This cycle continued for the next hour. After I realized I had now left Max six voice mails, all saying roughly the same thing, I decided I felt more like a stalker than a date and opted to try him tomorrow morning and see what had happened. I was sure he wouldn't stop by this late because he had to work soon. Maybe he had gotten called into work early or something?

Dejected, I took myself up to my room and lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Those wonderful moments in the hospital didn't flood over me the way they usually did. When Mom checked on me a little before 8:00 p.m., I told her I was exhausted from school and just planned to go to bed early. When sleep did finally come, I found myself in a dreamless sleep the whole night. My alarm sounded the next morning, and after I shut if off, my immediate inclination was to call Max. I resisted the urge to call him right away. I was sure he was still working, but I should be able to catch him about 7:30 a.m.

I got ready for school, had a bite to eat, all the while keeping track of the time. As I stared at the clock on the wall, the minute hand hit the six making it exactly 7:30. I dialed Max's number and was thrilled when he picked it up right away. "Hi, Max, it's Lauren. What happened yesterday?"

"Are you okay? Shouldn't you be at school by now?" Max's question surprised me, because it wasn't an answer to mine. Did he not realize that he had stood me up yesterday? Worse yet, did he realize and not care?

Not wanting to sound wounded, "Well, no, and you didn't answer my question."

I heard a loud sigh, "Lauren, I'm going to go out of town for work for a couple months."

"Out of town for work, but you're a paramedic. What do you mean?"

His response was nearly monotone, not soothing and in no way trying to curb my anxiety. "There is this emergency responder course in New Orleans for three months, which starts tomorrow. My boss asked me if I wanted to go, and I thought it would be a good opportunity. I'll be back the first of May."

"May? You're leaving for three months? Today? But why?" I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to stream down my cheeks. Not wanting to sound pathetic, I did my best to add a frustrated tone to my last two words.

"I just told you, it's a good opportunity for me. One of the guys was supposed to go and had to cancel at the last minute. I told my boss I'd go."

Why would Max volunteer for a three month trip? This didn't make any sense. Trying to steady myself as much as possible when I really wanted to curl up in a little ball, I asked, "Oh, well, is that why you couldn't stop by yesterday?"

Max didn't answer, then after a very long pause I asked, "Did I lose you?"

"No, I'm still here."

"Am I missing something? Why didn't you come by yesterday? Were you tied up at work?"

"Lauren, I was at your house yesterday. I was so stoked to see you that I showed up early. I saw you and Seth together in your front yard and was...I don't know what I was, but I knew I had to leave."

"You were here and you didn't say anything? Where?"

"I was parked across the street from your house. I told you before I don't want to be the guy who busts up you and your boyfriend. You and Seth are not as over as you led me to believe. "

Panic overtook me when I realized he had driven that black truck that squealed its tires all the way down the street. "No, Max, really, that was nothing...Nothing! We broke up, I swear we broke up. I called a cab but Seth said he would give me a ride, no strings. You can call him if you don't believe me. We really broke up! Max, don't leave, please."

"Lauren, I didn't say I was driving off of the face of the earth. I'm going out of town for a few months. I'll be back the first week of May. This way I'll know that it is really over between you two before I... before we start spending time together."

"Max, don't go. I promise we broke up." I could hear my voice pleading with him, and there was no way for me to mask the emotion. I needed him to understand that he hadn't seen what he thought he had.

"It's three months. No pressure. I'll see you when I get back." His tone was resolute, Max had made up his mind well before now, and the panic I was feeling gave way to hurt. Max hung up the phone, and I was devastated. Max had been in my every waking thought since Thursday, and I had to wonder, if he could walk away so easily, had I really thought this through?

I had convinced myself that he felt for me the way I felt for him. I sat on the couch for a long time. Seth came by to take me to school, but I told him I wasn't feeling well. I went upstairs to my room and stayed the remainder of the day. I tried calling Max's number hundreds of times, but he never answered my calls.

The hours turned into days and the days turned into weeks. I tried calling Max several times a day that first week. By the second week I had weaned myself down to just calling once a day in the evening. Each time I left a voice mail asking him to call me, but he never did. By the third week of his absence he had already missed my twenty-second birthday and Valentine's Day without so much as a card, a call or even a text. I felt so very irrelevant, I distanced myself from everything.

Chapter Ten

I wasn't physically able to go back to work, so school was my only outlet to the rest of the world. The logical part of my mind was telling me I was in mourning over a person I had been with less than 30 minutes. It wasn't possible for me to be this upset over someone I hardly knew, and the fact that he had made no contact with me at all just made me feel that much more isolated.

Eventually, Seth got used to the idea that we weren't going to become a couple again. He asked if I wanted to go to any end-of-year parties with him, but I said no. Dancing really wasn't an option, and as graceful as I normally was coupled with my reliance on crutches - drinking was out of the question. I really felt like Seth would be better off hanging out with someone else. My heart was broken, but it had nothing to do with Seth. As weeks turned into months, I eventually stopped calling Max. After two months apart, many of my vivid memories started to become hazy. I wasn't certain if I would ever see him again.

I went through the entire month of March knowing I had let my future slip away because of a single innocent event. By late March, I stopped getting notes from strangers about the shooting, and I had sent out all the thank-you notes to well-wishers. The mother who had sent me twenty thousand dollars for jumping in front of her son turned out to be a very nice lady. I tried a couple times to give the check back, but she wouldn't hear of it. She was adamant that I take the money, and after my parents talked to her, they agreed.

My checking account balance was huge; being movement restricted, I didn't find much of an opportunity to spend any of it. Every time Mom or Dad asked what my plans were for after graduation, I would remind them that job-seeking on crutches doesn't leave the best first impression. It seemed like a waste of money to go onto grad school if I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. As long as we were talking about my money, I was going to know what my plan was well before I committed my own cash. Although their frustration was apparent, they didn't push the subject. All my friends had already received their offer letters from employers and acceptance letters from graduate programs, unlike me who hadn't even applied anywhere.

I had decided to use some of the money for a car. In another couple months I wouldn't be able to catch a ride with Seth where I needed to go. But car shopping while incapable of test driving was worse than a waste of time, it was a drag.

As April arrived and graduation grew closer, I became a hermit. My leg was nearly healed, though I continued with my three appointments every week with the physical therapist. Ivan was just as ugly to me as ever.

During my last appointment, she had me doing leg extensions on a new machine in her office. After ten repetitions on each leg, I was resting before my next set when she walked up behind me, in her usual warm manner, "Wonderful Lauren! Good job! Now that you have practiced your form, how about putting some weight on the machine?"

Surprised at her compliment, I looked back at the weight selector and told her, "I just did 40 pounds."

"Congratulations, you can lift a bag of potatoes with your legs. I am soooo proud. Now, do you want to be a grocer or do you want to be a fully functioning adult?" She reached for the selector bar and put it at 80. I wasn't sure, but I guessed this was her idea of positive reinforcement.

Other motivational compliments she gave me included: "No, take your time, I don't mind that you waste my time. It's more important that you take a break. I wouldn't want you to exert yourself." "This is too much work, it's too hard; maybe you can pay someone to come do your therapy appointments for you?" And my all time favorite, "It's okay, I think if we sprinkle fertilizer on your leg, the muscles will grow back on their own, and you won't have to do anything."

She told me during my very first appointment in the hospital that in three months my legs would be stronger than they were before the shooting. I would never admit it to her, but she was right – her constant barrage of insults must have pushed the right buttons for me. I had to keep using crutches until my thirty-sixth appointment, but I could tell that I really didn't need them even now.

I found that I was really looking forward to summer, and had even talked to Wanda about returning to the restaurant. Everything seemed to be back to normal, with the exception of that huge hole in my chest where my heart used to be.

Although my memories were no longer sharp, I had these images of Max – very outdoorsy. His brawn, with his happy-go-lucky attitude (at least from my brief exposure to him), his tanned skin even when I met him in February, always made me think of him in rugged venues. With as little as I knew about him, he could have just hit a gym with a tanning bed – but since the fantasies were mine, I saw him playing football in a park, tossing a Frisbee on a beach, and doing lots of other activities, but always outdoors.

I hated that I had to rely on my imagination because I wasn't all that imaginative. I had convinced myself that Max was more a figment of my imagination than a real person. This might have been my way of dealing with the rejection or whatever Max's abrupt departure had been.

Seth and I saw each other nearly every day, but emotionally he kept his distance and even half-heartedly socialized with other girls at school. After February, he never openly mentioned that he wanted to start things up again, but I had my suspicions that our mothers were still scheming. Nothing overt, just comments like, "You and Seth should go see that new movie" or, "You two should plan a big bash after graduation."

I had a strange dream one night, strange from the perspective that, up until that night, when it came to Max, I had always had roughly the same dream. In the usual dream, Max told me he was my destiny; my courage would bring us together. But this time the dream was different. It started the same as the other: he sat across from me in the chair by my window. The fantasies my imagination conjured up during the day were nothing like the crispness of my dream at night.

Max sat quietly in the dark as I watched him in the chair, waiting for him to go into his regular monologue. When he didn't speak, I was worried he was going to fade away right there in front of me.

I did something I had never done, I asked him, "Why won't you call me?" I was shocked at the sound of my own voice. In the conversation in my, "Max Dream," the same conversation we had hundreds of times, I had never heard my own voice.

"It takes time, Lauren." His voice sounded reassuring.

"What takes time?"

"Destinies are mapped; they don't unravel immediately. Stay strong. Remember your purpose."

"My purpose, right. You won't call me. You left for no reason. You wouldn't even listen to me."

"How can you know passion if you don't deny yourself the thing you want most?"

"What? Are you out of your ever-loving mind? How do I know passion if the only guy I've ever been the slightest bit attracted to skips town before we can even go on a date?"

"Passion is important. It guides decisions you make. I promise you'll know passion, if you are just patient."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to get out of bed and go over and shake him. I wanted to know why in the hell he left and didn't call me. The only passion I was feeling in this moment was quickly twisted up with fury.

Patient? It had been over two months. He knew how to get a hold of me, but he didn't even try. I closed my eyes, determined not to let this dream play out, willing myself to wake up.

I felt a coolness on my temple. I reached up to swat away whatever was there and had a strange sensation of a person's hand. When my eyes opened, I felt like Max had been right there beside me on the bed, like he had evaporated in front of me the second my vision was clear. My heart sped up, my palms turned clammy, and I struggled to discern dream from reality. I sat up straight in bed, turned on all the lights, and looked all around the room. I was alone. I felt the bed where I was sure he had just sat - nothing was there.

As I sat alone in the dark, I wondered how it felt to go crazy. Hallucinations weren't something to dismiss. I had had that same dream over and over since I was eighteen, as if it were a scratched DVD. The dream would play up to a certain point, I would wake up, then the next night it would start over again at the beginning. My conversation with Max had always been engrossing; even though the dream had played so many times, I never tired of it.

This dream was different from the other. He had sat on the bed with me, or had he? He couldn't have; Max couldn't have been in my room. Of course, it was a dream.

The next morning I sat at the table with Mom, asking the question that had been eating at me all night. "Mom, does mental illness run in our family?"

She didn't even look up. "I must have been crazy to tell your dad we could go car shopping for a Corvette this weekend. Other than that lapse in judgment, I can't think of anyone. Why do you ask?"

"What about your aunt in Idaho? She was a little weird, right?"

Mom looked at me and carefully answered, "What's this about?"

"I just wondered if anyone in our family had ever been diagnosed with a mental illness?"

"No. Is this some sort of project for school?"

Fat chance. My last semester included Accounting, Web Design, Statistics, Database Design, and Scientific Theory. "No, I was talking to a friend at school, and she was worried that she'd been hallucinating. I wondered how to tell if it was stress induced or chemical."

"You should tell your friend to go to a doctor. I'm no expert, but I think hallucinations are neurologic from either a trauma or chemical imbalance."

My mind raced. Maybe I was mentally ill. That would explain a lot. That would explain why I dumped Seth. Max and I had spent maybe thirty minutes together, and one kiss was enough for me to kick Seth to the curb after spending years together. I still didn't feel any romantic connection to Seth, but I felt empty inside and started second guessing my decision. For the last couple months I had held out hope that Max would call, or write, or maybe just knock on my front door, but he never did.

Seth stepped halfway through the front door, tapped the face of his watch, "Tick tock, let's go."

I stood up from the table, grabbed my bag, my crutches, and my purse and started for the door. "Are you picking me up from Gretchen's tonight?"

Mom didn't look up from her paper, "Uh-huh."

"Was that a yes, or should I call Dad?"

Her tone told me she was getting as tired of the endless appointments as I was. "Yes, Lauren, I'll pick you up from physical therapy at five."

Seth cut in before I could get a snotty response out, "I can empathize with you, Molly, I'm ready to put one of those 'Taxi-cab' magnets on my car. Lauren's got more appointments than an exotic dancer." Seth's smart ass response stopped me in my tracks...empathize...

I stood there, frozen, trying to remember why that word had significance. I heard Max's voice echo in my mind, "Empathy is a struggle; to achieve this one requires you to nearly become someone else, to step into their shoes..." When the flashback was over, I saw Mom and Seth staring at me. One of them must have said something I didn't hear. Rather than ask them to repeat it, I started toward the door as if I were ignoring them.

The day was routine enough, ending in the physical therapy house of horrors. Gretchen was her ever endearing self when she greeted me with, "I'm glad you could put down the Ho Hos long enough to do your workout." Her office was right across the street from the school's campus, so making it on time wasn't an issue. This had been my thirtieth appointment. I hadn't missed any. I had done her prescribed exercises every day since the day I met her. I felt like I didn't need the crutches at all, but she insisted I use them all the way up to appointment thirty-six, which was now only two weeks away.

Gretchen still had the personality of a postage stamp, but her demeanor was easier to stomach now that I had spent so much time with her. As I sat outside her office waiting for Mom to pick me up, my mind found its way to thoughts of Max again. I hated that I couldn't get him out of my head. I pulled a book out of my book bag, thinking studying might help. It didn't.

*****

April fifteenth was a sunny Saturday afternoon. I was watching the news with my parents, some mindless story about people waiting until the last minute to file their taxes, and which post office in town was going to stay open for them until midnight. When the doorbell rang, I hopped up to answer it; yes, after two and a half months, I had become extremely agile, while keeping little if any pressure on my wounded leg. The mailman handed me a box, "Hi, Lauren, how's the leg?"

"Doing great! Thanks for asking. I should be able to get rid of my crutches entirely in nine days. I can't wait."

"Glad to hear it! This is for you."

He handed me a box and asked for my signature. There was no return address: the upper left corner simply read, "Max." It startled me so much that I nearly dropped the box. My hand began to shake: I was so overjoyed at those three little letters. I tore the box open to find a letter accompanied by a cell phone.

Dear Lauren,

My training is just about over. I will be home on Saturday, Apr. 29th. If you are available, I would really like to see you.

I didn't bring your number with me. I guess I didn't trust myself not to call you. I would love to hear your voice. My numbers are already programmed in the phone. If I don't hear from you, I'll know that things worked out with you and Seth after all.

No matter if I never get a call from you, I wanted you to know that I will never forget you.

Max

I read the note ten, fifteen, twenty times. I hit the power button on the phone, selected the contacts list to see two numbers: "Max Cell" and "Max Hotel." I called his hotel immediately and asked to be connected to his room.

"Hello," was the answer on the other line.

"It's you, it's really you! I just got the box! How've you been?" I didn't even try to mask the excitement in my voice.

"Lauren! Wow, I'm glad to hear your voice."

"You're coming back in two weeks? I was worried, that....that you weren't."

"I hafta ask, only for my sanity, so don't take this the wrong way. Did you and Seth patch it up after I left?"

"No, we're still friends, but we aren't seeing each other."

I could hear a loud sigh on the line, "I was worried that, well, that you might not be...available."

I had forgotten just how beautiful his voice sounded, and he sounded genuinely happy to hear from me. "When do you fly in? When can I see you?"

"I fly in early. I could come by and pick you up for breakfast."

The conversation continued for over two hours. He told me about the training he had been through, and I gave him a blow by blow of my last three months. He did know Gretchen, so he roared when I embellished some of her techniques. I never wanted the conversation to end, but after two hours we had both run out of things to say. He promised he'd call the next night, so I reluctantly hung up. I felt like I was floating the rest of the night.

The next night's conversation turned a little more personal when I asked why he never returned any of my messages.

"I was trying to do right by you. I didn't bring my phone with me 'cause I knew I'd cave and call you. By leaving it, I was giving you space to work out whatever you needed to."

"But I told you, Seth and I weren't an item anymore."

"You also told me you two'd been a couple since puberty, which isn't something you just turn off like a light switch. I didn't want to get in the middle. If you broke up because you wanted to, that was one thing – but I didn't want to be the reason you broke up."

"So you didn't hear any of my voicemails?"

"No way. If I'd heard your voice, it would've been over. I would'a just called. I took Missy to a friend's house before I took off, and left my cell phone there."

"Well, there's probably over a hundred, so when you get back, if you wouldn't mind, delete them. Most of them were pretty pathetic."

"I'm glad I didn't know - I probably would've had Julio overnight the phone to me so I could hear them."

We talked every night for hours, until the twenty-eighth. It turned out that my imagination wasn't all that far off. He was very athletic: most of his free time seemed to be consumed with a sport of some kind, and not as a spectator. His voice had a cadence to it, enough of a southern drawl to tell he was native, but not so much that he came off as a hick. It was such a relief to know that this wasn't one-sided - he was just as in to me, as I was him. When we hung up Friday night, it felt like I would never be able to fall asleep.

Max was dead set on picking me up at my house Saturday morning, but after a great deal of convincing, I told him I could wait for him at his apartment building, not wanting to delay our reunion for one second longer than I had to. I was in front of his building thirty minutes before his plane even landed.

I saw a black truck setting by itself in the corner of the parking lot, looking as though it hadn't moved in a while. I remembered the only other time I had seen it, speeding down my street, and the thought gave me shivers. I decided to wait for Max by his truck. I'm sure his neighbors must have thought me a stalker, because I stood in the parking lot and looked at my watch and the time on my cell every thirty seconds until I finally saw a yellow cab pulling into the parking lot. It was really him!

Max walked straight to me and gave me a huge hug, "I'm so glad you're here. I've got the whole day planned." He put his suitcase in the back of his truck where I had been leaning for over an hour.

"Don't you want to put that in your apartment?"

"No, I'd rather not waste the time."

I climbed up into the truck and saw Max still standing at the passenger side door. He was looking just as nervous as I felt. Just when I thought he was going to shut it, he nervously added, "Lauren, I'm glad you're spending the day with me. In case I forget to tell you tonight when I bring you back, I had a really good time." He closed the door and walked around to the driver's side.

My cheeks felt so warm that I knew I was blushing. I could hardly contain my excitement - one whole day of Max. Since that night in the hospital, I wasn't sure if I would ever get to be with him, yet the recurring memory of those few incredible minutes with him had replayed over and over in my mind. As time passed, my mind had likely embellished our moment.

I tried to lower my expectations for today, confident that no one could be that perfect. I convinced myself that I never really felt an electric shock from his touch. Although my mind had reviewed and reasoned the moment over and over, a part of me, however small, still believed it had happened.

He sat in his seat, put the keys in the ignition, and the truck quickly turned over. His right hand moved to the gear shift, then hesitated, then his hands moved back to the steering wheel. Max looked straight ahead. A sense of panic came over me, worry that his hesitation meant that he had changed his mind about spending the day with me. After enough of a pause for my imagination to start running through all the worst case scenarios, he looked at me, "I know this is supposed to be a day where we can get to know each other better, and believe me, this is all I've thought about since that night in your hospital room, but..." He didn't finish his sentence. I braced for the absolute worst: that he didn't care at all for me, that he was just being kind to a girl who was overly infatuated with him.

Max leaned all the way over to my seat, moved one hand behind my headrest, while his other gently went to my cheek. "I hope this is okay, but I can't wait one more second." Max's eyes closed, his head tilted, and his lips were on mine. His lips parted and I received the most passionate kiss of my entire life. The longing that I had felt since the last night we saw each other made this moment that much more unbelievable.

The electric shock that I had nearly convinced myself had been a figment of my imagination wasn't. Electricity coursed through me the second his hand touched my cheek, and the little tingles I had felt during our first kiss were replaced by massive electric pulses through my entire body.

In this moment, I knew no matter what I learned about him, there would never be any man in my life but Max. It wouldn't matter if he turned out to be a serial killer, my certainty that he was definitely the man of my dreams was cemented, and I was undeniably destined to be with him.

After several minutes, Max and I ended our embrace and distanced our lips by a few inches from one another.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my head. I didn't know if I'd get a chance to kiss you again." His gaze burrowed into me, "It was definitely worth the wait."

The rosy blush I felt a minute ago was replaced by a brilliant red.

Max's hand continued to caress my cheek. "I planned to take you somewhere special today, but at this point it's up to you. Today's already the best day of my life, and I could sit right here with no regrets."

I found myself not caring much if we ever got out of the truck. My heart was racing like crazy. I had to take in a deep breath to keep my voice from sounding all giddy. Let's see, hang out in the parking lot all day with the man I've fantasized about for four years, or go on an adventure with the fantasy man? "If you'd told me where this road trip was taking us, it might help me decide."

Max nodded at me, "You're right, this was my choice, and I really do want to take you... somewhere. How's your leg feeling? Are you going to be up for a day outdoors?"

A little nervous of what his day outdoors might entail, I did my best to sound excited, "I don't know that I can climb a mountain or anything, but I'm up for it."

"Okay, it's settled then, we won't stay in the parking lot. It'll take about forty-five minutes to get where we're going."

Max put the truck in gear and pulled out onto the street. I tried to think of places forty-five minutes away. He confessed it was one of his favorite places in the world: maybe a park that he liked, or a lake, or a favorite restaurant? I sat silently turning over all the possibilities, and then it hit me that none of them really mattered. I was finally with Max.

Conversation in the truck while we drove was sparse at best. It wasn't uncomfortable, it just didn't seem to be a priority for either of us.

Max had a strange idea of a first date. Although at twenty-two years old, never having actually gone on a first date until today, I guess I was not an expert. The girly part of me thought of a walk on the beach, a chartered boat on the harbor, a stroll through an old plantation; all of these options we had talked about the last couple weeks, and all seemed like a picture perfect first date. In my mind I was picturing the warm sunshine, green foliage, quiet moments together. These were my ideal first dates with Max. As I looked at the building in front of us, I wondered how this could possibly be his choice.

Then the reality of today grabbed me, and I asked myself whether it really mattered what we did with our time. I just wanted to spend time with him. This might not be the most romantic choice, but it was bound to be a blast, literally.

Chapter Eleven

Max helped me out of the truck, grabbed a small plastic box from under the back seat, and led me to the front door. He held the door for me and shouted a greeting to the man behind the counter, "Hi, Marvin, how've you been?"

The man behind the counter looked up from some papers he'd been reading. After a second or two the recognition registered on Marvin's face, and he replied, "Max, it's great to see you! Did you have a good trip? I didn't know you were back already."

Not during any of our conversations had Max mentioned that he enjoyed guns, knives, or weapons of any kind. Yet here we were on our first date at an indoor shooting range, and from the looks of the proprietor, Max was one of his regulars. Marvin and Max talked for a few minutes, then Max remembered I was his sidekick today and introduced me to Marvin. "Marvin, this is Lauren. She was on the wrong end of a Beretta a few months ago, so I thought it might be a good idea for her to squeeze the trigger a few times."

Marvin eyed me closely, "What'chu mean the wrong end?"

Max grinned and nodded to me, as if this had been a perfect introduction. I answered with, "I was shot in a robbery a few months ago." I had shared the details with all my friends and family, but I really didn't feel comfortable sharing them with a near stranger. Marvin was staring at me, so it was clear he wasn't satisfied with my answer. "At the Tasty Burger on Main."

In an excited, booming voice, Marvin asked, "That was you?" I nodded, and he reached out for my hand, and shook it with both of his. "Well, my goodness, we don't get many local heroes in here. Today's on me. Which cannon you wanna shoot first?"

I had never actually held a gun before. Marvin handed me a noise cancelling headset and a .22 caliber handgun with two clips of ammunition. He asked questions about my experience level, and then proceeded through a very long, detailed, liability statement.

After the .22, he handed me a .38, then a .45. He called the .45 a Magnum, and it was so powerful it knocked me back a couple steps when I fired. Had he not warned me ahead of time, it probably would have knocked me on my butt. What a rush! I had been a pretty good marksman with the .22, but as the caliber progressively increased with each new gun, I got significantly sloppier. After unloading the rounds in the .45, Max asked if I wanted to take a little break.

We went into a back room where there were a couple tables and chairs and vending machines. He got sodas and some chips and asked, "So, are you having a good time?"

Shocked by my own answer, "Yeah, I really am. When we pulled up out front, I thought you must be crazy, but this is a riot. How often do you come here?"

"It depends on the week, sometimes two or three times, sometimes not for a month. I like the range. It's a good way to blow off steam when I need to wind down." He paused briefly, "It's fun having you along. I wasn't sure if you'd enjoy it or not, but thought if we were spending the day trying to get to know each other, this was a part of me I wanted you to experience, rather than just hear about."

"That was a good call on your part. Given the last three months of recovery time, if you'd asked me if I wanted to go shoot handguns, I would've told you no. Before the shooting, I never really had an opinion one way or the other, and after having been shot, I'd have to say I wasn't much in favor of the average citizen carrying them around. I really liked shooting that .22. Do you think Marvin will let me keep the target?"

As if on cue, Marvin opened the door to the break room with the target in hand. "Lauren, want a souvenir?" He handed me the target, a profile with a person's silhouette standing – with hits in a shoulder, the chest and even the head.

Unable to contain my enthusiasm, "Thanks! And thanks for letting me try all the different guns."

"It was my pleasure." We heard the door chime from the front of the store, indicating someone had just come in. "You come back anytime." Marvin left us to go greet whoever had just entered.

It was just Max and I again. I desperately wanted to pick up where we had left off in his truck and kiss him. But before I could make a move, the break room door opened for a huge man (at least six foot five and easily two hundred fifty pounds). The man boomed, "Holy crap, Max, you're out of town for a few months, then you materialize out of nowhere with a girl friend?" My heart skipped a few beats at being called Max's girlfriend.

Max didn't correct this human giant with anything like, "This is our first date," "This is my friend," or any other thing to qualify me as something less than his girlfriend. "Stanley, this is Lauren Davis. Lauren, this is Stanley Manuel."

Stanley held out his huge hand, "My friends call me Stan the Man. Get it? Stanley Manuel, Stan the Man?" He was obviously proud of his nickname, and had a firm grip when he took my hand. I didn't wince from pain or anything, but this was obviously no one I ever wanted to arm wrestle.

Max fired back with, "No, we don't call you Stan the Man. Keep trying to convince everyone, though." Stan walked over to Max and gave him a big bear hug, then returned his attention to me. "Marvin says you were the little lady that got shot a few months back at Tasty Burger?"

I nodded, "That's how I met Max. He saved my life that night."

Stanley paused for a second, then in a jovial voice, "Well, I'm glad you're okay. I saw the story on the news. What're you doing with Max when there are real men in this town to choose from?" He let out a hearty belly laugh and slapped Max on the back.

Max laughed it off, but I was pretty sure I saw a flicker of jealousy in his eyes. "Yeah, Stanley, she'll be sure to call one, when she needs one." Max turned his attention back to me, "Did you want to shoot anymore or are you ready for a bite to eat?"

Feeling a bit more testosterone in the room than seemed necessary, I answered, "I could eat." Max reached down and took my hand in his and led me out of the break room. He called over his shoulder, "See you later, Stanley." Being escorted quickly, I turned to Stanley, "It was nice meeting you."

We said our goodbyes to Marvin, and I thanked him again for letting me try out all the guns and letting me keep the target. We got back in the truck, and made our way to an IHOP. Conversation was easy. He started with, "So tell me everything about yourself, don't leave anything out." What a joke. I don't even know everything about me.

I had already decided I wouldn't start with anything crazy like, "I've been dreaming about you for years" or, "You know you are my destiny." Both of these seemed like relationship enders at this juncture. Trying to think of something benign, I decided on, "I like watching movies. I'm not a huge fan of movie theaters, because you're forced to share the story with fifty strangers. However, that doesn't apply to horror films; having as many people as possible sitting around me screaming always seems to improve the effect of the movie."

"Okay, noted. If we watch a chick flick we should rent it; if it's a scary film we need to go to the theater. Thanks for the tip. Any other hints for future dates?" I shook my head but didn't reply. "You're pretty close to graduation. What's next?"

I really didn't like this question, as I was sure he wouldn't be all that impressed with my answer. "I haven't applied to grad schools or interviewed for any jobs. I'm not sure that I want to start my life long career right away, but I obviously don't want to sponge off of my parents anymore either. I thought I'd take a year or two off and figure out what I want to do." I glanced his direction to see his reaction, to see if it made him wince, the way it had everyone else I shared it with.

I was happy to see no evidence of disapproval. He followed with, "What are you going to do during your hiatus? Go back to work at Tasty Burger? Travel around Europe? Or just hang out?"

His tone wasn't accusatory at all, just plain, uncloaked interest – his response pleased me immensely. "I'm not backpacking through Europe, but beyond that, I'm not committed to anything. Up until recently I had my life pretty well mapped out. But the last few months have kind of blown my plans out of the water. Now that I'm behind the wheel, I haven't made any real decisions. Pretty sad, right?"

Max shook his head at my question, "Not at all. When the right thing strikes you, you'll just know."

He couldn't be closer to the truth, in more ways than one. "You sound like you're talking from experience?"

"I guess I am. I was in my sophomore year of college, heading for a degree in engineering, when I realized I really didn't want to engineer anything. I wanted to help people. I wasn't ready to switch majors to pre-med and start over. I've never seen myself as a nurse, so I thought I'd take a step back and go through EMT training, and see where that took me. Everything just kind of fell into place from there. I can't explain it. I don't know if I'll do this forever, but right now I feel like this is what I'm supposed to be doing. Weird, right?"

Now was definitely not the time to talk to him about destiny. The last thing I wanted to do was scare him off before I got a chance to spend any real time with him. "No, it's kind of amazing. You just up and decide your life isn't going the direction you want it to, re-evaluate new paths, and you go for it. That isn't weird, it's romantic."

"Romantic? I wouldn't describe being a paramedic as romantic. It's a whole lot closer to a character in a horror movie."

"Not romantic like falling in love, but romantic like not being afraid of chasing your dreams, you know, believing in yourself."

Max mulled over my answer, "I never thought of it that way. I don't know if I'll do it forever, but it feels right, for now."

"So if you weren't a paramedic, what do you think you'd be doing?"

He chuckled at this one, but I didn't get the joke, "I guess, maybe a farmer?"

"A farmer!" Totally not what I expected. "Don't you need a farm or something to do that?"

Still smiling at his own joke, "Yeah, I guess you do need a farm to be a farmer."

"Was that just an answer to get me to drop the question?"

"No, not at all." His tone took on a more serious note. "My father was a farmer, and being one seemed like an awful lot of work as a kid. But as I got older, I understood why he did it. He set his own hours, worked as long or as short a day as he wanted to. Most of the work only happens about six months out of the year, which leaves a lot of time for hobbies."

"The way you describe it, maybe I would make a good farmer."

"Maybe you would."

"So did he retire or something?"

The smile that had been wide on his face since we began playing twenty questions faded a little. "Not exactly. My parents were in a car accident a few years ago and died."

Unsure what to say, not wanting to sound disrespectful, I didn't say anything for a minute.

"Lauren, it's okay, it's been a few years now, so I'm okay talking about it."

"Brothers or sisters?"

"No, it was just my parents and me."

"What about your grandparents?"

The wide smile returned, "I can't wait for you to meet my Grandpa Joe. He and I talk every few days, and he knows all about you. He's been after me for the last month to bring you over. I guess the way I talk about you, he didn't realize that I hadn't actually seen you for a while."

"You told your grandpa about me?" The shock must have been evident on my face.

"Well, sure. He always tells me I'm too picky, so he was excited when I told him about you."

"He thinks you're too picky. Wow, he'll be disappointed with me then, huh?"

Max looked directly at me for several seconds, with no hint of humor in his face. "Lauren, you can't possibly think that, right?"

Not sure what the correct response to the question was, I took the silent route.

"Lauren, I'd like to think that I am a pretty good judge of character. I wouldn't be spending the day with you if I thought you weren't someone I wanted to be with, so ease up on the false humility already."

I didn't have much of a response, and we had finished eating a while ago, so I asked, "What do you want to do next? Shooting was fun. We could kick-box next if this is one of those extreme dates."

The absurdity of the idea elicited a laugh from Max. "If Gretchen found out we went kick-boxing without her, we would never live it down." We left the restaurant in favor of some window shopping.

I've never been a power shopper, but it was fun to just walk around and talk. My leg started throbbing an hour or so after we left the restaurant. I didn't want to complain, but I didn't have my crutches along, and my muscles weren't in shape for all the activity. Max must have noticed I was favoring my good leg because he found a side street with an empty bench and made a straight line for it.

In the twenty minutes we sat letting my leg recuperate, we had talked about places we would like to travel to, all time favorite movies, books that we liked, and favorite running shoes. I kept anticipating that our day would be full of awkward silences, but there were very few. I got the feeling that he really wanted to know as much about me as I wanted to know about him.

Just when I thought we were going to get up and go adventuring again, Max took my hand in his and the elation kind of made me trail in mid-sentence. Max raised my hand to his lips and held it there in a tender exchange; my heart started pounding.

Max stood up, looking at his watch, "How about we give your leg a break and go catch a carriage tour?" We got a private carriage, not one of those tourist ones with twenty people shoved in, but a beautiful two person carriage with a groomsman seated far up front. This ride felt magical, everything I'd hoped it would be. For someone who started our date on a shooting range, Max definitely knew how to be romantic when he wanted to be. He held me close to him the entire time, and had we not been touring the old town streets of Charleston in full public view, I know that the desire I felt for him would have spilled over.

When the ride was over, we made our way back to his truck. He opened my door for me and helped me into it, then without warning put his hand behind my head and pulled my lips to his. I wanted to be somewhere private, to do way more than kiss him. I didn't care if this was our first date - fire burned in me for him. The rational part of my brain was drowned out by a million creative ideas flooding my thoughts.

For the first time all day, I was speechless. Max was quiet, too, and the awkwardness I had been worried about earlier finally arrived. I so very much wanted to be alone with Max, away from prying eyes, but I didn't want to be so forward that I gave him the impression I was a skank.

As we were driving, he wasn't talking, and I couldn't think of anything to say. Five minutes went by and neither of us spoke. I had considered sliding across the bench seat to sit closer to him, but I didn't get up the nerve to move. How could someone be so attracted to another person and not have the courage to do anything about it? I'm not sure how much time passed, but it was the third song I had heard on the radio, so I guessed close to ten minutes when I finally said, "So what are we doing next?"

Max asked, "What do you have in mind?"

"Maybe the arcade at the mall? If you're not scared of getting creamed at ski ball."

After ten dollars worth of ski ball, we traded in our tickets for useless trinkets, bouncy balls that light up when bounced and a couple plastic army men with parachutes. I wasn't kidding. I really am a ski ball master. We played air hockey, and again, I beat him.

"You up for some foosball?"

Max laughed, "Only, if I'm on your team." We found a couple twelve year olds who wanted to play, and we smoked them.

Max drove me back to my house, shut the truck off, but made no move to get out. Max looked a little uncomfortable. "I'd like to see you tomorrow."

I could feel the blood rushing through me. I told him, "I've got plans in the morning with Rachael. Did you want to get together in the afternoon?"

"Sure, I've got to go into work tonight, drop off some papers and check my work schedule." I looked at my watch. "I don't know if I'll have to work tomorrow or not - if I do, my shift starts at 7 p.m. Call whenever you're done with Rachael."

Max opened his door, "Hold on, let me help you down. Gretchen will slash my tires if you screw up your leg trying to climb down."

As Max walked around, I glanced at Seth's house and saw him watching out a window. Max opened my door and helped me down. We had a decent good night kiss, nothing earth shattering, but that same electric shock from earlier still coursed through me.

We said our good nights, and I glanced over to Seth's house. He was no longer watching from inside the house: his front door was opening. How much had he seen? This had the potential to turn ugly.

Chapter Twelve

I walked up my sidewalk, deliberately ignoring the figure standing on Seth's front porch. Although I didn't actually see him, I knew he had made his way from his window to the outside in an effort to talk to me, but I made it through my front door before he had a chance to say a word.

I spent the next hour or so reliving the whole day. I had not only met my destiny, I had spent an entire day getting to know him. The shooting range, brunch, shopping, the carriage ride, and finally playing games in an arcade, only one of these had been on my list for first date activities, but I couldn't remember ever having a better day. I drifted off to sleep early for the first time in ages.

Rachael and I had decided to meet at the mall Sunday morning. I rode the city bus there. I was probably one of the few people who loved mass transit. The quiet allowed me to dissect every aspect of Saturday, and not be burdened with paying attention to traffic or other drivers. Rachael had pumped me for details, but I couldn't possibly tell her everything on the phone.

As my head swirled with images of yesterday, I told myself everything was perfect. I reveled in the idea that yesterday was just the first of many such days to come. I didn't know how it could get any better than yesterday. I had learned so much about him.

Max was twenty-three. When I asked him about his ex-girlfriends, I nearly fell off my chair when he shared he had never had a serious girlfriend before. When he met me, he knew Seth had been my only boyfriend. I didn't wear my virginity on my sleeve like it was some big badge of honor or anything, I just had never been in a situation where I wanted to do anything about it. For all I knew, having no experience could be a bad thing: I could be awful in bed and a real disappointment.

"He won't be disappointed with you," a voice came from out of nowhere. My eyes went wide and every muscle in my body tensed - Oh my gosh, I am such an idiot. I didn't know I was thinking out loud. Who all heard me? I looked from person to person all around me, but no one close was looking at me. Did I just imagine a voice? Who'd just said that?

"There are many ways to talk to people, only one of which requires speaking aloud. I thought it better that I talk to you with my mind rather than my voice." This reply was as clear as any words I had ever heard - but I didn't hear them. It was as if they were reverberating in my head.

I scanned the bus in all directions. There was an overweight man in a suit and tie sitting in the seat across from me. A woman reading the newspaper accompanied by her child was a few seats in front of me. Another woman was three seats back, watching me.

"Yes, hello, Lauren, you can hear me just fine, am I right?"

I turned around to the lady sitting several seats behind me who was watching me, and nodded that yes I could hear her. I overemphasized the nod more to see a reaction than for effect.

I could hear humor in her response, "You really aren't any good at this, are you? I can hear your thoughts, Lauren, you do not need to look at me." Her gaze left me, as if something outside her window had caught her attention.

I wasn't frightened, but definitely taken aback that this woman was communicating telepathically with me. I thought as hard as I could, "Who - are - you?"

A booming response echoed in my head, "Not so loud! You're going to drown out everything else around here, and I'll miss my stop."

Surprised by the notion that a loud thought was possible, I replied but not nearly as focused as my last question, "Would it be okay to sit next to you? I feel funny carrying on a conversation without talking."

"If it suits you, come on back." She glanced my way with a slight nod, then continued to focus her attention out the window. To anyone else on the bus, she appeared not to be paying any attention to me at all.

I quickly grabbed my bag and moved to the seat next to the woman, half expecting her to scream or scowl at me when I sat down. She didn't. She just smiled and patted my hand. Still in my head and not aloud, "We are so proud of you, Lauren. The others thought it could not be done. I told them you could. I told them you didn't need our help. Look at you. Courage really becomes you, and you found Max so quickly! Good for you."

Scared stiff at this point because she obviously knew me, questions began flying through my head. Who are you? Who are the others? What did you tell them I could do? How do you know about Max? All these questions were swirling in my head when I finally regained my focus and thought clearly, "Who are..."

She interrupted my thought, "If you ask every question twice we aren't going to get much of anything done. I already told you, you don't need to speak out loud, I can hear your thoughts. Who am I? I am Rewsna (she pronounced it Roos-na). I have been watching you for some time, as have the others. I was in Tasty Burger when you achieved courage. I have seen some monumental things this millennia, but a twenty-one year old girl, without any training at all, attaining courage has never been done before. How did you know about the anarchist? How did you know what to do?"

"The anarchist? Do you mean the robber?" I wasn't sure I had comprehended what Rewsna had asked.

"The robber, yes. How did you know what he was going to do?" It was a bit difficult to focus on her questions. My entire life I had learned to read faces, body language, gestures, but Rewsna was giving me no visual cues. Since I came back to sit next to her on the bus, she had not made eye contact with me. She just kept looking out the window as if it were the most normal thing in the world for two strangers to share a seat when there were at least thirty vacant seats on the bus.

"I don't know exactly. When he walked into the restaurant, I saw him." That wasn't right, I corrected myself, "I mean, I guess I felt him enter the restaurant. I'm not sure why, but I felt like he was dangerous."

"He was, Lauren. Absolutely amazing. No doubt about it, you are amazing."

"What's so amazing about recognizing a robber?" I didn't understand why she was so excited. I thought my acrobatics over the counter were far more interesting than me noticing a dirt bag walk through the door. I still didn't know who she was. My imagination had been out of control lately, and for all I knew, I may very well have imagined this conversation, too.

"Lauren, you recognized an anarchist from fifteen feet away, without speaking to him. You got everyone out of the way: the customers, the other employees, everyone. You gave him a dose of his own medicine: pure fear you shot into him! I never saw an anarchist leave so fast in all my years. I couldn't have been more thrilled if you would have yelled, 'Boo,' at him."

"Rewsna, what're you talking about? What's an anarchist?"

"Child, you mean to tell me that you found one, singled him out from a room full of people the second he walked in the door, got everyone away from him, and you didn't have any idea what he was?" Rewsna still didn't speak out loud, but for the first time since I moved to this seat, she looked at me. She had deep brown eyes, set narrow on her face. Looking at her, I could only guess that she was in her fifties. She wore dreadlocks and looked a little like Whoopi Goldberg. Her face was beautiful despite the bewildered expression she was wearing.

"I've read the newspapers and watched the news reports. I've heard him referred to as a robber, an assailant, a shooter, a homeless man, but never an anarchist. I'll have to write that one down."

"Did Max not prepare you at all? Don't tell me that you had no idea what was going on?"

"Rewsa, can you not talk in circles, because you're really making me dizzy. I just spent all day with Max yesterday getting to know him. What was he supposed to prepare me for?"

Her eyes narrowed as if she were ready to begin an interrogation. "Lauren, what do you know about Max?"

Not wanting to confide in this stranger about my incredible obsession, all I was comfortable saying was, "Max is the paramedic who kept my heart pumping after I was shot."

"Lauren, you ought to know a good deal more than that." For the first time she spoke aloud, and I could hear the contempt in her voice. Her voice sounded Romanian a little, not so much of an accent that she was difficult to understand, but enough of a European sound that it was obvious she wasn't local. "Okay, from the top, did Max come to you in a dream?"

Rewsa convinced me that I was definitely not imagining this conversation. The idea that we could communicate without a sound was amazing. I wondered who else was able to communicate this way? And if more than just this woman, why hadn't this been all over the news? I wondered if I could communicate with others this same way?

Annoyance was inserted in her voice, "Focus, Lauren. Did he come to you in a dream or not?"

Snapped back to reality, at least my reality this minute, I responded quietly, "Yes."

"What exactly did he tell you?"

"Exactly, he said that we were going to meet soon, but I had to be courageous. He said a lot of other things about challenges we would have to meet; I have to tell you that I really wasn't paying that much attention at the time."

"Well, it's a good thing I've been keeping an eye on you then. He didn't explain to you who you were, or who would be working against you?"

"No, nothing like that."

"All right, listen, my stop is coming up soon, and I can't stay to chat. I'll tell you what I can, but Max should have told you all this already. Every soul has a specific purpose predetermined before they take human form. Almost no one can remember their purpose after they turn two years old, but it is burned into them and resides in their unconscious until an event or a person is able to unlock it. The purposes are Protectors, Instigators, Anarchists, Tempters and Mates – there are more, but these are the basics. Some souls get more than one purpose relative to the other souls they are destined for."

"So the robber was my anarchist, but he could be someone else's protector?"

"Yes, exactly! Only the soul knows when it is time to assume a new role. You already know that Max is your mate."

My wheels began to turn and I made a logical leap asking, "Does that mean that Seth is my protector?"

"That damn Seth, I need to grab him by his ears and shake him! Yes, he is supposed to be one of your protectors, and somehow he has convinced himself that it is his job to be a tempter. He isn't imprinted for a temptation for you, so no matter how hard he tries or what he does, you will never feel the need to be anything more than his friend. His only role for you for this entire life is to be your protector."

I could tell she was sensing my question, "So what am I to Seth?"

"You aren't a temptation either! You are his instigator. It is your job to kick him in the tail end and make him find his mate, not succumb to his outrageous fantasies, which will never work. You need to stop worrying about his precious little feelings and get him moving, or he'll be stuck where he is for another decade. His mate is about to get engaged to one of her protectors. If that happens it will be a whole decade down the drain and Seth will probably be living with his mom until he's thirty."

I hated feeling like the slow kid, but I asked anyway. "A whole decade down the drain? You are talking in circles again."

"Oh, for Pete's sake. Seth has a soul mate, too. He hasn't met her yet because he is convinced that he is in love with you. Until you kick him to the curb, he doesn't have a chance to meet his soul mate. If Seth and Amanda don't meet, then she will never feel the magnetic pull toward a true soul mate. If she doesn't know the difference, her protector will propose marriage to her and she will say yes, since as far as she is concerned there is no one else out there. She will get married, and they'll give it a go for a while, then in about eight years they'll look at each other and realize they really aren't in love with one another, they never were in love with one another. These always get messy."

"So you're saying this happens a lot?"

"Lauren, try to keep up, Dear. Every soul has a role relative to every other soul that is profound to them. If roles are misinterpreted, a delay to the natural order occurs. Why, I knew this one woman who was married five times, five times! At what point do you think it occurred to her that she was settling for the first man who showed her any attention? Each time she walked down the aisle, then a few years later, realized her mistake, only to repeat the same mistake four more times! If she would have just listened to her dreams, they would have told her how to meet her destiny."

"So I'm not special? Everyone has a mate. Everyone's mate comes to them in a dream?"

"No and yes. Not everyone chooses to have a mate in life; but for those who do, one will reach out to the other in a dream shortly before their paths may cross. A mate may have to cross paths five or six times before they are close enough to feel the magnetic pull, but once they feel it, they just know this is their soul mate. The travel through dreams is the only way two souls are able to speak. The conscious mind is too rational and discounts any contact as impossible. To answer your other question - Lauren, you are more special than you realize."

"You mean because I can read people, right?"

"What do you mean, read people?"

"I've always been really 'in-tune' to others. Most of the time, I can tell what someone is feeling by just looking at them."

"In-ter-est-ing. You can do this with everyone?"

"I think so. I've read a lot of books on body language, but I was really good at it before I did any real research. Some people are harder than others."

"Does it feel like an extrasensory perception?"

"I don't know what that would feel like, but I guess so. I mean I don't get a vibe based on sight, sound, smell, touch or taste – I just know what people are feeling. Sometimes I even know what they're thinking. Not the specifics, but if they're mad about something that just happened, I can tell that it's a short-term mood swing – or if they're chronically crotchety, I can feel that, too."

"Even me?"

"Well - you initiated the conversation, so I wasn't exactly feeling you out. I can tell that you're being truthful with me, or at least you think you are."

"What about Max?"

"My emotions get in the way a little. I mean – I don't normally, you know...get nervous around people. Max is just different. I have a tough time..."

"Your own nervousness doesn't allow you to be objective and observe him the way you do others."

"Right!"

"How does this feeling you get work?"

I had never given much thought to how it worked. "I guess most of the time, I look at a person...sometimes if I'm not that close I can't sense anything. Sometimes if I shake their hand or bump into them, the feeling gets stronger. I don't really know how it works."

Rewsna nodded. "You chose a tough life, but so far you haven't needed anyone's help. You are just barely an adult and you have attained a tough pillar and you have found your soul mate. Some spend whole lifetimes trying to attain courage, but you got it at twenty-one. We will be watching you with interest." She glanced at the window quickly and announced, "This is my stop."

Rewsna stood up, stepped in front of me and waited by the door for the bus to come to a complete stop. When I stood up to follow her, she shook her head and her voice sounded stern in my mind, "Child, this is not your stop. Keep to your path."

"But how do I find you if I need you?"

She looked at me perplexed, "If you really need me, I'll be there, but from what I've seen, you won't see me again."

"Wait, Rewsna, I have so many questions!"

She smiled at me wryly and responded, "Unlock Max. He has all the answers."

Chapter Thirteen

My encounter with Rewsna weighed heavily on me as I glanced at the area of town where she had just gotten off. It was downtown near the market. Even if I knew exactly where she was heading, I doubt I'd be able to find her in the flood of tourists, shopkeepers and locals.

Keep to my path? My hands started to sweat as I considered what she meant; maybe I was supposed to be on this specific bus right now for a reason. I looked at the other passengers and wondered if some epic event was going to take place. I paid attention to every stop, who got on and who got off.

My nerves were nearly frazzled when the bus came to a stop at the mall. I got off and half expected an earthquake, or tsunami, or something. The bus closed its doors and pulled away. I stood motionless for far longer than I should have.

An older gentleman with a cabbie hat on was approaching me, perhaps to see if I needed any help. There was something about him that didn't feel right. It made the hair on my arms stand at attention. I didn't know why, but I knew I needed to keep my distance. My eyes darted to the ground as I willed my feet to move before he got to me.

After making my way in through the entrance to the mall, I walked toward the food court. Rachael is normally "fashionably late" - her term, not mine, so waiting for her in the food court was a regular occurrence. I looked at my watch: 10:00 on the dot. As I rounded the corner past the cookie store, I saw her sitting at a table in the middle of the court. Staring in disbelief as I approached, "Hi, Rachael, I thought we said 10:00. What're you doing here already?"

Rachael looked at her watch, "It is 10:00."

"What planet are you from and where did you take my friend Rachael?"

"You're hysterical. I'm willing to overlook your snottiness, so long as you have some juicy details. Tell me about this mystery man, Max."

"You mean all this time we've been friends all I needed was juicy gossip for you to show up on time?"

Rachael slapped my arm and laughed, "Come on, out with it!"

I spent the next fifteen minutes giving her the condensed version of my day with Max. As I was nearing the part where we were on the carriage ride, I could see Rachael looking intently over my shoulder. I turned around to see what had her attention. My stomach knotted in an instant: it was a guy, probably our age, standing at an oriental fast food shop. As I looked at him - I got a really strange vibe, even though I couldn't see his face because his back was to us. I felt an odd sensation, one I can't even describe: not the pure danger I felt when the robber walked through the door, but similar. I knew he was trouble. It was the strangest feeling to know I didn't like someone without knowing why, but my instincts had always been flawless. Without missing a beat I stated quietly, "Not him, Rachael."

Rachael looked back at me quickly and almost stammered, "What'd you say?" She could tell that my three words had nothing to do with me telling her of my perfect afternoon with Max. My quick warning had caught her off-guard, "Lauren, what'd you just say?"

"Rachael, there is something I don't like about him, a bad vibe." Rachael had always heeded my advice without question. She had seen firsthand that I was intuitive for situations and people, but this time was different.

"Oh please! He's gorgeous!! How should I start a conversation with him? What does he like? Come on, Lauren. Help me!"

I shook my head at her and repeated, "Not him." It's extremely difficult to tell your friend that the guy she thinks is amazing could, for all I knew, be Jack the Ripper.

"Lauren, come on, he's got his food. Just tell me what to strike up a conversation with. Sports? Weather? Shopping? I know you know, come on!"

Still feeling a bad vibe, "He's not someone you want to meet. Pick any other guy in this place and I promise I'll help, but not him." I am not clairvoyant, telepathic, or any number of other supernatural categories. I'm somehow sensitive to people. I don't know how best to describe it other than I pay attention to what people wear, expressions on their faces, body language, the tones of their voices, and I don't know how many other factors. Other than on my bus ride to the mall today, I'd never come right out and acknowledged it before, but my closest friends knew what I could do without me ever saying it.

A disappointed look took hold, and I could tell Rachael was irritated with me. She was not arguing with me, so at least she was thinking straight. I tried to ease her frustration, "Seriously, pick any other guy."

In a very dramatic way, "Never mind, tell me about Mr. Wonderful and your perfect day together." She propped her head on her knuckles with her elbows on the table. She was still looking toward the guy I had just warned her about, but it looked as though she was going to drop it.

After another couple minutes of me relaying my day with Max, I could see Rachael's eyes light up. She sat up straighter, still looking at me, but somehow, not really listening. I knew what was about to happen.

"Excuse me, ladies," came the smooth voice from the guy I had just asked her to stay away from. "I'm waiting for a friend who's running late. Would you mind if I sat with you two?"

"No, we wouldn't mind!" Rachael answered quickly, I'm sure in an effort to keep me from telling him to take a hike. "Pull up a chair. We're just hanging out."

He kept his eyes on Rachael the whole time, reminding me of a jaguar on the prowl, paying the same attention to me that he would a bush or a tree. "I'm Paul." He spoke very proper English, and sounded so nervous that his words came out stiff.

Rachael quickly introduced us both, "I'm Rachael, and this is my friend, Lauren." He glanced in my direction briefly then refocused all of his attention on Rachael.

"I am very pleased to meet you both. Are you waiting for your boyfriends?"

Rachael too eagerly replied, "Oh, I don't have a boyfriend, and Lauren's meeting hers later. We're just here hanging out and shopping today."

"I can't believe that a girl as pretty as you does not have a boyfriend? You are teasing me."

Paul was making my skin crawl. He was very polite - and I have to admit - devastatingly handsome, but something was off. I glared at him hoping he would take the hint and find a way to politely excuse himself. I knew he could feel my stare, but paid no attention to it.

Rachael giggled at his line, buying it hook, line, and sinker. "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

Paul rubbed his eyes with both fists, over exaggerating the movement, "There must be something wrong with my eyes. I am looking at the most beautiful girl in the place, and you tell me you do not have a boyfriend? This is my lucky day! Where would you like to go? What would you like to do?"

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up, my stomach physically hurt, and I knew without a doubt if I allowed this to go any further, I'd get physically ill. Rather than take the chance that my staring daggers in his direction wouldn't dissuade his advances on Rachael, I bitterly responded, "Actually Paul, this is a girl's day out, so you may have to celebrate by yourself. I hear the arcade has a special token bonus offer going on." My voice was cold and my tone undeniably hateful.

Rachael was still under this loser's spell, "Oh, come on, Lauren, I'm sure Paul and his friend would be a great help shopping."

Fury engulfed me, as I could see for the very first time that Rachael was really not taking me seriously. "Rachael, I need to go to the restroom. Come with me."

She rolled her eyes in my direction, "All right." She turned her attention back to Paul, "You'll be here when we come back, right?"

"Absolutely, I will anxiously await your return."

Rachael and I went down the long hallway and made our way into the restroom. As soon as we were two steps inside, she fiercely expressed her frustration, "Lauren, stop it. I know you get these weird feelings sometimes, but drop it! I don't care what you say, I like him. Do you mind taking the bus home? I'd really like to hang out with Paul, and you obviously don't care for him, so it might be better if you just left."

Taken aback by her conclusion that I was just being difficult, and it would be better if I left them alone, I asked, "Are you nuts? Name one time that I've ever been wrong. This Paul is a snake. I wouldn't leave you alone with him for a million dollars. Friends don't leave friends with creeps. I'm sure that's a rule in some friendship handbook or something." Trying to lighten the mood did no good, and I could tell she really wanted me to leave. "Not a chance, Rachael. I'm staying."

"Fine, stay, but not one more word about him. I have a real feeling about him. Everyone is entitled to one mistake, and this is obviously yours. He is gorgeous, and he likes me. Don't ruin this for me."

"Rachael, I've never been wrong. I'll humor you on this, but I won't leave you alone with him, deal?"

"Okay, deal! Let's go!" Rachael all but sprinted out of the bathroom. She was back to the table in no time, enthusiastically asking Paul, "So, when's your friend supposed to be here?"

Paul smiled an awkward smile, "I hope you won't hold it against me, but I just said that so you wouldn't think badly of me for wanting to join you two."

Perfect...a self-confessed liar. Warning bells were ringing in my head, as if I needed any more reminders of how bad an idea it was for Rachael even to be talking to this guy. The banter between them took off while I concentrated on a strategy to get Rachael away from him.

"See, she doesn't mind. We'll be right back." The malevolence in his face was unmistakable, and it felt as though I had just been punched in the gut. Unsure of the exchange between the two of them, I quickly asked, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Paul was just telling me about his car. It's a Porsche. I want to go take a look. We'll be right back."

Before I could file a protest, they were both up and out of their seats headed for the door. I was fuming at Rachael for ignoring our agreement. She shot me a cross look indicating that I was to stay behind.

I have never been wrong. What's the worst thing that could happen if I stayed here? I didn't even want to think about it. I jumped up from my seat and ran to the door. My eyes scanned the parking lot from left to right. At first I didn't see them, but then I saw them walking in between cars two rows away. I gave chase, shortening the gap between us to just ten feet.

They were talking quietly, so I couldn't hear them, but as long as I could see Rachael, I was sure she'd be fine. I replayed the conversation with Rewsna and her explanation of a temptation. That must be what Paul is to Rachael. I've never felt more protective of her in my entire life. The conversation I had on the bus less than an hour before immediately became crystal clear. It was my responsibility to keep him away from Rachael.

Without a word, I walked to the back of the car, keeping my distance so Rachael wouldn't be any more furious with me. I was confident that no matter the danger she could potentially be in with this guy, he would not try anything with me watching. At least, that's what I hoped. As my mind started running through all the worst case scenarios - I did the only thing that came to mind.

What guy our age drives a Porsche, anyway? Without any hesitation, I called the police and confessed, "I saw a suspicious man near a white hard-top Porsche, and I was worried it might be stolen. He's at the mall hitting on my friend. Would it be possible for me to give you the license plate number and you can tell me if I'm overreacting?"

The dispatcher asked if this was some sort of prank. I assured her it wasn't. I gave her my name, phone number and location. After she was confident that this wasn't some stunt, she answered, "Read me the plate." I did and she stated, "Hold on, please, the system's pretty slow today."

It felt like I was on hold forever as I watched Paul and Rachael standing less than twenty feet from me. The dispatcher came back on the line, "Lauren, where are you right now?"

"Outside Northwoods Mall, in parking area 117A, about half way down the row."

"Lauren, you need to stay away from him."

"He's talking to my friend Rachael by the car."

"Get her away from him. The police are on their way. Get her away now."

In my most booming voice, I yelled, "Rachael, your mom's on the phone. You were supposed to pick up your little brother from soccer practice. She wants to talk to you, now." I waved my phone in the air knowing that this was the fastest way to get her over here.

She rolled her eyes and raised her index finger to him in a gesture saying, "Just a minute," then she walked over to where I stood. I handed her the phone.

In a theatrical tone she protested into the phone, "Mom, you didn't say you wanted me to pick Zack up today. I'm at the mall with Lauren. Why can't you or dad get him?"

I endured a long silence as the dispatcher was talking directly to Rachael. I kept my eyes on Paul the entire time, making sure that he made no sudden movements. He really seemed not to sense anything was out of the ordinary. Within minutes three police cars were pulling into the parking lot. Without so much as a word or a glance in his direction, Rachael tugged on my shirt sleeve and began walking farther away from her handsome friend. I heard her say, "Yes, they're here now, thanks." Rachael disconnected with the dispatcher and handed me the phone.

Bewildered at what had happened in less than five minute's time, "Wow, Lauren, when you're right, you're right. The car is stolen and the person they think stole it is the suspect for a double murder."

Rachael and I stood in an awkward silence waiting to see if the police needed to talk to us. She didn't look up from the pavement for a really long time, then in a hushed tone, so that anyone outside of two feet from us wouldn't hear, "How do you do that?"

"I don't know." The hair on the back of my neck was tamed again, and I was relieved that the whole incident had ended so quickly.

"Maybe we could get you in a circus side show or something." I quickly looked in her direction to catch her smiling. Evidently the fear was short lived, and she had accepted these events as a normal occurrence. Even though this was the most acute use of my perception she had ever witnessed, I believe she was aware well before today that my senses were very sharp. We watched as a policeman slammed Paul up against a police car, searched him for weapons, handcuffed him, and escorted him to the back seat of a squad car.

It looked like we wouldn't be needed for anything, so I thought we'd be able to escape back into the mall without so much as a wave, when a policeman did finally walk in our direction. He asked, "Which one of you is Lauren?" I identified myself, and he followed with, "Miss, I'm not sure why you thought to call the emergency line when you did, but I wanted to tell you, your instincts are amazing." I didn't know what to say.

"When I got the call from dispatch, I heard your name, then I saw your name come across the computer screen in my car. You're the same person who was shot at Tasty Burger a few months ago, right?" I nodded shyly, expecting that he might think I was involved as more than a victim in both incidents. Realistically, what are the odds that the same person would be involved in two completely different criminal acts as simply a bystander only a few months apart?

The officer continued, "You are like a one person law enforcement agency." His broad smile beamed, as he took my hand to shake it. "If you're interested, I believe we can get the chief to waive the waiting list and get you into the academy in the next session."

Never having considered a job in law enforcement, the idea seemed exciting. "I hadn't thought about it before, but I'll think it over," was all I could manage to say.

"Fair enough, but I want you to know that I know veteran cops who don't have the instincts you have for criminals. Just keep us in mind. The dispatcher already has all the contact information for both of you. The city attorney may phone you if your testimony's required. And Lauren - I wouldn't be surprised if this hit the media. You are becoming our poster child for crime prevention."

"Oh no, I don't want to be involved. Can you keep me out of this?" My voice was pleading with him. My parents completely freaked out about the TV crews asking for interviews after the robbery. I could just imagine what it would be like if they found out I had anything to do with helping catch a murderer.

His voice was solemn, "Sorry, Lauren, but your name went out over the radio. Anyone with a police scanner knows that you phoned this in." He paused for a second and then offered, "I can give you a lift home and try to get there before any of the news media knocks on your parents' door. I actually got assigned to your house for crowd control when you were in the hospital after the shooting."

"No, that's okay, I'm not ready to go home yet."

The officer handed me a card with his name and phone number, "If you ever need a police escort, give me a call." I thanked him, and he walked back to his police car.

Rachael and I walked slowly back to the mall. She was talking a mile a minute, but I was only catching every few words. My mind was in a different place. What had Rewsna told me when she wouldn't let me follow her off the bus? "Keep to your path." Emotions flooded in as I realized that she had known this was going to happen. She wanted me at the mall. What would have happened if I hadn't followed my path? I shuddered when I thought of the possibilities.

"Hey, Rachael, could you give me a ride downtown?" I realized, after saying this, that Rachael had been in mid-sentence; I had just cut her off.

"Uh, sure, where to?"

"I need to go to the market. I just need a ride there. I can take the bus home." I'm sure through her constant babbling that she was thinking about how close she had come to real danger today.

We drove the twenty minutes comfortably, not in silence but not wrapped in a gripping conversation either. I hadn't mentioned anything to her about my dreams about Max, meeting Rewsna, or any of Rewsna's advice. It would have taken longer to explain all of these events to her than we had time for. I had always considered Rachael one of my closest friends, but as far-fetched as most of these events were, I wasn't ready to share them with her yet.

She pulled up to the curb just outside the market, "Okay, here you are. You're sure you want to wander around alone? I don't mind keeping you company." Her look was hopeful, and it hit me that she was still a little freaked out about the mall.

"No, I'll be fine. I just need to look for something at a vendor I saw a while back. I still haven't found your graduation present." I knew that would keep her from feeling like I was ditching her.

"Oh, me neither! We could just buy ourselves presents and tell each other what we got?"

Her practical suggestion elicited a laugh from both of us.

"Oh, go ahead, just make sure I can return it! Call me later." Rachael drove off as I started walking through the market. I wasn't certain that I would even see Rewsna, but I needed to try. She had been dressed like one of the sweet grass basket weavers, so maybe I'd get lucky.

I walked up one side and down the other of the entire market. I saw venders selling fragrances, t-shirts, baskets, jewelry, candy, but no sign of Rewsna. Every few feet I would stop, look at something and scan the area for her. When I didn't see anyone familiar or anything that heightened my senses, frustration set in. I needed to talk to her. She had to be here. I closed my eyes and stood still for a long moment imagining her face as best I could, focusing on details like the loose fitting clothing she wore, the style of her hair and how it fell easily at her shoulders, her eyes the one time they made contact with mine on the bus. After visualizing her for several long moments, I silently thought as clearly as I could, "Where – are - you?"

The answer was almost instant, "I told you not so loud! I'm behind you." As I wheeled around, across the narrow street I could see Rewsna sitting at a table in a coffee house, near the window. Relief swept over me. I gave a wave and went directly over. When I got inside the café, she had a piece of coconut cream pie and a bunch of scrabble tiles in front of her.

"Rewsna, I'm so glad to see you. I was worried I might not be able to find you."

She answered me, but not with her voice; she was speaking telepathically again, "Lauren, I know you've got a lot on your mind, I can hear it, but I have already answered all your questions that I am able to." She had the tiles laid out in front of her in various words, almost the way you would expect to lay out words if you were playing an actual game. No one else shared her table, and there was no board, just the tiles.

I sat across from her in the other chair at her table. I was trying to ignore the tabletop as she moved the letters around in circles and kept creating new words. I asked, "You didn't tell me how to unlock Max. Can you give me a clue?"

Speaking out loud, "There's no specific process. Each soul and their human mind is different. As you get to know each other better, you'll figure out what his key is." I looked at the tabletop and saw that she had just assembled five tiles. They spelled H-E-A-R-T. As she was talking to me she took away the T and said, "Sometimes your mate will hear," she replaced the T, "With his heart. You are the only one who can make him remember. Just keep doing what you are doing."

"But that's just it: I don't know what I'm doing."

"Your skills are even sharper than I gave you credit for; very impressive the way you kept Paul from leaving today." Rewsna had switched subjects so quickly, I had hardly noticed.

I couldn't help but ask what I'd been feeling since it happened, "You knew I was going to meet him, didn't you? That is why you wouldn't let me follow you off the bus earlier?" She didn't answer, but for the first time since I had met her, I was able to read her the way I could everyone else, and that was exactly why she made me stay "on my path," to the mall.

"Your love," again she had the tiles L-O-V-E "for the others around you will," she moved the tiles and added an additional E-V "evolve to meet your destiny." E-V-O-L-V-E was staring at me from the tabletop. None of what she was saying made much sense.

I looked back at the tabletop to see her playing with five new tiles. Before she could give me any new message, her lips didn't move but her voice was clear in my head, "Lauren, you know what you must do. I know you will figure out how. I wish you luck, but I don't believe you will need it. You do not have to seek me out; I already told you, I will be watching you."

"Rewsna, I feel so strange, as if you are the only person I can ask questions. If I share any of this with anyone else I know, they'll think I'm nuts."

"Precious Lauren, you are more sensitive than any soul I've met. You see things clearly that others wouldn't notice if it reached up and slapped them in the face. You don't need me. The answers to your questions are inside you and with your soul mate. Make him understand the question, and he will give you the answers you seek."

I knew that our meeting was over, so I thanked her, out loud, of course, and stepped out of the cafe. I hadn't really learned anything new, but my feelings were confirmed. It's as if everything is predetermined, but free will results in different outcomes. I looked at my watch and realized it was already two o'clock. I was supposed to meet Max at three, so I made my way to the bus stop across from the library.

The bus let me off right in front of Max's apartment complex. I was the only one getting off, and no one was getting on. I made my way out the back door and onto the sidewalk. I felt someone watching me immediately, but the indicators of danger or fear didn't accompany the sensation.

Chapter Fourteen

I looked across the street and there was Max, walking in my direction. I picked up my pace, so we wouldn't do some sappy greeting in the middle of the street like something from an old movie.

We met in his parking lot and embraced, heat welling up within me, his touch just as electric as yesterday. "So tell me, why is it that I wake up, turn on the news, and see a picture of you being broadcast to the world again? You're the lead story on all the local networks, did you know?"

"I'm what? Oh crap! I forgot to warn my parents. They're going to be ticked off if television news crews park outside the house again!" I reached into my pocket and called my house; Mom picked up the phone on the second ring.

"Lauren, where are you? What happened?" From the panic in her voice, I wondered what the news agencies were saying? It really wasn't all that impressive. As far as I knew, Rachael and I hadn't been in any imminent danger. I relayed the events of this morning to her as calmly as I could, trying to downplay my role. "Rachael is fine and the guy was arrested hours ago. I'm at Max's apartment. I'll be home after he goes to work."

"All right, but trying to get to the front door will be as bad as Toys 'R Us on Christmas Eve."

"Wonderful. Tell Dad I'm fine." We hung up and Max was staring at me.

"So you caught a murderer this time?" Max's tone was thoughtful, but his eyes were full of excitement.

"Can we go inside?"

Max spun around, took my hand, and started walking.

As we made our way into his apartment, Max sounded exhausted. "I should be angry with you; I dreamt of you for hours and woke up feeling not so very rested."

I could feel my face flush. I leaned my lips to Max's ear and whispered, "I've missed you. I hope all your dreams weren't rated-G." Now it was Max's turn to blush.

"No, not all of them. You know, I was much more put together before I met you."

"What?"

"I'm worthless. I burned my toast. I forgot to put grounds in the coffee maker. I put my dirty dishes in the dishwasher full of clean dishes. Do you want me to go on? I'm so preoccupied with you that I can't function anymore. Here I was hoping you were just as much of a blundering idiot, and I turned on the television, only to find out you helped catch a murderer!"

"It wasn't that big of a deal."

"Right, because all three news stations ran out of interesting things to report?"

"It's been a slow day." We had only been together for less than forty-eight hours, and I already could hardly remember him not being a part of my life. Maybe because he had been a remote part of me for years? I'm sure that my dream that I've had, the restaurant, the hospital, meeting Rewsna were events that were really all supposed to happen just the way that they did. Rewsna told me I was the only one who could unlock Max.

I remembered watching a show about patients with amnesia, in which their doctors and family members just talked to them about what they liked and disliked, to help unlock memories tucked away. "Max, what's your favorite thing about me?"

That gigantic smile that I love took his entire face, "Honestly?"

"No, lie to me. Of course, honestly!"

"The way it feels like I am holding an electric fence when we touch."

"You feel that, too?"

"I feel it, but more than that, I've felt it enough times now that I anticipate it. But I'm much more interested in your adventure at the mall today. What happened?"

I struggled with how much to tell Max. At what point would it be sensory overload or would he think I'm a head case? I settled on, "Before I go into all that, can I tell you something that is a combination of hard to believe and borderline crazy?"

Max nodded without apprehension. "That night of the shooting, was there any recognition at all when you saw me?"

His expression was puzzled. "I don't know how much of the ride in the ambulance you remember, but you asked me that night if you looked familiar to me. The truth is I felt like I knew you, but you really didn't look familiar to me. Why, did we meet before?"

"Yes and no. This is the part that sounds a little crazy, so hopefully you can keep an open mind.

About four years ago I started having dreams, very vivid dreams. I never shared them with anyone. They were kind of my little secret because they seemed so impossible to believe. Max, I've dreamed of you." I certainly didn't want to go any further; this information alone would be enough to scare away nearly every guy on the planet.

Max seemed to take my confession in stride, "What kind of dream? You mean like déjà vu?"

"A little, but not exactly. It was kind of a weird one where you told me that we would meet after I had done something courageous. I know it sounds crazy, and I wouldn't bring it up at all, except that I met someone today who knew about my dreams. I never told anyone any of this; I want to know what you know about me, about us?"

When Max looked in my eyes, I wanted to melt. Please don't let him think I am a lunatic. "Lauren, I dreamt about you today - a lot. While I was away for those few months, a day didn't go by that I didn't think of you, but I didn't have any vivid dreams of you before we met. The person you met today - that was the murderer?"

"No, this was before the mall. Her name was Rewsna. She knew all about you and me, the shooting, and even made me go to the mall. She told me to keep to my path."

"You mean like a psychic?"

"No, she was more than a psychic. She knew about the dream I had about meeting you. She talked to me like I should know more about you than I do. She said all the information I needed was locked away in your mind, and I just needed to unlock it. So without sounding anymore crazy than I already have, how do you suggest I unlock your memories?"

"Unlock my memories of what? I don't understand. How would I have memories of us from before we met? What all did she tell you?"

I relayed a condensed version of both conversations to Max. I didn't think, no matter how amazing he was, that Max could stand to hear that he was my soul mate on day two of our relationship, so I edited that part out. He nodded enthusiastically when I told him about the different roles each of us has.

I shared with him what Rewsna had said about Seth and how he had confused his role with me, which made Max laugh. "Lauren, you can't blame him for trying. I can't imagine another person on earth who would hold a candle to you, maybe neither can Seth. If I were in his shoes, I'd probably rail against the powers of the universe as well."

"That's just it, everything she said made perfect sense. Someone committing to the wrong person doesn't make the world come to an end, it just makes them miserable. She talked how people weren't seeking out the people they were supposed to be with."

"So this Rewsna told you we were supposed to be together?" I could feel his eyes on me, but I was too nervous to look at his expression. I wasn't sure if I could take another rejection from Max, and I knew that if he didn't believe what I knew to be the truth, it would feel like a rejection. Rather than answer his question, I tried to make light of it, "I said we're supposed to be together; Rewsna said I should try to unlock your memories."

Max ran his fingers through my hair. We were both sitting on the couch. "I don't know. I don't know how I can have memories for you to unlock if we've only just met?"

"But you said I was familiar that night in the ambulance. What was familiar about me?"

Max looked puzzled, "I don't know, I guess the way you looked at me, maybe your voice."

"When we talked in the ambulance, what'd we talk about?"

"You mainly just kept asking me to come with you. That'd never happened before. And then your heart just stopped."

"Then what?"

"Lauren – your heart stopped. There wasn't much conversation after that."

"So the only reason you came and checked on me in the hospital was...?"

"I wanted to be sure you were okay. I wasn't expecting . . . I'm exhausted and I've only got a few hours before I've got to go to work." I could tell he had purposely changed subjects. He pulled me in front of him on the couch, wrapping his arms around me. "Maybe if I sleep with you in my arms, my mind won't be so distracted."

What wasn't he expecting? I was teetering on the verge of sleep when he whispered into my ear, "I didn't think it was possible to feel this way about someone I hardly know."

Feel what way? Should I push my luck and ask him how he feels? There was no doubt in my mind, this was where I was supposed to be. Max completed me. I hadn't been tired when I arrived, but his sweet words felt like a lullaby, his warmth encompassed me, and I quickly fell asleep. Maybe my day had been more tiring than I realized.

I woke up to a note on the coffee table. It was dark outside, Max was gone, and I was alone. I picked up the note and read the words Max had left me.

Dear Lauren,

I couldn't wake you up, you looked too peaceful. I phoned your parents and told them you were asleep on my couch. The keys for my truck are on the kitchen counter. You can take it home. Your mom told me that the television crews were relentless, so she recommended you stay. I would love to come home tomorrow and see you here.

Love, Max

I stared at the, "Love, Max," and I felt giddy. I somehow wished I could hear him say it, but reading it was a thrill, too.

I looked at the clock across the room. It was barely 9:00. on a Sunday, and classes were suspended tomorrow – some quarterly staff meeting for the faculty. I began replaying my meeting with Rewsna. It was clear that I was Rachael's protector. Without Rewsna even mentioning it to me, the events of today made it very clear. The way my body reacted to danger had to be uncommon. I rarely feel the prickly feeling on my neck, but today it felt like thousands of tiny needles protruding from it. I couldn't have ignored it if I had tried.

I'm not anybody else's protector that I am aware of, maybe Melissa's? She was definitely in harm's way, and I got her out of the way before there was any real danger, but the sensation with Melissa was more calculated. Rachael's admirer elicited concern, not an absolute danger. I tried to do the same thing with Rachael as I had Melissa and just get her away, but Rachael proved to be much more difficult to persuade. Maybe my ability to protect them was directly relative to the amount of danger they were actually in?

Rachael seemed to be so charmed by Paul that it was as if all our history was meaningless at the time. If Paul were a temptation for Rachael and not an anarchist, would she have actually been in any real danger? How could I know the difference?

If Paul were a murderer, he would be someone's anarchist, but to Rachael he might be merely a temptation. I wonder why? He was definitely trying to impress her with the car; maybe there was something about the car? Would offering her a ride in a stolen car lead to anything? If he wasn't there to actually hurt her, what was he doing? It seemed as though everyone's roles had an underlying significance, but I didn't understand this one. Maybe I didn't understand because Paul wasn't one of the souls that was supposed to have an impact on me, so I wasn't able to get a vibe from him except for what was required to protect Rachael. It sounded strange, but I was at a loss for a more plausible explanation. I needed to talk to Paul to find out what he was trying to do, but how in the world was I going to talk to him?

In my back pocket was the card from Officer Keith Johnson. He told me I could call him for an escort home. I wonder how he'd feel about giving me an escort into jail? Without giving myself enough time to talk myself out of it, I called the number on his card. He answered the phone on the third ring, "This is Johnson."

"Hi, Officer Johnson, this is Lauren from the mall today." I hoped that his friendliness at the mall wasn't phony, and he really would help me.

"Hi, Lauren." His tone was very comforting, "Is everything all right? Did you give my academy idea any more thought?" He seemed at ease talking to me, and I was hoping his greeting wouldn't change to irritation when he found out why I was really calling.

"Actually, I've been kind of preoccupied all day, but I did want to call and ask you for a favor."

"Civilians don't often get a chance to catch a murderer – I understand being preoccupied." His voice didn't sound like he was concerned with me, a perfect stranger, asking for a favor. "What kind of favor were you looking for? My supervisor drove by your house earlier to check on you. Your dad told him you were at a friend's house."

"I am. Well he's at work now, and I was going to go home, but before I face my parents, I was wondering about that guy you arrested."

"Paul Stratford," Officer Johnson stated the name flatly. In all the news reports I'd seen on television, his name hadn't been released, so I was pleased that he would so openly share his name with me. It didn't even require me to press him, so I felt encouraged that he would help arrange a meeting with Paul. "What about him?"

"Is he really a murderer like the news reports are saying?"

"It looks that way from the evidence at the scene and the fact that he was driving the victims' car, but he isn't talking."

"If I wanted to visit him in jail, how would I do that?"

"Visit him? Why would you want to do that?" His tone was accusatory, as if this was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. I hadn't thought this call through long enough beforehand to come up with a plausible reason for wanting to meet him, at least not one that a normal person would understand.

My pause was significantly longer than it should have been, "I don't know why I want to talk to him. I just do. Do you know how I'd go about it?"

"Lauren, going to see him is a really bad idea. The City Attorney would have a heart attack if he got wind of this. Besides, you're a key witness against him. Just meeting him and giving him information about yourself puts your life in danger from any number of accomplices he may have."

"I'm sure he knows exactly who I am. I've noticed the news stations are protecting his identity, but my picture shows up every fifteen minutes. I'm not a key witness to anything, other than to him driving a stolen car. I don't feel like I'm in any real danger; I just feel like I need to talk to him. Will you help me?"

"Nobody's protecting him, Lauren. We didn't release his name to the media. I don't mind sharing his name with you for a couple reasons. One, you were instrumental in his capture, and two, you are obviously not a publicity hound. I never even saw you interviewed after the shooting. But meeting with him - it's a bad idea and no, I can't help you."

Nothing. I couldn't be upset with him. I couldn't even be annoyed by his protectiveness. Then it occurred to me, maybe he was one of my protectors? Maybe he had more of an impact on me than I was giving him credit for. That's just silly! Not everyone I run into has a special mission - some are just decent people who don't want others to get hurt. "If you won't help me get in to see him, where could I call to get the visitor information, like hours and rules?"

"Lauren, I don't like this. It's a bad idea. What can he possibly say to you that you need to hear? That he's sorry, that he never meant to hurt your friend? Will that make a difference?"

"I just need to talk to him. I obviously foiled whatever plan he had, and it's going to make me crazy if I can't at least ask him what that plan was."

"And you think he's just going to confess everything to you? You're as naïve as you are insightful, and that my friend, is a dangerous combination. He isn't talking to anyone, and if I were him, I can tell you I wouldn't talk to the person who saw through whatever line of crap I was feeding her friend and suddenly confess my intentions."

"You still didn't answer my question. Where do I go to find visitor information? If you don't help me, I'll find out on my own."

He sighed into his receiver, "Well, it isn't a national secret or anything. Visiting hours are noon until six daily, but if you aren't one of his approved visitors, the jailer won't let you in to see him."

"So if he didn't put me on the list, who else is authorized to? The Mayor, the City Attorney, maybe the Police Chief has enough pull? I'm sure I could ask one of them and they would be much more willing to help me." I heard the frustration in my own voice, although I was trying not to be disrespectful. He had, after all, been very nice to me up until my hair-brained request.

"It is that important to you?"

"Yes, it really is."

He sighed deeply again, pausing as if contemplating my request, then finally, "I wish I could help, but I could lose my badge." He lectured me for a couple minutes on the virtues of self-preservation and not tempting fate. I didn't listen all that closely. After we hung up I tried to run through other possibilities. I had tried to talk tough, but the Mayor, City Attorney and Police Chief couldn't pick me out of a line-up, so I couldn't expect a different reaction from them.

Max had a computer. It didn't look like he had turned it on since he got back to town. I hit the power button and was thrilled to see he had a blank password. I did a few internet searches and got what I was looking for.

I called Paul's mother, who seemed really nervous when she answered the phone. I told her I was a friend of Paul's and wanted to visit him in jail, but didn't know how to get a hold of him to ask him to put me on his list. She told me she would see him tomorrow, and would tell him I called. I told her my name was Rachael Madison. I had found a way to get on the visitor list. I could have given her my name, but after Officer Johnson denying my request, I had to assume he might tell someone that I had asked him. As I was feeling pretty smug with myself, I saw that Officer Johnson was calling me back. Crap! How could he have found out so quickly that I'd contacted Paul's mom?

I answered, cautiously, "Hello?"

"Hi, Lauren, it's Keith."

"Hi, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, we were going over the case and realized I never got your statement at the mall today. Do you have time to come to the precinct tomorrow for a few minutes?"

"Uh, sure, I guess so. What time?"

"I can send a squad for you at 11:30. Will that work?"

"Do you need me to have Rachael come, too?"

"Naw, we do interviews separately. She's next on my list. I'll give her a call and see what her schedule is. I'll see you around lunch time."

Officer Johnson's timing turned out to be just a coincidence. In the back of my mind I was worried that my phone was bugged or something – paranoia is usually from a guilty conscience. Lying to Paul's mom about my identity was nerve-racking enough, but to have Officer Johnson call me five seconds later was enough to make me swallow my tongue.

Max was at work, so it was just me in his apartment: I might never have a better opportunity to snoop. Not that I thought he would mind my curiosity, at least that's what I told myself.

His living room was neat and tidy, a little small for all the furniture he had in it. He had a matching sofa, love seat, reclining chair, coffee table, two end tables and a television. It was cramped by Martha Stewart's standards, but cozy just the same. The furniture was in great shape, like he really didn't spend much time here. There were no magazines, books, notepads, or even a phone book. The room actually reminded me of a model room in a furniture store. It made me giggle when I looked around for the cardboard television. There weren't any pictures on the walls, and the mantel over the fireplace was bare. Max had told me he only kept this apartment to sleep in, and I have to say that I found nothing to dispel that in looking at the place.

I made my way into the kitchen, which looked like it was assembled at one store. There were four plates, cups, glasses, and sets of silverware; only three pans in the entire inventory. I opened the refrigerator to find nothing but leftover take out and condiments. There weren't any knickknacks or personal items in the kitchen either. The bathroom was clean, and the door was open to Max's bedroom.

Max's bedroom consisted of a bed and a dresser. I took a peek in his closet and saw nicely pressed uniform shirts hanging at attention and slacks just to the side. This really was only a place to sleep, so where did he keep all his things? As I stepped back toward the living room, a frame setting on the edge of his dresser caught my eye. I stepped back into his bedroom and was surprised to see me smiling back at myself through the frame. I recognized the picture as the one the media showed when they mentioned my name. It must be one that my parents gave them several months ago. From the clarity of the print, it had to have been downloaded and printed from the internet. Though the likeness was definitely me, I made a mental note to get him a picture that didn't look like it came out of a newspaper. It was touching to be the only personal item in his entire apartment.

I opened several drawers in the kitchen before I found paper and a pen. I wrote:

Max,

Thanks for letting me sleep. I've got an errand with the police tomorrow at noon, so I'll call late in the afternoon. Have good dreams. I hope to see you there.

Love,

Lauren

I left his keys on the counter. It was thoughtful of him to leave me his truck, but I might not see him tomorrow and didn't want to leave him stranded. Given the hour, I knew the bus wasn't the best idea, and I didn't want to call my parents to pick me up. I opted to phone a cab and only had to wait a few minutes for it to arrive. The ride home was less than ten minutes, and just as Officer Johnson had warned me, there were several news vans parked on the street. I handed the cab driver the money for the fare as well as a healthy tip. I took one more look out the window before I reached for the door. I saw Seth at his living room window. Remembering what Rewsna had told me, I decided I would sprint to his door rather than mine.

I reached his door and thankfully it was unlocked. I quickly let myself in before anyone parked outside spotted me. Seth had seen me running from the curb to his door and was standing up, a bit surprised. I asked, "Hi, what're you doing?"

"I should be asking you the same thing. You're in the wrong house." His miserable tone was unmistakable. I looked to where he had been sitting and could see a photo album sticking out from underneath the cushion of the couch. I was hoping he was looking at photos of his father or something, but I knew better.

"I came to see you, so I'll ask again, what are you doing? Or should I rephrase, what're you doing at home on a Sunday when there's no classes tomorrow?"

"What do you care? I thought you were at Mr. Wonderful's place."

"I was at Max's house, but he had to work, so I thought I'd spend some quality time with you."

"Well, I guess it's a comfort to know that I'm a close second." His comment was sharp and it was accompanied by a glare.

Not wanting him to think his attitude was acceptable, I threw in, "Who said it was even close?"

"So did you come here for any particular reason?" His glare hadn't subsided. I knew his words were meant to stab me, but I let it roll right off. In my mind our weeks of isolation from each other should have had more of a healing effect. It looked like I was way off the mark on that assumption.

"Actually, I'm here to take you out. Get dressed, let's go."

"I'm not going anywhere with you." It was now crystal clear to me that there was a reason I hadn't seen Seth much in the last few months. His moping around and sadness had now given way to anger and disdain. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Seth, my dear, the love of my life - I made a horrible mistake and I have come to salvage what is left of us," sarcasm seethed from every pore on my body, it was unmistakable...except to Seth.

He took a step toward me, barely choking out, "Really?"

"No, you bonehead, get dressed, we're going out. I'll make a fool of both of us in front of at least two television network crews if you tell me no one more time. Now get a move on."

"Lauren, look...I appreciate that you....you feel sorry for me and everything, but this isn't a good time for me." His overcast mood was dismal and something inside me told me that this was the night he had to get out.

"You idiot, if I felt sorry for you, I would send you roses or something. You've been my best friend my entire life; I had a pretty outrageous day, and I need to go blow off some steam. If you haven't noticed, I seem to be a magnet for peril lately, and I don't want to go out by myself. You don't have to hold doors open for me, buy me dinner, or even talk. You're welcome to sulk quietly; you are not, however, permitted to let me go for a night on the town by myself. Now for the last time, go get dressed."

I was gauging the likelihood that my outburst would net anything other than a glare and me getting tossed out his front door. It was my responsibility to kick him in the butt and get him out of the house. He responded with more of a hopeful tone, "Not tonight, maybe tomorrow."

"Yeah, I don't think so. Tomorrow night will be a school night, so tonight's the night. Let's go. If you want to wear your sweats, I'm okay with it, but the chili stain on your t-shirt's a little distracting." I obviously should have done this a few weeks ago. I can fix this, I know I can. I softened my tone a little, "Please Seth, I just want to spend time with you, even if I know you don't want to spend time with me. One last time for old time sake, then if you never want to see me again, you can go back to pretending I'm invisible."

Reluctantly, Seth nodded. It was a cheerless victory, but at least I'd get him out of the house. He walked past me to the hallway that led to the stairs. I sat where he had just vacated and reached for the photo album he had tucked under the cushion. When I opened it and saw nothing but pictures of him and me, I felt terrible. I half expected them to be torn up or have burned edges.

Twenty minutes passed, and he finally emerged from the same hallway he'd disappeared into. He looked great, wearing a shirt I had bought him, very flattering jeans, and to my surprise a willing smile. He held his arms out and turned around saying, "How do I look?"

"Very handsome! So where do you want to go?"

"Are you kidding me? You don't know where you want to go? You practically crow-barred me off the couch making me feel guilty for not wanting to go, I finally agree, and you don't know where you want to go?" Annoyance was seeping from him now, and I was worried he might turn around and go upstairs to bed.

"Okay, let's go to Club 21! They have a deejay tonight, and it should be a blast." I nearly shouted at him, hoping my energy might get him back in the mood for an adventure, then the realization of our situation hit me, and I asked, "Any ideas on how we're going to sneak past the news vans?"

"I parked the car in the garage, so as long as the top is up, they shouldn't give us a second look."

Seth was right: no one noticed my arrival or departure. I phoned my house when we were a few blocks away so my parents wouldn't be worried about me. It was a thirty minute drive to the club, and the awkward silence I was expecting never materialized. Seth had accepted a job in North Carolina at some sort of ranch. We would graduate in a few weeks, and the day after his diploma was in hand he intended to be gone. I couldn't help but feel responsible for his desire to leave so quickly, but he never openly admitted it. He just told me about his plans and never once brought up the fact that we would be separated physically for the first time in our lives in just a couple weeks.

We pulled up in front of the club and found a parking spot just down the block from the entrance. Our identifications were checked at the front door, and our hands were both stamped with bright red ink with the word "over" indicating we could drink alcohol. Club 21 allowed young adults in but marked eighteen to twenty year olds with the "under" stamp. Seth pointed me to a table while he went to the bar to get us both drinks.

The uncomfortable feelings of grief, sadness, awkwardness I had anticipated just weren't there. We were friends, out for an evening catching each other up. I looked into the eyes of every attractive female in the place, so many that I'm sure I gave a few of them the creeps. Seth seemed not to notice any of them. Conversation with him was easy, but my mission tonight was definitely not only to repair our broken friendship but to steer him toward his future. After three hours of dancing, laughing, and screaming over the music to one another, I thought this had been a great idea, but this was not where we were going to meet whoever he was going to meet. We decided to go and get some fresh air.

Seth wrapped his arm around me as we walked. Not wanting to screw up our sudden truce, I didn't protest but was sure he had felt me tense up at his touch.

When we pulled into Seth's garage, one lonely news van was parked in the street. I didn't see any lights or movement in it, so my assumption was that it had been strategically parked for tomorrow, with its occupants home for the evening. "Well, I'm going to head home. Thanks for going out tonight. I had a great time." As I turned to head out the garage's side door, Seth reached for my arm and stopped me.

Chapter Fifteen

"Wait," I could hear it in his voice, and I knew I didn't want to let him utter anything else. "I...had...a good time, too. Do you have plans for tomorrow?" His wishful thinking was a bad sign, and I knew my plan to get him out of the house to meet some, "Miss Wonderful," had been too heavily veiled.

"Um, yeah, I have some things to do with the police, then I'm going to meet up with Max. I'll see you later." The inertia from my body trying to make its way to the garage door wasn't enough to get him to release his hold on my arm. Not wanting to destroy any of the progress we'd made tonight, I opted to look at his hand rather than his face. "You're going to have to let go."

In barely more than a whisper, "Lauren, whatever I did wrong, I know I can fix it. I miss you. I miss us. Don't leave." The hopefulness in his voice was nearly unbearable, and I heard Renswa's voice echo in my head again.

I couldn't simply rip my arm out of his grasp, but knew that if he saw my eyes, he'd know there wasn't even a glimmer of a chance for the two of us. He wouldn't open his heart to another. I couldn't tell him the truth about Max being my destiny, could I? Definitely, no. Seth was as straight-laced as they came, and if I shared with him anything I had learned from Rewsna, he wouldn't believe it anyway.

I decided to give him as much truth as I thought he could handle, "Seth, you're my best friend. I know that isn't what you want to hear. I know you believe that isn't enough. I also know there is someone out there who is the right girl for you - I'm just not her. I don't want to fight with you. I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have. I want you still to be in my life...but as my friend."

Acid seethed through his voice, "So, we're just friends."

Without warning, I grabbed his arm. "There is no just about it. We're friends. I don't understand why people always describe friendship as just anything. You have been so much a part of me for the last twenty-two years, give it a new name. Call me your comrade, your pal, your insignificant other, whatever you want it to be, except your girlfriend. Everyone, everywhere, has someone, whether they've found them yet or not. I know you hate it, but the someone I've found is Max."

He half-smiled back at me. I realized my grip on his arm was excessive, when he snickered, "I like comrade. Maybe we can get matching license plates or something?" He must have been trying to make a joke. I released his arm, confident that his moment had passed, and he wouldn't try again.

"Okay, comrade Seth, I'm going home. I had a great time tonight." Without so much as a look over my shoulder, I walked straight to the door and left. When I hit the too warm air outside, I couldn't help but release the breath I'd been holding. I told myself he just needed a little more time. He wasn't damaged goods. He'll be ready for her, whoever she was, in no time.

My parents were already in bed, and I was grateful that I didn't have to relive my morning for them. I tiptoed to my room and slid silently into bed.

****

I awoke to a bright sunny day, at nearly 10:00 a.m. and knew it was time to face my parents' inquisition. To my great relief, both were gone; neither were anywhere in the house, and neither had left a note for me. The same news van from last night set across the street, but I still saw no one anywhere near it. In the light I could see that it had a flat tire. It must have been abandoned when they couldn't drive it back to the news station yesterday. Hoping that my day was no longer the top story, I flipped on the television and found the local news. Sure enough, there had been a huge earthquake on the west coast, and all news stations were getting reports from their affiliates. By tomorrow no one would even give me a second thought again, thank goodness!

I began to get ready for my interview with Officer Johnson. I was drying my hair when I noticed a tow truck pull up in front of the news van across the street. That seemed a little extreme for a flat tire. As the hair dryer drowned out all other sounds, I watched two women get out of the tow truck.

In large flowing letters, the tow truck advertised, "Tonya's Towing." The driver of the tow truck looked to be in her early thirties, wearing coveralls and sporting unruly hair under a baseball cap. She opened a large metal tool box on the back of the tow truck, pulling out a hydraulic jack and bar in one hand and a tire out of the back of the truck with her other arm. I grinned to myself when I thought of this woman surprising an unsuspecting man in a dark alley somewhere. By her appearance alone and the way she muscled the equipment around, she could hold her own in any situation.

The woman who exited the passenger side of the tow truck was a stark contrast to Tonya. She wore a brown business suit that was precisely tailored to her body. Her auburn hair fell just below her shoulders, and the colors flattered her ivory skin. She held a cell phone to her ear, engrossed in a conversation that I couldn't hear, but as she spoke she was jotting notes into a small note pad balanced on the hood of the truck.

The passenger exuded self-confidence, almost a radiance. She smiled and nodded while speaking into the phone, as if whomever she was speaking to was directly in front of her, carrying on a normal conversation. It was impossible not to watch this woman. She looked to be in her early twenties; after easily two minutes of staring at her, I caught myself and suddenly felt as though I were intruding. What a strange thought. It's not as if I had binoculars and was looking into high rise apartments. I was simply looking out the window, but the draw to continue to survey her every movement was uncanny.

I felt my hair and realized it was now completely dry, so continuing to watch the activity across the street was simply voyeuristic on my part. I abandoned the window and went to my room to get dressed and ready.

The doorbell rang, and I looked at the clock on the wall: 10:50. It was a good thing I had gotten ready early; my ride seemed to have been in a bigger hurry than I was. I ran down the steps, two at a time. I opened the door, started to step through to the awaiting squad car, when I realized that Seth was waiting impatiently on my doorstep. A quick scan of the neighborhood told me no squad car had arrived to take me. Seth ignored my confused look, "Hey, are you busy?"

"No . . . I'm sorry. I was expecting a policeman to pick me up. I heard the doorbell and just assumed . . . never mind, what are you doing?"

"Lauren, I need to ask for a favor."

"Okay, but I've only got about thirty minutes. What do you need?"

"Can we talk inside?" Seth looked nervous, and I couldn't imagine what kind of favor he was going to ask for. I had thought after our conversation in his garage last night that there should be absolutely no question in his mind about my feelings. Without sharing any of my apprehension, I opened the door wider and took a step back to let him pass.

He began slowly, as if he didn't know how to ask me for the favor. His voice was slow and steady, "Before I ask, I'm going to start with you owe me." I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him, as my certainty that this was going to be something I would hate solidified. "Just hear me out before you say 'no,' okay?" I nodded, but luckily was only being asked to listen to his request, not acquiesce.

"Keep in mind, I've never asked you for anything in the last twenty-two years in general, and specifically for the last four months, so I think you owe me. If you do this one thing for me, your debt is paid and we're even." He waited to see my response. Dumbfounded, I didn't know what to say and was sure I didn't like the direction this was going.

Without losing eye contact, he continued, "I just met this really incredible woman named Amanda who wants to meet you. I told her we were tight. I told her I'd introduce her to you."

Amanda? This was the name Rewsna had told me Seth was supposed to meet. "Seth, this doesn't seem like such a big deal. Why are you acting so weird?" Confusion was paramount in my mind. Why was he acting like this was some gynormous favor?

"Well, the kicker is she's some kind of news reporter, but she just wants to meet you, and I really, really want to help her. I hate to use you like this, and I have no idea why I'm so stinking nervous right now, but I need your help."

I knew the last several months had been hard on him, so this didn't seem like such an unreasonable request. "Okay, well, I have to leave in thirty minutes, but I can meet her later this evening or tomorrow?"

"No, that's the thing, Amanda's here, now. Just five minutes, please?" With this final pleading he was actually taking my arm and leading me back to the door. He had the urgency of a Jack Russell Terrier with a ball.

To my surprise, Amanda was the nicely dressed woman I had been leering at through my bathroom window. Amanda up close was absolutely stunning: aside from her keen fashion sense, her features were nothing short of exotic, and I could now see exactly why Seth was so dead set on pleasing her. I smiled to myself when I realized she must get this type of "assistance" all the time. I glanced across the street and saw that Tonya and her tow truck had disappeared.

Amanda held out her hand and flashed an easy smile, "Hi, Lauren, I'm Amanda Lewis from WCSC-TV and was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about yesterday?"

Meeting someone and being interviewed are two entirely different things. Not wanting to disappoint Seth, I shook her hand, "Is there any way to politely decline an interview?" I quickly glanced at Seth to see that my response to Amanda didn't seem to dampen his outlook.

"I don't have a camera crew or anything; to tell you the truth, I'm not even a real reporter," she grinned then added, "at least not yet. I'm just a summer intern. When I got to work this morning, they told me to come out here, get the tire changed and bring the 'dragon wagon' back." She pointed her thumb over her shoulder at the news van that had been parked overnight on the street.

"I know everyone in town is trying to get an interview with you, and word on the street yesterday was that you'd left town for a few days and didn't want to be interviewed. I get that you are a private person, but you have no idea what it would do for me if I could tell my boss that I met you and got an interview, even if it's off camera. I know you don't know me or anything, but I promise I'm really a fair person, and I won't twist anything you say. You could even decide not to answer something, and I would completely strike it from the interview."

She was very persuasive, I imagine a great attribute for a reporter. Rather than answer her immediately, I looked to Seth. He stared at me, pleading with his eyes, knowing the very last thing in the world I would want was to be interviewed. Before I could formulate an answer, a police squad car pulled up in front of my house. I was rescued.

"Amanda, I really don't want to be interviewed," I could see Seth's expression harden, "but I'll do you one better than answering a few questions. My boyfriend has tonight off of work. I need to take care of some things now, but how about the four of us," motioning to Seth and Amanda, "go to dinner tonight about 5:00. We'll get to know each other. Assuming at the end of dinner you still think I'm interesting enough to interview, and I don't think you're a 'snake in the grass,' we can do an interview on camera after dinner?" I knew I had just hit a home run for Seth, because no matter how infatuated he was with her, he would never have had the courage to ask her out.

"Uh, okay, that sounds great actually. Where and when?"

I started for the police car before she had even finished her question. "I'll let you and Seth work that out. Seth, I'll call you in a few hours to get the details. Gotta go." I was so excited I was almost bursting. I knew this was way more than Seth had been hoping for, and I did like that she wasn't pushy. I turned around just before opening the car door, "Oh, by the way, tell your boss I'm only willing to roll the dice with you, no substitutes." If there were a facial expression classified as sheer joy, she was definitely wearing it.

I opened the police cruiser's door, "Hi, I'm Lauren."

"Hi, Lauren. Keith said you needed a lift down to the station. I'm Bill Lawless." I smirked and he smiled back at me, "Yeah, I know, I should change my name." Officer Lawless had a warm demeanor. If I had seen him out of uniform on the street, I might have guessed him as an architect or a math teacher, certainly not a police officer.

"Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate the ride."

"Are you kidding me? It is not very often I get to chauffeur around an honest-to-goodness hero."

"I wish people would stop saying that. All I did was dial a phone. How is that heroic?"

"The way I heard it, you were suspicious of the guy, followed him to his car, got your friend to distract him, and phoned dispatch, then waited for backup. Am I missing anything?"

"I didn't get my friend to distract him. I just thought he was a creep." Wanting to make sure he knew I wasn't buying in to all the media coverage I added, "I wouldn't call dialing a phone heroic, and I would think a better description of me would be - magnet for trouble."

Bill let out a hearty laugh again and followed with, "Well, let us know where you hang out at night; we may be able to bring some crime statistics down."

"Usually, real rough neighborhoods, like the library, Starbucks, and when I really want to live on the wild side – the movie theater."

"I like that your first inclination was to check for outstanding warrants on the guy. That's a great way to pick potential boyfriends. Maybe we'll set up a web site with that type of service in the future."

Before I had to try to come up with a clever response, he changed the subject.

"I hear you asked Keith to get you in to talk to the murderer?"

Cautious of his forward question, "I wanted to, but Keith said that was a no go." After five minutes in the car, I wished I had called a cab instead. It smelled of stale vomit, and I'd never seen so many people stare before. I never thought of police as celebrities; it was uncomfortable riding through neighborhoods with all eyes on you. Keith's police academy idea was now much less appealing.

Bill paused a bit, as if he were turning a question over in his mind before he let it out. "I think trying to talk to him was a terrible idea. I don't need to tell you he's dangerous, but...he is dangerous. Psychopaths have a way of lying to you. If you spend any time at all with them, you'll get so wrapped up in their lies you can't help but believe them yourself. The last thing you want is for you to become someone he tries to win over."

"Bill, I appreciate the advice and, trust me, I had no intention of becoming his friend or even his pen pal. I just wanted to ask him a couple questions about yesterday. It doesn't matter. Keith was pretty clear."

Keith was waiting outside on the steps for us as we pulled up in front of the police station. I didn't realize how short Keith was until I was standing on the sidewalk next to him. I'm 5' 7," and he was eye-to-eye with me. He was out of uniform, in street clothes, but somehow his posture or facial features still emanated authority. He stood straight and looked to be in excellent physical shape, not bulky like Max, but a lean build with toned arms.

Keith got me a soda, then led me to a conference room. "Do you mind if I record our interview? I don't have to write as fast if I use the camera." I must have cringed because he didn't turn on the camera right away and changed the subject, "Have you had any problems with reporters this time?"

"No, I talked to one this morning who seemed pretty decent. She said she was a summer intern."

Keith looked at his watch, and I knew my phobia of video cameras wasn't going to keep him from hitting the "record" button. I took a deep breath, "You said you had some questions to ask me?"

"Right, we should get started." It was like watching a warrior put on his battle armor. He went from easy-going and friendly to all business as soon as the camera was on. "Please state your full name."

"Lauren Davis."

"Regarding the events of May first, at what time did you arrive at the mall?"

"Ten a.m."

"How did you come to meet Mr. Stratford?"

"He approached a friend and me at the mall."

"What did he do to make you suspicious of him?"

That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Let's see, he was across the food court, not looking in my direction, no visible scars, no weapons, no reason to think he was a murderer – and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Yeah, that answer isn't the right one. "I just thought it was odd that he drove a Porsche."

"He didn't do or say anything that led you to believe he had been involved in any criminal activity?"

Aside from my stomach tying itself in knots and my weird danger sense flashing: "Look out for this guy!" Again, that was the wrong answer. "No, he didn't say or do anything that made me believe he was a criminal."

"But, you called the emergency line. Why would you do that if he didn't say or do anything suspicious?"

"You know how sometimes things don't add up? He was my age, he was at a food court in a mall by himself, on a Sunday before the stores opened, and he wanted to show my friend his Porsche. I didn't expect for the dispatcher to send in the Cavalry. I didn't know he was a criminal. I just felt like it was an odd situation, and I didn't know what else to do."

"Had you ever met Mr. Stratford before Sunday?"

"No, not that I can remember."

"Did you know either Mr. or Mrs. McMasters?"

"No, I don't think so."

"What were you doing at the mall if it was closed?"

I hesitated - this was a strange question. Maybe Keith thought I was involved? "I was meeting my friend Rachael."

"But why would you meet there if the stores were closed?"

"That's what we do. The Food Court was open, we were just catching up." His demeanor and these questions were making me nervous. Why was he asking about me, not Paul? "Am I a suspect or something?"

Keith wore a surprised expression, "No, why would you jump to that conclusion?"

"I don't know. You asked me when I got to the mall. You asked me why I was there. You asked me if I knew the victims or the murderer. I don't understand why you're asking me all this and not Rachael?"

"I already told you, Rachael will be interviewed as well, but we don't interview witnesses together – it can taint their statements. We need to ask these questions because the city attorney will ask us these questions." Keith put his paper and pen on the table, reaching over to pat my hand. "I'm sorry if my questions caught you off guard. They really are routine. What you did at the mall was brilliant. I wish everyone...paid attention the way you do."

Relief spilled over me. I was working myself into a tizzy for nothing. I took another deep breath, calmed myself down, and answered the rest of his questions. When we were done, Keith opened the door and waved to a uniformed policeman. He told the policeman I needed a ride home. As I was walking out of the building, Rachael was walking in. She gave me a half-wave, but Keith was right there, in the same place he had greeted me, and escorted her inside.

The policeman dropped me at Max's apartment after a very quiet ride from the station. As I made my way up the steps to his apartment, I started to wonder what the best approach might be to ask Max about going out tonight with Seth. In all our conversations, he'd always politely changed the subject when Seth leaked in as a topic. I could tell he still felt a little tense about the whole Seth thing, but this was different – this was us going out with Seth and a girl he really liked. Max should be excited about this.

Chapter Sixteen

When I knocked on Max's door, I could hear music in the background quietly through the door. It wasn't loud enough to drown out my knock, but he didn't answer. I turned the doorknob slowly, finding the door unlocked. Cracking the door a couple inches, I peered in through the opening and saw Max asleep on the couch. I looked at my watch: only twelve-thirty. I slipped my shoes off just inside the door, closed it silently and tiptoed over to the couch where he lay fast asleep. I stared at him, struggling with what I should do to kill time until he was recharged.

Not wanting to wake him, I eased myself next to him on the couch and draped his arm over me. After a few minutes I could tell his breathing had quieted, and I had interrupted his sleep. Hoping that he would ease back to sleep, I stayed motionless beside him. His hand caressed my arm briefly and then he squeezed my shoulder, a groggy voice asking me, "When did you get here?"

"Just a couple minutes ago. I'm sorry I woke you."

"I'm glad you're here." He hugged me tenderly and kissed the back of my neck. I looked at his barren walls; the apartment was neat and tidy just like yesterday. I wondered why he fell asleep on the couch instead of in the bedroom. The couch was nice, but after working all night, the last thing I'd want would be to sleep on the couch.

Max squeezed my shoulder again, "You aren't sleeping, are you?"

"No, but I'm not the one who stayed up all night. Go back to sleep." Max was so warm; he already had one arm draped over me, and he slid his other arm under my neck. "I'm awake now. What do you want to do today? I'm off until Wednesday night."

Half teasing, I asked, "Want to go to dinner with Seth tonight?" Both arms that were wrapped around me went tense and Max said nothing. I waited for a smart-aleck response, but he stayed stoic. "Hello?" I wrenched my neck around to look at him. "Do you want to go out to dinner with Seth tonight?"

"No, not really."

"Max, I should have checked with you first. A news reporter wanted to ask me some questions earlier today. Seth really seemed to like her. He asked, as a favor to him, if I would answer a few of her questions. I could tell he was really in to her, and she's the first person that he's shown any interest in since he and I broke up. I wanted to encourage it, so I volunteered to go to dinner with both of them – like a double date." I had blurted it all out so fast that I began to worry that Max hadn't heard all of it. I waited a minute and then two more; he still didn't respond. "I really didn't think you'd mind. I'm sorry. I should have called and asked you first."

"I understand you and Seth are friends, but I don't want to go." Max tightened his grip with both arms around me, his words slow and deliberate.

"Max, I can't cancel and I don't want to go without you." Knowing that trying to be authoritative with him was absolutely the wrong approach, I opted for a more playful tone. "There has to be something I can do to change your mind." I intertwined my arms over his for a second. When he didn't respond, I decided I had better be more convincing. I twisted my body around, so I was still wrapped in his arms but was now facing him. "Max," I nuzzled his neck, "won't you please," I kissed his ear, "reconsider going to dinner with me?"

Max closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Is this how you're going to win every argument we have?"

"I sure hope so. Does that mean I won?"

He said nothing but I could sense defeat in his manner. Max leaned up on one elbow and played with a strand of my hair with his free hand. I couldn't understand what his reservation was. Rather than trying to pull it out of him, I opted for silence, knowing that if he wanted to tell me he would. Max, too, remained silent, paying more attention to that stray strand of hair than resuming his disapproval of my plans. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, "Okay, I'll bite, are you mad?"

He shook his head that he wasn't. "Are you ticked that I made plans without checking with you first?" He shook his head again. "Did you have other plans that I didn't know about?"

"No, but I just got back. I want to spend time with you, Lauren."

"Newsflash, I'll be there."

"Yeah, with your ex-boyfriend. I can hardly wait to hear about all the stories you two have together."

"It's not like that, Max."

"I know you two're close. The fact that I have an issue with it is my problem, not yours," his words weren't angry, but he wasn't hiding his frustration.

"Max, we broke up before you left. Until he and I went out last night, I hadn't been alone with him in over three months."

"You and Seth went out last night?" His frustrated look appeared to be evaporating in favor of a little stronger emotion, "While I was working?"

"Yeah, after I woke up I took a cab home. Instead of trying to get past all the reporters, I sneaked into Seth's house and made him go out."

With brows furrowed at me and in a stern voice I hadn't heard before, "Do you think that was something you might have mentioned before now?" Despite his even tone, I could see fury burning through his eyes, and I was caught off-guard by this reaction. I broke free from his hold on me and sat up on the couch, looking at him bewildered.

"It never occurred to me you would be the slightest bit interested. Are you saying I need to ask your permission to spend time with my friends?"

Max stood up, walked to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator door. He stood there a long minute before deciding he didn't need anything and closed it. I followed him into the kitchen and hoisted myself onto the counter. I knew he had heard my question; I wanted the answer but refused to ask it a second time. He finally walked over to the counter and put his head on my shoulder.

"No, you don't need to ask my permission. I just hate that you have a history with him. Is it so wrong of me to wish that there was no one before me?" Max looked up, the fury that had escaped a few minutes ago was gone, but what was it replaced with? It looked like - fear. Impossible.

"Max, maybe you forgot one small detail. You're the person I want to be with and the only person I see in my future. Who cares about my past? Do you need me to tattoo your name on my butt or something?"

"Nothing that drastic," he was still humorless, "but I don't want you going out with him by yourself."

"That's pretty funny, Max, because I think I just asked you to go out with him, with me, and you said no. Which is it?" I was still doing everything I could to keep my tone light and be as jovial as I could, but I was just as certain that this was a conversation that we needed to have.

"What time and where are we going?"

"I'm not sure, I didn't get that far. Do you want to call him or should I?"

Max picked up the phone, "What's his number?" When Seth got on the phone, Max's voice turned hard, "Seth, this is Max. Lauren mentioned that we have an engagement with you and a reporter this evening. Where are we meeting? . . . Okay, what time? . . . I can hardly wait, we'll see you then." Max hung up, "Just what I always wanted, to spend the evening with your old boyfriend. I should go buy a lottery ticket; this is my lucky day."

"Oh, don't be like that. It isn't so bad."

"You don't get it, do you? Every time I've seen Seth within ten feet of you, it's never looked like two pals. Watching him in bed with you in the hospital, him thanking me for his future when you were being discharged, twirling you around in your front yard the day I came to spend with you?"

"I get it, but that was months ago."

"I've never been jealous of anything or anyone in my entire life – maybe because I never had anything worth losing. The last thing I want is for you to be anywhere near him when it's so clear to everyone around you how he feels about you, and you're oblivious to it!"

In a clinical, emotion-free voice, "One, he wasn't in bed with me in the hospital: he was concerned about me and his feelings for me got confused. Two, he was an ass to you during my discharge, but only because he knows me so well, and realized in that moment he had lost me. Three, that day that you saw him twirl me in the yard was a fluke. Had you waited thirty seconds or opened your door and said 'Hi,' I probably would have knocked myself out trying to sprint over to you." I grabbed Max with both arms and pulled him to me. I'm not certain whether my stinging words, my ferocious kiss, or the desire welling up in my eyes convinced him, but our argument was over.

Chapter Seventeen

We pulled up in front of Bella Nepal after our silent commute. Max handed the valet his keys and walked around to my side of the truck to get my door. As he helped me down from the truck, my hand remained intertwined with his. I couldn't help but think this was one tiny stab he had for Seth, walking into the restaurant with my hand in his.

The food was Italian, and the fragrance of the place was amazing from the moment we opened the door: a sweet tomato, garlic and basil scent. Amanda and Seth were at a table in the far back corner. When they saw us, both looked up and waved us to them. Introductions were easy, since Max and Amanda were the only two who hadn't met yet.

Amanda nearly glowed, and I guessed that this might be her first real interview. After the waiter had taken our order and brought drinks, Amanda started, "Seth told me you really don't want to be interviewed and you're only doing this as a favor to him, so I had to swear that I wouldn't ask you anything that you weren't okay with. Rather than take the chance of falling out of Seth's good graces," she paused and glanced in Seth's direction, "I typed up fifteen questions. You can strike through any five that you don't want to answer, and I won't bat an eye. Or if there is a question you think others may want the answer for that isn't on the list, I'm okay with ad-libbing as well." She had a genuine sincerity to her. If the circumstance of our dinner were not a precursor to an interview, she and I would've hit it off naturally.

"Well, thanks, I've never actually been interviewed for anything before, so hopefully I won't come off like the village idiot." We all laughed together.

Conversation throughout dinner remained easy among Seth, Amanda and me; Max stayed quiet for the most part, only participating if one of us asked him a direct question. After dinner was over, I was surprised when Seth said, "Hey, Max, you feel like stepping outside for a minute for some air? Lauren and Amanda can chat about the interview."

Max must have sensed my sudden tension, because he reached under the table and put his hand on my knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Okay, it wouldn't be a bad idea to walk around for a minute before dessert." The two got up before I had the chance to protest.

Amanda was oblivious to my concern and handed me the sheet of paper she had mentioned earlier. All fifteen questions seemed benign, none giving me any reason for alarm. I handed the sheet back to her and told her that I didn't have objections to any of them. After retrieving the paper, "Off the record, can I ask you a question?"

"Okay, but I may not answer it."

"I know you and Seth were an item up until the shooting. What happened with the two of you? Are you just taking a break from each other?" Her question threw me off guard briefly, but I recovered quickly, since her question had nothing to do with our interview. I wondered if she got this impression from Seth? Maybe that's what he thought? A breather - as if at some point we would pick back up. If I couldn't make him understand, I knew I could make it clear to Amanda.

"No, it's not a breather. Some people, no matter how hard they try, are never meant to be more intimate than friends. I love Seth with my whole heart, and nothing will ever change that, but my love for him will never grow into a romantic connection. I wrongly tried to fit the square peg in a round hole for years. After the shooting, the only thing that changed was the realization that we weren't compatible that way."

"So that look I see on Seth when he talks about you?" Amanda looked to the table when she asked this question, maybe out of embarrassment? Maybe concerned about my answer?

"Seth had a hard time accepting it at first, but it's been months. I think he's ready to invite someone new into his heart. This is the first time Seth and Max have been alone together, and assuming they both come back from their walk in one piece, I'll know he's ready."

Her seriousness disappeared when she asked, "So, Max is a real hottie. How'd that happen?"

It felt strange to be so open with a near stranger. "He was the paramedic who treated me at the restaurant."

"Yeah, but there's got to be a story there. Near death experience, right?"

"Max is amazing. He's got a heart the size of a Volkswagen. He's had his share of tragedy in his life – but doesn't wear it on his sleeve, you know? He's got a weird way of showing it – but I know he cares for me a lot."

"What do you mean a weird way?"

"You know I broke it off with Seth after the shooting, right?" Amanda nodded that she knew this much. "I wanted to start seeing Max right away, but he wanted to give me a chance to change my mind about Seth, maybe to get over him. He took a job out of state for a few months. At the time I was really pissed, but looking back I think it kept me from feeling guilty about what I'd done to Seth. It kept me from flaunting Max in front of him and making the whole situation worse. Weird right?"

"So you and Seth never tried to reconcile?"

"Square peg in a round hole: you don't have to keep trying to know it won't fit."

Turning over my response in her mind, she opted to abandon the subject entirely. Amanda looked at the sheet of paper and said the camera crew would be set up at 7:00 in a private room upstairs. "I really appreciate you giving me an interview. My boss was ecstatic when I called and told him this morning. He's going to be in the room just to make sure I don't blow it. Outside of journalism school, I've never actually interviewed anybody."

I was right. "So when did you graduate?"

"Well, I haven't graduated yet. I'm a summer intern at the station. This fall I'll begin my senior year."

"So you're a year younger than I am?"

"I graduated high school at seventeen, so I'm only twenty now." This made me feel much better, like we were somehow on a much more level playing field.

I felt hands on my shoulder and looked up to see Max standing behind me. I smiled and he leaned into my ear and whispered, "I'm glad we came."

I sat back in my seat and picked up the dessert menu. The curiosity of what the two had discussed was nearly unbearable. Not wanting the direction our evening was going to revert, I kept my curiosity to myself. The four of us all ordered dessert, and conversation that had been limited to three was suddenly easy among the four of us. When the check came, Amanda took the bill, "This one's on my boss."

As we stood up from the table, Seth announced, "We're going to let you two do your thing while Max and I take a walk. Give us a call when the interview's done." I couldn't help but give a grateful smile, because they both knew how much I was dreading the next fifteen minutes, and neither wanted to add to my anxiety.

Once we got upstairs, I was outfitted with a small microphone while a guy named Alex was adjusting lighting above two overstuffed chairs. He had a monitor pointing toward us that let us see how we looked on camera. Amanda and I both did a quick once over, and we were ready. Her boss was a friendly older gentleman. He must have sensed that we were both nervous and gave us a few words of encouragement before he took a seat behind the camera.

Amanda looked directly into the camera and introduced both herself and me to the viewers and began, "Lauren, three months ago you single-handedly foiled a robbery attempt at the Tasty Burger on Main. How have you been since then?"

"I've been good. This is my senior year of college, so most of my time has been much more focused on getting through my classes and graduating, rather than on the robbery."

"During that robbery you were shot in the leg. Have you had any problems, or are you back to one hundred percent?"

"The pins come out at the six month mark, the rod they put in will be there forever, but I can walk okay without crutches. I can't run a marathon or anything yet, but for the most part, things are back to normal. The bullet did a lot of damage, and the doctors told me it may take up to six months to recover, so I was thrilled when I was healed enough to be crutch-less after just three months."

"Have you gone back to work yet, or are there too many memories to face at Tasty Burger?"

"Actually, I've talked to my manager about getting my job back after graduation in a couple weeks. It wouldn't have been possible to work with crutches, so up until now, it really wasn't an option. I'm not scared to go back or anything. Everyone made a much bigger deal of the event than it actually was."

"That's really humble of you. One question has been on everyone's mind since news broke of your heroic actions. It is my understanding that you were suspicious of the shooter before he made his way to the counter. You were so suspicious that you convinced a coworker to go inventory the freezer for her safety. When the shooter became agitated, you jumped over a counter to stand in front of a child. Is that really how it happened?"

"When you say it like that it sounds like something out of an action movie. Everything happened so fast that I just reacted to the situation; I didn't exactly have a plan."

"If you had it to do over again, what would you do differently?"

"I would've made sure I gave the child a boy toy instead of a girl toy with his meal." I could see confusion on her face and realized she probably didn't know about this and figured I'd better explain so I didn't cause her to go off script. "The customer in front of the robber was a mom with a young son. I was distracted by the suspicious man when I assembled the little boy's meal and put in a girl's toy by mistake. Unfortunately, the little guy came back to the counter and interrupted the robber. Maybe the robber would have just taken the food and money and run, but he was upset that I was trying to appease the child and ignoring him." Amanda snickered under her breath. This was something she had not been aware of.

"Have you had any contact with others that were in the restaurant that evening?"

"The people I worked with have all called and e-mailed, and the little boy's mother sent me a wonderful card. In all, I received nearly three hundred cards and letters during my recovery. I was grateful that people went out of their way to acknowledge my actions; some of the notes were very moving.

"In addition to the shooting three months ago, I've been told that yesterday you helped apprehend an accused murderer. How did that happen?"

"I didn't actually help apprehend or anything. I was at the mall with my friend Rachael and I was concerned about a person she was talking with, so I phoned the police."

"Suspicious how?" This wasn't one of Amanda's questions, and I was not prepared to answer this one.

I paused a few seconds longer than I should have and could see that Amanda was more closely carrying on a conversation with me than she was actually reading from her script. Her face looked apologetic for throwing me a curve ball. "He was my age and was driving a really nice car, and I just felt something wasn't right." Oh crap, that was the wrong answer. Now everyone would think I am psychic or something. I followed quickly with, "You know how sometimes people for no reason make you nervous? This guy made me nervous." That sounded better, but I was now wishing the interview was over. How many questions had it been?

I could tell this response tempted her to dig deeper. I was hoping she would stick to the script. "When did you find out he was a murder suspect?" Thank goodness, she was back on track, and, if I remember right, this one was near the end.

"After several police cars came to the parking lot."

"How would you describe yourself, lucky or unlucky given these two events?"

"I would say I am very lucky. The robbery could have gone very badly, but given the circumstances it went remarkably well. The incident at the mall, I'm not certain my friend and I were in any real danger, so I wouldn't classify that one as lucky or unlucky."

"The suspected murderer, you don't believe he was dangerous?" My response had waylaid Amanda.

Trying to smooth over my answer, "Innocent until proven guilty right? He didn't have a weapon and wasn't threatening my friend or me. He just happened to be in a car that was assumed stolen. I'd rather wait and hear the facts before I jump to any conclusions."

"Lauren do you..."

I cut her off before she could get her question out, "Amanda, are we at ten yet?" She looked to her boss and he nodded yes. "I'm sorry, Lauren, I was so surprised I sort of went off the plan, let me just close the interview on camera and we'll be done."

She took a few seconds and then looked away from me and directly into the camera, "Lauren, you are absolutely correct. I believe we'll all be paying attention to this case to see what the suspected murderer is charged with. I'd like to thank you for your time and your candor tonight. We're glad that your recovery was so quick, and I think everyone watching is glad that your most recent brush with danger was less troublesome. This is Amanda Lewis from WCSC Channel 4." Two seconds later the red light above the camera stopped blinking, and I knew we were done. The man who had helped me get the microphone on in the beginning came back and removed it from my shirt. Amanda's boss leaned in and was talking quietly with her. I couldn't hear what he was saying but could see her face light up.

She leaned in as the cameraman was packing up the equipment and her boss was heading for the door, "They're going to lead with this interview tonight on the eleven o'clock news! Can you believe it?"

Amanda and I were down the stairs, through the restaurant and on the street within minutes. Max and Seth were waiting for us on a bench just outside the door. Both looked up and seemed to be pleased that we were done. "So, was it painless?" Seth asked me the question but his focus was fixed on Amanda.

"It was okay, but I'm glad it's over with," I responded honestly.

Max reached over and took my hand and asked, "So, what do you want to do now?"

"I have school tomorrow, so probably not too much else." Max nodded and reached his free hand out to Seth. "It was really...enlightening tonight. Thanks." My heart began to race, wondering what that meant.

"See ya, Max. Be ready at seven-thirty tomorrow, Lauren, I've got an early class." Was this really happening? Seth and Max had bonded and were what, pals? Pals were better than arch enemies, but Max's enlightening comment rekindled my curiosity.

While I was tossing around the possibilities, Amanda reached over and gave me a quick hug, and whispered, "Thanks again. This was great!" Max handed his tag to the valet, and we walked down to wait for the truck.

Once we were in the truck and on our way, Max reached over my shoulder and pulled me over to him. The curiosity was nearly overwhelming, but I was determined not to ask. He must have known this because his expression was smug, and he didn't say a word. If I could get him talking, he might share some of his conversation with Seth, but if he didn't say a word, I would just ask Seth in the morning.

"So, did you have a good time tonight?"

He squeezed my shoulder, "Sure...I was with you."

His eyes were fixed on the road. I prodded again, "What did you think of Amanda?"

Without a change in tone or a look in my direction, "She seemed very nice."

"She stayed to her script for the most part. If I had to do an interview with someone, I'm glad it was her."

"Seth was really stoked that you were doing this for him."

"I think only one answer threw her for a loop."

Max finally glanced my way but not for any length of time, "Which one was that?"

"I told her I thought the murder suspect wasn't exactly dangerous, and she seemed surprised."

Now he finally looked at me, "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. I'm not convinced that Rachael and I were in any real peril yesterday."

"What? I thought he tried to shove you guys in the car or something? Yesterday you were convinced he was a serial killer. What changed your mind?"

"I thought about it, and even though he creeped me out, I don't think we were in any real danger. I wanted to meet with him at the jail, but Officer Johnson about had a melt-down when I suggested it."

Max's body tensed, and he took his arm from behind me and put it on the steering wheel. "What do you mean you wanted to meet with him? Why would you want to do that?"

Obviously I hadn't shared my thoughts with Max. Given his reaction, I decided to keep my plan to myself. "I wanted to talk to him, ask him what happened."

"Lauren, this is the guy who just strangled a married couple, ransacked their house, stole their car, and tried to abduct you and Rachael yesterday. He's not really a bad guy? I get that you are always looking for the good in people, but be real...Why would you want to meet with him?"

"I just wanted to ask him some questions."

"I don't want you to meet him."

"Max, you know I care for you, right?" Max kept his eyes on the road but nodded. "I'm not trying to be a jackass, but that's not your call. You're welcome to share your opinion with me, but tread lightly when it comes to telling me not to do something."

I watched the street lights pass the truck faster, and I could hear the engine of the truck humming louder. Max stayed silent until we pulled in front of my house. As I reached for the door, he grumbled, "Not so fast, Sweetheart. Is it so wrong for me to care about you and want to keep you safe?"

"I didn't say you couldn't care, I just want you to understand that who I meet with, and under what circumstances, is my decision. You are a part of my life," albeit a huge part since four days ago, "but not the entire thing."

Max's expression tightened, he inhaled deeply, leaned into me and spoke so softly it sounded as though there were sugar in his voice. "I think you are too close to the problem to make a rational decision. In the interest of your safety \- and my sanity, I would ask that before you make arrangements to go see the murderer, you call me first. Is that too much to ask?"

I reached for the handle, opened the door and leaped down to the sidewalk. I turned back around with the door still open and faced Max, "Probably not." I'd better not say anything more. I didn't want to lie to him, and I really didn't want to tell him I'd already planned to go see Paul tomorrow.

Max climbed out his side of the truck and walked around to my side. "I'm off again tomorrow. What do you want to do?" Still not wanting to lie to him, but certain that full disclosure could only lead to a full-blown fight, "I've got plans with Rachael after my morning classes. I can come by around dinner time?"

"Sounds good. Call and let me know if you want me to pick you up from your house or Rachael's." Max leaned down and kissed me goodnight.

I walked up our sidewalk and the few steps to the front door. I looked at my watch and it was just past nine. Rather than call Rachael, I decided I'd send her a text. It read: "Need 2 C U B4 class. Meet me N SU @ 7:45."

Chapter Eighteen

I wasn't all that tired, but I didn't have any desire to turn on the television, computer or anything else. I slipped on a pair of worn shorts and a t-shirt and crawled into bed. I stared at the ceiling for a long time, considering my visit with Paul. I finally fell into a fitful sleep, still not certain if I should really go.

I awoke to bright sunshine streaming through my window and jumped out of bed with a start: it was already seven, and I had to leave in thirty minutes. The dream I had just awoken from escaped me; it had something to do with Paul, but in my hurry to get out of bed, I had forced the image away. I grabbed clothes and shoes and ran into the bathroom, took a shower in record time, and was out the door at seven twenty-five. Seth was waiting in the driveway. I swung the door open quickly, jumped in the passenger seat, and surprised him so badly that he nearly spilled his coffee.

"Well, good morning. You're in a hurry today." He was beaming, and I guessed he wanted to tell me about his evening with Amanda.

"Actually, I am. I told Rachael I needed to meet her in the student union at 7:45." Seth nodded, put the idling car in reverse, and we were on our way.

"So what'd you think of Amanda?" I was right, he wanted to tell me about her. "Did you watch the interview on television?"

After my near argument with Max, the interview had been the furthest thing from my mind. "No, I was kind of spent, so I went to bed right after I got home."

"We went to the news station. She introduced the piece from the desk, live on camera. It was awesome. She's a natural, you know. I bet she gets a lot more air time. I know you didn't want to do the interview, but I'm really glad you did." Seth was so excited, as if he had been the one in front of the camera.

"I'm glad it worked out. So, are you going to see Amanda again?"

"I doubt it. She told me she has a boyfriend at college, and they're going to get an apartment together this fall." I could see the disappointment on his face.

"Seth, I think you should ask her out. Maybe just as friends or something, but it really looked like you two made a connection. The worst thing she can do is say no, right?"

"I guess so, but she already told me she had a boyfriend, so if I ask her out, it'll look like I wasn't listening to her."

"No, it'll look like you want to spend time with her. A movie is harmless: it's not like you're asking her to go away for a weekend to Atlantic City. Besides, she was pumping me for info on you last night, so I know she's interested." Seth lit up. Rewsna had mentioned Amanda by name to me, telling me Seth would need me to prod him. I guess the interview wasn't enough. Seth would never believe me if I told him the whole story or even part of it; it just wasn't in his nature.

"How am I supposed to ask her? I don't even know where she lives or what her phone number is. I can't go to her work."

I sighed loudly and rolled my eyes for effect. "Okay, Seth, call her at work. If you don't want to ask her over the phone, call her to congratulate her on her phenomenal interview skills and ask if she wants to meet you for a coffee after work. Then over a mocha-latte, ask her to go to the movies."

"This is pretty complicated, and it's an awful lot of work for a girl who I already know isn't available." We turned into the parking lot at school, and Seth found a parking space close to the door I needed to go in.

Trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice was impossible, so I didn't even try. "Well, I guess it's up to you. I think you have two options: Option 1 - You can call her at work and ask her to coffee. Option 2 - I guess I can borrow your car and try to stop a bank robber or something. If we get really lucky, I'll get shot again, then she'll definitely call you asking for another interview with me." I could see Seth's face flush a bright red when I continued, "I've got to say, given our second option, I'd prefer you try calling her at work first to set up the coffee date."

I nearly sprinted into the building leaving Seth to think that one over. I got to the student union where Rachael was already waiting. She was at a table in the far back corner with no one within twenty feet. "Thanks for meeting me here."

Rachael looked up and smiled, "I saw your interview last night. Thanks for not letting me sound like an idiot and pretending that Paul may not be a murderer. I can just imagine what people are saying about me right now."

Ignoring everything she just said, I blurted out, "I need to ask you for a favor, but you can't tell anyone, okay?"

"Sure, whatever you need."

"I need your driver's license today. I'll bring it back to you either tonight or after school." Without one second of hesitation, Rachael reached down, grabbed her purse from the floor, rummaged around for her wallet, and handed me her driver's license. "You aren't even going to ask me why I need it?"

"No. Was that all you needed?" Rachael looked indifferent.

"Uh, yeah, that was it."

"Okay, don't do a hit and run or anything. I've got to go study for a final."

Rachael stood up from the table and was two paces away when I called after her, "Rachael, thanks, really."

She turned her head, "It's the least I can do. I'll see you at lunch?"

I closed the gap between us in three strides, "I'm going to cut out today for a few hours, but I'll try to be back for my afternoon classes. If I miss you here, I'll bring your driver's license to your house this afternoon."

I could see the confusion on her face, but Rachael stayed true to her word and didn't ask what I was up to. We both walked out together. I went to my first three classes, then looked around for Seth, hoping to borrow his car for my errand. I looked at my watch when the hallway was empty and realized I'd missed him. I made my way to the closest exit and walked as quickly as I could down the hill, around the corner to the gas station. No luck borrowing Seth's car, but I had the cash for a cab. I looked at my watch: 11:15, plenty of time to get to the jail, talk to Paul, and make it back for my class this afternoon.

The cab dropped me at the visitor's entrance to the jail, and I was surprised by how long the line was. Visiting hours didn't begin for another fifteen minutes, but there were already twenty people in line. I paid the cab driver and took my place in the back of the line behind an older lady who looked to be in her mid-fifties. I was trying not to make eye contact and to stay as discrete as possible, when I heard, "I know you. You were on TV last night!" She asserted it so loudly that half the people in line turned to look at me.

Embarrassment flooded me. What I wouldn't give for a pair of dark glasses and a baseball cap right now! Knowing that I would be screwed if I didn't lie convincingly, "You know you're the third person who's told me that today. I must have a twin because I wasn't on television last night." I spoke loud enough so that all the people looking my way would hear my denial.

"Well, you look just like that Lauren Davis. She's such a sweet girl! Did you see the interview?"

Not wanting to continue this conversation for fear that a guard might get wise to me, "I didn't watch it, but I'll have to look for it on the net tonight because everyone keeps telling me I look just like her."

"Well, everyone is right! You look exactly like her." Several people turned their attention back to whatever they had been doing before this lady accused me of being me. "So who are you here to see, dear?"

"I'm visiting a friend."

"I'm here to see my good-for-nothing daughter. She's twenty-seven years old and doesn't have the good sense God gave her. She got picked up for her third DUI and is asking me to post bail. I told her I wasn't going to bail her out this time; at least if she's locked up she can't get into any trouble. She's probably looking at jail time. I told her I'd come by for a visit, but I left my pocketbook in the car." She really did seem like a nice lady, and, as I looked at the long line in front of me, I wondered how many other parents were here for moral rather than financial support.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man who looked familiar. He wore a gray cabbie hat, and I was sure I'd seen him before, but I couldn't place where. He was older, very distinguished looking. I closed my eyes, thinking if I could concentrate, I would be able to place where I knew him from. He was standing around the corner of the building watching me. Something didn't feel right. I glanced into the parking lot and saw a woman for a fraction of a second. It was Rewsna. I raised my hand to say hello, but she vanished. I looked around all the cars and couldn't see a trace of her. Then it hit me. The man had been at the mall on Sunday morning. I looked back toward the corner of the building, and he was gone, too. The hair on my arms flew to attention, and a feeling of dread washed over me.

The large door opened and a guard stepped onto the sidewalk. In a booming voice he announced, "If you have any watches, rings, necklaces or jewelry of any kind, you will need to leave them in a locker. If you have any bags, purses, backpacks or other storage devices, you will need to leave them in a locker. You may take in only the clothes that you are wearing, one form of state identification, and change that does not exceed five dollars, in a clear plastic bag. When you step through the door, you will be pre-screened through the metal detectors: remove your shoes and jackets, place them in a bin on the conveyer belt. After you and your property are cleared, you will be issued a key to a locker to store any prohibited items. The only items you may have in your pocket for your visit is your state issued identification, up to five dollars in change in a clear plastic bag, and the key to the locker you are using. Are there any questions?" No one had any questions. "You will each be limited to a thirty minute visit. If a guard tells you your visit is over and you need more time, come back tomorrow. In an orderly fashion, we will begin bringing you in one at a time."

I had concentrated on the number of people in front of me, trying to banish the idea that a stranger and Rewsna had been watching me. I glanced back to see that there were easily two dozen now standing behind me. I was impressed with the efficiency. The first desk I came to had a uniformed guard behind a desk at a computer. She asked, "Who are you here to visit, and please hand me your ID." I stepped forward, held my breath – hoping I wouldn't get busted for impersonating Rachael, and answered, "Paul Stratford and my name is Rachael Madison." Her fingers whizzed on the computer and in less than thirty seconds she returned my (not exactly my) driver's license to me, "You're clear. Please go to the next station."

The guard hadn't scrutinized the photo by any means. Rachael and I were both about the same height and weight, brown hair color, but I really didn't look much like her. Each station was very efficient. I went into a large waiting room and sat at a table. Within a few minutes Paul walked through a heavy metal door and looked around the room hopefully. I held up my hand motioning him over.

"What're you doing here? I was told Rachael was here to see me." The disappointment on his face was evident, but his voice remained cordial.

"I asked a policeman to put me on your visitor list, but he made a big deal about it. I was worried the jail might be on the lookout for my name, so I asked your mom to put Rachael's name on the list. I'm sorry I had to deceive you, but I really need to talk to you for a few minutes."

"Sure, I've got nothing but time. What do you wanna know?"

Paul sat down opposite me, so I immediately asked, "Sunday, you were very focused on Rachael. I was wondering why?"

"Were you jealous?"

"No, I was just wondering why you were so focused on Rachael and why you were so adamant about taking her to your car."

"I...don't know...she seemed really in to me, you know?" Paul's eyes weren't those of a hardened criminal; they didn't even look like those of a petty thief. Replaying Bill's words that Paul was a psychopath and very believable kept me from putting my usual faith in my gut. My body wasn't reacting as it should, no tingles on my arm or the back of my neck. I couldn't feel even an ounce of danger present.

"Look, I don't know what you want from me. I saw Rachael and I liked her. I was trying to get to know her when I got arrested. I know you've watched the news, but cops don't always get it right. There's a reason people are supposed to be innocent until proven guilty. Mr. McMasters always let me borrow his car. You can ask anyone. He was good to me, so was his wife; there's no reason for me to hurt either one of them." He sounded sincere, and my senses still weren't in warning mode.

"Paul, I'm sure you don't believe me, but I'm not interested in how the car came into your possession or any of the events leading up to that. I really only want to know why you were so focused on Rachael Sunday." I held his stare and could see the disbelief in his face, as if I were trying to trick him into a confession.

"I'm a nice guy. This is all a huge misunderstanding. Mr. McMasters asked me to take his car for an oil change Saturday: the receipt's in the glove box. I signed for the car from the dealership. Why would I get an oil change for him if I didn't have his permission? Call the dealership and ask. Last week I picked it up and washed it in my driveway, the way he always liked it washed, distilled water only. It was in my driveway for three hours. All our neighbors saw it. Seriously, you have to believe me."

I could hear Bill's words echoing at me from yesterday.

Paul looked terrified, just a scared kid. Paul's lip began to tremble, and his face went sheet white. "I didn't kill either of them. I just borrowed the car. Mr. McMasters said I could. I don't know what happened to him, but he was alive when he tossed me the keys Sunday morning."

The struggle within me was incredible; Paul was so believable, so utterly honest and afraid all at once. "Why'd you borrow the Porsche? I mean if Mr. McMasters had you taking care of maintenance a couple days last week, why'd you have it on Sunday?"

"He and I were talking about a party at school that I didn't have a date to, so I wasn't going. He said the car was a chick magnet." Looking embarrassed he quickly added, "Those were his words, not mine. He told me to take it for a drive and see if I couldn't find someone to go with. I'm not very smooth, so I thought I would try Mr. McMasters' advice and see if the car could land me a date."

Although my body gave no indication that Paul was lying, I wanted him to say it again so I could watch his response more carefully. "So that's why you wanted Rachael in the parking lot, just to impress her with the borrowed car?" Paul nodded a couple times and then hung his head in embarrassment.

"It's the truth. They were both really good to me. Mr. McMasters and my mom worked at the same company. I didn't do this, I swear: I didn't steal the car. I didn't kill anyone!"

Paul didn't seem unbalanced, but had I ever met a psychopath? I didn't want to believe that I could be suckered by anyone, but a voice inside me was telling me I needed to trust my instincts.

"So that's it? You were looking for a date for a party, and that's the only reason you wanted Rachael to follow you to the parking lot?"

"Yes, that's it."

"Okay, so if this is all some misunderstanding, why are you still here?"

"My mom doesn't have money for bail, the lawyer assigned to me can't see me until sometime next week, so I can't do anything but stay here." I could see the hopelessness he was feeling as I turned everything over in my mind.

Why had I been so certain that Paul was a danger Sunday morning and barely seventy-two hours later I wasn't so sure? I had never been fooled by lies. Was I losing my edge? Had something changed? I don't think so. All my senses have been dead on. How's it possible that Paul appeared dangerous Sunday? I felt the hairs stand up on the back of my neck, the tingle in my arms and the sense that evil was near. Had Paul said or done something that triggered it in the mall? No, I got the sensation before he ever came to our table, before I had even met him.

This had never happened before, ever. I had never had a signal from my body overridden by consciousness later. Paul seemed genuine today. He hadn't been in jail that long, so identifying a plausible lie and being so convincing would be difficult for anyone. He nearly begged me to check his story. He looked scared, not arrogant, not the way I'd expected him to look. I had to be missing something, but what?

After talking to him, I believed Paul Stratford to be one hundred percent innocent. If everything was really connected like Rewsna said, then what was the connection? I replayed the conversation between Rewsna and I; what were her words of wisdom really? Could she hear me now? I closed my eyes and continued to replay them as clearly as if she had been standing beside me. I heard her say, "Stay to your path, Lauren." I looked up half expecting her to be there, but I was alone. How in the world can I stay to my path when I have no idea what my path actually is? I need to figure out what my path is, then I can figure out how to stay on it.

Our silence must have bothered him. "I would never kill anyone, especially Mr. McMasters. He was the most decent guy I ever knew. I don't know why anyone would want to hurt him."

"When did you pick up the car?"

"I was at their house a little before 9:00, we talked for a few minutes, and Mr. McMasters told me to take the car and see if I could find a date for this weekend."

"Were there any cars on the street that you didn't recognize?"

"No, but I walked to their house and didn't notice the street. It's not like I was looking for a parking place or anything. Mr. McMasters was in his front yard watering his flower beds. He went into the house after we talked and got the keys to his car. That was it."

"Did you go into the house?"

"No, I had been in there on Saturday, but not Sunday."

"You didn't notice any strange cars on the street. Did you notice anything about the house that was different?"

"No, nothing."

"Where was Mrs. McMasters when you were there?"

"Somewhere inside, but I didn't see her through any of the windows."

"Did you see any of their neighbors outside?"

"Two houses down from the McMasters I saw one of their neighbors pulling out of his garage, but I don't know his name."

"Did you tell the police?"

"No, he could only tell them that he saw me in the front yard. He was gone before I left."

"Paul, maybe he saw a strange car on the street or someone he didn't recognize in the neighborhood. I've got a feeling that the police believe they've already caught their murderer and aren't doing the usual canvassing of the neighborhood."

"Why are you asking me all this? Why are you so interested?"

I started to hesitate and decided being secretive wouldn't do either of us any good. "I get a feeling sometimes about people, and you don't strike me as a murderer. I want to help if I can, but I'm not certain what the best way to help is. Should I post your bail? Hire you a good lawyer? Hire a private investigator? Call an investigative news program?"

"A feeling? Like what kind of a feeling? Are you psychic or something? If you're psychic, just tell the cops that you know the truth!"

Trying to beat around the bush with Paul would be useless. I'd just be open and hope he didn't think I was a fruit loop. "Sorry Paul, it doesn't work like that, and I'm definitely not psychic. But I did sense danger from you at the mall Sunday. Why would I feel that way if you weren't dangerous? It just doesn't make any sense."

"I had decided that if Rachael wouldn't agree to a date, I was going to go back to the McMasters'. Nothing I was planning would have put you or Rachael in danger."

"If you weren't any danger to either of us, I never would have gotten that vibe, unless..." It hit me. "Unless there was danger posed by taking the car back to the McMaster's home, and I was getting the warning for you, not from you? I don't see how, because the second we met you at the mall, I was certain that Rachael should stay away from you. I even took her into the bathroom and told her to pick any other guy in the mall but you."

"A danger vibe, are you serious? Really? What do you mean pick any other guy?"

"Sometimes my skills are helpful at finding people who are fun to hang around with . . . never mind. But if you were in danger and I was sensing that rather than you being the danger, that explains everything. From the moment the police arrived on Sunday morning until now, I've not had any sense of danger around you. It was my responsibility to keep you from returning to the house, and I didn't even see it. As soon as that was accomplished, everything was fine. Oh, my gosh – Paul, you really are innocent."

"A lot of good that does me here. Don't get me wrong: I'm glad you don't believe I'm a murderer anymore, but it doesn't fix this situation at all."

"How much is your bail?"

"One hundred thousand dollars, but my mom doesn't have that kind of money, and she and Mr. McMasters were very close. Even if she did have the money, there's no way she'd make bail."

"If I get you out of here, where can you stay?"

"If you get me out of here? Where are you going to find a hundred thousand dollars?"

"Never mind about the money. Where can you stay? It won't do you any good if I bail you out of jail and you end up staying in a cardboard box in an alley."

"I think I can stay at my grandmother's house. I haven't talked to her, but I don't think she would tell me no."

"If I leave now, I should be able to get you out this afternoon." With that I stood up, reached out my hand to shake Paul's, and made my way to the door.

"Wait, just like that, you don't even know me and you're going to go find bail money for me?" I didn't answer – I just waved as I headed for the door.

The remainder of the afternoon was a blur. I had remembered seeing a Bail Bond place across the street. Having no experience in this area, I asked them how it worked. Basically I had to pay them ten percent of the bail money, they would put up the other ninety percent and keep my ten percent when it was all over. It would cost me ten thousand dollars to spring Paul.

I thought of the money in my checking account. It was more than I had ever had or maybe would ever have again. I could use the money for grad school, a new car. . . that's more money than I could make in months at Tasty Burger. When I thought of him locked up for something I knew he didn't do, I couldn't leave him in here. He was in here because of me. I asked them if I could use their phone book to call a cab, and the old man behind the counter offered to give me a ride to my bank. I withdrew the money and got a ride back to the bail bondsman's office. We filled out the paperwork, and everything I could do was complete by two p.m. The bondsman told me that it would be a few hours before Paul was released. I asked him to give Paul my cell phone number. I looked at my watch and realized there was a real possibility I could make it back to school before Rachel's last class was over and give her driver's license back.

The cab dropped me in front of the school, and I made my way to the hallway where Rachael's classroom was. I waited across the hall; she was already grabbing her things to leave for the day when she saw me waving through the doorway.

Curiosity must have gotten to her because she asked, "Are you going to tell me what you needed it for?"

"Don't worry, I didn't wreck a car or go gambling or anything."

"I was stressed about a test and didn't want to waste time asking you what you needed it for. I saw the interview from last night. Do you really think we weren't in any real danger Sunday?" I could tell this question had been eating at her all day.

"I'm certain that he didn't do it, so much so that I just bailed him out of jail." The look on Rachael's face was not at all what I was expecting. It was . . . relief. I'd expected her to be confused, angry, frustrated, any number of emotions, but not relieved that I had just set him free.

"Why'd you do that? You were so . . . " She didn't finish her sentence.

"It's kind of a long story. I guess I could say that I was worried that you didn't have a date for this Saturday, but that wasn't the real reason. Honestly, I know he didn't do anything wrong, and my initial impression of him was off the mark."

"But how do you know?" She was looking for some real assurance, and, obviously, I couldn't give her anything concrete or tangible.

"Rachael, I just know. I've been to the jail, well, technically you went to the jail, but I know when someone is lying to me. When we talked, there wasn't an ounce of deception in him. With him locked up, the police aren't looking for the real criminal, they're just gathering evidence to keep him locked up. The only way to help him was to get him out of jail and maybe hire a private investigator or something. On an unrelated topic, he's really in to you." I added the last part just to see what she would think, and her movements gave her away in an instant. She leaned forward with a huge smile, "Really?"

"No doubt about it. He's going to call me as soon as he's released. Want me to give him your number?"

"Um, if you're sure . . . yes, give him my number and tell him to call me tonight." Rachael gave me a hug. "I'm so glad you were wrong." I didn't have the heart to tell her that I wasn't wrong about the danger. I only misinterpreted that Paul was the one presenting the danger, when in reality it was he who was in danger. Rachael was excited and offered to give me a ride home.

Just as we were halfway to Rachael's car, I saw Max's huge truck up against the curb and his eyes searching faces of the army of students exiting the building. "Hey, Max is here. Let me see what's going on." Rachael followed me to Max's truck.

Chapter Nineteen

Max saw me approaching his truck with Rachael a few feet behind. He looked rested and seemed really upbeat when he explained, "I know you said that you had plans after school today, but after last night I wanted to make sure you weren't pissed. Pathetic, right?"

I grabbed him tightly and whispered, "Yeah, it's pretty pathetic, but I'm sooooo glad to see you." I turned to Rachael, "I don't need a ride home after all. I'll call you in a few hours with an update."

Rachael waved goodbye, fully understanding my cryptic message. Max opened the driver's door and motioned for me to get in. I climbed in and slid over to the center of the seat and asked him, "So, what'd you do today?"

"Not much. My sleep schedule is all jacked up, so most of the morning I spent snoozing. I got to thinking about our conversation last night. You're right, regardless of how I feel, it was out of line for me to tell you to check with me before going to the jail or anything else you feel you need to do."

"Well, thanks," better to tell him now than let him find out about it later, "In interest of full disclosure, I went to the jail today and bailed Paul out." Max's jaw tightened and his muscles went rigid. I could see his knuckles were clenching the steering wheel hard, but to his credit he remained silent.

"I know this may not be how you want to spend your free time, and it's okay if you say no, but there's an end of term party called the Class Bash this Saturday. You wanna go?" I hadn't thought much about it, but this would be a good night out, and with Max's new found bond with Seth, maybe the four of us could go. I'd have to broach that with Seth later.

"Have you lost your mind?" Max's knuckles were completely white on the steering wheel, and I could see now that his teeth were still clenched. "You bail a murderer out of jail, and the very next sentence you ask if I want to go to a party with you? Never mind that last night you agreed you wouldn't even see this guy unless you talked to me first, now you're telling me you went to see him and you made his bail? What would possess you to do either of those things by yourself? You knew I wasn't working. You knew I didn't want you to see him alone."

"Easy, Max, you asked me if it was too much to ask for me to call you beforehand. I didn't say that I would. As far as the party, it isn't a big deal. I wasn't going to go, and I didn't mention it before because I thought you would think it would be silly."

Max got out of the truck and started walking away. I called after him, "Where are you going?"

He yelled over his shoulder to me, "I need to take a walk . . . alone. Go ahead and take my truck. I'll get it from you later." I sat there watching him for a full minute \- he was really just wandering away.

What kind of a bozo storms off like a little kid? Should I let him have his little tantrum on his own? Then I thought about it. I could have called him this morning and told him what I was up to. Heck, I could have told him last night when I started forming my plan. I've always liked that I do things my way, on my own, but there wasn't any reason for me to keep Max out of it. Seth's been my closest friend my whole life, but he never interfered in any of my decisions. I guess I've always been this way. But I can't put Seth and Max in the same category. There's a reason I always kept Seth at arm's length.

Rather than sitting there arguing with myself, I bolted after him. "Max, please stop." He stopped and looked at me but remained quiet.

"I know you're angry. I would ask you to give me a chance to explain, but I don't know that there is anything I can say to you in the next thirty seconds that would make you understand why I did what I did.

"Lauren, I really think if I just go for a walk, I'll be fine."

I pointed to a bench a few feet away and asked, "Give me five minutes."

Max lowered his head a little, looking at the pavement and nodded. He reached for my hand and I gladly grabbed his. He breathed in deeply and then let the air out, "I'm listening."

"I know after such a short time together you may still be struggling with this, but you're not just a boyfriend, you are much more. As far as I'm concerned this is just as much a fact as anything else I've ever known. Normally a couple gets to know each other, go on a few dates, meet each other's friends, find common interests, experience life together for a while before they make this kind of commitment. I'm okay if you want to slow things down to catch your breath; I really wouldn't even care if you got mad and broke up with me."

A hurt look shot through his eyes. "There's a reason I tell you that I don't care, because no matter what, I know that no one, anywhere, will ever be a better match for you. Being the right match doesn't translate into being your carbon copy. It also doesn't mean that you'll always be happy with decisions that I make. It means that I'll never lie to you – even if telling the truth pisses you off."

Max didn't interject and was still in receive mode, so not wanting to lose my momentum, I continued, "There are things that I just know. One of those things is that Paul Stratford is not a murderer, and I needed to get him out of jail. I talked to him, and I know that he was the one in danger Sunday morning. Whatever crazy sixth sense I have was telling me I needed to keep him from returning Mr. McMasters' car. I think if he would have, whoever killed the McMasters would have killed him, too."

He made no move to interrupt me, so either I was making sense or he was just holding it all in until I stopped speaking. "As for the party this weekend, I didn't plan to go, but now that you're here, I'm ready to celebrate a little." I paused after this last statement making it clear that Max needed to respond to something.

"Lauren, I like that you're so sure of your feelings. Believe me, I'm all for being tied to you until your last breath; but as a courtesy, if you choose to do something that might result in your last breath being taken several decades too early, I'd like for you to share that decision with me before you act on it. Is that fair?"

I couldn't help but nod at his logic, and he continued, "I understand better than anyone else how special your abilities are. I don't understand how it works. I'm glad that you limited a triple homicide to a double. Paul's a lucky person for you to take such an interest in him. And yes, I'd love to go to your party with you, or anywhere else you want to go, but I need to see if I can move my work schedule around."

"Was there anything else we needed to discuss, or am I back in good standing?" I asked Max with a half smile.

Max's face got a very serious look on it, "So, what's your next step?"

"I need to wait for Paul to call me. He should be out in the next few hours. By the way, what'd you and Seth talk about last night, or was that a secret male bonding experience or something?" I knew this question took him by surprise.

"I don't know if I would classify it as male bonding, but he's as genuine a friend as you'll ever have. He asked me about what happened at the hospital."

"Oh. He and I had never talked about that. What'd you tell him?"

"There wasn't much I could tell him. I told him we met, and we both felt a connection. Before we did anything about the connection, you needed to get things in order with him."

"How did he take it?"

"Seriously? He wasn't pissed. I think he just wanted to know. He said he was taken by surprise when you broke up with him on the way home from the hospital. He said the last few months you wouldn't discuss any of it with him. He felt like you'd shut him out."

"I guess I did, but when you left town, I pretty much shut everybody out."

"He actually told me he was glad that I was back – that you seemed really happy now. I'm sure he said a lot of other things but..."

"But what?"

"I just got the impression he's not over you. He was telling me he is happy for us, he's glad to see you back to your normal self, but he's still really hung up on you. I guess I don't blame him." With this Max wrapped himself around me and followed with, "I don't know what I'd be in his situation, but three months wouldn't be enough to get over you."

"It was strange to see you two together. Strange in a good way. So do you finally believe me that you could have skipped the three month hiatus and stayed here?"

"Yeah," Max stood up, "Let's walk."

We strolled hand-in-hand for a while when he asked, "Don't you graduate next weekend?"

"On Saturday."

"Have you thought any more about what you plan to do after graduation? Go on for a graduate degree or dive into the workforce?"

"Wanda told me to call her whenever I was ready to come back to work. I think I'll take a week or two off to do nothing, then maybe go full time at Tasty Burger in June. There's a pretty decent management program. My degree's in Marketing Management, so it should be easy to get into it. Other than that, no real plans."

"I know this is going to sound crazy, but sometimes you seem to radiate crazy. What if I took a couple months off of work and we went backpacking together for the summer? It's something I've always wanted to do. We could trailer a couple horses and go to the mountains."

Could there be anything more romantic than a couple months with Max? "I like the idea, but I also like the idea of hotels with showers every night, too. I don't know how much hiking around I can do on my leg."

"Are you forgetting? I'm a paramedic. I'd be the perfect person to go hiking with. And if we stay in national parks, most have showers. If you're up for it, I can let my boss know to take me off the schedule until September. I hafta go back to work tomorrow; I could finish the week and then start planning the trip. Once you've got your degree, we could just take off, the same day if you want."

A thought occurred to me, my stomach knotted, "Max, maybe today you should come by and meet my parents. I'm sure they'd take issue with me leaving for a couple months with someone they've never even met."

"But you're twenty-two?"

"Yeah, I know. It's a little weird because I live with them. They don't give me a hard time or anything, but before I tell them I'm taking off, they should at least meet you. Unless you don't want to?"

"Are they home now?"

"Not yet, but they'll be home in an hour or so."

Without hesitation, "Let's go."

*****

My parents knew who Max was, and I'm pretty sure Mom even knew how I felt about him, so the introduction shouldn't be more than a formality. Mom had finally accepted the fact that Seth and I weren't going to be more than friends. She seemed to be okay with it. I doubted any parents would be happy with the idea that their daughter had decided to take off for a few months with her boyfriend. Maybe I'd save that topic for later. The drive to my house was quick, and, sure enough, we had beaten both Mom and Dad home.

Max sat on the couch with no outward anxiety at all. I heard Mom's car pull in the driveway, and I must've tensed up because Max reached down and collected my hand in his. She opened the kitchen door and saw us sitting in the family room. She walked over immediately and introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Molly, you must be Max?"

"Mrs. Davis, it's very nice to meet you."

Mom sat down on the recliner across the room and began the first stage of twenty questions, "So, Lauren tells me you are a paramedic. That must be an exciting job?"

"It can be. I was in training for the last few months in New Orleans, so I'm not completely in the swing of things again. But I'm getting there."

"That's a very nice truck," as she pointed out the window. "Paramedic pay must be better than I realized."

"Mom!" My embarrassment echoed in my voice.

Max just smirked, "It's fun to drive and convenient at drive-up windows."

"I'll bet it is fun to drive," Mom gushed with more enthusiasm than I would have expected.

"I live in Ridgeville, and there are times that the fun to drive function comes in handy." Max had never mentioned Ridgeville. I knew he only used his apartment for work. How strange that the first mention of his home wasn't to me, but to my mom.

Mom continued her grilling until my father walked through the front door thirty minutes later. She stood up, "Excuse me, it's my night to cook, and I haven't even started dinner yet." I relaxed a little, knowing that the worst was over. It was Mom's approval that was required; my father would like anyone I liked. Dad sat down, and we went through his round of questions. After a full hour with both my parents, I stood up and announced, "Max and I are going out for dinner. I'll see you later." Max was surprised at this announcement but followed without complaint.

Once we were in the truck he asked, "Why the abrupt departure? You didn't even mention our after graduation trip to either of them?"

"Sometimes less is more. I like the idea of them meeting you, deciding that they like you before I announce that we are taking off for a couple months together. No sense pushing our luck the very first day you meet them."

We drove the whole way to his apartment without a word and were all the way inside before anything was spoken. Max began with, "I was thinking the Great Smoky Mountain National Forest. Have you ever been there?"

At that moment my cell phone rang. I held a finger in the air, pausing the conversation with Max, so I could answer this unknown call.

It was Paul, "Hi, Lauren, I'm out. I'm staying at my grandmother's house. I don't know how to thank you for posting bail for me. I really wasn't expecting it. I promise I'll pay you back, every dime."

"Don't sweat it. Can you hold on for a minute?" I turned to Max with my hand over the phone and quietly asked, "I want to meet with Paul. You asked me earlier to 'involve' you when I did something you felt might be dangerous. Do you want me to meet him at a coffee shop or at his grandmother's house?"

Max's lip tightened into two thin hard lines, his brow furrowed, and every muscle in his face seemed to be tight, "I don't want you to meet with him at all."

"That wasn't one of the options. Grandma's or coffee shop?"

"Can I talk to him?" I handed the phone over. "Paul, this is Lauren's boyfriend, Max. Lauren wants to meet with you, but I'd rather she not meet with you by herself. I'm sure you understand. Will your grandmother be upset if we come over or do you want to meet in a coffee shop?"

Max paused for a minute while Paul answered him. "Fair enough. We'll see you in fifteen minutes." He pressed the end button on my cell phone and with an over-emphasized sigh, "Let's go."

Chapter Twenty

Max and I pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop after another silent trip in his truck. I reached out to touch Max's hand before he could get out. My touch caught his attention for a moment and made him look my way, "Max, I know I'm doing the right thing. I know you don't like it, but I am glad you're here."

He paused long enough to gently squeeze my hand, then opened the door and got out. We walked into the coffee shop and saw that Paul was already sitting at a table in the far back corner. His back was to the wall, and he gave us a half-wave when we looked in his direction.

Paul held out his hand in a gesture to Max to introduce himself. Max took his hand and held it for a second longer than was necessary, another male ego thing I'm sure. We all sat down in awkward silence for a minute. Then Paul began, "Look, I have no idea why you decided to help me, or even how I'm ever going to pay you back, but I promise you I will."

Max interjected before I could say anything, "Well, that's funny, that makes two of us. If you're innocent, like you say you are, the police would have released you. Being out in public when the public thinks you killed a well-liked couple is insane."

Paul responded, talking directly to Max, "Have you ever been in jail, Max?"

"No."

"Being on the outside, no matter how many people believe you to be a criminal is far better than being in a cage like an animal. I know I didn't kill them, I had no motive, and depending on the timeframe the coroner comes up with, I don't think I even had the opportunity. The last time I checked it wasn't my responsibility to prove I am innocent; it's the cops' job to prove I'm guilty."

As Paul's voice began to rise, Max's body stiffened, and I was worried it might come to blows if I didn't interject. I placed my palm on Max's knee and gave him a gentle squeeze right before I spoke. "Paul, I believe that you didn't kill them. I'm not so naive to believe I can be as accurate as a polygraph, but rather than argue over who should prove guilt or innocence, I'd really like to ask you more about the timeframe." I paused for a second, and Max rested his hand on mine that was still coupled over his knee. "I'm friendly with a couple of the police officers involved, and believe I can be of some assistance, if you want me to be."

Now it was Paul's turn to stiffen and his eyes widened momentarily as if he were calculating the likelihood of this being some sort of a trap. I continued without acknowledging his new found nervousness, "I know police shows on television are not exactly like real life, but in order for you to prove it wasn't possible for you to kill the McMasters, you should write down specifically where you went from the moment you left their house, until you met Rachael and me at the mall. List every street you drove down, any stops you may have made, anything you noticed along the way. If you can reconstruct your route, you may get lucky and find surveillance footage along the way that proves you weren't at the house. My guess is you're most likely their only suspect, so they're less willing to identify new suspects than they are just to prove that you are the one who did the crime."

"How could you being friendly with the investigators possibly help me?"

"If you have a solid timeline, I can give it to them. That way you don't have to be interviewed."

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, because I really am, but what's in it for you? I mean you don't know me, you sneaked into the jail under a false name, . . ." I could feel Max's eyes burrowing through my head when Paul shared this revelation. "You made my bail, and now you're offering to act as a go-between for me and the police investigators. Why?"

Considering the question for a few seconds, I realized I didn't have a good answer, "I guess because I feel responsible that you were arrested."

"Lauren, I appreciate that you want to help, but you know that the minute I pulled back into the McMasters' driveway, I would've been an immediate suspect, right? I mean you don't really think that you're the reason that I was arrested?"

With a sigh and not meeting Paul's eyes, "Well - I did call the police to report you as suspicious at the mall." I wasn't sure if he was aware of this, and from the look he was giving me, obviously he wasn't.

"Suspicious? Really? You called the police from the mall?"

"Yeah, I gave them the license plate number and within minutes all the police cars screamed into the parking lot." Paul leaned back in his chair. This had obviously not occurred to him. "In my defense, you were coming on really strong to Rachael, and I wasn't sure what someone our age was doing driving around in a Porsche."

"Now I really don't understand. You were concerned enough to call the police at the mall, but two days later you met me at the jail to ask me questions? Wouldn't it have been a lot less work just to ask me about the car at the mall?"

"Yeah, in retrospect it would have been easier to, but I...never mind, it isn't important. If you want my help with the police, I am happy to help; if you don't, then I won't bother you again."

"Lauren, you aren't bothering me. I just don't understand why the sudden change?"

"It's hard to explain." Boy, that was an understatement. I got this crazy danger vibe and was sure that my friend Rachael was in danger from you. As the day progressed, I met with some cosmic secret keeper for the universe, and later decided that you were in danger from a murderer at a house where you borrowed a car, and if I let you take the car back you might be killed. I could just tell him that, right? "Let's just say that I believe you're innocent and would like to help if you want me to."

Paul turned his attention back to Max, "How do you feel about all of this?"

Max shrugged his shoulders, "Lauren will do whatever she believes is the right course of action. Right, wrong, or indifferent, I am a bystander on this one. My opinion is irrelevant." Though Max's tone was frustrated, I felt a boost of power, as if his words had cemented that he truly was supporting my decision. After a short pause Max added, "If it were relevant, you'd still be in jail."

Paul nodded and his eyes fell to the table. The waitress finally came up and asked if she could get us anything. We all ordered a coffee, but it didn't seem like there was much else to say. A few minutes of silence passed before Paul finally broke it, "Lauren, I have no idea what to make of you, but I'm glad you're willing to help me. I'll put together the timeline. I think I'll head back to my grandmother's house, so she doesn't worry." Paul stood up and left without another word.

Max made no gesture that he was in any hurry to leave and asked, "Well, what do you want to do now?"

Max looked at me, really looked into me, his green eyes mesmerizing. When he did this, it was hard to breath. I knew he was upset with the situation when he confessed, "I wish I understood you better."

I leaned my head onto his shoulder, "What would you like to know? I'm an open book."

Another customer at the coffee shop looked up from his paper then quickly back down. He had been two tables away, but I hadn't noticed him before. He furrowed his brow, looked in our direction again, back to his paper, back to us, as if he were arguing with himself silently. He finally made eye contact with me, hesitated briefly, and asked, "You look really familiar. Do I know you?"

I smiled politely and told him I didn't think so. I got a strange feeling when I looked at him - not like imminent danger or anticipation, just uncomfortable.

He moved his attention back to his newspaper and looked as though he were going to dismiss it, then as if his internal argument finally had a victor, looked back at me. "I'm sorry, but you really are familiar to me. Do you work anywhere I would have seen you, maybe at a boutique downtown?"

Max rolled his eyes. "She was involved in a robbery a few months ago and her picture was all over the newspapers and television."

"That's right! That's where I've seen you. You were at some fast food place and got shot!" He was so loud, it sounded like he was a contestant on a game show. Now that all eyes in the coffee shop were on me, I was definitely ready to get out of there. He continued in his louder-than-necessary voice, "Wow, well it's a real pleasure to meet you." He stood up from his table and walked over to ours. "I followed the incident in the news. I can't believe I didn't recognize you. You are a big time hero here." He reached down and grabbed the ticket the waitress had left on the table, "Let me get this."

I was a little taken back by his zealousness, "No, that's okay." I tried unsuccessfully to remove the check from his hand, "We were just leaving."

"No really, I want to get it. It's young people like you who restore my faith in humanity. I can't tell you how much your story moved me." He was a little over-the-top, but I had spent so little time in public the last few months, it was humbling to have a complete stranger say such nice things. His enthusiasm was overwhelming and made the uncomfortable feeling fade a little.

Max seemed much more at ease with the stranger than he had with Paul. He pulled out the chair and motioned for the stranger to sit down, "Well, friend, do you want to join us?"

"I don't want to intrude. Are you sure you don't mind?" His eyes darted between Max and me until we both nodded that we didn't mind his company. "Well, I'm sure you don't like to talk about the incident, but is it safe to assume you're fully recovered?"

"It doesn't bother me. It's not like it was some big life-altering event or anything. I just got shot. My leg's healed." I held out my hand in a gesture to shake his, "I'm Lauren, this is Max."

"I'm sorry, I invite myself over and I didn't even bother to introduce myself. I'm Randy, Randy Newton." He shook both of our hands, a firm grip but not overbearing.

Max interjected, "Maybe it wasn't life altering for you, but my life hasn't been the same since." He leaned over and took my hand.

I laughed out loud and realized Randy wasn't in on the joke. "Sorry, Randy, I should have introduced you to my hero. Max was the paramedic who kept my heart going that night."

Randy, enthusiasm oozing from him, "Well, now that's a story to tell generations to come; if you two make a go of it, I'm sure your grandkids will love to hear about your first encounter! I can assume saving her life was a good introduction for asking for a date? That must be my problem: I can never find a damsel in distress to save."

Max squeezed my hand a little, "We're always looking for volunteers. There never seems to be a shortage of people who need help. I do have to say that I am the only paramedic in town who has actually gotten a girlfriend because of the job. Most of the guys get dumped because of the hours."

Randy looked as if he were pondering the idea a little. "So, how does one volunteer if they have no formal training?"

Max handed him a card, "I'll ask my supervisor when the next certification classes are scheduled. If you're serious, I'm sure we can get you in."

"Max, I would really like that. Here's my number." Randy pulled a grocery receipt from his pocket and wrote his number on the back. "Let me know when the next class starts. I should leave you two alone. I'm sure you have better things to do than hang out with some old guy in a coffee shop." He signaled for the waitress to come over and handed her a twenty. "This bill's on me," then he looked back at us and insisted, "Max, Lauren, it really was my pleasure to meet you both. I hope to see you again." He got up, tucked his newspaper under his arm and walked out the door.

Much more lighthearted than we'd been even ten minutes ago, I realized Max was still holding my hand, "Well, that was a little strange."

"I liked him. Not many people go out of their way to say what's on their mind. He seemed pretty genuine."

Although Randy was friendly and very upbeat, after he walked out the door, the discomfort I had been feeling seemed to go with him. Now that this stranger had put Max in better spirits, I didn't want to take a chance and start a quarrel over nothing, "I guess you're right."

I hated that uneasy feeling, but there were enough other things going on in my life, I decided not to waste any time thinking about some stranger who made me feel weird.

Chapter Twenty-one

The last couple days of school were monotonous. All my final projects were turned in, and the only thing left to do was study for exams. It was really just a series of review sessions in every class. I had considered cutting, but Rachael and Seth wouldn't hear of it.

I was walking to Seth's car after my last class for the day when I saw my favorite black truck patiently waiting for me by the curb. Max leaned across the seat and opened my door for me. I climbed in, and it felt a little like being mauled; not that I minded, of course, but this was uncharacteristic of Max. He was very sweet and tender, always holding my hand, caressing my arm, touching my cheek with the back of his hand, but this was different. His kiss was deep and he held me tight. After thirty seconds or so and me consciously willing my lungs to breathe again, I finally gasped, "What got into you today?"

Max smiled, "I missed you today, can you tell?"

"I'd have to be having an out-of-body experience to have missed that. Is everything okay? Nothing happened today, did it?"

"Happened, like what?"

"Okay, Max, what happened today to make you miss me so much?" My mind always races when I have to speculate, and this was very much not like the Max who spent three hours with me every night before work.

"You wouldn't get it." He tried to change the subject, "So where do you wanna go - I've got four hours."

A little frustrated with this dismissive answer, "What wouldn't I get? Am I dense now?"

"Can you just drop it. Most girls would be happy if they heard they were missed." I couldn't tell if the agitation in his voice was manufactured for my benefit or if it was genuine. "Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I talked to that Randy guy we met the other night. He's got to be the most upbeat person I've ever met. I bet he could give motivational speeches if he wanted to."

"From the coffee shop? Where'd you see him?" I was a little puzzled by someone having such an impact on Max's demeanor. The hairs on the back of my neck began to tingle; I don't know what it was about him, but I didn't want him anywhere near Max.

"He found me first thing this morning, right after I got off work. One thing led to another and we ended up sitting and visiting for over an hour. We went back into dispatch and I introduced him around. My boss said he'd do the training himself because we're so short-handed. Randy's probably still there."

Randy seemed very charismatic when we met him, but I really got the impression he was asking Max about his job just to be friendly. I hadn't realized he was actually interested. It's not like me to misjudge someone's intentions.

Creating enthusiasm in my voice that I didn't feel, I asked, "Geeze, that's great. How long does it take to get certified?"

"Up to nine months through the community college or as little as five days of one-on-one instruction. He won't be certified to do everything, but he could be a driver in five days and certified to do CPR. Are you thinking of a career change, too?"

"Uh, let's see...not a fan of blood, car accidents, train accidents, uncontrolled vomiting, or any number of other things you help people with."

"Speaking of plans for the future, you given any more thought to just taking off for a couple months?" I could tell from the way he asked the question he'd been thinking about our adventure.

I couldn't think of anything I would like better than just being with Max, having him all to myself: no saying goodnight so he could work all night, or waiting most of the day for him to recover from working all night. Of course I'd given it plenty of thought, but that voice that seemed to be creeping into my conscious more and more – didn't want me to take a vacation, not yet.

I couldn't help but think my delaying our trip was somehow tied to Paul. How was I supposed to tell Max – I can't go off with you right now because there's a voice in my head telling me to help Paul – who you incidentally believe could be a double murderer. Yeah, there was no good response to that. "I think it is a great idea, but I don't want to go right after graduation. Maybe in a couple weeks?"

If he was unhappy with my delay, he didn't show it. He still seemed pretty upbeat. "So a week from Saturday? It might be cool to spend more than three hours at a crack together." Max clutched my hand and lightly brought it up to his lips.

"You have no idea how much I would like that, I just . . . " somehow I had to keep Paul's name out of my reason for delaying, "want some time to hang out with a few friends. Most will be getting jobs this summer and, by the time we get back from our trip, they'll be working or in grad school." There - that was a perfectly plausible explanation, and not entirely a lie.

The voice in my head spoke more clearly now, "Share your secrets with him, trusting someone that needs you is honorable. He will understand even if he does not agree." It was Rewsna's voice, and she obviously didn't understand how touchy Max was about the whole Paul thing. "Do not keep secrets from your other half."

I concentrated on my response and thought as clearly as I could, "I am not keeping secrets. I am delaying a vacation so I can say goodbye to my friends, now butt out." I must have thought loud enough because her voice didn't reply.

Max was happy with my answer, then surprised me again with, "Sounds good to me – I'm just glad you didn't change your mind. I start my vacation after my shift Saturday night. I can go up to the farm; I'm sure Julio would love to have some help for a week or so. That'll give me a chance to get everything ready, too."

"The farm, is that the place in Ridgeville you told my mom about? And what do you mean you thought I was going to chicken out?"

He swung me around so we were looking eye to eye, "'Chicken out' are your words; I said 'change your mind.' But as long as you put it that way, I'm guessing you still haven't even floated the idea past your parents, right? Are you planning on springing it on them the day I pull up out front with the horse trailer – or do you want me to give Molly a call and soften her up a little?"

"I'll tell them. I just don't want them to get hysterical about it. If I don't give them much notice, there won't be much of a chance to be opposed to the idea."

"Lauren, you really have to give your parents a little more credit. They were our age once."

I started to argue, but my cell rang. "Hello?"

"Lauren, it's me, Paul. Are you busy?"

Max mouthed the words – "Who is it?"

"A little, can it wait?" The longer I stayed on the phone, the more likely Max would know who I was talking to, and I would get to see his mood dissolve in front of my eyes.

"Sure, I've got that timeline you asked me to write down. Do you still want me to give it to you, or do you think I roll the dice with the police myself?"

"Um, how about I call you back later?"

"Oh, I get it - your boyfriend's right there. Tell him I said hi." The phone went dead – by trying to keep from agitating Max, now I had Paul ticked off. It's like I can't win. Rewsna's voice boomed in my head again, "Stop trying to keep secrets that ought not be kept."

Max, out loud this time, "Who was that?"

Without hesitation, "It was Paul. He's got his timeline together and wanted to know if he should go directly to the police or if I should help him."

"I think he's a big boy. You've done more than enough to help him. He should just do it himself."

Before I realized what I was saying, I answered, "Huh, I didn't realize he had asked you what his next move was. Do you want me to get him back on the phone?" It's strange how you can know that what you are saying is hurtful, or the look you are giving someone is close to a glare, but you are unable to put yourself in check in time to stop being a jackass. As soon as it was out and I was back in control – it was too late. Max let go of my hand and put the truck in drive without another word.

Rewsna's advice was a little softer this time, "Don't shut him out. He can help you. He will understand."

I swallowed my pride, knowing I didn't need his help, but believing Rewsna could only have the best of intentions. "Max, can you pull over somewhere so we can talk?" He looked sternly at me for a half a second but said nothing. Two blocks later he pulled into a parking lot. He parked the truck but left the engine running. He left both his hands on the steering wheel and looked straight ahead. His anger couldn't have been more obvious if it were written on his forehead, but I deserved it. He would never talk to me like that.

"I was out of line, and I shouldn't have said that to you." No change in his posture and he still wouldn't make eye contact with me. "I think I owe you the absolute truth, hopefully you won't leave me in this parking lot when I'm done." This last statement got his attention. He leaned back in his seat and finally looked at me, but still said nothing.

"You know how I told you about Rewsna?" he nodded. "How much did I actually tell you?"

He blurted out, "I don't know what all you keep from me, Lauren. Maybe you should try not keeping me in the dark like a fricken mushroom!" Wow, he was pissed.

"You're right. Okay here goes. Rewsna is somehow connected to us, I have no idea how. I haven't talked to her since that day at the market, but I can hear her in my head. I know how that sounds - I'm not crazy. The day at the market she told me to keep to my path, and every time I start to veer off in another direction, like ignoring Paul when I know he needs my help, I can hear her in my head telling me to trust him, to put myself in his shoes...to help him."

I paused for a second, unsure how much to tell him, because realistically if someone told me they were taking direction telepathically from a voice in their head, I would have a hard time swallowing it. He didn't say anything. After it had sunk in, I continued, "The truth is I feel responsible for his situation. I don't think the police are looking for the real killer. At least if I'm helping him, the police may check his story – even if their motivation is to humor me."

I waited for an interruption that didn't come, or a question, or some visual cue that Max was listening and in agreement that I was doing the right thing. Unsure how to proceed, I paused for a few more seconds arguing with myself that he was either pissed at me for being a jerk or was in shock and wondering if he should call for a straight jacket.

I hated not being able to read him the way I could everyone else. "I know Paul didn't kill anyone. I went to the jail and talked to him. I've always been a human polygraph, and I know he was being honest with me. I know he hasn't lied to me the whole time. Saturday at the mall when I was getting strange vibes from him, it wasn't because he was giving them off, it was because I knew if I didn't delay him at the mall he could very well have walked in on the McMasters being murdered and been killed as a result. Of course, I didn't put all of this together until after he was in jail, but at least I did before he was convicted." My voice began to rise as I could feel the panic consuming me. Max still didn't say a word.

I continued on, babbling at full speed, "But by the time I realized the real circumstances, he was arrested. The police were sure they had their murderer and my face was plastered all over the television again." I could feel emotion welling up, in me trying to break free, "Max, please say something." I waited, I counted to ten, then fifteen, then twenty. Looks like Rewsna was wrong. Telling him everything was too much.

I opened my eyes and stared into those amazing green eyes. "You've said all that before. So what more can we do for Paul? You kept him from being murdered, you bailed him out of jail, and if what Rachael told you yesterday is still true, you got him a date." Max paused long enough to let it sink in that he thought I'd already done enough. "I get that you have a way with people. I know you believe he's been railroaded. But what if he's tricking you somehow?"

"He's not."

"So, what if I were to tell you that there's a reason his mom didn't bail him out?"

"You talked to his mother?"

"No, but did you? You just take him at his word, without even questioning him? Lauren, you're smarter than that."

"Sometimes you don't have to verify, sometimes you just know."

"Maybe that's my problem – I like to see the best in people, but sometimes I just see what's there – not what I want to see."

"I know he's telling me the truth."

"This isn't worth arguing about. If you're going to keep helping him, then do it. I don't hafta like it." His agitation subsided a little, "Rewsna talks to you – in your head, about Paul?"

"Talk isn't exactly it. I can hear her. Most of the time it's just a sentence or two, not a real conversation."

"What's she saying now?"

I listened for a minute and heard only silence. "Nothing. The last thing I heard was to tell you about helping Paul – not to be secretive."

"I like her already...So do you hear her a lot?"

Great, here comes that straight jacket. "Not a lot, but enough that it doesn't freak me out when I hear her now."

Max changed subjects. I could tell he wanted to be helpful, "You're kind of chummy with that cop from the mall, right? Maybe he's the one you should take Paul's timeline to?"

"That was my first idea, but he's convinced Paul's guilty. Maybe it would be better to go to the county prosecutor, district attorney or someone who actually has to try the case and point out the holes?"

"Isn't going to the prosecutor kind of like going over the cops' heads? You won't be their little darling anymore. I think you should try the police first, and if they don't take you seriously, mention to them that you plan to meet with the prosecutor. That might get their attention better than anything."

I hadn't thought of that, but that would be a great way to make them take me seriously. "You're right, I'll try that."

A tremendous weight had been lifted. Trying not to lie to Max but keep him distanced from all of my interactions with Paul was my problem. Rewsna was right: I needed to involve Max. He needed to know why I was trying so hard to help Paul.

The rest of our afternoon flew by, and, before I knew it, Max was dropping me at my house so he could go in for yet another all-night shift. He never complained, but he couldn't have gotten more than a couple hours of sleep today, and he looked dead on his feet. As I leaned over to tell him goodnight, I added, "I think when you get off tomorrow you should just crash. Don't worry about picking me up from school or meeting me. If I see you, great, but I won't expect you tomorrow."

The relief that I expected to see wash over him didn't appear. "I'll get some sleep after work. By the time you're done with school, I should be a hundred percent again." He yawned loudly and asked, "When's your last class tomorrow?"

Since Max had all but memorized my schedule, he must really be tired. "I'm done at one o'clock."

He looked exhausted, "Great, I'll pick you up outside the main entrance. Wear something comfortable. I wanna take you up to Ridgeville."

I leaned in to kiss him good night. I was so excited that he was taking me to his place that my kiss was a little more enthusiastic than he was expecting. I put my hand on his thigh giving it a gentle squeeze. He exhaled deeply and moved his mouth to my ear and gently raked his teeth across my ear lobe.

The sensation of his teeth on my ear lobe and the sound of his breathing in my ear revved my engine a few times. Max let out a gentle groan and I melted. My whole body went from tingles of pleasure to burning desire.

Max slid his hand under my shirt to the sensitive skin on my lower back. As his hand caressed my skin, sparks rained all over my body, I couldn't say goodnight. I could only think of wrapping myself around him, "You could always call in sick tonight."

Max removed his hand from under my shirt but kept his mouth near my ear, "I wish."

"Is it wrong to want some real alone time with you?"

"Lauren, I hate saying goodnight every night." His hand gently went to my cheek as his eyes held mine, "Just once I'd like to get home and have you there waiting for me."

"Early morning classes will be over this week. I think that can be arranged."

"Do you know how slow time passes when I'm not with you?"

"Oh come on, you've got all that action: sirens blaring, blood everywhere; it's like you work in an action movie. I doubt I even cross your mind."

"It's bad enough that you're beautiful and smart, but you're so damn independent that half the time I don't know if I should kiss you or wrestle you. But saying good night, knowing I can't see you until tomorrow afternoon kills me."

I was surprised at the silky sound of my own voice, "Then don't go to work."

Max kissed my forehead and pulled me in closer. "I have to go - they're counting on me tonight." He took my hand intertwined with his and brought it to his lips. "I'll see you tomorrow at one."

I gently kissed his ear and whispered, "I'll see you tonight in my dreams."

Chapter Twenty-two

As Max pulled away, I dialed Paul. I could have called Paul while I was still with Max, well maybe not in the last five minutes. After our conversation, I'm sure he wouldn't have had an issue with it, but those few hours I spent every day with Max were just that – my few hours with him. Paul answered on the second ring, "He must be off to work if you are permitted to talk to me now."

"Well, hello, I'm doing fine, how was your day?" A part of me felt like hitting the END button. I had finally gotten Max to the point that he didn't give me a hard time for helping Paul, now I had Paul all offended that I didn't want him encroaching on my time with Max. It's like I couldn't win.

"Oh, you know, more of the same. Someone threw eggs at my grandmother's garage door, I went out front to get the paper today and found a strategically placed pile of dog crap. I guess I could be thankful that no one threw a brick through my window, right?" The edge in his voice was clear; this couldn't keep up much longer.

"So when can we get this timeline to the cops? I spent a few hours putting it together. I tried to remember as much as I could about the whole route and even remember seeing a car accident near Chambers and Fifth, as well as a window washer on the fourth floor of the Bank of America building. I mapped out the entire route and think you're right: if the police decide to prove that I wasn't at the crime scene, I would have had to drive by some security cameras. Mr. McMasters' Porsche stands out a little; it's not like a Honda on the road." The edginess was still there, but at least it sounded like he was channeling it a little better.

"Hold on, let me call Keith from the house phone. Don't hang up, okay?"

"Okay."

I put the cell phone on one ear while I dialed Officer Johnson's phone number and put the house phone to my other ear. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to write anything down or have both of them talking to me at once. Keith answered right away. "Officer Johnson? It's Lauren, from the mall."

"Hi, Lauren, I wasn't expecting to hear from you. Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, but you know I only call you when I need to ask for a favor, right?"

"Oh brother, I can hardly wait...Paul made bail so I'm of no use to you."

"Are you still investigating the McMasters' murders, not the police as a whole, but you specifically?"

"I'm on the task force, so I'm not the only one, but yes that's my primary duty. Lauren, you know I can't discuss an open investigation with a civilian."

"Oh, I know, and don't worry, I'm not offended. I did want to ask you about who would be the best person to turn alibi evidence into, on Paul's behalf?"

"What kind of alibi evidence?"

I wasn't sure how to broach it. The last thing I wanted Keith to think was that I believed his investigative skills to be inept. I knew he was sharp, but I also knew he couldn't possibly be looking at other suspects if he believed he'd already caught the guilty person.

"I'm sure I never told you, but I am a Law and Order fanatic. One of the things that the police always do on the show is to rule out suspects based on any evidence they discover. Paul wrote out his timeline from Sunday morning to include the route that he drove. I thought that the police could look at the route and bounce his timeline off of security cameras, you know like at intersections and businesses that he passed. Then you would know exactly where he was at various times."

"Sure, if he's ready to cooperate, I'd be happy to look at his alibi evidence. Is this something you have?"

"No, but I could have it in about thirty minutes."

"Do you want me to come to your house to pick it up?"

Paul must have heard Keith's offer because he nearly shouted at me, "No, tell him we can come to the police station so I can give a formal statement at the same time."

"Keith, hold on just a second," I hit the mute button on the house phone, then quickly asked Paul, "Are you sure? You haven't even talked to your lawyer yet. I thought you weren't supposed to give statements without a lawyer if you've been charged with a crime?"

"That's if you're guilty."

"You didn't give them a statement last time?"

"No, I was too freaked out! They'd just told me Mr. and Mrs. McMasters had been killed. I didn't know what to say then. They were only interested in me telling them how I'd committed the murders, so I decided not to say anything. Now's the right time, so tell him we want to meet him there."

I un-muted the house phone and put it on speaker. This way Paul could hear Keith, "Keith, you didn't hang up, right?"

"No, I'm still here."

"Paul and I want to come to the police station, if that's okay?"

"You mean Paul is ready to cooperate?"

"I don't think he was ever unwilling to cooperate. He was just freaked out that everyone thought he'd committed the murders. He has a timeline that he wants to share with you that should prove that he wasn't involved, but I think for moral support he'd like me there."

"Uh, okay, sure. When do you two want to come in?"

Paul shouted, "Now!" in my ear.

I winced but was able to keep my voice steady for Keith. "We could be there in thirty minutes if that's okay?"

"Okay, we'll be looking for you. Just come to the information desk and ask for me."

I hung up with Keith. Paul said, "I'll be at your house in five minutes." Nearly thirty minutes to the second of when I hung up the phone with Keith, Paul and I were walking up the steps to the police station. Keith met us in what looked like a regular conference room, no long mirror that resembled two-sided glass, just a regular conference room that you might see anywhere. There were no pictures on the walls, only a projector that didn't project anything and a fake plant that even when it was new couldn't have looked like a real plant.

Keith started with, "Paul you've already been Mirandized. It's important for you to understand that our meeting today will be recorded. You have waived your right to have your attorney present, is that correct?"

Paul and I were seated right next to one another with Keith on the other side of the conference table. I leaned over to Paul, took his hand in mine, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He glanced at me briefly, and, if he was at all capable of reading minds, he could hear me telling him everything was going to be fine.

Paul blurted out, "Yeah, I know my rights and I know that I can have a lawyer present. Can we get on with this?"

"Go ahead, Paul. What information do you have that will aid in the McMasters' investigation?"

Paul handed Keith a typed three page letter of his exact route that Sunday morning. Each entry on the three pages included a column for time, location, activity. I had briefly reviewed the pages while we were in the car and had been impressed with his level of detail. Keith's expression turned from disdain to interest as he read through all three pages slowly. He stepped out to make a copy of the papers. When he came back in, he handed two copies across the table, one for both Paul and me.

"Okay, let's take this from the top. At 8:45 you left the McMasters' residence. That seems a little early for a Sunday visit?"

"I live just down the street from the McMasters. Mr. McMasters was in his front yard watering his flower boxes. I waved to him, and he motioned me to come over. We talked for about 20-30 minutes; he was always really interested in how I was doing. He asked me about school, classes, my friends. He knew more about me than my own mom did. My mom and Mr. McMasters worked together."

"I get it, you were close. But how did you go from watching him water his flowers to taking off in his car? You have to admit that seems like a bit of a stretch, right?"

"He was a very giving person; he knew I loved his car. I washed it for him nearly every weekend, and anytime it needed to go in for service he'd let me drop it off and pick it up. That day we'd been talking about," Paul looked embarrassed, "...my not having a girl to take to a party the next weekend. He tossed me his keys. He told me to go cruise around, that it was a chick magnet. Those were his words, not mine, and he was sure I could get a date by lunch."

"Hmmm, where does a young man find a girl on a Sunday morning to show off to anyway?"

Paul rolled his eyes and remarked, "Funny...that's the same thing I was asking myself. I ended up at the mall, but nothing opens 'til noon. Rather than drive around in circles, I decided to sit in the food court and wait for the stores to open." He gave a heavy sigh and continued, "That was when I noticed Rachael and Lauren. Rachael and I struck up a conversation and had an instant connection. Lauren," he paused for a second then looked at me cautiously, "was less than impressed with me. But Rachael seemed really into me, so I asked her if she wanted to go see my car. You have to understand that I'm not all that smooth and had no idea what to say to her."

Keith didn't say anything, so Paul continued, "You've seen her, it's not like she's hard to look at or anything, and I was worried I was going to say something stupid if we sat inside. Mr. McMasters seemed really sure that I wouldn't have any problems getting a date if I just showed a girl his car. I didn't know what was going on when the police came up to me and patted me down for weapons. I thought I was being punked."

I could see the strain on Paul's face. This was an explanation he should have given on Sunday. "When you asked me about Mr. McMasters and told me he had been murdered, I just kind of shut down. You would understand if you knew him. He was the greatest guy, not a mean bone in his whole body. I don't know why anyone would want to kill him. He would give the shirt off of his back if he thought someone needed it."

Keith cleared his throat, "When you left the McMasters' residence, did you see anything out of the ordinary?"

"No, nothing. I pulled out of the driveway, and Mr. McMasters just waved with one hand and had his garden hose in the other."

"Was it like Mr. McMasters to do yard work on the weekend?"

Paul looked puzzled for a second, then slowly, "No, come to think of it, I don't think I ever saw him do yard work. They had a lawn service and a sprinkler system. When I was younger, I used to cut lawns in the neighborhood, but never theirs."

"How long did you and Mr. McMasters speak before you drove away?"

"I guess about twenty minutes - not really long. It was too early for any sporting events; sometimes he watched NASCAR on Sunday afternoons."

"Did you hear anything peculiar? Either in the neighborhood or from inside the house?"

Paul waited a long minute, "Mrs. McMasters was in the house. I did hear her say 'What, John?' but Mr. McMasters was outside, and he hadn't said anything to her. He just shouted through the window 'I'm outside, Rose,' but she didn't come out or say anything."

"Did he seem concerned?"

"No, he went in the house to grab his car keys a couple minutes later, but they were usually on a hook by the front door. He wasn't in the house long enough to talk to her."

"Paul, I'm not sure why you didn't tell us any of this when we brought you in for questioning. If the timeline and route checks out, we should be able to clear you as a suspect."

Paul had a forlorn look, and he finally asked, "So, why would anyone want to hurt them?" Keith shook his head and pursed his lips.

Paul and I left the police station. It was getting late when we walked to his car on the nearly deserted street. We chatted absently about everything but the last two hours: where he and Rachael were going for dinner, how much he enjoyed staying with his grandmother, my summer plans. We were about halfway back to my house when he uttered, "I must be getting paranoid." He made eye contact with me briefly, then followed with, "The same car has been behind us for the last five minutes. Do you think the police would be following me?"

I turned around to get a better look, only to see the car put on its turn signal and make a right hand turn down a street. I didn't get a good look at the driver, but it was a dark grey sedan. It could have been an unmarked police car, but I couldn't be sure.

"I think you've just had a stressful day and you're exhausted. I can't imagine why a police car would be following you. It's not like they don't know where you're going. I'm sure it's just a coincidence." It may have just been a coincidence, but those weird warning tingles shot through the hairs on my arm. As soon as I had turned around to get a better look, the car had sped up to get around a corner.

Great, now I'm getting paranoid. Paul and I talked about Rachael during the rest of the drive back to my house. He really was taken with her. I would have to call her and let her know that Paul was more excited about this weekend than she was.

When we pulled up outside my house, Paul confessed, "Lauren, I wish there were some way to tell you how much I appreciate everything you've done to help me."

"You just did."

"No really, when my own mom wouldn't believe in me, you did. You found bail money for me, you told me what I needed to do to clear my name, and then you made the police listen to me. You're like a force of nature."

"Okay, Paul, that's a little over-the-top. You're innocent. If you weren't, believe me, I'd know. I've got plans tomorrow with Max, so I'll talk to you in a couple days. Good luck on your date with Rachael if I don't see you before."

Paul wore a strange expression, and it was odd that his mood seemed to change from grateful to something else. He reached for my hand, which felt clumsy and awkward. Paul looked nervous, "Lauren, I really don't know what to make of you. There's no logical explanation for you to believe in me, let alone help me."

Warning bells went off in my head telling me to get out of the car. Paul had wrongly interpreted my help as some sort of an invitation for something more – I could see it on his face. I tried to free my hand in as covert a way as possible, but Paul held on a second longer.

"I just wanted to help. I don't have any ulterior motives, other than maybe seeing my friend Rachael happy." It worked. My mention of Rachael made him release his hold on me, so I was able to make my exit quickly. My mind quickly shot back to taking his hand in the conference room, trying to comfort him. He must have taken my support to be an invitation of some kind. This was awkward, and I'm rarely taken by surprise.

You would think with all our conversation about his plans with Rachael, he wouldn't have confused the support for anything else. I was wrong. I was out of the car, up the sidewalk and into the house before I took a breath. Unwilling to believe that had been anything more than misplaced gratitude, I pushed the incident to the back of my mind, and filed it away, never to be thought of again.

Chapter Twenty-three

Friday moved along at a snail's pace. I looked at the clock on the wall, at my watch, and the time on my phone every five minutes all morning long. I couldn't help replaying my last few minutes with Max last night over and over. I wasn't sure if I could make it until one o'clock. My imagination was running wild, and as much as I wanted to see his home, I mostly wanted some alone time with just the two of us.

All these sensations were foreign to me. Last night was the first time I was sure that Max felt the same about me. I knew he liked me, I'd seen his spark of jealousy enough that I knew he cared, but last night he nearly set me ablaze. With forty-five minutes to go before my class let out, I decided I'd much rather wait in the sunshine. I gathered my books, packed my bag and stepped out of class. This late in the semester, half the students skipped anyway. I made my way out to the front of the building. I took five steps outside the door, and there it was. It was only 12:15, but Max's truck was waiting at the curb.

I sprinted to the truck, ripped the door open and was inside in a matter of seconds. Max hadn't seen me coming, so my abrupt appearance startled him. Before he could get a word out, "I am soooo glad you're early." The blaze was fully ignited.

Max pried himself away from me and looked at me deep enough to make me melt right there on the seat. He wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my hair. I could feel his breath on my neck. "Okay, we need to stop doing this or we'll never get there." He moved back to the driver's seat, but pulled me close to his side and kept his arm around me.

Although mildly disappointed that we didn't detour to his apartment, I found myself again excited about seeing his home. We drove in silence for a long while, not the uncomfortable silence following an argument but the silence that comes from quiet anticipation. The truck turned off the main road, and the sun was nearly blocked out from the canopy of branches from the trees on either side. We stayed on this shadowed road for just a few minutes when we came to a brick entryway with huge iron gates. Max reached up to a compartment in the roof and pushed what looked like a garage door opener, and the two immense gates opened wide for us to drive through. The lane from the gate wound on for better than a mile. Each side of the drive was lined by large Crape Myrtle trees spaced about a car length apart.

As we got nearer the end of the drive, I saw the most enormous oak tree I'd ever seen, even bigger than the ones at Middleton Plantation. Max stopped the truck, and I got out, staring at the tree. The width of the tree trunk was wider than I was tall, at least eight feet. On one side a frayed tire swing hung loosely, as if it hadn't been swung on in decades.

I was so overwhelmed by the oak tree that I completely missed the house behind it. About a hundred yards directly behind the gigantic tree sat an amazing house that looked like a miniature castle. It was all brown brick trimmed by tan shutters with a tan metal roof. The front porch ran the length of the front of the house.

I stood motionless, taking it all in and didn't realize that Max had come up behind me. He was standing close and gently placed his hands on my shoulders. "This is your home?"

"Do you like it?"

"Of course, it's beautiful."

"I've wanted to bring you here since I got back, but I wanted to make sure you would have enough time to explore. There's a lot to see."

"Why do you even keep an apartment in the city?"

"That apartment is just where I sleep. This place is my home. This is where I grew up. It's a little too far to commute when I'm on call, so I keep an apartment near the hospital."

The place was in great shape, the lawn mowed, the bushes all trimmed, "Who lives here?"

"Julio's the caretaker. He stays in the guest house out back. For a long time I couldn't stay in the house, too many memories. But now I'm out a couple times a week. Missy loves it here; she's not very happy cooped up in the apartment all day. Julio took care of her for me when I went out of town. Since I've been back, I've been spending a good bit of my free time with you, so he's been watching her. She's around here somewhere." He spoke softly in my ear, "I love that you're here."

"Me too."

His Golden Retriever, Missy, barreled around a corner as soon as she saw us. She pranced in circles around Max, letting him know she'd missed him, then made her way to me for another warm welcome. "C'mon, let me show you one of my other favorite girls." Max took me by the hand and walked around the house to a huge red barn. Like everything else, it looked to be meticulously cared for. It was a deep red with bright white trim. Max opened a stubborn door and led me in. "Hi, Christy, I want you to meet Lauren."

In front of us, in a huge stall was a tall grey horse. When she heard him, she gave out a welcome and walked over to him. As he reached out to pet her, she put her head down low, and he scratched her ears. Max spoke sweetly to the animal, and it was evident that she, too, was his.

From inside the barn we went through a side door that led to a covered parking area with a golf cart. "Let me guess, you have a golf course here, too?" Nothing would have surprised me now.

"No, but there's a lot to see, so we'll do a riding tour." Max drove all around the estate, pointing out things that only someone connected to it would know. Nestled deep in a wooded area was an old tobacco barn that was more than a hundred years old. He showed me the garden where he had more types of vegetables than most grocery stores. We went out to a lake at the very back of the property and then made our way back to the house.

In awe of this place and thrilled that he was sharing it with me today, "This place is like a wonderland."

When we made our way into the house, it was the first time I noticed its odd shape. The whole house was shaped like the letter U. The front of the house had a gigantic family room, a bar, kitchen and dining room. In the lower part of the U were three bedrooms, and the back half of the house was the master suite. Where the opening to the U should have been was a large seven foot brick wall, giving the feel of a compound protected from the outside world. In this center courtyard surrounded by the rest of the house was a swimming pool. The pool was visible from every angle inside the house, but it was invisible from the exterior of the home. "Wow," was all I could manage.

After our tour of his house, he asked, "So what do you feel like doing?"

"Max, this place is beyond words. I've never seen anything, anywhere, like it. If I were with anyone else, I'd have a million things I'd want to do, but I don't care what we do as long as I can keep spending time with you."

"We could lay around by the pool."

"You didn't tell me to bring a swimsuit."

"It isn't like there's a dress code. I've got a pair of shorts and a t-shirt you could put on." He walked me down the hall and pointed me to a dresser, "There's bound to be something in here you can wear."

I'm normally self conscious in a bathing suit, so this kept my nervousness manageable. When I got to the pool, he was already lying on a chaise lounge. There was a second setting just to the side of the one he lay in, so I sat down.

Conversation between us came easy, so our time together flew by. Before I realized it, it was nearly 6:00. He noticed the time. "I guess I'd better get you back and get going to work."

"Okay, I'll go get changed."

Max reached his hand to my arm, "Wait, before you go . . ." He paused as if the easy conversations we'd had for the last several hours somehow left him speechless. "Lauren . . . I really care for you . . . a lot."

I could feel a warmth wash over me. For the first time I could feel his emotion as clear as I could anyone else's. I knew what he was trying to say – I could feel it. Knowing what someone feels before they have the nerve to actually put it into words is never a good idea – I learned this lesson when I was five and had decided to paint my father's car blue.

"Me too."

"I've never been a jealous person, at least not until recently. I got all bent out of shape about you helping Paul. I knew you were doing the right thing, for the right reason, but I couldn't help myself. I can't stand feeling like this."

Max didn't look at me - here I was expecting him to come right out and tell me he was as madly in love with me as I was with him, and he was talking about Paul? Then my mind flashed to last night and Paul's misinterpretation of my help as some sort of a come on, and the guilt began to wash over me.

"I trust you. I just hope you get that I've never cared so much for anyone before, and I'm not very good at showing it – without coming off like a jerk."

I was taken so much by surprise, which is doubly amazing given that thirty seconds ago I was sure he was going to use the "L" word. "Max, from the first time I realized who you were, there was never a doubt in my mind that you would never have to share me with anyone."

"Realized who I was? I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"Max there's so much I want to talk to you about." I paused, nervous that I could potentially spoil our perfect day. There was no need to rush to start analyzing my dreams. How much was safe to say? His hand was still on my arm, and without thinking it through, I quietly added, "But it's kind of a long story, and I know you have to get going to work."

"We don't have to leave this minute. What do you mean by when you realized who I was?"

"I told you about those dreams I had before we met?" He nodded that he remembered. "Well, it was really just one dream – the same one lots of times."

"So was I on the beach working on my tan or what?"

"Before I get into the specifics on the dream I need to make sure you know that I . . . that I'm not making . . . I mean it's not a joke. . ."

"Lauren, I'm not laughing. What was your dream?"

"It was you, Max. The whole thing, it was about meeting you and spending the rest of my life with you. Gawd I feel like an idiot." I tried to bury my face in my hands.

Max stepped over his chair and scooped me up, then sat back down with me lying across him. Suddenly I had no desire to talk about the dream, about how hopelessly in love with him I felt, about anything. I wanted to pick up exactly where we had left off last night in his truck. This time my hands found a lot of exposed skin.

His hands held both my arms at my side, when he asked, "Lauren, I really want to know, what was this dream about?"

"Before I scare you off with the dream . . . I think it only fair . . . I mean you should know . . . I mean I want you to know . . ." tongue-tied I couldn't say it.

"Just say it."

"Max, I'm so in love with you I can't think straight." I can't believe I just told him I loved him. This was his chance to bolt, but realistically hearing this was way easier to swallow than hearing the details from the dream I've had of him for the last four years.

I felt his fingers lifting my chin, and I still kept my eyes averted not wanting for the love I was feeling not to be returned. Max's voice was gentle when he asked, "Lauren, look at me." I looked up and saw softness mixed with apprehension staring back at me. "Lauren, if you don't mean it - take it back."

Take it back? Was he serious?

He pulled me to him in a tight embrace, silence the only thing between us. He whispered in my ear, "I need to know that I'm not imagining what you just said. My imagination has been in high gear lately, and I need to know that you really just told me that you love me."

I nodded, not able to get a word out.

"Lauren, I know you don't know me very well, or at least not as well as I would like you to. But you have to understand that if it were in my power to create a person, more than a person - a partner, I would have created you." My stomach started doing summersaults.

"From the moment I saw you in the restaurant that night, my life changed. I could hardly concentrate on your injuries because I was so taken with you. That ride to the hospital was a nightmare; you'd lost so much blood and you just kept bleeding.

I was fixated on trying to stop the blood, while you didn't seem to give your injuries a second thought. You'd just been shot, your body was leaking like a sieve, and your heart started failing. When your heart stopped, I begged you to stay. Did you know that?"

Max paused...I couldn't form an answer.

"I did heart compressions on you for twenty minutes, all the way to the operating room. All I could do was pump your heart for you, until we got to the hospital, and I screamed at the doctor to get your heart going again. I don't know how many times I called the hospital that night trying to find out where you were and how you were doing. When Dr. Gracie called me the next morning to tell me he had talked to you, and you were fine, I can tell you I didn't think I would ever have a more significant moment in my life."

I stared at Max in disbelief. We'd been taking things so slowly, I was clueless that he felt so strongly.

"That was until two nights later when we kissed, and it felt like gravity had let go, and you were a magnet holding me in place. I promised myself I wouldn't say anything to scare you off, but you need to know that even though I didn't want to wait three months to see you, I would have waited three years if I had to."

Max left me speechless. My thoughts were in a flurry. Max felt the same draw I did. Could he have had the same dream I did? This attraction between us – how could it be so strong? Hearing his description of the night we met gave me goose bumps. I leaned closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder.

It didn't sound like there was one note of humor in anything he had just shared. "Max, I've never been in love before."

It was Max's turn to be silent. No reaction came for a long time; he was looking at me and I couldn't read his expression. I've always been able to read anyone, even strangers who I only glimpse for a few seconds. Max was different. Other than that warmth a few minutes ago, he'd been like a blank sheet of paper – it drove me crazy to guess.

Finally, Max whispered, "At this point I've been trying to take it as slow as possible, not wanting to smother you. I would move a mountain one bucket of dirt at a time if you asked me to." He took a deep breath. "The day I decided to give you some room and let you deal with the Seth situation was one of the hardest days of my life. I couldn't get you outta my head, and I couldn't stand to see you with Seth. I knew if I didn't give you space, I would be this enormously jealous guy who you would end up hating. So I took the easy way out - I left. But what you don't realize is from that very first moment, I knew you were the reason for me to breathe." His amazing green eyes never dropped my gaze, and he took both my hands in his. "I don't want to take you back to the city, I want you to stay here with me. At least for a little while." Max, without even a trace of apology in his voice, led me to his bedroom.

Max laid me on his bed gently and climbed in beside me. His hand was gliding over my arm and he leaned into my ear, "Lauren, I love you."

If I don't tell him now, I don't know that I will ever have the courage to tell him in the future. "Max, can I tell you something really embarrassing?"

He kissed my shoulder, "You can tell me anything."

"That night in the ambulance, do you remember what I said to you?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course I remember, I remember everything about that night. You might say that you made an impression on me."

"This is going to sound insane, so much so that I wasn't sure I could ever tell you, but if I don't tell you now, I may not ever have the nerve again." He was paying attention, so I continued. "That dream that I had about you, before we met?" Max nodded. "In my dream you told me that we were each other's destiny; that we would meet soon. You told me that we had certain things we had to accomplish while we were alive, and you and I chose each other before we were born. It was important that we be together. You told me that my courage was what would bring me to you. I know how it sounds, but I swear I'm not making it up. I wouldn't even tell you at all except in every dream you told me that you wouldn't remember me, that I would have to help you remember."

He looked a little skeptical, "In your dream I told you that I wouldn't know you?"

"The first time I had it, when I woke up I thought it was the strangest dream ever. I was so surprised by the clarity of it that I was embarrassed to share it with anyone. It was so vivid, it felt more like we had been two people talking all night long than it did any outrageous fantasy. Then I kept having it, night after night, since I was in high school. If that isn't bad enough, that lady Rewsna I told you about? She knew all about my dream, even though I've never told anyone, ever."

Max hesitated as if he didn't want to offend me, then quietly asked, "So we're supposed to be together to accomplish what?"

"I wish I knew. You told me that my courage would bring me to you; that was how we were going to meet. So when I saw you in the restaurant that night everything clicked. I knew why I knew the robber was dangerous before he ever got to the counter. I knew the bullet was meant for me before he ever pulled the trigger."

"I'm not sure what you want me to do about this? Coming from anyone else I would think it a little far-fetched, but..."

"But what? Do you know something?"

He shook his head, "Not the way you're talking about it. But I can feel an energy when I'm near you. The night in the hospital when I first kissed you, I felt like a jolt of electricity came from you into me. I can't describe it, but I knew there was something about you that wasn't like anyone else. What else happened in the dream?"

He's actually asking; maybe if I just tell him the words he'll know what they mean. "You said something about Empathy, Trust, Virtue and....Passion."

"What? What did I say about them?" These words meant no more to him than the definitions from a dictionary. His confusion was understandable. I remember the dream, and I'm just as confused.

"You told me courage would bring me to you. Not typical courage like reciting a report in front of a class, but real courage. When the thing happened at the restaurant, I wasn't trying to be courageous, it just happened. Then when I saw you in the ambulance, I nearly panicked, not because I felt I was in any real danger, but because it was clear my dream was coming true. You held my hand in the ambulance, and it was too much, my body felt like it was out of control. I know that you think it was from all the blood I lost, but I was fine until you touched me: my heart was trying to tell me who you were. When I woke up the next day, I thought the whole thing must have been my imagination, but then you came to my room, and . . . and I knew that it really did happen, and my dream was really coming true."

I knew how irrational this sounded, and I wondered what he must be thinking. After a few seconds of silence, he asked, "So empathy, trust, virtue and passion: you don't have any idea what that is about?"

"You told me that I had to be courageous on my own, but that you would help me with the other four."

A wicked smile flashed, "I've got to tell you that I don't expect passion to be too difficult with you, and I am happy to oblige."

I couldn't help but laugh at him. Here I was basically telling him that I was completely off the deep end, and he was making a joke. "I wouldn't tell you any of this at all, except you told me that you wouldn't remember any of this when we met in person, and it was my job to make you remember. Then when I met Rewsna, she told me the same thing. Believe me, I know exactly how crazy this all sounds, but in my dream you were so insistent, and you were the one with all the answers."

"Okay, I believe you. Whatever passion thing you dreamt about, I've got some ideas in that area." He pressed his body against me while his tongue made its way up my neck. I responded by pressing hard against him as my lips found his mouth and crushed hard against his. Our kissed deepened as a moan escaped him.

Max ever so gently eased away from me. When I opened my eyes, he looked down into them with his amazing speckled green eyes. Uncertain why he had moved from me, I asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Lauren, no - you haven't done anything wrong. I think we'd better slow down before we start doing everything right." The restraint in his body was evident, with every muscle in his arm rigid and bulging.

I was naïve, more so than I wanted to be. I didn't have skills in seduction. My only experience had been hearing stories from my girlfriends and watching hundreds of movies. I didn't want this moment to end and definitely wanted the fire within me to continue to burn. I whispered, "It's okay, I really want this."

Max looked torn, "This is too soon. No matter how bad I want it to happen, I don't want it to happen now."

"Max, I've been dreaming of you for so long. I don't want us to stop."

"Lauren, it isn't the right time. I really need to get you home." This time Max let go of me completely and rolled away.

Panic intertwined with rejection, in a near whisper but loud enough for him to hear, "Max, don't go. If you don't want me, I won't push it, but don't go yet."

"Don't want you? Lauren, I've never wanted anything in my whole life the way I want to be with you right now."

Max eased back over to me and slid his body to mine. He was shaking, his hands moved to my face, "You don't get it. I love you. I'll be with you until my last breath. Can you blame me for wanting to savor you a little?" He pulled me in close and began caressing me gently from my shoulder to my hips, he whispered how much he loved me while I felt his heat against me. His words of loved acted as a lullaby and without meaning to, I fell gently to sleep in his arms.

Chapter Twenty-four

I woke up with a start at about eight p.m., I turned around to see Max, and to my surprise he was wide awake.

"Aren't you supposed to be working right now?"

"I texted one of the off-going guys and asked him to cover me for a couple hours, but I do need to get to work." The whole day felt like a dream I didn't want to wake up from. The ride home with Max was euphoric, as we sat together sharing more easy conversation. Before I realized it, we were parked outside my house. Reluctantly we said our goodbyes for the evening, and I floated over the sidewalk and up to the front porch.

I looked at my watch, and it was just after nine on Friday. I walked over to Seth's garage and peeked in the window - his car was gone. So much for checking in to see how he and Amanda were getting along.

I debated whether to go into my house or not. I grabbed my cell phone and decided to call Paul to see how his night was going.

Paul said, "Seth and Rachael went out to get your graduation present. I was thinking of going out for a coffee. Do you want to go with me?"

I definitely didn't want to hang out with my parents on a Friday night. Who knew when Rachael or Seth would be back, and Max would be working all night. Coffee and conversation sounded pretty good right now. "Sure, if you don't mind picking me up?"

Ten minutes later Paul's car pulled up in front of my house. He told me about his day and helping his grandmother in the yard. He seemed to be paying an awful lot of attention to his rear view mirror as we drove.

I finally asked, "Is everything all right?"

"I keep seeing a gray sedan, like we're being followed."

This didn't make any sense: if he was now cooperating with the police, had given a full statement, provided an alibi, why would they be following him now? It couldn't be that they didn't believe him? I couldn't help but be obvious when I angled myself so I could get a better view of the sedan behind us through the passenger side mirror. What possible reason could the police have for following him? He was out on bail. They could search him anytime they wanted.

Scenarios started playing through my head: a rogue detective who didn't believe Paul's statement, a rookie cop who was trying to make a name for himself, someone personally connected with the victims using his authority to influence the investigation. I'd seen all these scenarios on television and in movies, but something kept making me angle and re-angle the mirror to try to get a better look at the driver. As I was adjusting the angle, the car eased back, from about four car lengths back to a city block. I saw its turn signal before it disappeared around a corner.

"Holy crap, Paul! Are you trying to make me a nervous wreck? The car just turned. We weren't being followed."

Paul made a right hand turn into an alley, driving to the back of the alley where there was a small parking lot big enough for maybe six cars. He looped around the lot so he was able to drive the car into a dark shadow and cut the lights. From fifteen feet we were nearly invisible, but we could see the lighted street clearly. "Sorry, Lauren, I just feel like..."

I cut him off, "Like you're going stir crazy, like you've been watching too much TV? Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you, you know? I get that this has been a hard week on you, and I don't blame you a bit for going a little schitzo, but how long are we going to sit in this alley?"

"If it was a cop, he would have flashed his lights for me to pull over. But if for some reason," he stopped in mid sentence. Slowly a gray sedan eased past the alley. The occupant was looking down the alley right in our direction – as soon as I was starting to believe he had found us his head swung abruptly to the left as he peered down a dark alley on the opposite side of the street. My heart leapt - The way it did only when Max was within a few yards of me, then began racing so fast it felt like it was going to pump clean out of my chest.

In a very calm authoritative voice, one I didn't even know I was capable of, "When he clears the alleyway, slowly drive forward. Don't turn your lights on until right before we're on the street. Stay on the main street. See if you can get close enough to him to read his license plate."

Paul nodded in agreement, but I could see the color had completely faded from his complexion. In my mind I called to my voice of reason and screamed, "Rewsna – what should we do?" To my frustration I heard nothing in return. I picked up my cell phone as we approached the mouth of the alleyway, the sedan nowhere to be seen. The entire street was empty except for a couple walking hand-in-hand toward us. I dialed Officer Johnson's number, but it went straight to voicemail. I hung up without leaving a message. I concentrated as hard as I could and, in my mind, asked as clearly as I could, "Rewsna, what should we do?" Nothing, no advice, no whisper, no feeling at all that she was even following this turn of events.

"I'm going to take you home."

My heart was still racing, and it was moving so fast I was in danger of hyperventilating. I managed to stutter out, "No, we don't know who this is. Go to the police station." Paul turned in that direction, and when he made his left turn the same gray sedan was again behind us, but this time following very close. I grabbed my cell phone and tried Officer Johnson a second time, but it went directly to voicemail again.

The car began to overtake us on the left side, the driver rolled down his passenger side window and ordered, "Pull over, now!" He put a blue light on top of his car – the kind detectives use that are held on by magnets.

But every unmarked car I had ever seen had lights built into the car's grill. When Paul began to pull the car over, I nearly came unglued, "No, go to the police station, now!"

"I can't, I'm out on bail – if a cop wants to pull me over and I don't comply, I go straight back to jail."

Paul pulled the car over on the nearly deserted street, the couple I had seen just a minute ago nowhere in sight. A man was refilling a metal newspaper box halfway down the street, but he had his back to us. Paul put the car in park and reached for the ignition, I reached across and put my hand over the keys. Quietly, but with authority in my voice, "Do not shut the car off, put it back in drive. Roll your window up so it's only open far enough to talk through. Do not get out of the car, and do not shut your engine off until you see his ID."

The policeman walked up to the driver's side and motioned with his hand for Paul to roll the window down. In as polite a voice as I had ever heard Paul use, "I'm sorry Officer, could I see some identification?"

The policeman pointed at the gray sedan directly behind us with the single flashing blue light on top, in a condescending tone, "That son, is my identification, now roll your window down."

Paul reached for the power window, but I grabbed his elbow and as quietly as possible warned, "A photo ID, Paul."

Paul looked back at the policeman and nervously squeaked out, "I'm sorry sir, I'm not trying to be belligerent, but I would really like to see a photo identification."

The policeman stood there for a few seconds staring through the nearly closed window. In an instant I saw him reach his left hand from behind his back. He had pulled the trigger twice before I even realized he was holding a gun. On sheer instinct I grabbed the gear shifter and yanked it into the drive position, reached my left foot over to the driver's side and punched the gas. Smoke rolled from the tires as we were barreling down the street with me driving from the passenger side. I didn't look at Paul but could hear a soft gurgling sound as he breathed. I didn't look behind us to see if he was in pursuit. I fumbled for my phone and was able to dial 911.

"911 Dispatch, what's your emergency?"

"My friend's been shot - what should I do?"

"What's your location, ma'am?"

For the first time I looked at Paul, as I was driving from the passenger side and balancing the cell on my ear. "I'm not sure, some guy said he was a cop and pulled out a gun and shot him. There's blood everywhere!"

"Ma'am, I need you to remain calm. Is he breathing?"

I could hear heavier gurgling as he struggled to take in air. "Yes, but it sounds like he has blood in his lungs or something."

"What's your location?"

"I don't know, I'm driving: 23rd Street, I think. I'm not sure."

The dispatcher told me, "Ma'am, pull the car over at the next intersection and tell me where you are."

I did as I was told, looking in all directions for any sign of the grey sedan, "I'm on the corner of 23rd and King."

"Ma'am, what's your name?"

"Lauren, Lauren Davis...What should I do?"

"Lauren, you need to stop the bleeding. Find where he was shot, use a jacket or a shirt and apply pressure to get the bleeding to stop."

"I can't find where he was shot. There's blood everywhere. It's coming out of his mouth. It's all over his neck. I can't find the bullet hole!"

"Lauren, calm down. You can't help him if you aren't calm. Take a deep breath. Help is on the way, but I need you to try to find where all the blood is coming from and get it to stop. Can you do that for me, Lauren?"

In my mind I could hear, "Relax, Lauren, calm yourself." I took a deep breath and without moving him began to scan every inch of him, beginning with his head, neck, shoulders, then as if the hole could not have been more clear, I could see it. It was huge. "I, I...found the bullet hole, it's in his chest. Blood is pouring out of it."

The dispatcher asked, "Okay, good job. You need to apply pressure to the wound, to stop the bleeding. Are you applying pressure?"

I found a wadded up gym towel on the floor in the back seat and pressed it to his chest. "Yes, I'm applying pressure. He isn't breathing." I could hear Rewsna clearly through my thoughts. "Remain calm, pay attention to your surroundings." I looked in all directions while I had both hands holding a towel against Paul's chest. I didn't see the gray sedan. I started blaring the car horn with my free hand trying to get someone's attention.

Paul reached out and grabbed my arm with one of his hands. "Not a cop. Ms. McMasters' barter..." He took two deep breaths and released. His entire body went limp in that second. I held the towel to his chest but knew there was no reason to. Paul had died right there in front of me.

I heard sirens before I could see anything. I sat there with my back to the windshield, facing Paul's body, still holding the towel. I was getting tunnel vision as if I were getting ready to pass out. I knew I needed to focus. I couldn't black out. I needed to wait for help. My body felt so heavy, then I heard Rewsna in my head, "Pay attention to your surroundings: what do you see? Now! Child, look around you." I willed myself back to reality. My back was still to the windshield, but I took a long look around me. There was no gray sedan in any direction.

I blared the car horn another seven long bursts. I saw someone approaching the car, wearing sweatpants and a too-large t-shirt. He wore something on his head. As he approached, his pace sped up the last twenty feet when he realized that my blasts were for help. On the other side of the street, another man was watching me but made no movement to provide assistance. He was watching, holding his position.

I couldn't tell how tall he was from that distance, but he was standing next to a parking meter. He seemed relatively short because the top of the meter was even with his chest. His hair was dark. He was wearing dress slacks with a sweatshirt, an odd combination. The first man who had come to assist was asking me questions that I didn't respond to. I could hear a siren drawing closer.

I lost focus on the man across the street long enough to look at the man who had trotted over to help and was leaning in through the driver's side door. He asked, "Miss, are you okay?" I nodded numbly but looked back to where the observer had been standing and saw that he was now walking into an apartment building with his back to the street.

An ambulance arrived. When I saw it pull up, I felt a huge sense of relief knowing Max would be here to tell me everything would be all right. Paul sat motionless on the seat beside me. I heard a lot of shouting, but I couldn't make sense of the words. I kept searching the faces looking from one to another but couldn't find Max. Where was Max? I felt a hand hold my wrist and remove it from Paul's chest. I heard a voice talking to me but still couldn't make out the words.

A paramedic was here, but it wasn't Max. "Ma'am, do you know what day it is?" I didn't. "Ma'am, do you know where you are?" I nodded but couldn't make words form; my voice had disappeared. Another paramedic was now at the passenger side door shining a light in my eyes, taking my pulse and talking to me. It wasn't Max either.

I tried to comprehend what all had happened. Paul was dead. I heard the paramedic say, "She's in shock. We need to get her to the hospital." At this I looked straight at him and tears began flowing down my cheeks as if someone had turned on a faucet. I managed to get out, "I . . . need . . . to talk . . . to M-M-Max Meyer." I started shaking like crazy. I couldn't be sure if I had said it loud enough for him to hear, so I said again, "I . . . need . . . Max Meyer."

"Who is Max? Was Max driving the car?" A third man, maybe a detective, was standing there with a note pad. I shook my head and reached up and grabbed the paramedic's shirt. I asked, "Where's Max? He's working tonight. Where's Max Meyer?"

The paramedic looked in my eyes, "You mean Max Meyer that works with us?" I nodded quickly and he answered, "Hold on." I waited a couple minutes. I could see the paramedic was talking on a handheld radio, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. He walked back over to the car and told me, "Max is working tonight. What's your name?"

"He's my boyfriend. Tell him I need him."

The paramedic nodded, "You're in shock. We need to take you to the hospital. I'll radio ahead and tell Max to meet us there, okay?" The tears that I had almost under control flooded my eyes again as I nodded. "What's your name?"

"Lauren."

"Do you know what happened to your friend?"

I nodded again and was able to get out, "Paul Stratford, he got shot by a cop, I think. He's dead, isn't he?"

The paramedic nodded. That was it, everything went black. The next thing I knew I was in the ambulance. The paramedic's name tag read "Phil." Max rarely talked about the people at work other than his partner, so Phil wasn't familiar to me. He saw that I was again coherent. "Hi, Lauren, how are you feeling?"

"Okay." Paul and I were pulled over by someone that may or may not have been a policeman. That person killed Paul right in front of my eyes and could have killed me. I'm on a trip to the hospital, again. "Where's Max?"

"I spoke with Max. He's at the hospital now, waiting for us. You're going to be fine." His smile was reassuring.

Phil was right. We were no sooner through the doors at the hospital and there was Max. He grabbed my hand tightly then lifted my eyelids with his other. I was able to focus on him, and he smiled a forced smile back at me. I was strapped on a gurney being wheeled into an exam room. He walked alongside me asking medical questions about me to Phil while a nurse was walking with us taking notes. I found the only thing I wanted to concentrate on were Max's eyes.

We got to an exam room, and now that I was with Max, I somehow felt stronger. I could focus on what people were saying around me, about me. He was still holding my hand, and it felt as if my strength was somehow coming from him. Max, Phil, the nurse and the doctor were all talking about me when I felt like my voice belonged to me again.

All eyes in the room were on me when I told them, "I'm okay, I wasn't hurt. I need to talk to the police about what happened." Max squeezed my hand and smiled at me, his normal smile this time, not the one he had forced himself to wear when I got here.

The doctor told me, "Lauren, you're in shock. We're giving you some fluids and a sedative to calm you down a little."

I all but shouted, "No, please, no sedative. I need to talk to the police. Max, can you call Officer Johnson for me? I need to talk to him." Max nodded that he could. "Doctor really, I'm fine, I was just freaked out by what happened, but I'm okay. I need to tell the police what happened right away."

The doctor nodded and motioned to the nurse, "The police are waiting outside. Let them know she can talk to them right away."

I didn't recognize the person that came into my room. Max stayed with me. I was sitting up in the bed. The man held out a hand to me, "Hi, Lauren, I'm Detective Dixon." I shook his hand and forced a smile. The man who shot Paul pretended to be a policeman, or maybe he was a policeman with a strange sense of justice. I'd never heard of Detective Dixon. I cautiously asked, "Detective Dixon, do you have any photo ID on you?"

Detective Dixon reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out his credentials. I looked at them, and they appeared to be genuine. "Thanks." Under normal circumstances I would trust what my eyes were showing me, I would put more credence in the fact that my body wasn't giving me any warning signs, I would simply believe that this detective was exactly who he said he was, . . . but there was nothing normal about the last couple hours. "Can you get Officer Keith Johnson on the phone?"

Max instinctively moved between the detective and me and looked like he was ready to brawl. Detective Dixon pulled out his cell phone without a word, dialed a number and said, "Good evening, Sergeant, I need a twenty on Keith Johnson. Is he on tonight?" There was a pause while the Desk Sergeant must have been speaking to the detective. "Great. Can you patch me to him? Thanks." Another short pause and then I heard, "Keith, this is Dixon, I've got Lauren Davis at the hospital and she wants to talk to you. I'm going to hand her the phone."

His expression was neither condescending nor frustrated when I took the phone from his hand. I asked, "Officer Johnson, is that you?" into the receiver.

His familiar voice replied, "Lauren, what's going on? What're you doing at the hospital? I saw I missed a couple calls from you and hadn't had a chance to call you back."

"You recognize the detective, right?"

"Sure, what's going on?"

"A cop . . . a guy . . . a guy I think was a cop . . . shot Paul. He just . . . he just walked up to the car and shot him."

"Lauren, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, a little freaked, but okay."

"Can you put Detective Dixon on?"

I handed the phone to the Detective. The two talked briefly, then I heard, "I'll get her statement and meet you at the station as soon as I'm done here. Yeah, I'll tell them."

While Max stayed in the room, I relayed the events of the night in as much detail as I could remember. I wasn't able to give a good description of the man that had impersonated a policeman and shot Paul. The detective asked me questions throughout. After I had relayed the whole story, he asked me a few more, "Did Paul seem to recognize the person that shot him?"

I paused for a minute and thought about it. "Right before Paul died he said something that didn't make sense. He said 'Not a cop, Ms. McMasters' something, then he died."

"Where were you when Paul made this statement?"

"The intersection where I stopped the car – 23rd and King."

I replayed the events over and over in my head, answering all the questions the best that I could, giving even the minutest details. At the end of the interview it felt like I had been answering questions for hours. The detective asked, "Did you see anything else that could help in the investigation?"

"I was so scared I'm not sure how or even if this is relevant. When I was waiting for the ambulance to come, I saw a man across the street watching our car. I had blared the horn a bunch of times to signal that I needed help. The man I saw just stood across the street staring, without coming over. It seemed weird at the time because another guy came to help. I wouldn't have thought anything of it, except the man who was watching left before the police and ambulance arrived. You know, if he were really interested in what was going on, he would have stayed and watched, right?"

The detective scribbled something in his book and asked, "Did you see where he went?"

I nodded, "Yeah, he went into an apartment building right behind him. It might be nothing, and I wouldn't mention it at all except it looked like he was wearing a sweatshirt with dress pants." The detective stopped writing and looked at me confused. I explained, "Well, it's way too hot for a sweatshirt this time of year, and who wears one with dress pants?"

The detective stood up. "I think I've got everything I need. Thanks for all your cooperation. I'll fill Keith in on everything."

The detective left, and the nurse came back into my room and checked my vitals. "Nurse, I'm really feeling much better. I don't think I need to be here. Can I go home now?"

The nurse pursed her lips and looked from me to Max, "I think we should have the doctor take a look at you again. If he says you're clear, I can start your discharge, but going into shock is nothing to take lightly. He may want to keep you here for observation tonight." She walked out leaving me with Max.

Max was at a loss, "Can I get you anything?"

"No. I don't want to stay here."

"Do you want me to call Molly?"

"Wait to see what the doctor says." He nodded. No sense calling to tell her a whole lot of nothing.

"Are you okay?"

Tears leaked down my cheeks. I looked away. "I'm okay."

Max squeezed my hand, "You're going to be fine. I won't leave you."

The tears streamed faster, "I was really scared until I saw an ambulance pull up tonight. I must be the only person in the world who looks at an ambulance and feels relief. When I saw the paramedic wasn't you, I thought I was going to have a melt-down."

Max hadn't let go of my hand the whole time since I arrived at the hospital, and he squeezed it gently again. "I could hardly believe what Phil was saying to me over the radio, that you had been in a car where the driver was shot and you were in shock. I started yelling questions to him, but then for no reason I got really calm: I just knew you were okay."

Max and I talked about everything but Paul. We talked about Seth, Rachael, my parents, how they were all going to react to this latest incident. We talked about graduation, which was tomorrow, and finally our trip to nowhere special.

The doctor came back in to check on me and cleared me for release. When I asked Max if he was in trouble for not going back to work, he answered, "No, my boss started my leave of absence tonight instead of tomorrow. I'm done working until we come back from our trip."

Max called my parents. He must have talked to my dad because the conversation was really short. "It's Max. Before I say anything else, I want you to know Lauren's okay. She was driving with a friend, Paul Stratford, tonight, and he was shot while she was in the car. She was brought to the hospital because she was in shock." There was a pause where Dad must have asked Max a question, "No, she's coherent, and the doctor said she's fine for discharge. I was going to take her back to my apartment just so I can keep an eye on her tonight, if that's okay?" Another long pause, "Yes, I'll bring her by in the morning so she can get ready for graduation. I'll see you then." Max put his cell phone away and helped me to my feet, "I hope you don't mind, but I would feel better if I was with you tonight."

A uniformed police officer was standing at my door. "Ma'am, I'm Larry Phillips. Keith sent me as a protective detail."

"That's nice but not necessary. If the guy wanted me dead, he would have killed me a couple hours ago."

Max held out his hand to the policeman, "Hi, Larry, I'm Max. She's going to stay at my place tonight. You're welcome to come along."

I was so emotionally drained I didn't even try to argue.

Chapter Twenty-five

Saturday morning the sun was shining brightly through the windows. I could hear birds chirping. I glanced over at the alarm clock: 8:00 a.m. My body felt heavy, like moving right now would require significant effort, nearly more than I possessed. Instead of fighting gravity, I lay there replaying last night.

I hadn't even noticed the gray sedan until Paul pointed it out, probably the same gray sedan he had noticed several nights before. Hiding in the alleyway seemed like such a paranoid thing to do. Paul had to have known: he had to have felt that he was in some sort of danger. I felt it, but I still didn't expect for anything so horrific to happen.

I should have looked at the man's face. I should have willed myself to make a note of something about him. The only thing I got a clear view of were his hands. He wasn't wearing gloves, and he didn't have any tattoos on his knuckles like you see on people in prison. I closed my eyes and willed myself to return to that moment when I saw the barrel of the gun aimed at Paul. A tiny waft of smoke was released from the barrel. In that instant what did I see? The knuckle of his index finger was protruding from the rest of his interlocked fingers; his finger was on the trigger. In that same moment, I remembered a flash of metal, white gold, silver or platinum on his ring finger. I concentrated harder realizing it was his left hand that I was visualizing. The shooter was left-handed with a silver ring of some kind, so he most likely was married.

Excitement welled within me as I realized I remembered a detail that could help the police. I remained focused and replayed the moment he had walked up to the car. Paul wouldn't roll the window down, which had infuriated the man. A real policeman wouldn't have lost his cool like that. Police talk on radios; even when they're in restaurants, you can always hear chatter on their radios. I don't remember hearing any kind of chatter. I relived those few moments until just after the gun shot again when I reached over with my left foot and tromped on the gas pedal.

I didn't think I looked in the rear-view mirror right away. When I finally did there was nothing at all behind us. What could I be sure of? When I looked out the window, I saw his torso. On a normal-sized man the window comes up to his waist, but this man's waist wasn't visible at all, meaning he had to be shorter than normal. He was a white male. His hands weren't all weathered or wrinkly, so he had to be mid-twenties to mid-forties. He was wearing a white button down shirt, without a tie. I would have noticed a tie.

There was nothing peculiar about his voice, but as I remembered, there wasn't a twinge of a southern accent. I don't think there was anything Paul could have done to avoid this. Maybe drive back to the police station, but violating the terms of his bail would have been a huge problem if this had been a real cop.

I could sense the danger, and warning bells were going off in me, so why did I let Paul pull-over? Why hadn't I seen this coming? I had asked Rewsna for help, but she'd been silent. Why would she ignore me? She told me if I ever needed her, she would be watching; I needed her and she ignored me. Her only advice: watch my surroundings after Paul was already dead. Like there was any danger at all by then.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, brushing away my hair, and I could feel Max's lips on my neck. A warm glow consumed me. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. All I could manage was, "Hi."

Concern was written in his expression. "You had nightmares last night."

"I don't remember any. Why do you think they were nightmares?"

Max continued to caress my shoulder and arm, "You were talking most of the night, and you screamed a few times. I knew waking you from your nightmare would be worse than letting it play itself out, but it was hard to watch." He stared at me for a long moment with his beautiful green eyes. Except for Paul being dead, everything felt right with the world.

"I'm glad I stayed here last night. I probably wouldn't have been able to sleep at all at my house. Do you think we should go? I'm sure my parents are worried."

Max nodded, stood up, and pulled me up out of his bed. The inertia of his pull landed me squarely in his arms. Had the last twelve hours not happened, this movement would have made me laugh. As it was, I wasn't much in the mood for celebrating, nor was I feeling very pleased with myself for letting my friend die. I stepped aside and went to the bathroom to wash my face.

Max said nothing on the way back to my house. My mother was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper. It struck me after we'd already walked into the house that there were no news reporters parked outside my parents' home. I guess I needed to be thankful for the little things.

Max relayed the events of last night to my mother while I watched on. I felt her gaze on me a few times, but I felt a little disconnected, and I really wasn't part of their conversation. I started to distance myself from their exchange, and my mind wandered a little. I could hear Rewsna's voice quietly, but I couldn't make out what she was saying. I tried to listen more closely, but I wasn't able to understand. As I was listening to her quiet voice, I heard a booming one right next to me, "Lauren, Lauren are you okay?" It was Max, and he was shaking me.

I looked at him for a second, but he was out of focus; I squinted my eyes and looked again. He was clear, and I looked at Mom who was now standing just a foot or two away from me. I managed to get out, "I'm okay." Max told my mother I was in shock last night and had nightmares; the nightmares were a symptom, and if she knew I was having one she should stay in the room with me but not try to awaken me. Nightmares were my subconscious mind's way of dealing with the trauma. Max continued to give her advice on how best to take care of me, as if I wasn't right there in the room. The phone rang; I got off the sofa and picked it up.

It was Officer Johnson. "Lauren, how are you?"

"How do you think?"

"I'm sure this won't make you feel any better, but I thought it wise to share with you that Mr. Stratford was telling you the truth. Security cameras verify the route he gave us exactly where and when he said they would. I bounced his timeline off of the coroner's report, where time of death was between 9:30 and 10:30. Paul's been ruled out as a suspect in the McMasters' murders. I've notified his mother and grandmother of his death. I shared with them both that he had been cleared of all wrong-doing in the double homicide."

"Great, so who killed Paul?"

"Lauren, I don't know, but I can tell you that we have all our resources trying to answer that question right now. Whoever did it impersonated a police officer in the process; we'll find him."

"Yeah, I was there. He was white, he was short, he was wearing a white button down shirt, driving a grey sedan, he's left handed, he was wearing a ring and he doesn't have a local accent. That description should narrow it down to like 30,000 people for you. I was right there, and that's the best I can give you. How in the hell are you going to find him?"

"Lauren, did you see his face, or was there anything about him that you maybe forgot last night?"

I shook my head as if he could see me through the receiver, a tear welled up in my eye. I choked out in a whisper, "No."

"Last night you told Detective Dixon that Paul said something to you right before he died. What did he say?"

"He said something about Ms. McMasters' barber I think, but it was all garbled, and I couldn't understand him very well." Rewsna's voice came booming through my mind and I heard, "No child, that is not what he conveyed. Think!" Renswa's voice startled me so badly I nearly dropped the phone.

"He didn't say anything else?"

A little shaken from Renswa's voice, I could only respond with, "No, that was it, he died right after."

Officer Johnson offered words of encouragement and we hung up. This was the first time I'd felt shaken since the shooting. I should have been getting ready for graduation, but I couldn't think straight. I just wanted to lie down and let the world go by for a little while.

*****

I somehow made it through the commencement ceremony that afternoon, and thankfully Mom cancelled my graduation party. She told everyone that I wasn't feeling well, and although not the result of an illness, her excuse wasn't any less true. Max was on his hiatus from work, so this would be the opportune time to get away. Sunday morning I sprung on my parents that I was going camping with Max for a few weeks. It was obvious they had little idea what to do with me in my current state, so both thought it was a great idea.

Max was way more excited about the trip than I was, but I told myself I just needed to get away. As soon as the city was behind, us I could forget about voices, destinies, a friend I hadn't been able to save, and everything else. We decided to leave Tuesday morning.

Monday late afternoon after I'd just returned from Paul's funeral, the phone rang. I picked it up and it was Officer Johnson. "Hi, Lauren, how're you feeling?"

I had struggled with this question every time someone asked it. I was alive, something that might not have been possible just three days ago. I was a college graduate, though I had no desire to celebrate. I felt like I was in my own little world and everyone I talked to believed the same. "I'm okay, getting ready to get out of town for a while."

"Well, then I'm glad I caught you before your tires hit the pavement. I just wanted you to know in the course of investigating Paul's murder, we made the assumption that the McMasters' murders had to be tied to his. We believed the killer thought Paul knew more than he did and was trying to cover his tracks. You once told me you were a huge true crime fan, so what are motives for killing someone? C'mon this is Detective 101 stuff."

Not wanting to play along with his game, I remained silent.

"Okay, it is love, money, impact, or mental illness. Meaning people kill out of passion, kill to receive money or compensation of some kind, or the kill will have a positive impact on the killer in some way. When we got back into the McMasters' investigation, it was clear that Mrs. McMasters was very heavily insured - three million dollars heavily insured. When you told us that Paul said something about her barber we checked to see who the beneficiaries on her policy were. There wasn't an individual: her business was the beneficiary. She was a co-owner of a business, and with her death the entire payout goes to her partner." As Officer Johnson was talking, I heard Paul's last words echo in my mind, "Not a cop, Mrs. McMasters' partner."

We interviewed him shortly after the double homicide and the subject of an insurance payout never came up. After Paul's death, we re-interviewed him. We were already aware of the payout, but he denied that he would receive any financial gain from her death. His denial set off warning bells because that was not the case. Once we caught him in the lie, we just dug a little deeper. What kind of car do you suppose he drives?"

Not wanting to jinx whatever Officer Johnson was about to tell me, I stayed quiet. He was so excited he made a game show noise and announced, "Thank you for playing but too slow, yes he drives a gray Chrysler 300. Things were starting to add up, so we had a search warrant issued for his residence. Where do you suppose his residence is?"

This time I could feel the excitement from Officer Johnson, knowing he had solved it, so I chimed in, "Let me guess, the apartment building across the street from where the ambulance came?"

Not even trying to contain his excitement, he yelled, "Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, very good, Lauren! You mentioned that the unknown suspect was wearing a white button up shirt the night of the shooting. When we executed the search warrant, we found a white button up shirt in the laundry that had gunshot residue and blood on the sleeves."

"So he killed Mrs. McMasters for the money. Why did he kill Paul?"

"Sorry, Lauren, he's not talking right now. He's lawyered up, but we think that he was under the impression that Paul had seen him there that morning, and it was only a matter of time before we stopped suspecting Paul for the McMasters' murders. I guess he thought that if we had Paul as our main suspect, and he turned up dead, we would close the case." Officer Johnson waited a few seconds and revealed in a more solemn voice, "If you and Paul hadn't have come by to give his alibi evidence, I'm sorry to say that's exactly what would have happened."

I felt a huge weight lift off of me, "I know in my statement at the hospital I said Paul was talking about Mrs. McMasters' barber, but that was just because I was in shock. I'm sure that he told me Mrs. McMaster's partner. Is it too late to amend my statement? I remember hearing something about a 'dying declaration' being admitted as evidence."

Officer Johnson chuckled into the phone, "If you really believe that, then yes we can amend your statement, but I really don't think it's necessary. I didn't need anything from you. I just wanted you to know that we found Paul's murderer, so you don't have to look over your shoulder. It's over."

Chapter Twenty-six

My bags were packed, all two of them. I had a duffle bag with all my shower gear and shoes and a backpack with five changes of clothes. If this wasn't roughing it, I don't know what is. Mom and I were sitting on the front porch passing the time, waiting for Max to pick me up. I was still surprised that she hadn't tried to talk me out of it, and only asked if I had spare batteries along for my cell phone. I caught myself looking at my watch for the fiftieth time. Max should be here in another ten minutes.

"You remembered to pack plenty of socks, right?"

Here I was taking off with the most amazing guy in the world, for who knows how long, and the only concern Mom voiced to me was that my cell have a charge and my feet stay warm. I kept from rolling my eyes and answered, "Yes, plenty of socks, and if I forgot anything, I'm sure there are stores in the middle of nowhere, right?"

Seth half opened his garage door and saw me on the porch. He gave a casual wave then stepped to go back inside. "Hey! You could at least yell goodbye or something!" I bellowed. He stepped out the door, then made his way to my front porch.

"That's right, this is the big day. What do you think, Molly? Do you suppose she'll last two days?" Seth was grinning from one ear to the other.

Mom gave a very smug smile in return, and it looked like this was some sort of joke that I wasn't in on. "Oh Seth, anyone can go two days. I bet she makes it until next Wednesday."

"You two have no faith at all in my survival skills, do you?" I was thoroughly offended.

Seth didn't let up, "Survival? Well, I imagine you are less likely to take a bullet in the wilderness. Hunting season isn't going on now, is it? Besides, knowing how protective Max is of you, you'll be fine." Mom didn't even flinch when Seth mentioned Max or bullets.

It's amazing how much had changed in such a short period of time. Just a couple weeks ago, I didn't think my mom would ever get over Seth and me breaking up. I was sure that Seth would hang on just as tightly. When I'm wrong, I am wrong. Since that night of the interview with Amanda, Max and Seth had become almost friends. If not friends, they were definitely friendly with one another. Each time I asked Max for more details on what Seth said to him that night, he told me, "just man stuff," but whatever it was, it sure made my life easier.

Max's black truck pulling a horse trailer drove up across the street, and Mom stood up to give me a quick hug.

Seth leaned in and told me, "I'll see you two in a couple days."

"No, you won't!" as I bounded down the steps toward Max. Max left the truck running but came up to the porch to say quick goodbyes to both of them.

He walked around to the passenger side of the truck, carrying my backpack. He put it in the back seat as I climbed in the front. Max asked, "You're packing pretty light. You're not chickening out on me, are you?"

"You said we were only taking what we could carry on our backs - I'm not a pack mule!"

Max grinned at me, "No, you are definitely not a pack mule."

We drove for about three hours without much conversation, just listening to the radio. We were nearly in North Carolina. Ten miles from the border, Max leaned over and kissed my forehead. "We're almost there. Do you need to get anything before we leave civilization?"

"No, I'm ready." We drove another thirty minutes into a National Forest to a visitor center with a really large parking lot. Max unloaded the horses, and, to my surprise, there were three. "Is someone joining us you forgot to tell me about?"

Max laughed, "I didn't expect you to listen to me when I said we were only taking what we could carry on our backs, so I brought Ursula to carry all the camping gear and bags."

My voice was louder than it needed to be, "You didn't expect me to listen? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, Lauren. Since we've been together have you done anything I asked you to?"

I walked up to Max and wrapped both my arms around his waist and pulled him tightly to me, "That is what you love about me."

Max wrapped both his arms around me and whispered in my ear, "I love everything about you."

Within a half hour the horses were saddled, Ursula was packed, the truck and trailer were locked up tight, and we were headed to one of the trails. We rode up a relatively even trail for over an hour. Conversation was strained because Max was in front on his horse Christy, leading Ursula, and I was behind on Mischief. The near silence put my mind in overdrive. What were we going to do? Would we run out of things to talk about? What's going to happen when we decide to camp? Max had been Mr. No-Pressure up until now, but would this be our first time together?

My mind wandered to Seth and Amanda. I hadn't remembered to ask Seth what was going on with them, whether he decided to take that job over the summer or stay closer to home. I had seen Rachael at Paul's funeral. She didn't seem to be taking his death that hard. They had only gone out once. If he hadn't been shot, I wondered what would have happened with them.

Of course, all these thoughts were spinning in my head all at once. Talking to Max was probably the only thing that would keep my mind from spinning out of control. The trail got a little wider ahead, so I moved up to ride beside him and asked, "So when do you have to go back to work?"

"My boss took me off the schedule. I can go back next week or I don't ever have to go back."

The surprise must have been evident because Max just smiled back at me, "What? Forever is too long to be with me?"

Caught off guard, I stammered for a second. "No...I mean...I thought you had to go..I mean...you can't just walk away from a job?"

"Why not? Really, Lauren, it's just a job."

Max stopped and got down off his horse then walked over to me, "Come on – let's walk for a little while." I dismounted, and we walked for a few minutes before either of us said anything.

"Lauren, what's wrong? It looks like you are a million miles away. Was this a bad idea so soon after Paul's funeral?"

Surprised a bit that my silence would be interpreted this way, and pleased that he was initiating a conversation, "I was just thinking about us, how four months ago I was convinced you were just a figment of my imagination."

"As long as you brought it up, I'm going to ask, and I need you to be honest - brutally honest if you have to." Max looked so serious, I could feel the nervous pangs gripping me.

"I know physically you're attracted to me," he smiled a little mischievously, "but have you given any thought to our future?"

What is the right response here? I know Max is the only person, the only being I want to share my life with, but no matter how strongly I feel about him, it's only been four months. My parents expect a longer courtship, my friends expect a longer courtship, I am too naïve to commit to anything, right? But as certain as I am that it hasn't been long enough to formalize any long term plans, I am just as certain that I'll never make plans with anyone but Max.

"Max, I already know my future is you. That's the one thing I am absolutely sure of. We don't need to plan our future; it's just going to happen. Let's just let it."

"I know you believe that because you're convinced I came to you in a dream, but what happens if you have another dream that tells you I'm not the one?"

Utter shock at the question left me motionless for a minute. I took Mischief's reins and twisted them around a low hanging branch. I walked over to where Max stood and took his hand. Placing it over my heart, I wrapped the rest of my body around his and stood on my toes so I could whisper in his ear, "You feel that Max?"

He nodded and I noticed his eyes were shut, "My heart beats only for you. Do you feel it beating faster?" His touch anywhere on my body made my heart race. Standing this close to him with his hand over my heart made it pound so hard and fast it felt like it would fly right out of my chest. "What else do you want to know about my future?"

Chapter Twenty-seven

Max and I found an area midway up the mountain with a terrific view of the sunset. The pine scent and earthy feel helped me isolate the events of the last three weeks and lock them away. Max systematically began off-loading camping gear, but his first priority was to take care of the horses. He brushed them down, checked their hooves and talked to them. It was interesting to watch how he genuinely cared for each of the animals, ensuring they were set for the night before he ever considered his own comforts.

I, on the other hand, unsuccessfully tried to assemble our sleeping quarters. The picture on the box made it look easy: there were only six steps in the accompanying directions. Forty-five minutes into my efforts, the only thing I had really accomplished was separating the poles into piles and laying the tent out flat on the ground. What little time I had spent in the Girl Scouts a decade ago seemed to provide little help.

Max came up behind me and offered to assist. I returned a thankful smile and was pleasantly surprised how quickly he had it up, tied off and staked down. I unzipped the inside and stepped in. This would undoubtedly be one of the most significant nights of my life, and the first pangs of stage fright had me in their grip. I suddenly wanted a hot shower, a bubble bath with candles, anything to remove the mixture of horse and dirt stench I knew I exuded. Max must have noticed my apprehension because he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. "I'm going to get a fire going. I'm sure you're nearly starving."

I decided to make myself useful and gathered dried twigs and pine needles to use for kindling on the fire. As I walked up to our fire pit, Max confessed, "I didn't want to count on the forest to have dry wood for us to use, so I improvised." I looked into the center of the fire and nearly howled when I saw the Duraflame log already ablaze in the fire. I placed my armload of kindling in the fire, and he added some rather large wood logs over the top. In no time we had a very healthy fire going. The sun was just touching the horizon, and it looked like we had twenty to thirty minutes left of daylight. The further to the west the sun moved, the cooler it got. Max had two camping chairs setting upwind of the fire and a small camping stove with food already cooking.

As I went to take the chair next to his, I heard one of the horses whinny loudly and stamp its hooves. Max had tied them to a line that gave them a good bit of space to graze, but something had spooked the animal. He watched the horse that was tugging on its line, and the more resistance it felt, the more effort it seemed to put into pulling, and the louder its hooves sounded on the earth.

As both our gazes were fixed on the horse, we heard a wolf's howl – loud and long. The sound was very close; its proximity to us froze me to my chair. Max's reaction was exactly opposite. This new noise coupled with the horse that was already trying to break free scared the other two horses. The stomping of hooves sounded like hammers pounding on a job site. Max stood up and spoke to the animals in an effort to calm them, but Ursula, the large bay that had carried all our supplies, showed no signs of being comforted. She continued to pull her lead, shaking her head until we both heard an audible snap and she was free. She took off at a gallop with her lead dragging behind her straight down the mountain the way we had come.

"Dammit! I've got to go get her. Can you stay with the fire?" I nodded and Max grabbed Christy's bridle and was on her back, without aid of a saddle, galloping at full speed down the mountain after the renegade horse.

In less than a minute, the sound of hooves hitting earth faded in the distance, and I found myself alone by the fire. I looked at Mischief, the horse I had ridden today, and she too began stomping the earth much the way the first horse had. I left the warmth of the fire to go make sure she was secured to her stake. As I closed the distance, I heard the wolf's howl again, still loud and now sounding even closer than the last time. The sound made my heart skip a beat and my danger sense screamed to life. I could feel the prickly feeling; I didn't need to look at my arms to know that the hair on them stood at attention. As I paused to try to calm myself, Mischief yanked hard on her lead and shook her head. I took a step toward her, as she reared up onto her back legs and shook her head. With an audible snap, she was free and running in the opposite direction from the others.

I stood frozen for a second. Should I go after her? I would never be able to catch her. She was running as fast as the first horse. I whistled, trying to sound like Max, but she gave no hesitation. I could hear breathing, not like that of a human but of something much larger. Not turning my back on the site that Mischief had just bolted from, I started walking backward toward the fire. I willed my eyes to adjust to the near pitch black to see if I could make out any kind of a form.

I could still hear some sort of animal's breathing. Not having spent much time in the great outdoors, I could only think the sound had to be a bear. It was loud, a steady rhythm breathing in and out. As I could feel my back approaching the warmth of the fire, I stole a glance over my shoulder and saw that I was only feet away from the fire still ablaze and bright. It didn't need it, but I took three more large logs and put them on it to make sure it kept burning brightly. Animals instinctively do not like fire, so whatever I was hearing should stay away from it. It would also serve as a beacon to Max, so he could find his way back.

I reached in my backpack for my phone. I started to hit the power button to call someone and let them know what was going on, but who? Mom, Seth, Rachael? No, I couldn't call any of them. They would be in a panic with absolutely nothing they could do and would feel helpless if I told them I was scared and alone in the middle of nowhere. Besides it only had half a charge when I shut it off. Wasting battery on a phone call would be a terrible idea.

My breathing became a little more regular, but the hair on my arms was still warning me not to let my guard down. I remember Max kept a hand gun in his truck. If he knew we were going into the mountains, it would stand to reason that he would have brought it along on the trip. I reached for his backpack and quickly dug through everything in search of his black plastic carrying case; I felt nothing and looked at the other miscellaneous bags, trying to think where he might have tucked it. As I was ripping through the last duffle bag, frantically searching, I heard a man clear his throat. I sprang up from the ground and screamed, not a little muffled scream from being startled, but the blood curdling scream of a frightened little girl.

The man didn't even flinch. It was the same older gentleman I'd seen at the mall and again at the jail. He turned his head slightly as if he were studying me. "Oh my gosh, am I glad to see you!" I moved a few steps in his direction; any human contact at this minute was welcomed. Without waiting for an answer from him, "There is some sort of big animal over there," I pointed at the trees where I had heard the labored breathing.

As I pointed, the man made no effort to look in that direction; he only continued to look in my direction with mild curiosity. He said nothing. He was wearing old, worn blue jeans – not the kind that you buy that look worn, but pants that looked as though they had been through hell. His t-shirt had some sort of writing on it, the color faded from whatever the shirt had once advertised. He wore flip flops. His choice of footwear was inappropriate for someone so far up the mountain. The whole way there had been barely foot trails through the thick forest and vines full of sticky bushes.

As I studied him, he looked almost unnatural, un-nerving was a better description. He was built very large, well over six feet tall. His arms were hanging at his side, his mocha skin colored from the sun; but there were no age lines at all on his face. He looked to be in his mid thirties. He stared at me with interest, but, again, said nothing; his expression was neither welcoming nor a warning, but his eyes never left mine.

"Are you from around here?"

His reaction was a simple nod, still absent any facial expression that would put me at ease.

I held out my hand, "I'm Lauren." The stranger looked at my outstretched hand but made no move to take it in his. I eased my hand away from him and put it in my pocket as if this weren't very rude of him to ignore the formality.

"Do you have a name?" I asked as I began to wonder if he were mute.

The same response as before, a slight nod but nothing audible; the stranger continued to watch me. It gave me the creeps, and my mind filled with questions, none of which I wanted to ask him. I couldn't stand the silence from this stranger.

"My boyfriend and I are camping for a couple weeks up here. One of our horses got spooked, so he went after her. I stayed here with the fire. He should be back anytime." For the first time I smelled the food that Max had started before his abrupt departure; it smelled wonderful. I asked him, "Are you hungry?"

To this question the stranger looked over my shoulder at the camping stove then back to me. He nodded that yes he was hungry. I turned my back on him briefly to check on the dinner cooking. It was steak and potatoes. I stirred the food briefly, scraped off the potatoes that had gotten scorched, and put a decent sized helping on a plate for my unexpected visitor. I reached for a fork and extended my arm with the food for him. He shook his head. The stranger had now been here for five minutes and had not said a word. When he refused the food, I didn't know what to think.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were hungry." The aroma from the food was wonderful, and if this whack job didn't want any, I was going to be rude and eat in front of him because I was starving. He neither nodded his agreement or disagreement with my statement; he did not move closer or farther away from me. I sat in one of the vacant camping chairs and ate the food I had offered him. Although I avoided his eyes, I could feel them on me the entire time I ate, and silently I was praying Max would come galloping back into the campsite any second. When the plate was completely bare, I looked back at the man.

"Do you need something? There is some dinner left on the camp stove. Are you cold? Are you here because of the heat from the fire? Do you even talk?" The only response I received was again a small affirmative nod.

My mind was racing, wondering which question was he answering yes to. I listened again for the sound of hooves but heard nothing. Max hadn't been gone that long, but how far would he have gone? I was alone in the middle of nowhere, with a peculiar stranger who scared me. For the first time he took a step in my direction, and I could feel the adrenaline shoot through my body as if it had been injected with a syringe. My blood was racing through my veins, my hands began to shake, every hair follicle on my body was standing up straight.

The stranger took another step closer, and I let out a gasp. His face morphed in front of me, it was the same older man I'd seen at the mall and the jail in the cabbie hat. He placed both his hands on my arms and stared deep into my eyes as if he were searching for something. I didn't break his stare, but my shakes erupted into near convulsions. The man gripped my arms more firmly and finally spoke directly into my ear.

"You must choose, do you wish to have a damned life or a quick death?"

The stranger did not move his mouth from my ear nor loosen his steel grip on my arms when I attempted to struggle away from him. This time, rather than a whimper, I screamed as loud and long as I could. If Max were anywhere on the mountain, he would have heard me.

The stranger's grip on me tightened as he hissed, "Choose now, young one, or I will choose for you."

Chapter Twenty-eight

There was nothing, darkness, my heart felt empty. Was I dead? Was I alive? Where was I? I couldn't feel my arms or legs. I could see nothing and hear nothing but my thoughts. Was this death? The only thing that seemed to work was my mind. What was the last thing I could remember? A stranger coming to me, offering me death or a cursed life: what kind of choice was that? And what choice had I made?

It was as if my mind were somehow disconnected from my body. I wasn't in any pain, but I couldn't feel anything. The electrical impulses that I had always taken for granted to move my body at will were absent. I concentrated on feeling my fingertips and couldn't. I tried with all my willpower to move a finger, again – nothing.

I tried to make my eyes open and something inside told me they were open, but I could only see darkness. There was no light anywhere. There were no sound vibrations for my ears to hear. This must be death.

But if I were dead, where was the white light, the city of gold, the pearly gates? Where were my grandparents? Where was Paul? Death couldn't possibly be nothingness, could it? All the stories had always promised death was its own reward. How could this feeling be a reward?

I stayed in the darkness, alone with only my thoughts. Is this what we take with us? Our imagination and memories are all we have when a life is over? I thought of Paul, how his struggle in life nearly made his death seem peaceful. Paul did nothing to deserve death. His worst mistake was trying to be a showoff at the mall, attempting to get a girl's attention. I wondered, if we were both dead, could we communicate the way Rewsna had communicated with me while I was alive?

My mind wandered a little when I remembered telling Max about Rewsna. He believed the whole story, believed in me, believed that there was a force in the universe that wanted us to be together. It seemed strange that one of my last conversations with Max had been talking about our future. I replayed those precious few minutes in my mind; he was my future and now my life was over.

I've never been to another country. I've never made a difference in anyone's life - except for Paul - and one could argue that I was responsible or at least a contributing factor to his death. In my mind I yelled out, "Paul, can you hear me? Are you there? Paul, I'm so sorry. Maybe this is the punishment I get from the universe for shortening your life. I wish I could go back and do it again; I promise I wouldn't have called the police. Paul, are you there?"

Nothing. No response from Paul, no response from anyone. I was alone with my thoughts. I began begging God to end this, not to leave me suspended like this. If I were being punished, take everything. Don't leave me alone with my thoughts. I replayed Paul's death, the gun shot, listening to his last words as blood filled his lungs and his heart gave up. I remembered how I wanted to fold inside myself, but Max wouldn't let me: my first kiss with Max in the hospital, our morning on the shooting range, spending that first perfect day together. I thought I had so much more time. I thought our time together would last forever, until we were too old even to remember how we had met. Yet in death, I found myself reliving every one of our moments, thousands of time over.

If I were dead, Max must be devastated. I thought how he must have returned to camp and found my body. Did he try to revive me again? Maybe we were destined to be together only a short time. We had things we had to accomplish. What were they? Empathy, Trust, Virtue and Passion – what better way to learn to empathize with what had happened to Paul than to be killed myself? Death is nothing like I had ever imagined. I don't know what I expected; Max told me we chose each other before we were born and chose our obstacles for this life. How did we do that? Were we suspended in nothingness and happened across each other? Is that what I was now, just suspended? How long do I have to wait for Max? How long have I already waited? It could have been seconds or days or even years. Time meant little. I didn't feel pain, there was no agony, only thoughts. Or maybe because Max and I didn't accomplish the things we were supposed to I was being punished by the universe?

I tried to scream out but heard nothing. My mind raced around to a riddle I heard as a child - If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there, does it still make a sound? With that same logic, if I had to overcome obstacles in my life with a partner but my life was cut short, what would happen to my partner? What would my death mean to Max? How would he overcome his obstacles? If he failed, would he start over with a new life or would it just be over? How could we find each other again? Do I wait for him suspended in the universe until we can both be reborn and start over? How would we find each other in the universe again?

I felt bitter that I no longer had my body. What had I done to deserve this? Did I fail some test, did it have anything to do with empathy, trust, virtue or passion? How could I have failed something so completely, without even knowing I had been challenged?

My mind began racing in a new direction. What if I am not dead? What if this is some sort of test? I thought of a Pascal quote - The power of a man's virtue should not be measured by his special efforts, but by his ordinary doing. Virtue was one of the challenges I was to face. Had something I did in this ordinary meeting with a stranger somehow made me fail Virtue's test? I thought of the stranger at the camp site: I had offered him food, I spoke with him. What kind of test could I have failed?

If I weren't dead, how could I describe this suspension? I cleared my head and as clearly as possible I asked, "Rewsna, can you hear me?" There was no response. I waited for a sound or a feeling but continued only to feel the emptiness. As I thought about my question, I decided to ask it again, "Rewsna, I know you can hear me because I still exist and so do you. Tell me how I get back to Max. He needs me."

This time I could hear her, but she sounded thousands of miles away. I couldn't make out her words, but I knew she had just answered. I concentrated on the emptiness and clearly thought, "Rewsna, I know you can hear me. I need you to speak more clearly to me. Tell me, how do I get back to Max?"

This time as I concentrated I could hear her, "Lauren, you are more powerful than the beast realized. Will yourself free. Concentrate on your passion for Max."

Will myself free? What beast? I was being held here by someone or something?

I did just what Rewsna instructed. I remembered sitting in Max's truck talking for hours. I lingered on the memory of lying next to him on his couch in his apartment. I heard Max's words echo in my mind the night Max declared his love for me. All these memories made me feel...warm. I felt a flash of light in my mind like a lightning strike, then blackness again.

I heard Rewsna's encouraging words again, "Again, Lauren, do it again."

I pulled the memory of our first real conversation together that night in the hospital intertwined with that very first kiss. I thought back to the night I had been shot, riding to the hospital in the ambulance, that first recognition when I looked in his eyes. More lights flashed in my mind, and those images I had been replaying in my mind changed – I kept replaying them, and they came back to me in rich color. Instead of simply revisiting those memories, it was as though I were reliving them. I could feel the electrical impulses from my brain again, trying to awaken my body.

Rewsna's voice sounded again, "Lauren, break free of the beast. Use your passion for Max to take you back to him. Do not fear the beast. He cannot keep his hold on you. You are stronger, you are more complete. He is but a fragment of evil and cannot hold you unless you let him."

In that instant I let my life flood my memories. Events from childhood with Seth that were fun and easy...growing up helping my friends with encouraging words and love...entering a new stage of my life with these feelings for Max. My memories overflowed, and the more I thought, the more colorful they became. More light seemed to be all around me, and then I could feel my fingers. I flexed the muscles in my hand and could feel my hand respond.

I could feel the ache of my body, as if I had been tied up for hours. I flexed my hand and made a fist a second time, then did it with my other hand. As I did so, I could feel a tightness in my chest and a heaviness in my body. I tried to sit up, but couldn't. I opened my eyes and looked at a white room with sunlight flowing in the window. I lay on a hospital bed and could hear a machine that looked a little like a plunger, forcing air into my lungs. I was on a ventilator. I couldn't pick up my head to look around. My body felt wrong.

I reached around with my hand, searching for the bed remote to alert a nurse that I needed help. Both hands frantically felt in every direction around them, but they were so clumsy I had difficulty finding anything beyond the bed frame. I tried slapping the mattress, but it made only a quiet thump. I hit the bed rail and felt a sharp pain jolt through my hand. I tried to scream but nothing came out. I tried to move my legs in an effort to kick, but that effort was fruitless, too.

I was able to reach the electrodes over my chest and pulled them off. The steady beeping that had been sounding in the background became a low pitch whine from the machine behind me. A nurse came running through the doorway. I made eye contact with her, my fingers still holding the electrodes I had removed. She gasped out loud and pushed a button on the wall. The phone rang, and I heard her answer, "Doctor, Ms. Davis is awake. Come here!" There was a pause as she was getting instructions, then she affirmed, "I'm quite certain she is awake. Please come." The nurse hung up the phone.

She looked at me, walked closer to me, and took my hand in hers. "Lauren, the doctor is on his way. He'll be here in a few minutes."

I scanned the room, but it looked different than the last time I found myself in a hospital. Flowers didn't line all the walls, and the room had some personal touches. My family's picture was hanging on the wall; a picture of Seth and me was setting on a dresser. An overstuffed couch set along a back wall and didn't look like one that would be waiting in a hospital room for visitors. A stack of magazines was setting in a magazine holder. As I took this all in, an older gentleman with a bright white lab coat walked through the door.

The doctor shined a light in my eyes, and although the light physically hurt – it actually felt good to feel the pain. Those hours I had spent in nothingness made me welcome the pain. The nurse was on the phone while the doctor was checking my eyes and listening to my heart. I couldn't hear everything she said, but I did hear her say, "That's right, she is awake. The doctor is examining her now."

As I tried to listen to the nurse on the phone, the doctor asked me, "Lauren, do you know where you are?" I tried to speak but my windpipe was blocked with the ventilator, so my response sounded like a gag. I shook my head that I did not know where I was.

Wearing a kind expression, the doctor replied, "Don't try to speak. We're going to get the tube out. It is going to hurt, but your lungs are functioning on their own. They are weak, so we are going to have to keep an eye on you to make sure they don't collapse after we remove the equipment."

I nodded that I understood.

He was right. I can only equate this feeling to having a hot branding iron removed from my esophagus. The pain was excruciating - far worse than anything I had felt in my life. I reverted back briefly to the nothingness feeling I'd had for the last several hours, then was again thankful for the pain.

My breathing was labored, as if my lungs weren't sure how to fill up. My body was full of strange sensations. I could feel my toes but could not tell if I was moving them. I was unable to sit up in the bed. I couldn't speak.

The doctor was busy scribbling information on a tablet PC he held in his hand. Without looking up he explained, "Lauren, don't try to speak. You have been in a coma for an extended period of time. The nurse has contacted your family, so they know you're awake. We need to run some tests to see if there is any permanent damage. Do you understand?"

I again nodded that I understood, but what did he mean for an extended period of time?

I was poked and prodded. I lost count of the number of nurses and doctors that were in and out. Finally, the nurse that had initially come in when I woke up offered me a drink of water. She adjusted the bed so my head was elevated. The water felt amazing. My mouth was so dry that the feeling of liquid in it was nearly absorbed. I tried to swallow but gagged initially. I took another small sip and was able to swallow. I could feel the coolness of the water all the way down my throat. After several sips of water, I was moved to a gurney for I don't know how many other tests.

I felt my eyelids getting heavy and my mind began losing the fight to stay awake. My whole body ached with each new movement. As I began to doze off on the gurney, I felt my body being lifted back onto the hospital bed. My eyelids fluttered and the nurse again offered me a sip of water.

In a hoarse voice I was able to whisper, "Where's Max?"

The nurse looked confused and responded, "I'm sorry, Lauren, I don't know a Max."

How could she not know Max? She had to know Max. A flash went through my mind when I saw the picture of Seth and me on the dresser – Max hadn't been a dream, right? He really existed. He came to me in a dream, but then we met. He saved my life. Max couldn't have been a figment of my imagination.

She followed quickly with, "But I've only been working here for six months."

Confusion overtook me. I couldn't formulate a question because her answer was so utterly absurd. She had only been here for six months? How long had I been here? She must have seen the confusion on my face when she responded, "Lauren, you have been in a coma for more than two years."

A tear escaped my eye, and she grabbed a tissue to catch it. More followed, but I couldn't ask her anything else. Two years? How was that possible? Where was Max? What happened that night at the campsite? What happened to Max? I closed my eyes and relived those last memories that I had before the nothingness.

As an infinite number of questions spun in my mind, Mom came through the door. She was crying, not sad tears, but her face was soaked, eyeliner and mascara marks streaming down her face. She took me in her arms and held me so tight I was sure I wouldn't be able to breathe. She was hard to understand through the sobs.

A hoarse whisper came from me, "Dad?" She told me he was on his way. My brother Steve would be here in a few hours. Seth was on his way, too; she had left a message for Rachael but hadn't been able to talk to her. I was glad she had contacted everyone, but she didn't say anything about Max.

I couldn't not know, so I asked, "Max?"

Her expression changed, softened a little. "Lauren, I'm so sorry, but he really blamed himself for this accident. It was tearing him apart to see you this way. We all told him it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't be comforted. He stayed with you night and day for over a year, and then when there was no improvement, he couldn't take it anymore. Max joined the Navy. He hasn't written in a while, but the last letter I got from him said he was in Afghanistan with the Marines serving as some sort of a medical person. He told me he was a Corpsman."

I was devastated. Afghanistan? How could he have left? As I tried to sit up, my muscles refused to cooperate. A wave of relief intermixed itself with the devastation – Max wasn't a dream. He was real. I couldn't think straight. Why would he have left? Was I really in that bad of shape?

The next several hours were a rush of more doctors, more nurses, my family and friends. Seth brought news clippings of my accident. The story alleged I was mauled by a bear, and I was brought down off the mountaintop by helicopter. The news clippings stated I had been in critical condition for three weeks. Seth told me I was in a nursing home now, not a hospital – which explained the pictures and furniture in my room.

Everyone told me about what I had missed the last couple years. My brother, who I rarely talked to, was now married and was a father. Seth and Amanda were living together; they got a house right after she graduated college – she was a reporter at the same news station where she did her internship. Rachael was doing well for herself, and my parents seemed exactly the same. It was still hard to wrap my mind around the idea that I had just missed two and a half years.

My mom was the only one who had kept in contact with Max. She had sent him a text after she got to the nursing home to tell him I was awake, but she hadn't gotten a response. She told me that wasn't uncommon, that he was essentially in the middle of nowhere and rarely had his cell phone with him if he was out on a mission.

That first night was full of excitement. Everyone was talking at once, doctors and nurses joining in on filling in my last two and a half years. I was excited to be alive again and anxious for Max to know that I was okay. When it got so late that I could no longer keep my eyes open, I asked Mom to call Max again. She left him a voice mail telling him I was okay.

I had found my destiny. I found him exactly the way he told me I would in that dream. The dream, no matter how many times I had it, never changed much. A dull ache permeated from my chest. I knew a person's heart doesn't actually break, but this steady ache was a constant reminder that Max wasn't here.

I don't know what happened to me on that camping trip. I have no idea how I lost two and a half years of my life. The only thing I really knew was I needed Max. As the light from the window began to diminish, one-by-one my visitors left. I lay there turning everything over in my mind. I closed my eyes, willing myself to see Max, and his images flooded my mind in vibrant color. For now, this would have to be enough.

*************************************************************************

Thanks so much for reading Meeting Destiny! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. There are two more books in the Destiny Series. Destiny's Revenge (Book #2) and Destiny's Wrath (Book #3). Both are available electronically from all major bookstores.

If you enjoyed Meeting Destiny, PLEASE return to the book store where you purchased it and write a review! Then tell a friend, or even better, tell ten friends!

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Blog: http://authnancystraight.blogspot.com/

I've included an excerpt from a dear friend, Christie Rich. She has written an amazing young adult paranormal romance series, Elemental Enmity. There are three books in the series that have been published, they are: Five (Book #1), Dark Matter (Book #2) and Genesis (Book #3). I hope you'll take a minute to read this excerpt and fall in love with her books the same way I have!

I twisted and cupped his flushed cheek.  Sweat dripped from his hairline in tiny rivulets down his face and along my fingers.  I moved my fingers over his forehead toward his chin.  He caught my hand and touched his lips to my palm.

I closed my eyes, letting my body anticipate every zing of electricity his movements created.  Taking in a breath, I shivered.  His lips found mine, and I melted into him, becoming a part of him, letting him take me to an indescribable height.  He groaned, pulling me closer.  My skin exploded in tingles as he traced my neck with his tongue.  His breath came in my ear, catching then releasing.  He tugged the edge of my shirt and slid the rough edge of his fingers along my abdomen.

I stilled.

He pulled back.  "Is this okay?"

My heart fluttered and my breath stopped.  I dipped my chin in a slow nod.

He smiled, his blue eyes flaring with desire.  I found myself on my back.  He lifted his shirt over his head and placed it under mine.  Then he lay beside me.

Every inch of me burst into lightning.  I inched closer, running my palm down his chest.  The slight dusting of hair tickled my fingers.  I got caught up in the beauty of him, exploring the hills and vales of his body.  I stopped at his belly button and looked at him.

His breath was so shallow, I could barely hear him breathing, but I could see the effect I had on him.  This was a power I had never known.  Well, not never, but I wanted the power this time.  I wanted to make love to him.  He was my future.  I couldn't allow myself to focus on things that would make us both miserable.

I gave him a shy glance, not really knowing how to start this.  All I'd ever focused on was stopping myself from making a mistake.

His gaze met mine.  The intensity sent a shockwave to my bones.

That's when I noticed the tiny green line circling his blazing irises.  I took a second glance just to make sure.  It was still there.  My stomach turned to acid.

Muscles hardening, I scrambled away from him and leapt to my feet.  My body surged with the power inside me. Never had I connected so strongly with the elements.  Both my hands lit up in blinding white light.  My breath still hitched in my throat.  I could hardly believe what was happening.

She got him too.  Ainessa had Luke and Zach under her spell.

His eyes flew wide.  "It's not what you're thinking, love.  I know how it looks, but she doesn't have control of me."

I shook my head at him.  "I can't trust you."

He stretched his hand out toward me.  "Rayla, please.  Come back to me."

I took a step away from him.  "I can't risk it."

His muscles tightened and he stiffened straight as a stick before his body convulsed.  I knew what was happening, but I still didn't want to believe it.

A wicked smile stretched across his handsome face.  Zach no longer gazed back at me.  His voice came different, no longer holding the light lilt I was used to.  "So surprised?"  He stood, taking his time as if we had all day.

My fear for him tore from my throat.  "You have to fight her, Zach!"

His body stepped closer.  "I'm afraid Ammon's not here right now.  If you'd like to leave a message please hang up and try your call again."

My brows rose; she was trying to be funny.  Well I sure as heck wasn't laughing.  "Why are you doing this to your own brother?"

"Ha!  I've already told you he doesn't deserve to be called that."

Still, she had never said why.  "I don't know what happened between you two, but you can't be that cold."  Something strange crossed Zach's eyes.  He was fighting her—I could see it.  Maybe if I gave him some time.  "I don't see why you think you need my power.  You seem to have plenty on your own."

"I know what you're doing, Rayla, and it's not going to work.  Ammon cannot break my connection at the moment.  I'm sorry to interrupt your little tryst, but I needed to speak with you.  I tried earlier yet was sent away for my efforts.  When you did not accept my gift, I had no other choice."

Full of disbelief, my eyes narrowed.  "You're gift?"  I shook my head.  "I should have known."  I'd considered it, but the note had thrown me off.  I'd been slipping up a little too much lately.  I should have never come here.  I should have fled with Heath.  As if a rushing tide, my feelings for him flowed through me, lighting my body with his fire.  "I really have nothing to say to you, Ainessa.  You may have gained acceptance within the fae courts, but you will never have it from me."

Zach's face twisted in anger.  "You self-righteous little twit.  I don't care what you think or what you want.  You are nothing more than a means to bring fae into true power.  I know your secret."  I seemed to have many secrets I wasn't aware of lately.  "Human blood does not flow in your veins.  It is only a matter of time before I will know who your sire is."

A shiver hissed over me.  "Why should I care about that?"

She scoffed.  "No point in playing the fool with me.  When I have him, I'll no longer need you.  I will create my own race to rule."  Her ring flared to life, rivaling the blue sky above.  "Few things remain between me and my new world.  You think you are powerful, yet you know nothing of power.  You're precious humans will succumb to me, just like you will."

She reached for me, but I skidded away.  "You're insane."

"Most genius is labeled as insanity, Rayla."  Her compulsion slid up against my mind, seeking a crack in my armor. "Think of it:  a world we could control together without the restraints of a creator who does not care."

Yeah, 'cause she'd make such a great god.  Um, no thanks.  "I don't want to be a god, Ainessa.  I just want to live my life, free."

She threw up a hand.  "Freedom!  So many claim to want freedom, yet those same people will stand in line to have those freedoms stripped one by one merely for money or false power or fame.  I used to have hope for the human race, but it has withered away in recent times."

Anger flared inside me, charring my veins with acidic fire.  "You don't get to decide what happens to humans or anyone.  I will slit my own throat before I will let you have my power."

"You are fighting a losing battle.  It would be so much better if you just concede.  I will spare your family along with any other person you deem worthy of living."

"Everyone has a right to live!"

She laughed.  "Come now.  You can't possibly be that naïve.  There will have to be casualties for my plan to work.  My followers need bodies, after all."

I stared at her with unbelieving eyes.  "Your followers already have bodies."

A chuckle split the morning.  "Most do, that is true, but immortality without the ability to progress is an unbelievable hell.  I do not expect you to understand.  You will come to submit.  All do."

"I won't."

A dark smirk covered her brother's face.  "You've been able to resist; I will give you that, but you have no chance of keeping it up.  No matter where you go, I will find you.  No matter how you fight, I will win.  I'm offering you a chance to save those you love.  Why do you care about people you have never met?"

"I'm not a monster."

"Ho.  A monster, am I?  I used to have such ideals...until I saw what happens to those who do not take what they want. You will come to see as your mother has."  She reached out her hand.  "I will take the pain away, Rayla.  Let me be your champion.  Together we can create the world we both want."

I shook my head, backing away.

Her ring flared and energy clamped around my body like a tractor beam.  "One moment of contact with you is all I need.  There is no escape."

My feet shot forward before I could stop them.  My mind raced, searching for some spec of hope.  I remembered my angel giving me a spec of light; however, I still didn't know what it was for.  I reached for that spec, but it was just beyond my grasp.  Giving up on that, I summoned my power, pulling everything to the surface.  My heels dug into the grass.  She was only three feet away.  Any further and she could reach out and take me.  Our struggle intensified until my mind stretched to a snapping point.

A voice so welcome, I nearly cried out spilled into my thoughts.  "I'm here.  Take my power."

Heath!  I only had a split second to think, to act.  I called his power to me; it radiated into me like sunrays through a breaking thunderstorm, slipping over me, buoying me up.  Zach's face twisted in rage.

My arms glowed so bright my eyes squinted.  Power built up in me gaining strength until I had to release it or explode. Lightning erupted from my fingers and connected with Zach's chest.  His body flew backward, smashing into a tree ten feet behind where he just stood.  He lay there lifeless.  No matter how badly I wanted to help him I couldn't risk her coming to.  I needed to leave.

That was the last I saw of him before I drifted away...to the man I love...to the man I should have never left.

It took me no time to lock onto Heath, as if some force guided me along.  I emerged from the matter stream in a place so dark my eyes took several seconds to adjust.  Heath snatched me up in less than a second, filling my soul with his essence.  I buried my face into his neck, reveling in the feel of him next to me.  Tears came unbidden.  "I'm so sorry, Heath. I should have listened to you."

He laughed.  "Well, that's not something I thought I'd ever hear you say."

I pulled back, joy overwhelming me as I studied his face in the candlelight.  I could never get enough of him, not in ten million years.

"Wow, if I'd known this was how you'd greet me, I would have shipped you off to Zach sooner."

I frowned at him.  "What are you talking about?"

"We had to know for sure."

I recoiled away from him.  "You knew about this!"

Tabitha stepped out of the shadows.  "I'm sorry for putting you through that, Rayla, but it was necessary."

My body went limp, and I stumbled.  Realization slammed into me.  They'd set this whole thing up—to see if Ainessa controlled Zach.  Anger raged through me, stiffening my muscles, hardening my mind.  I took turns looking at them, but I was angrier at Tabitha.  I'd given everything up because of her visions.  "How could you do that to me?  I trusted you."

Her face stayed serene as ever.  "I told you hope was not lost."

Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me so close every inch of me was pressed against Heath's body.  "You had to have known I would never let you go so easily."

But I didn't.  I couldn't.

His jaw brushed my hair back from my ear, sending a quiver along its wake.  "We can talk about this later because right now we have unfinished business, remember?"

I whirled on him.  "Not so fast, one track mind."  Shaking, I shot out a halting finger that touched his broad chest to keep him from pulling me closer again.  "I'll deal with you in a minute."  He smiled.  I shook my head fighting the distraction.

With a fraying leash on my temper, I faced Tabitha.  "Where's my family?"

She didn't react, keeping her voice as calm as her expression.  "They are safe, as are the Elementals who have not been bonded."

I relaxed a little bit, but something unexplainable kept the wariness in my mind.  "Where are we?"

Creed's voice came from behind me.  "Don't tell me you've already adjusted to being here.  Last time took you hours."

The dark realms?  A smile found my mouth.  His were the hands I'd felt guiding me here.  He'd brought me where not even Ainessa could touch me.

Every time I saw him lately, his face was more human.  His skin had paled again to a light gray.  It could have been the lighting, but I figured soon he'd be back to his old self.

"Thank you," I said, finding it hard to use my voice.  This was twice he'd helped me get away from Ainessa, and this was twice I had no words to express how grateful I was to him.

"As I told you before, we are at your command, my lady."

My jaw tightened.  "In that case, I need you to do me a favor."

"Anything."

Zach had mentioned Travis.  If I didn't act fast, they would take him to use as leverage against me.  "I have a cousin that needs rescuing, and unfortunately, I'm not able to leave the realms."

"I will dispatch a team posthaste, but, my lady, are you sure you want to bring him here?"

Why wouldn't I be?  "He's important to me."

Creed nodded.  "I only ask because some of your family members have not been happy about their...accommodations."

Some?  No.  Aunt Grace most likely.  "I'll talk to them.  We appreciate your hospitality."

He gave me a nod before he vanished.

I had so much more to talk to Creed about, but now was not the time.  I'd need every last member of the dark realms if I had a chance of defeating Ainessa, and it was about time they were rewarded for good service.  I fully intended to name all of them.  It'd be hard to come up with that many names, but I'd manage.

Heath took his place at my side, capturing my hand.  His voice came out soft, alluring, making me aware of his body that was deliciously close to mine.  "Might take him a while to find that one."

"Why do you say that?"  Travis was hard to miss in a crowd with his dark eyes that looked almost black and his bright blond hair.  It was such an odd combination.  Something nagged at me about him, but I couldn't name it.

Heath moved in, crowding me deeper into the room.  Tingles exploded across my skin where he touched me.  He gave me a look that shot heat to my toes.  "Answers later.  I'm not waiting another second to have you."

My whole body flushed.  Tabitha made some excuse to leave that I didn't make out.  I couldn't hear anything above the beating of my heart.

Heath pulled me into the corner where more candles illuminated a bed decked out in red velvet.  Soft music washed over me.  I gasped.  I knew that song.

I'd picked it out a long time ago as the song I wanted to play the first time I...my hand covered my gaping mouth as I took in the rest of the room.  Every detail set the tableau of my dreams.

I turned in Heath's arms and settled my fingers on his chest.  The growing warmth of passion ignited my mind. Seeming to be all I could manage, my voice came out in a whisper.  "How did you know?"

He smiled down at me with his too tempting lips.  "I know everything there is to know about you, Rayla."  His eyes grew dark with promised pleasure.  The spicy scent that could only belong to him lingered around me, luring me deeper into his spell.  "Now, enough talking."  Warm lips met mine, carrying me away to a blissful shore.

I took everything he gave me before I ventured into my own seduction, setting my fingers to explore every inch of his body.  He clasped my hands, stopping my downward progression.

"Heath," I said, doubt twisting my insides.

He stroked my fingers before he placed my arms at my sides.  "Not yet."  He gave me a wicked once over then smiled.  "First, let me make you mine."

I nodded, vaguely aware his body pressing against mine, of my clothes disappearing, of the warmth of his skin, of his hands straddling my back before he lifted me into his arms.

My mind surrendered to him completely, no longer capable of thought, all I could do was feel.

